04/24/2026
One of the people I especially want to thank
during this learning trip in Taiwan is Chef Zhu.
Before I left, I had already collected a long list of questions—about bread, about running a bakery, and about baking techniques. I had prepared myself to use this opportunity to find answers to every one of them.
So every day at work, whenever Chef Zhu had a free moment, I would start asking questions one after another.
I asked him, “How do you prevent your recipes from being copied when running a bakery? What if an apprentice learns your formulas and opens a shop nearby?”
Chef Zhu calmly said, “My secret manuals are all on the table. Anyone can read them if they want.”
I was honestly shocked.
He said, “Nowadays, with the internet everywhere, recipes are the least valuable thing. What really matters is the person operating it—the technique, the experience, and your understanding of the product.
If someone copies your recipe, opens a shop next to yours, and defeats you, then the person who needs to reflect is not them, but you and your own craftsmanship.”
At that moment, I truly felt—wow, his mindset was on a completely different level.
These past few days here, I’ve personally experienced the workload—working nonstop from morning until night, and doing that day after day for years. It’s really not easy.
I couldn’t help asking him, “Chef Zhu, have you ever had a moment when you wanted to give up?”
He said, “Of course.”
But it was never because making bread was too tiring.
It was because being the head chef in a big bakery carries huge responsibility.
It’s not just about making bread—you have to manage the team, handle staff issues, communicate with suppliers, and deal with countless daily problems. The pressure is actually enormous.
But in the end, the reason he kept going was simple—because he truly loves bread.
Then I kept asking more questions—about fermentation principles, dough conditions, the differences between flour from different countries…
And Mr. Zhu was incredibly patient, never showing even the slightest impatience.
After work, he told me that tomorrow would be a tough battle and that he would have to work overtime until very late.
He said, “Nana, you can go home now.”
I said, “It’s okay, I want to stay and watch you work with the dough.”
So this head chef stood there mixing French dough, while continuing to explain everything to me.
I took notes while helping clean up beside him.
Even though the whole day had almost no breaks and my body was truly exhausted, strangely enough, under the influence of curiosity and my love for bread, I didn’t feel tired at all.
In fact, I felt happy.
Meeting someone who is willing to share everything they know so generously is truly a blessing.
Thank you, Chef Zhu.
Thank you for your patience, your mindset, and for helping me become even more certain of one thing—
when you truly love something, it is always worth giving your whole heart to it.
