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!”

"Oui Chef!"

This past week I completed my exams for the basic pastry course at Le Cordon Bleu.  I can hardly believe that I have been in school for over a month.  During this time I learned a lot more about the chefs that help make LCB the wonderful school that it is.  Here is a little more about them: 

Chef Xavier Cotte.  Chef Cotte is my favorite.  He does most of the demonstrations for basic pastry and if he wasn’t a chef I imagine he would be a stand-up comedian or circus clown.  He is always twirling his knives and rolling pin around like batons and cracking jokes.  I consider him similar to a French, pastry-making version of Emeril Lagasse.  He recently left for a two week vacation and on the day of his last demonstration he stood in the doorway saying goodbye to the students, even shaking my hand and giving me a bisou, bisou!

Chef Jean-Francois Deguignet.  Chef Deguignet is the “mad scientist” amongst the chefs.  He grew up in a family of pastry chefs and that has contributed to his vast knowledge of patisserie.  During one demonstration he told us that when sugar is between 107 and 108 degrees Celsius you can blow bubbles.  He stood there in silence for a few moments looking at a boiling pot of sugar before dipping a slotted spoon in the liquid and blowing a cloud of sugar bubbles across the stove.  No thermometer needed—this man can tell the temperature of sugar just by looking at it!

Chef Jean-Jacques Tranchant.  Chef Tranchant is rather quiet and I don’t know much about him.  During practical classes he will come up to students, show them how to do something correctly, and then walk away all without saying a word.  One thing I do know about him is that he used to work with chocolatier Jean-Paul Hevin who makes chocolate covered cheese (don’t turn your nose up!  The cheese is very mild) that I had to seek out when I arrived here in Paris.  As the classes get harder, I’m interested to see what this chef has to offer. 

Chef Daniel.  I always forget Chef Daniel’s last name, but I don’t think he would mind being called by his first.  He is a very easy-going old man.  I hope he has grandchildren because he seems like the perfect grandfatherly figure.  He doesn’t know much English, but he does know the phrase, “no problem.”

Chef Nicolas Bernarde.  Amongst friends I like to refer to Chef Bernarde as “Hot Chef.”  Tall, dark, handsome, topped off with a French accent and numerous accolades including the title of Meilleur Ouvrier de France 2004.  What does this mean?  In 2004 Nicolas was named the best pastry chef in France and considering patisseries in France are as common as Starbucks in the U.S. this is a pretty big deal.  Bernarde runs things in the pastry department here at LCB and as he informed us, he doesn’t do demonstration classes.  Understandable I suppose, polishing trophies takes time.  When I first had Chef Bernarde for a practical class he patrolled the kitchen like a lieutenant in the army.  Our class soon learned that he did have a sense of humor though.  One day he took a small whisk from a student and announced to the class “Dis is bahbie gurl!” What? “For egg whites you use this!”  He held up a large whisk.  No one wants to be a Barbie girl in the kitchen. 

Me with visiting Chef Christian Faure and a signed copy of the Meilleur Ouvrier cookbook

Most of the chefs at school speak some English, but words sometimes get lost in translation--my name for example.  During the first week of class the chefs continuously pronounced my name “Magie,” just like my name is usually pronounced, but with a soft “g.”  I didn’t think much of this until I started seeing the word “magie” on posters around Paris.  So like anyone from the 21^st century, I turned to Google translate and learned that “magie” means “magic” in French.  I should also take this time to tell you about my chef clogs.  They’re leopard print and amongst a sea of solid black and solid white clogs they stand out.  People are constantly taking note of my shoes, even the chefs.  Hot Chef came up to me one day and said, “Grrrrrr Tigger!”  Tiger...and this is technically a leopard print, but I’m not about to correct Hot Chef.  So, between the name Magic and my leopard print shoes I came to the conclusion that the chefs must of course think I am the daughter of a stripper. 

Eventually all the chefs asked me how to pronounce my name and now they say it correctly.  However, my friends still like to call me Magie.  The chefs must still think there is a little magie in my pastry skills because I am officially a graduate of Basic Pastry and will be moving onto Intermediate Pastry in the New Year!  Woohoo!

Bisou, bisou,

Magie

“A great chef is an artist that I truly respect.”

-Robert Stack

"Les etudiants" of Le Cordon Bleu

When I first wrote you I had just finished my first day in the kitchen at Le Cordon Bleu.  The recipe we were required to make was “Diamonates” which is a shortbread.  Although they were good they were just cookies.  As a kid I enjoyed watching the Martha Stewart Show on Sunday mornings instead of cartoons.  So as you can imagine, I was ready for more of a challenge.  I am proud to report that to date I have made: shortbread cookies, apple tart, madelines, fruit cake,  Saint-Honore cake, apple turnovers, palmiers (a puff pastry), éclairs, chouquettes,  dacquoise cake, gateau basque (butter cake filled with cream and cherries), caramelized pear and crisp almond tart, raisin biscuits, meringue cookies, orange tart with a caramelized crust, and chocolate tart.   And I ate all of it!  Ok not all of it, I did grow up with three brothers; I know how to share.  On my way to school I usually see about 5 or 6 people begging on the street.  So most days, I walk home from school carrying my large LCB bag and distributing my confections to the homeless like a better-looking Santa Claus.

chouxquettes

Now for those of you concerned about my figure, you need not fear.  I get my share of exercise by walking, everywhere.  I do take the metro, but that will only get you so far.  Plus, walking through the metro station there are stairs, after stairs, and long corridors.  I also live on the third floor of the apartment building and for fear of getting stuck in a 10 foot square box, I usually forego the elevator and take the stairs.  Now I don’t mean this to sound like I’m complaining at all. I welcome the exercise and Paris is a beautiful city to walk in—a lot of beautiful architecture and interesting people to see!

Not only are the French people on the streets interesting, so are the people in my class.  Never in my life have I been in the same room with a more diverse group.  During demonstrations I notice people writing not just in English and French, but in Hebrew, Italian, Chinese, Japanese, and so on.  In my pastry class only about ¼ are men (there are a lot more men in the cuisine course) and students range in age from 18 to late fifties.  I have met Jen, a 30 year old American who was a nanny before coming to LCB.  Lydia, an American who is 27, and has worked in kitchens in Australia for the past 5 years.  Zane, who always turns out perfect pastries and owns a chocolate factory in Latvia that employs 100 people.  Ester, who has been a waitress since serving in the Israeli army.  Josefine, an 18 year old Swede who lives in England and will complete the basic pastry course before leaving to study law at Cambridge.  Jose, an Italian who has been working as an executive chef in his home country for the past few years. Yiling, from Singapore who worked in banking before quitting to attend LCB and do something she enjoys.  I could go on, but for now I’ll leave you with just the Cliffs Notes.  There are so many fascinating people at Cordon Bleu and I am excited to get to know everyone better. 

Now let the tune to “It’s a Small World” start playing in the back of your mind because in my class there is a woman who graduated from Miami University and a woman who graduated from Indiana University.  The former is Kristen, a nurse, in her late fifties, from Michigan.  She is here as a gift from her husband to complete the Basic Certificate in Pastry (although I’m sure this is as much a gift for him as it is for her). 

The latter is Laura, a self-described klutz from Ft. Wayne, Indiana.  She earned her master’s degree from IU sometime in the eighties and currently owns a bakery in Ft. Wayne.  If you knew Laura back in the states and you learned that she was moving to Paris to go to culinary school you may think to yourself, “This is why the French hate us.”  The first thing I noticed about Laura is that her hair shines, and not in the “What kind of shampoo do you use?” way.  Her hair literally has strands of tinsel weaved into it.  I asked her about it and it’s called Hair Flair; Google it for pictures.   Not a day in demonstration class goes by that we don’t hear Laura’s boisterous American voice asking questions.  For example the other day we were learning about chocolate which comes from the cacao tree when Laura interrupted to ask, “Is that also where cocaine comes from?”  I feel bad for Laura because every day I see the chefs and my peers growing more frustrated with her.  She really is a sweet woman and  I have a slight admiration for her eccentricity.  I hope she does well, but as we were told on the first day of class, not everyone will graduate.  I will try to avoid Laura in the kitchen though, she cut herself twice on the first day of class and bled all over.  Yes, while making cookies.  As for my fellow IU alumni, don’t you worry—I’m doing my best to redeem us in the eyes of the French.

Bisou,bisou

Maggie

P.S.  For the record, the French do not hate Americans.  However, if you walk around talking loudly and expecting everyone to understand English you will get some dirty looks.      

“Food is our common ground, a universal experience.”

-James Beard

This year I am thankful for...

I just wanted to send a quick note out to say “Happy Thanksgiving” to all my fellow Americans!  Today I am celebrating with a little champagne, bread, sausage, and cheese—Thanksgiving French style!  However, I am really missing turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy.  I hope everyone will eat their fair share for me.

Yesterday in class we made a Saint-Honore, which is basically a cake filled with sweetened whipped cream.  We had watched the chef make it; he whips the cream to stiff peaks in the mixer so that he can pipe them out into a beautiful design on the cake.  Seems easy enough, but when we get to class I am informed that we will be making the whipped cream by HAND.  So as I stood there whipping my cream and feeling the burn in my biceps I thought, “WTF!? If I wanted to learn how to whip cream by hand I could have just stayed in Ohio and driven a couple hours north to Amish country.”  Then again, I guess it is all a part of the Cordon Bleu experience.

So, this year I would like to give thanks for my lovely family, friends AND my KitchenAid mixer.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Bisou, bisou!

Maggie

“Bear in mind that you should conduct yourself in life as at a feast.”

-Epictetus

My Saint-Honore...just look at all that whipped cream!

Bonjour mes amis!

I am currently eating cookies as I sit in my room preparing for another day at Le Cordon Bleu and writing to you.  Later today I will walk 15 minutes down the street to LCB to watch the chef demonstrate how to make a tarte au pommes, but for now let me tell you a little bit about my adventure so far…

I arrived in Paris on November 4 and was greeted by my host family, a woman and her son (Murielle and Armand) who I will be living with for the next few months.  They live in an apartment in the 15^th arrondissement.  Murielle speaks some English, but Armand speaks hardly any.  Although we have trouble communicating I don’t mind because I hope to learn French during my time here.  Murielle doesn’t work, but she does go to singing classes, meet up with friends, and have people over for lunch throughout the days.  I’m assuming that she hit the age of 60 before Sarkozy upped the retirement age to 62, sending the younger French into an uproar.  Armand is 23 and spends most of his days in the apartment.  From what I gather he is preparing for an exam and will start school at the end of November.  I have also learned that he does not like frommage (cheese) or vin (wine); needless to say I do not think we will become best friends.  That being said, living with Murielle and Armand has been great, they are very kind and accommodating. 

I did not start school until November 15 so I had 10 days to explore Paris.  I walked to the Eiffel Tower, explored the Louvre and the Dali museum in Montmartre, did a little shopping, and had fun getting lost.  Most days I would set out with the addresses of a few patisseries and boutiques that I wanted to see.  I would then take the Metro to a stop near the place I was intending to go to and wander around window shopping, or as the French say lèche-vitrines (literally translated:  “window licking”), until I found my destination.  On one particularly cold, drizzly, windy day I found a little café near the Louvre.  It was set back in a corner and had large windows, perfect for people watching.  I sat at a small table next to the window and ordered a café and croque madame (a warm ham and cheese sandwich with an over-easy egg on top).  As I sat at the table warming up and admiring the French’s ability to stay fashionable in such awful weather I started to smile, as I often find myself doing here even when engaging in mundane tasks.  I’m here.  In Paris.  To do something I love!

While I did enjoy my free time, I was ready to start school on the 15^th and have a purpose for my days.  When I arrived at LCB I was greeted at the door and ushered into a room with a vaulted glass ceiling and small café tables set around the perimeter.  This is the Jardin d’Hiver, or “Winter Garden,” which is the main gathering place for students.  Here I received my uniform which consists of a chef’s coat, pants, an apron, a hat, and hand towel.  Luckily we were given multiples of each item so we don’t have to wash them every night.  As for the hat, before you can ask…No, they are not the tall chef’s toques that you see on TV.  Only the chefs wear those, students receive toques when they graduate.  I also received a set of Wusthof knives (a German brand, tres bien!), a small scale (if the cooking thing doesn’t work out I can always sell drugs), various cooking utensils, and a set of Tupperware (to bring home all of my pastries of course!).  The last thing I received was a binder of “recipes” which are actually just lists of ingredients.  It is the student’s job to take detailed notes during demonstrations so that we can recreate the pastry during our practical class. 

Cookies demonstrated on the first day of class

In my patisserie class there are approximately 40 students, divided into 3 groups.  For the demonstration classes we all meet in one room for 2 ½ hours to watch the chef make the designated pastries for that day.  On the first day the chef made 4 different kinds of shortbread.  While this may seem like a long time to sit and watch someone cook, things are really fast paced and the chef is surprisingly funny and charming, so time flies by.  After we watch the demonstration we have a practical class where we are required to make one of the recipes that were demonstrated.  We know before class which recipe we will be required to make, and all students make the same one.  It is for the practical class that we divide into our separate groups.  The kitchens hold about 14 people each, hence the 3 groups. 

Once in the kitchen, we get right to work.  The chef oversees us while we cook.  He corrects students when he sees them doing things incorrectly, he answers questions, and sometimes he makes everyone stop what they are doing so he can demonstrate a technique.  All of the ingredients are gathered before class so students don’t need to go searching for anything.  Grandma, don’t worry I was totally kidding about the drug dealing--the scales are actually for measuring ingredients.  Weighing ingredients yields a much more precise measurement than using cups.  After we have completed our recipe the chef will come around and tell each student what they did well and what they did incorrectly.  He will then write down a grade for us between 1 and 5.  We were not graded on our first day in the kitchen, but today we will be.  Wish me luck on my apple tart!

Bisou, bisou! (kiss, kiss)

Maggie

"Life is uncertain.  Eat dessert first."  -Ernestine Ulmer