Throughout my life I’ve had a fairly diverse range of jobs. I’ve worked in a wood shop making high-end croquet mallets and accessories, at flea markets selling second-hand stuff and in a kitchen at a high-traffic brunch joint.
(I like to think that working at an English-language newspaper in Quebec is the logical progression of years of niche employment.)
It is fairly rare that two of my past occupations converge, so when I found out that there was a cooking class at Bryson Farms that I could cover, I kissed my hands like the Swedish Chef.
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