I don’t even know how I end up with this many tabs open.
:: Pop-up Instagram bakeries during the pandemic.
This article is a couple years old, but it showed up on some feed or other that I follow, so here it is.
But working at the absolute capacity of their home kitchens, for a year straight, means burnout is very real. Multiple chefs I spoke to said their houses were full of pastry boxes and their fridges full of butter and freezers full of ice cream; they cooled cakes in stages on tiny counters and used stimulus money to buy equipment; their plants are long dead and their kitchens reek of fryer oil; their phone won’t stop binging, and when their oven died, they switched to steamed and boiled desserts. For all of them, home is no longer merely home: It’s the world’s worst commercial kitchen, with a bedroom attached. They welcome press, but they hope their landlord doesn’t see the photos.
:: The end of manual transmission.
I drive a stick shift. It’s a pain, sometimes. Clutching and shifting in bumper-to-bumper traffic wears you out. My wife can’t drive my car, which limits our transit options. And when I’m at the wheel, I can’t hold a cold, delicious slushie in one hand, at least not safely. But despite the inconvenience, I love a manual transmission. I love the feeling that I am operating my car, not just driving it. That’s why I’ve driven stick shifts for the past 20 years.
Honestly, I can’t see getting nostalgic about the stick shift. I drove one for years, and I do not miss it a single bit. How about you, folks?
I would endorse this either way, but the overalls are a cherry-on-the-top kind of thing.
:: A bad joke incorporating a pie in the face. I tip my hat!
I’ve drive cars with manual transmission all my life (about half a century). Clutching and shifting, even in heavy, stop-and-go traffic, has never bothered me or worn me out; I learned over the years to do it without excessive effort. Since I don’t hold slushies, cups of coffee, or corned beef sandwiches in my hand while driving, nor do I use a phone, grill a steak, or knit a sweater whilst driving. I drive the car while driving, just like a pilot flies the plane while flying. If I need a new car before I migrate to the great traffic jam in the sky, I’ll probably have to get either an electric car or an infernal cumbustion one with automatic transmission. Such is life, though it will probably mean spending more money for brakes over time.