Au Revoir Paris!

I have been meaning to tell you about my last few weeks at Le Cordon Bleu for some time now.   I was side-tracked by the second half of 2011, but after ringing in 2012, I am ready to knock some things off my resolution list.

In May, with a few weeks left at school, I received the upsetting news that my grandma was diagnosed with cancer.  A week later I got a call that had me on the next plane back to the US.  My dad, fifty-one years old and a seemingly healthy man, had gone for his daily 3 mile run and collapsed in cardiac arrest.  It was over ten minutes before the paramedics were able to revive him and he was now laying in a medically induced coma while doctors worked to prevent brain damage.  Back in the US I was reunited with my family as we kept vigil at the hospital and hoped that the 50/50 odds my dad would be able to wake up were on our side.  To all the family and friends who visited us and reached out during that time— thank you, it meant so much.  I’m incredibly grateful for the wonderful nurses and doctors at Mercy Fairfield Hospital and the Arctic Sun technology that cools body temperature down to 90 degrees and helps brains heal after oxygen deprivation.  It has been about 8 months since those tense weeks in May and I am happy to report that my dad is back to his old self and claims bragging rights to the ability to “hold his breath” longer than anyone else in the family.

Although I missed my final exam at Le Cordon Bleu, I had come too far to quit without a diploma.  It took some convincing of the administration to allow me to come back to just take the final exam.  “As the rules stated,” I needed to take the superior course over again since I missed the exam.  But, there is a certain technique to getting what you want in France, and after a few bisous for their derrières I was on my way back to France. 

My final exam sugar piece with pulled and poured sugar

The Chef said my sugar flowers were beautiful, but made him sad because I put them "on the ground" of my sculpture.  Sorry Chef, but I do believe flowers grow from the ground.

Receiving my toque and LCB medal with the famous blue ribbon

Paris was the experience of a lifetime.  At Le Cordon Bleu I learned pastry techniques from esteemed chefs and sampled fabulous food and wine.  I traveled throughout France, skied the Alps, spent a weekend in Amsterdam, spotted celebrities at the Cannes film festival and visited pastry school friends in Israel.  I am so grateful for my incredible parents for all of their encouragement and helping to make these experiences possible.

As this will be my last post on this blog before I leave it here in cyberspace, I would like to bestow on it a dedication.  To my Grandma Bonnie.  She shared with me her recipes and philosophy in life—keep on laughing.  She taught me how to gamble and my first few words of “French.”  But greater than any of those things, she had an unconditional faith in me that was always a source of comfort.  My life is better because she was a part of it and her faith in me has contributed to a confidence within myself.  Sometimes, all we need is to know that others believe in us to take a chance and embark on an adventure. 

Alright, Oprah moment over.  My adventures continue in a new city, New York City to be exact.  Visit my new blog Sugar Coated Life to read about food, fashion, and all things fabulous. 

Bisou, bisou,

Maggie

"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast."

-Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

 

Rungis, the City of Food

Much of my time at Le Cordon Bleu is spent in the kitchen.  However, like any good teachers, the chefs realize that students need real world exposure.  During intermediate pastry we were lucky enough to visit the famed La Maison de Angelina located near the Louvre.  We sampled their famous chocolat chaud, as thick as melted chocolate bars, and watched them make perfectly formed pastries. 

The superior pastry field trip took us 30 minutes south of Paris to the largest wholesale market in the world, Rungis.  In the 1960s the original Parisian wholesale food market was moved from Les Halles to the outskirts of Paris due to aesthetic and hygienic reasons.  A city in itself, the Rungis market employs over 10,000 people.  To enter you must be on a guided tour or visiting for professional reasons.  Various halls dot the 1.6 square mile property where fish, meat, fruit, vegetables and even flowers are stored.  Rungis is like Disney World for foodies.  During the tour I almost expected a mouse to jump from behind one of the 300 pound wheels of cheese and try to take a picture with me. 

If you are not in the market to buy thousands of pounds of beef or hundreds of pints of strawberries and still want to visit Rungis check out their website and find out how you can join a tour:  http://www.visiterungis.com/?lang=en

Click on the slideshow below to see pictures from my visit

Rungis - how to create a free slideshow

Bisou, bisou,

Maggie

“I’m asked a lot what the best thing about cooking for a living is.  And it’s this:  to be a part of a subculture.  To be part of a historical continuum, a secret society with its own language and customs.  To enjoy the instant gratification of making something good with one’s hands—using all one’s senses.  It can be, at times, the purest and most unselfish way of giving pleasure (though oral sex has to be a close second).” 
-Anthony Bourdain, Kitchen Confidential:  Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly

Why you shouldn't cut your salad in France and more...

Scientists say that there is no limit to the amount of information the human brain can learn.  I haven’t had a science class since high school so I’m going to take their word for it.  My brain has been working overtime lately with a new language, monetary system, measurement system (America I think it is time we converted to metrics) not to mention all of the recipes and cooking techniques I have been learning.  In addition to all the important information I have been occupied with I have retained a few random pieces of knowledge that I thought you may find interesting:

·        In France cutting the lettuce in your salad goes against les protocols.  The French use their knives to help fold the greens onto the tines of their forks.  This tradition apparently dates back hundreds of years to a time when cutlery was made with metal that would leave a metallic taste when cutting through delicate salad greens.  Therefore, no one cuts lettuce with a knife (even though cutlery has since improved). 

Excusez-moi, je suis américaine and folding lettuce onto a fork is too hard for me!

·        The French also consider it rude, as well as pretentious, to cut the tip off a wedge of cheese.  To correctly serve yourself a piece of cheese you should cut along the side of the wedge.  Unless of course you are eating the whole wedge, then cut it however you like.

·        Many of you have probably heard of cream of tartar; it is a white powder that is often found in meringue recipes because it stabilizes egg whites.  What you may not know is that it is a byproduct of winemaking.  Also known as potassium bitartrate, it forms as crystals on the inside of wine barrels and is collected and purified to create what we know as cream of tartar.

·         If you burn yourself immediately pour vinegar on the burn.  Doing so will ease some of the pain and prevent a blister from forming.

·        Bacteria starts growing in whipping cream 20 minutes after it has been removed from the refrigerator.

·        Technically, “champagne” only comes from the Champagne region of France and everything else is “sparkling wine” (except for Prosecco which is an Italian sparkling wine and a whole other set of rules).  The French are very protective of their entitlement to this word and in 1891 it became illegal in the European Union to call sparkling wine “champagne” unless it came from the Champagne region.  France is so serious about their right to this term that they made sure the law was reiterated in the Treaty of Versailles; one of the documents that officially ended WWI.  As you history buffs know, the U.S. never ratified the Treaty of Versailles and as a result didn’t recognize France’s exclusive right to the use of “champagne” until 2006.  You can still buy champagne produced in the U.S. if the producer was calling their product “champagne” before 2006.  However, I’m sure if you ask a French person if they would like a glass of California champagne they would let you know that c'est du vin mousseux.

·        To correctly open a bottle of Champagne you should hold the cork and twist the bottle.  That’s what she said.  Sorry, I had to do it before someone beat me to the punch line.

·        Lager is the most commonly sold beer in the world.  It was invented in the Czech Republic when it was discovered if you let beer sit in barrels the particles will settle to the bottom and result in a lighter, semi-transparent beer as opposed to ale which is thicker and opaque.   

·        Anheuser-Busch’s Budweiser is one of the most popular beers in the U.S., but it was not the first Budweiser in the world.  Budweiser, a lager-style beer, was first produced in the 18^th century in Bohemia (now Czech Republic).  After being inspired during a trip to Bohemia Adolphus Busch started producing a lager beer in the U.S. in 1876 that he called Budweiser.  The Czech Budweiser, now known as Budweiser Budvar, claimed that Mr. Busch stole their recipe and name.  I think they could have taken a few tips from the French when it comes to trade marking.  The companies fought legal battles for years and it was only in 2007 that they reached an agreement that said both companies could use the name Budweiser, but could not distribute their beer in the same countries under the same name.  As a result, you can find the Czech Budweiser in the U.S. but it is called Czechvar. 

 

A Budweiser Budvar label



A Czechvar label

I learned about Czech beer and the Budweiser conflict a few months ago during a beer tour in Prague.  It just so happens that I have also visited the Anheuser-Busch factory in St. Louis.  While I don't recall any mention of lawsuits during the St. Louis tour I did remember a beautiful factory complete with a Clydesdale stable.  Perhaps Mr. Busch did take too much inspiration from the Budweiser Budvar brand, but he sure did know how to market it!

I hope you pass the knowledge on and share these tips and anecdotes with your friends!

Bisou, bisou,

Maggie

P.S. For those of you interested in reading more about an expat's take on French culture check out some of my favorite books: 

The Sweet Life in Paris is written by a former American pastry chef.  Talk to the Snail and A Year in the Merde are written by a funny British man.   

 “Knowledge is the food of the soul.”

-Plato



Breaking the rules

When I left for Paris this past November my parents drove me to the airport.  As a chronic procrastinator I had had a stressful morning trying to pack everything I wanted for 9 months into only two suitcases.  It was a relief once I was finally sitting down in the car and on my way, and then to my delight my mom pulled out a bottle of champagne.  My parents wanted to have a toast to my new adventure (plus they were obviously devastated that their twenty-two year old daughter was moving out of their house and figured a drink might help with the pain).  But it’s illegal to have an open container in a car. Well, yes, we were aware of that.  I believe you should always know the rules.  If you’re going to break them it should be a conscious decision.  No one wants to find out they broke the law once the handcuffs are already on. 

When it comes to pâtisserie there are many rules.  For instance, if you want to get a nice shiny chocolate that has a little “snap” when you bite into it you need to heat it correctly.  The process is called tempering; you heat it to 45°C, let it cool to 27°C, and heat it again to 31°C so you can work with it.  If you are more than a couple degrees off in temperature your chocolate will not look appetizing.  It is important to learn proper cooking techniques because afterwards you can get creative with textures and flavors.  For the sake of good food I try to follow the rules of pastry to the best of my ability.  During my time at Le Cordon Bleu I have learned a few things that contradict guidelines I had previously been taught.



Me making cupcakes...and yes, I washed my hands first.

I can still remember the first time I was denied raw cookie dough as a child.  Traumatic, obviously.  I was sitting on the kitchen counter ready to dig into a bowl of freshly made chocolate chip dough when I was stopped mid-scoop and told I couldn’t eat that because it may have E. coli in it.  I will admit that over the years I have indulged in my share of cookie dough, but I always did so with feelings of guilt.  Luckily, LCB has cured my conscious.  C’est impossible to make a creamy chocolate mousse without raw eggs.  In general the French are very lax about eating raw things--beef tartar, oysters, and duck served very rare are all common, tasty dishes that I eat every chance I get.  I have no idea how many cases of E. coli have been caused by raw eggs or meat, but I do know that the E. coli bacterium is most commonly found in the lower-intestine of warm-blooded organisms.  So, before you worry about how well done your steak is please, remember the cardinal rule of cooking:  ALWAYS wash your hands first.

I have always been willing to listen to the advice of others, but at the end of the day I prefer to figure things out for myself.  As a result, I have done things such as actually pay money to see a Brendan Fraser movie, had street food in India (which was delicious on the way down), and put highlights in my hair.  When I am in a restaurant and a waiter warns me not to touch the hot plate my fingertips automatically flutter to the edge of my dish to see just how hot it is.  Despite my need to try things on my own I have always heeded the warnings of cooking show hosts and cookbook authors—I never touched boiling sugar.  It resembles molten lava and I had no desire to find out how hot it feels.  So as you can imagine, I was a little nervous the first day I stood above my pot of boiling sugar in the LCB kitchen.  I knew I was expected to touch it to see if it had reached the “softball stage” which happens to be 240°F.  I prepared a bowl of cold water to stick my fingers in before and after they go for a swim in the hot liquid.  Once I finally mustered up the courage to test the sugar I discovered that it doesn’t hurt at all!  It’s actually kind of fun and a slight adrenaline rush.  Cooking can be so dangerous.

Someone once said, “rules were meant to be broken.”  I by no means completely agree with this, but I do know that if I didn’t step over the line every once in awhile I would never have been able to enjoy so many delicious experiences.  Au revoir for now, I’m off to class to make a croquembouche and perhaps break some rules.


Bisou, bisou,


Maggie

P.S.  The following is a link to portraits by an artist named Mark Menjivar who traveled across the U.S. photographing the inside of people’s refrigerators.  It’s just a little “food for thought.”  The exhibit is titled You Are What You Eat.    http://markmenjivar.com/you-are-what-you-eat/statement/

"I've long believed that good food, good eating, is all about risk. Whether we're talking about unpasteurized Stilton, raw oysters or working for organized crime 'associates,' food, for me, has always been an adventure."

-Anthony Bourdain, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly

Life philosophies of an (almost) 23 year old

I hope you have been enjoying the first few weeks of 2011.  For me, the new year is always a time to reflect on the year that has just passed, and what a year it has been!  I had a wonderfully crazy last semester of college; graduated from Indiana University with a bachelor’s in business; said goodbye to Lady, my faithful friend of 19 year; welcomed a new addition into the family, a puppy named Taco; spent nearly 6 months working for my parents; partied in Vegas for the first time; traveled to Prague and Berlin; moved to France; started to learn French; and completed the Basic Patisserie Certificate at Le Cordon Bleu.  I can hardly believe all the experiences I’ve had! 

I like to think of people kind of like I do cooking.  You start with a couple ingredients; add new flavors, maybe a little heat.  The original ingredients will always be there, but you add layers of flavor and introduce elements to get something different.   I’m certainly not the same dish I was when I rang in 2010.  Next Thursday I’m adding a whole new layer to my cake—it’s my 23^rd birthday!  Over the past twenty-odd years I’ve developed a few life philosophies which I have compiled for your reading pleasure.   It’s nothing profound, just the musings of an (almost) 23 year old living in France. 

Take time to enjoy the little things.  From leisurely lunches to a national average of 4 weeks of vacation per year the French have this concept down pat.  Not all of us are lucky enough to live the French lifestyle, but I believe in quality over quantity.  Take a few minutes to listen to your favorite song, read an interesting article, make yourself a nice meal, or just arrange that microwave dinner on a real plate.  The few minutes it takes to do simple things can turn a good day into a great one.   

Don’t worry so much!  I have found that pastry chefs can be quite a high-strung bunch.  More than once I have seen my peers burst into tears and exclamations of “OMG I think I’m going to have a panic attack!”  Are you kidding me?  Don’t waste time and energy worrying about trivial things.  In a month, a year, five years, is what you’re worrying about today still going to be relevant?  If so, then okay, I’ll get you a paper bag to breathe into.  But, you forgot to add sugar to your batter?  It’s just a cake!

Stay young.  I believe that age is just a number and “growing old” is a state of mind.  If you have children, or have spent any time around them you know that they show a constant curiosity for the world.  Many Europeans seem to share this mindset and show a genuine interest in their surroundings.  I am constantly impressed by the number of languages Europeans speak and the places they have visited.  I’m not saying that you have to travel around the world to exotic places, but just keep an open mind.  Read a book, watch a documentary, or just try that dish that no one can pronounce at the local Chinese restaurant. 

The past is the past.  I recently traveled to Prague, Czech Republic and Berlin, Germany.  It was not that long ago that the people in these countries lived in fear of speaking out against their government, or they were blacklisted for crimes such as “being an entrepreneur,” or they watched walls being erected around them and were told they would be shot if they tried to travel over them.  Today, Prague and Berlin are much different.  They are places of fun and culture that tourists from all over the world flock to.  As you all know time-travel has yet to be discovered, and as far as I know they aren’t close to any breakthroughs.  Because of this, we will not be changing history anytime soon.  Living with anger or resentment hurts the person who harbors these feelings more than it does anyone else.  I think in life we should make our apologies, accept the apologies given, move on and take away only the lessons we learned.  I know this is easier said than done, especially when you know someone who is a total b**ch, but remember the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference.

Everything in moderation.  Better yet, as Julia Child once said, “Everything in moderation...including moderation."  The French love their rich sauces, pastries, and bread.  If you told a French person you were going on the Atkins diet (no baguette!?) you may be admitted to an insane asylum.  Les Français know when to stop.  Unless you are training to become a sumo-wrestler, then yes, you should practice moderation, but I also believe that to live in a constant state of self-control is tiring.  To avoid insanity indulge yourself every once in awhile. 

Celebrate!  I think that people often feel they must wait for government workers to have a day off work before they can bust out that bottle of bubbly.  While I’ve never been one to turn down a glass of Veuve, and I live in a city where champagne flows like water, celebration is not just about the drinking.  It’s about making an effort to acknowledge the good things in life.  Take time to celebrate the little things; a good hair day, you met a deadline, it’s your birthday week!  Life is too short not to. 

Alright, stick a fork in me, I’m done!

Bisou, bisou,

Maggie

“At a birthday party you’ll never remember what you had for dinner, but you’ll always remember the cake.” 

-Chef Nicolas Bernarde aka Hot Chef

Triple Chocolate Bavarian Cream Cake,
I decorated it with my initials so it could be my birthday cake!

Paris, Prague, Berlin and back again!

Whew! I have had a busy couple of weeks.  Here is a little bit about what I have been up to:

My entire family, Rhonda, J.C., Matt, Ben and Nick, arrived in Paris on December 22 to spend Christmas with me.  We had a wonderful time seeing the sights and enjoying French food such as lobster soup, oysters on the half-shell, beef tartar, duck, and some of the best falafels any of us have ever had (go figure, falafels in Paris).  We made a trip outside of Paris to the Palace of Versailles.  It was beautiful and I am excited to go back when it is warm so I can explore the gardens.  On Christmas Eve we attended a mass at Notre Dame.  I think this was the first time in about 15 years the Rupel clan had been to a mass and I was excited to see a ceremony at such a large, famous cathedral.  A part of me was expecting there to be pyrotechnics, perhaps dancers (which there was none of), but it was interesting to see none the less.  Throughout the trip the boys and I bonded over the embarrassment that our dad was saying “bong-jour” to everyone we met.  Dad, thanks for trying to fit in and providing us with entertainment!  We definitely didn’t have the typical Christmas in which we sit around the beautifully decorated tree and exchange a bunch of presents, but it was more of what the holiday is supposed to be about--time with family.  Christmas in Paris wouldn’t have been the same without them. 

After Christmas my friend Whitney arrived for a visit and we left Paris for Prague, Czech Republic.  Whitney and I are not amateurs at traveling together.  After we graduated high school Whitney and I spent two weeks traveling around Europe on train.  You would think that almost five years later, with college degrees under our belts, numerous travel experiences, and apparently some wisdom, maneuvering through various countries on trains would be no problem for us.  However, we couldn’t seem to get our s**t together.  With arrived at the train station with our Eurail passes (tickets for traveling in multiple countries) early in the morning to make a reservation for an evening train.  We were informed that there were no reservations left and we would have to buy a separate ticket to get to Prague in time.  So we begrudgingly bought the extra ticket, arrived at the train station with barely enough time to hop on our train, and after a long night in a six-person sleeping car we arrived in Prague.  Prague was beautiful!  We saw the old city, toured Prague castle, went to an absinthe bar, went on a beer tour (I learned many fun facts about beer that I will share with you in a later email), and met some great friends at our hostel.  I discovered a traditional Czech pastry that I love.  It is called a Trdelnik and is made by wrapping dough around sticks that look like rolling pins, then roasting them over coals until they are crispy and finally topping them with a sugar and walnut mixture.  Delicious!   On New Year’s Eve we celebrated at midnight with our new friends, fireworks, and champagne on the Charles Bridge. 

On January 1^st Whitney and I had plans to leave Prague for Frankfurt, Germany.  When we arrived at the train station we could not find the platform for our train.  It was only about 15 minutes after our departure time that we realized to get to platform 2B we needed to go up platform 1, through an unmarked doorway, then outside to a bus that would take us to Frankfurt.  So, we didn’t make it to Frankfurt.  We decided to head to Berlin instead.  We were both pretty excited about this detour; we were going to get to see the Berlin wall!  Yes we know it fell (when we were both about 1 year old), but we were expecting there to be some remnants left.  To the relief of our intellectual egos we did get to see a part of the Berlin wall.  We also went on a bus tour of Berlin and saw a very interesting museum exhibit titled “Hitler and the Germans” that has been controversially touring Germany.  At this point in our trip my cell phone, which we had used as a watch/alarm, had died and I had unfortunately forgotten my phone charger.  So here we were, staying in a 10 Euro a night hostel (that is not a typo.  10 Euros, and you get what you pay for), and we needed to wake up at 9 a.m. to make our train back to Paris.  We weren’t very excited about sleeping in our sketchy-looking beds and for 10 Euros a night you can’t call the front desk to request a wake-up call.  Whitney and I decided that the only reasonable thing to do was to stay up all night.  At a bar we met some Swedish people that were heading to a famous Berlin club so we decided to join.  While Berlin was great, it is the dirtiest city I have ever been in—the streets were completely littered with food wrappers, alcohol bottles and used fireworks.  The club was no exception.  The party at this particular club had been going continuously since New Year’s Eve (keep in mind it was January 2^nd) and many of the people there look like they were on the marathon party trip.  The music was techno and really fun to dance to.  We definitely had a unique Berlin club experience!  Then, we missed our train to Paris.

Just kidding!  Our “reasonable” plan worked out and we made it back to Paris without a hitch.  In Paris Whitney and I stayed the week with a Cordon Bleu friend of mine named Jennifer.  Jennifer is an American who had just moved into a houseboat.  For me and perhaps for you too, the term “houseboat” brings to mind images of pre-fabricated boats you may see an old man with a country accent advertising on a bad TV commercial.  When Jennifer first told me she was going to live on a houseboat I was a little skeptical.  However, this is France and a houseboat here is called a “peniche.”  The peniche is docked on the Seine River right next to the Eiffel tower; it has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a kitchen bigger than many I have seen in apartments here in Paris.  Oh, and the coffee table is a vintage Louis Vuitton trunk.  I don’t think I will ever become jaded in this country!

Bisou, bisou,

Maggie

“The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese."
Steven Wright

The Secret to a Perfect Croissant

One of the more difficult tasks in the world of pastry is making croissants.  Those flaky, melt in your mouth layers are delicious on their own, and even better surrounding chocolate like in pain au chocolat--my favorite!  Croissants were introduced to the French by the Austrian princess Marie Antoinette in 1770 and I’d say the French have done a pretty good job perfecting them over the past 240 years. 

Now I’m sure all of you are on the edge of your seats right now dying to know the secret to croissants.  Well here it is…BUTTER.  Croissants are a combination of yeast dough and puff pastry.  Yeast dough is made and then butter is put in between the dough and rolled out, then folded and rolled out again.  The process repeats until there are multiple layers of paper-thin butter and yeast dough that when put in a hot oven puff up into the familiar croissant.  However, at Le Cordon Bleu we don’t use just any butter, here we use beurre sec, or dry butter.  While regular butter is 80-82% fat, dry butter consists of 82-84% fat which results in a richer tasting product.  You can of course also use regular butter to make croissants, but if you’re going through the trouble to make your own croissants in the first place, why the heck would you want to?  This is France.  Go big, or go home.

During the croissant demonstration class a student raised their hand to ask the chef where they could purchase dry butter.  “You can’t,” replied chef.  No, he doesn’t mean that you have to travel across Paris until you find a small unmarked store on a street that looks like an alley and once the store opens up after a two hour lunch break then you can buy dry butter.  Literally, c’est impossible.  You need a professional license stating that you are a baker or pastry chef to buy the stuff.  France--what a country!  As long as you look like you can pass for about eighteen they’ll sell you a couple bottles of wine.  However, they’re going to need to see some ID for that butter. 

Croissants are little too complicated for me to explain how to make in just one blog post.  Since it is the season for cookie baking I thought instead, I would share with you one of my favorite recipes for chocolate cookies.  They are gooey and chocolaty with a nice crust from the sugar coating.  Regardless of my growing repertoire of recipes I will never stop making these.  All the ingredients can be found at your regular grocery store—no ID required.   

“The Best” Chocolate Cookies

2 cups flour

¾ cup cocoa powder

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 sticks plus 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened

2 cups sugar

2 eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla

In a medium bowl sift the flour, cocoa powder, salt and baking soda.  In a separate bowl cream together butter, sugar, eggs, and vanilla.  Add the flour mixture to the butter mixture and mix until just combined.  Chill the dough for at least 1 hour. 

Preheat the oven to 350° F.  Scoop the dough out using a tablespoon and roll into 1 ½ inch balls.  Dip the top of the balls in sugar and place sugar side up on a baking sheet.  Bake approximately 8 minutes. 

Bon appétit and Joyeux Noel!

Bisou, bisou,

Maggie

“Let them eat cake!” 

-This quote is often wrongly attributed to Marie Antoinette.  The phrase comes from the book Confessions written by Jean-Jacque Rousseau when Marie was only a child.  Perhaps if she had actually uttered something similar to those lines she would have said, “Let them eat croissants!”