My childhood is a little bit of a fuzzy memory. That's not to say that it wasn't a good one, but sometimes trauma overtakes the mind. Although, one memory I can remember clearly is that almost every weekend my mother would suggest ordering pizza and I immediately knew it was going to be a good night. Even if it meant for her to use her last twenty dollars, she would do anything to make ensure my sisters and I were happy. We would watch whatever nonsense T.V., usually some kind of reality show, and enjoy the company of each other, and of course, pizza.
Growing up I found myself eating pizza more than one should in a week. As a young adult I would have pizza boxes stacked in my apartment on the kitchen counter, especially when going through a deep depression. It was my comfort food. I didn't realize until years later that the comfort wasn't just the food itself, but the memorable times spent with my mother. It was an escape into a happier time.
My father, a Mexican immigrant, is the hardest working person I know. What I admire about him the most is his eagerness to continuously learn. I'll be honest and admit that I didn't quite inherit that gene, but as I've gotten older it's something I now understand and aspire to be like. My father is an artisanal baker with education from France and New York under his belt and still to this day is always educating himself on his craft. Early on in my childhood we had a French bakery in Bedord, TX. I remember sleeping in the small office space at times while my parents worked endlessly. Little did I know that the smell of flour, the bread, is something that would be engrained in my mind. His business didn't quite make it, as many small businesses do. And now more than ever do I feel the responsibility to carry on his baking legacy.
I started working for a popular local pizzeria to learn more about the pizza making process. It's something that I quickly mastered and my love for pizza grew even more immensely. I had always wanted to have my own pizza business. The idea had been instilled in my mind for years, but it seemed like something that was always out of reach. It was until my sister, an Entrepreneur and self-made chef, had the opportunity to sell food as a vendor on 7th Street in Fort Worth, TX. When coming up with menu ideas, she gave me the opportunity to sell pizzas, and Son Of A Baker Pizzeria was born. An idea I've had in my head for several years, finally, brought to life.
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