Why I Threw Away 2kg of Dough (And What I Learned)
It was 11 PM on a Saturday. I had been on my feet for fourteen hours. The croissant dough I had been laminating since morning was finally ready for shaping — 2 kilograms of butter-layered perfection. Then I noticed the layers were uneven.
I was at Royal Orchid, about three years into my career. The dough was not terrible. Most people would not have noticed the imperfection. The layers on the left side were slightly thicker than the right — maybe a millimeter difference. When baked, the croissants would have been 90% as good as they should have been. Perfectly edible. Probably even delicious. But I could see the flaw, and I knew what a perfect lamination looked like from my training at FCI Ajmer.
Throwing away 2kg of croissant dough at 11 PM is the pastry chef equivalent of deleting your entire essay the night before it is due 😂
The Decision
I stood there for a full minute, staring at that dough. I was exhausted. My feet ached. The morning shift started in seven hours. The rational choice was to shape it, bake it, and move on. Nobody would know. Nobody would complain. But I would know. And that was enough.
I threw all of it in the bin. Two kilograms of butter, flour, and eight hours of work — gone. Then I pulled out fresh ingredients and started over. The new batch was perfect. The layers were even, the butter distribution was consistent, and when those croissants came out of the oven the next morning, they shattered when you bit into them with that crisp, flaky sound that tells you every layer did its job.
Surprising fact: A properly laminated croissant has exactly 27 layers of dough separated by 26 layers of butter. Each layer must be uniform in thickness for even rise and that signature honeycomb interior. One uneven fold ruins the entire structure.
What I Learned About Standards
That night taught me the most important lesson of my career: your standards are what you do when nobody is watching. It is easy to be perfect when the executive chef is standing over your shoulder at Jaipur Marriott. It is easy to do your best work when a VIP guest is in the dining room at Rajmahal Palace. But who are you at 11 PM on a Saturday when no one would ever know the difference?
I decided that night that I would be the same chef at 11 PM as I am at 11 AM. The food does not know what time it is. The butter does not care if you are tired. Either the lamination is right or it is not. There is no “good enough” in pastry — there is only right and wrong.
The Cost of Cutting Corners
In the years that followed — at Park Hyatt Goa, at Rajmahal Palace by RAAS, at City Palace Jaipur — I saw what happens when chefs lower their standards under pressure. A cake that is slightly under-baked because the kitchen is busy. A glaze that is not tempered properly because the chef is rushing to get off shift. A garnish placed carelessly because “the guest won’t notice.” Each shortcut is small. But they add up. They become habits. And habits become identity.
I have worked with chefs who were technically brilliant but lazy. They knew how to make perfect food but chose not to when it was inconvenient. And I have worked with chefs who had average talent but relentless standards. The second group always produced better kitchens, better food, and better careers.
It Is Not About Waste
Some people hear this story and think it is about wasting food. It is not. I hate waste. At Heritage Village Club Goa, I implemented systems to minimize pastry waste — using trim for cake pops, overripe fruit for sauces, broken cookies for cheesecake bases. But there is a difference between using imperfect ingredients creatively and serving a product that does not meet your standard. The dough I threw away was not a waste — it was tuition.
Applying This Beyond the Kitchen
The 2kg dough lesson applies everywhere. Are you writing a blog post and the third paragraph is weak? Fix it, even if you are tired. Are you editing a video and one transition is slightly off? Redo it, even if no one else would catch it. Your standards are your brand. They are the promise you make to everyone who interacts with your work — even when they cannot see the craft behind it.
As a content creator, singer, and guitarist alongside being a pastry chef, I apply this same principle to everything I create. A song with one flat note gets re-recorded. A blog post with one lazy paragraph gets rewritten. A photograph with poor lighting gets retaken. The standard is the standard.
FAQ
How do you know when something is good enough versus when to start over?
If you have to ask whether it meets your standard, it does not. That moment of hesitation — that is your answer. Trust it.
Is it not wasteful to throw away food?
Context matters. I would never throw away edible food that a guest or staff could eat. But raw dough with structural flaws that will result in a substandard product — that is different. Serving something below standard wastes the guest’s trust, which is more valuable than flour and butter.
Does this perfectionism ever cause problems?
It can slow you down, and some people find it difficult to work with someone who has very high standards. But in professional kitchens, especially at properties like Rajmahal Palace and Park Hyatt, high standards are not just appreciated — they are required.
Save this tip 📌 — save this for a day when you are tempted to take a shortcut.
Have you ever thrown away work and started over? Tell me about it in the comments — I want to know what your “2kg of dough” moment was!
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For more stories from my kitchen journey, read my full pastry chef journey and try my Butterscotch Cake — a recipe born from perfectionism.