Chocolats Part Deux: truffles of mass destruction

On the whole, things kept getting better on the chocolate making front. First, discovering how much easier it is to work with dark vs. milk chocolate, and also having Chef Walther attend the dark chocolate practical. His calming nature always makes any practical better, but I was especially happy as I knew we would undoubtedly pick up some of his wonderful expertise in chocolate-making during the process.

Indeed this was the case. In this lesson we were scheduled to make 2 types of dipped chocolates: truffles & coffee chocolates. After taking us through a much simplified tempering process, he gave us some useful advice on achieving a smooth ganache. He also let us deviate from the filling recipe for coffee chocolates (which is basically a mixture of marzipan and coffee extract), allowing us to substitute Cointreau for that nasty coffee extract. It had been my idea and when Chelf Walther agreed, it quickly proved popular with my fellow classmates and I soon saw the Cointreau bottle being passed around the workbench. I think all of us were relieved to avoid using that suspicious brown liquid that most certainly must kill small laboratory mammals. (Seriously though, slap a Kiwi brand label on that extract bottle and the shoe shine guy would never be the wiser!!)

The marzipan filling tasted great with the Cointreau, but without the color of the coffee extract I quickly realized it would all look a bit anemic against the color of the chocolate. Still, I was glad I could direct my own choice and create something which met the more important criteria (at least for me) which was taste. I suppose I could have asked to tint it some other more descriptive color (like orange) but let’s face it… one artificial ingredient saved was probably adding to my longevity and that of my loved ones. So with the option of being dull or potentially damned, I opted for dull.

Once again, Chef Walther encouraged us to go larger on the size of the truffles to accelerate the dipping process. Recalling his legendary comments during the Petit-Fours practical in Basic about ‘small being best’ (for both the taster and the shop owner), I felt a twinge of disappointment because I was hoping this would be his mantra today as well. I tried to play the deaf rebel as long as I could, exercising quiet resistance against largeness by quickly piping out as many small ganache balls as possible before he got to my end of the workbench…but then at his gentle insistence, I enlarged the remaining portions of ganache to his specifications (which were much more than a mouthful). So rather than smallish marbles, these would be like eating a golf ball…definitely a two-mouthful effort, possibly requiring hot beverages on standby in case of involuntary gagging (unless of course you have jaws like a python...frankly even if you can open this wide, you probably shouldn’t as it isn’t the comfy default mode for mandibles. How many pythons do you see slithering around in ‘full gaping jaw’ mode on a daily basis?).

But in the end, everything came out well enough. I had evenly shaped truffles and Cointreau squares, and each morsel offered that delightful snapping sensation when the chocolate was bitten into, which is good evidence of correct tempering. Chef Walther praised me on the shape, ganache consistency and tempering result I’d achieved for my truffles, offering only some pointers for the Cointreau squares. While I’d successfully avoided over-coating these with powdered sugar (which is needed for the rolling/shaping process but, in excess, can inhibit the dipping process) it seems I’d been just a bit too Spartan on my dipping. I explained this had been to avoid the dreaded ‘puddling’ effect of excess chocolate around each square, and he nodded in full comprehension, kindly suggesting that it would just require a second dipping to get these in an optimal state. If only we’d had more time…oh well!

At that point, I rushed off to Gare de Lyon so as not to miss my train…so unfortunately there are no pictures of this work. If I could have photographed them, I suppose it would have been helpful to place a penny (ok, half dollar) in the photo to communicate the size context…not unlike those NASA meteorite photos from the 1960’s, or Associated Press photos reporting massive hail damage in Texas. Reflecting on the portion sizes, there was a certain similitude with this type of footage. Just one size larger and falling from space might catalyse the start of the next ice age…ha ha!

Still, I was proud to share them. When I got home, I packed up an assortment of the various milk & dark chocolates I’d made into Valentine-themed goodie bags and gave them out to some of my favorite people. I learned about 1 week later that one of these portions traveled all the way to Africa before being eaten. This little bit of trivia tickled me, not only to admire the willpower of the recipient but also that the chocolate itself had effectively returned to its continent of origin. As far as I know, no pythons were inured in the degustation process…but my friend is happily undergoing treatment for TMJ while she awaits a goodie bag refill. Ohhh, life is bittersweet indeed!! :-)

Lyrical Expressions and Sasquatch Sightings

The husky sighs of a young woman enjoying herself was not quite the wake up call I was expecting. It was the middle of the afternoon on Sunday and I had been taking a nap. Apart from Isabelle and myself, I thought there was no other female in the apartment. This was certainly not Isabelle and I was certainly not dreaming.

I was lying there on my little bed in the darkened room, trying to assess the source of this overture, meanwhile keeping silent. For being in Paris, ze city of lurrrve, I was actually more surprised that I’d not heard such sounds earlier during my stay. The walls in this apartment building are as thin as crepes, and so I’d certainly detected the presence of neighbors well before today (incidentally, the best one so far had been listening to someone in the upstairs apartment playing the ‘witch doctor’ song over and over while singing along!!). But due to the unmuffled clarity of these noises, I was fairly certain it wasn’t emanating through the wall of an adjacent apartment. And it was too natural and non-repetitive to be a porno flick…of course, not that I have much personal expertise in this area (apart from what I’ve observed on German TV when travelling).

Then I chuckled quietly as I remembered the plate of my handmade chocolates I’d left in Isabelle’s kitchen that morning for sampling. These were the ones I’d made the day before in my milk chocolate practical. While these did provoke a certain pleasurable response, this Harry Meets Sally rendition was far too flattering for my budding confectionary skills. (Maybe in the distant future, when I live up to my fullest expectations as a pleasure merchant, I’ll hope to hear such things when people eat my chocolates!)

Anyway, this left only one plausible conclusion for the carnal duet I was hearing: Isabelle’s son must have invited someone over, forgetting (or possibly not caring) that I was in the apartment that afternoon.

Normally on a weekend, I wouldn’t even be in Paris, so I’d say that forgetting was the more likely explanation. Earlier that day, her son and I had a comical chance meeting in the apartment. A case of two people realizing with some surprise (and in my case extreme humour) that they were not the only occupant in the apartment. As this was the first time since September that I’d ever stayed over the weekend in Paris, it is understandable that my presence would not be expected on a Sunday morning.

I’ll explain that chance meeting further if you allow me a momentary digression to provide some contextual details. There are 3 bedrooms in Isabelle’s apartment, all of which intersect with a small corridor. One room is Isabelle’s, one is rented by me and the other is a guest room which sits at the opposite end of the corridor from mine, with roughly 2 meters distance between the doors. The door to this third room is typically always shut and the room is almost always vacant unless Isabelle’s family or friends are visiting. Also intersecting with this corridor are the central bathroom and WC; the WC being just next to my bedroom door.

Isabelle has two sons who are in their twenties. I have been introduced to one, Charles, who I believe is the older of the two. He was visiting last autumn, shortly after I began my studies in Paris. At that time, I recall he was home to visit Isabelle after some language excursion in Mexico. He was cordial and when I happened to cross paths with him in the apartment, he was usually in front of Isabelle’s computer. After a couple days, Charles was off to travel some more and I don’t know if he’s been back since.

The other son I think is named Arnaud. He visits more frequently but ironically I’ve never been formally introduced. Still, I can usually tell whenever he has been in the apartment, because lights will be left on, the bathroom will be a mess and dirty dishes will be piled in the sink. Or sometimes, I’ll just hear the TV in the guest room (he seems to like TV and doesn’t come out much). So until this weekend, his presence was a bit like the Sasquatch legend…tangible signs of existence, but as yet, no actual sightings.

I suppose Arnaud must have arrived on the Saturday night when I was out having dinner with a fellow student. So I arrived home late after my dinner, completely unaware he was there. Either that, or he arrived to the apartment even later than me, but I don’t recall hearing anyone come into the apartment after I’d gone to bed.

Anyway, that Sunday morning, I’d slept until about 9am. I remember waking up when I heard Isabelle leave the apartment. Isabelle is Catholic and I assume she’d left early to go to church. At that stage, feeling very rested and upon seeing some promising sunlight peeking through the roller blind, I felt motivated to get up and seize the day. I retracted the roller blind and smiled. While the day outside looked cold and windy, the weather was clear so I decided I would walk from Isabelle’s to Montmartre to enjoy the views over Paris.

I honestly thought I was alone in the apartment, so I opened the door to my room and cranked up the iTunes on my laptop so I could hear it whilst I showered and got ready. I have earned some credo as a decent singer, yet music is a personal expression and I accept that not everyone will dig what I have to offer. Still, it is a small activity that makes me happy and so when I am alone I don’t hold back. I put on a funky collection that includes some old faves like “Lady Marmalade” and naturally I sang along confidently to the “voulez-vous coucher” part using my best Patti LaBelle voice.

I’d just finished my shower and fortunately had gotten dressed. The playlist had migrated into some Tom Jones' favorites. I was standing in my open doorway, a few steps inside my room with my back to the entry, belting out “Sex Bomb” and putting my hips and feet to some good use too. That’s when I heard the guest room door open.

I spun around quickly on my heels, simultaneously hitting the mute button on my laptop. There was a young man in the corridor with the most amazing case of bed head wearing a wrinkled and rather gaping pair of boxer shorts. He sort of self adjusted his boxers and then stumbled towards the WC.

It was a pure Bridget Jones moment, where I felt positively mortified with embarrassment but tried to salvage myself graciously. “Bonjour” I stammered quickly, followed by my quickest apologetic explanation for not realizing he was there.

He half smiled and grunted something which sounded pleasant enough, then disappeared into the WC and shut the door. I retreated from my doorway and recoiled in front of my closet, with my face grimaced in embarrassment. Just imagine having your Sunday sleep-in spoiled by some Tom Jones/voulez-vous wannabe who is not even a family member…ooops…maybe not the best climate for a first time meeting. I decided to end my little 'top of the pops' show and leave him in peace as quickly as possible. I laced up my sneakers and departed, still laughing to myself at this embarrassing faux-pas as I walked up Rue Lecourbe.

I traversed the 7eme arrondissement, then crossed the Seine near La Place de la Concorde and found myself near La Madeleine and the St. Honore/Faubourg district. I know the area pretty well, and it is one of my favorite districts in the city because of all the great boutiques. So I spent some time gazing in more than a few shop windows, of course stopping at La Duree and Fauchon where the patisserie and food displays are truly stunning. From there, I continued walking north towards the butte of Montmartre and the Deux Abbesses. The views from the butte are always worthwhile, especially on a clear day like today. There, I spent a thoroughly enjoyable day being just another tourist. I had my portrait sketched, bought some souvenirs for my little cousins, ate brioche from every patisserie along the way that looked good, and on my descent finally treated myself to coffee in a local café around Clichy. By 3pm after all the walking in the wind, I was feeling a little tired and wanting to be indoors. So I debated between an afternoon matinee or lunch and a siesta and decided ultimately on the latter option.

When I arrived back at Isabelle’s I found her in the kitchen, in the final stages of cooking a meal of turkey cutlets and gratin potatoes. We chatted briefly while I made myself a hot cup of tea and microwaved my leftover spaghetti bolognaise. As the kitchen was kinda busy, I took my spaghetti and ate in my room while perusing a map of Paris and the route I had taken. Sitting at my desk, I could hear the TV going in the guest bedroom and I heard Isabelle bring food to Arnaud. Shortly after that, I heard her leave the apartment.

It was at that point I felt quite sleepy, so I shut the roller blind and climbed into bed for a nap. The last thing I recall, before I dozed off, was putting my mobile phone on silent (so I wouldn't be awoken unexpectedly) then setting the alarm so I wouldn’t oversleep. Ha – little did I know at that point there’d be zero chance of that!

Sweet Saturday

If you must be indoors on a sunny Saturday in Paris, I suppose one of the best reasons would involve chocolate. Close in ranking, if not tied for first place, would be spending time with people you enjoy and who make you laugh.

Fortunately, that last Saturday in January, I was lucky to do both. So even though it had already been a long week, with an unexpected transport strike thrown in to the mix, finding myself in Paris was still filling my heart with prospects.

I awoke early, delighted to see a clear sunny day ahead of me. I ate a quick breakfast and hopped on the Metro, making my way to Les Halles where I spent the rest of the morning lingering in a few of the cooking stores. (Actually I spent a bit more than just time, departing Mora with a not too cheap bundle of gadgetry that was too interesting to pass up.)

While at Mora, I became so totally engrossed in the range of stainless steel moulds that I hadn’t noticed my watch had actually stopped at 11am until I went to the cashier. The sales lady handed me the receipt, which was stamped with the current time. WTF - 11:45am?! I felt my heart jump, because my practical was starting at 12:30pm and I was a good 20 stops away. I was determined to not let this glorious morning end with more involuntary marathon training. I left the store quickly and made tracks to the Metro station, walking very fast but not running this time.

The Metro connections were kind and I made it to school about 12:15pm. I changed quickly into my uniform and scooted quickly up to Level 3, half expecting to find a semi-grumpy Chef Deguignet who is the school’s leading meistro of chocolate.

But there was Chef Tranchant, darting quickly and silently around the lab area. He greeted me as I entered the class and got myself organized. He’s always good natured, yet I’ve noticed that he never really says much, even when standing in front of a class teaching a demonstration. He’s a bit like a mime…lots of elaborated gestures and exaggerated facial expressions, but a man of few words. Still, at just the right moment, he’ll offer up a subtle joke or observation and this always leaves me with a positive thought about him. I like him as he seems the most human of them all, someone who aims high but can still accept imperfection with a smile (and seems to evaluate students on the effort that was made, not necessarily just the final result). I made my way toward the far end of the work bench, where the 3 Musketeers (David, Alberto and Aurore) were getting set up. We began chatting and laughing like we normally do. Everyone’s white uniform looked clean…I wondered how long that would last given the theme of this practical.

Since I had completely lost track of time, there had been no chance to return to Isabelle’s on the way to school and pick up my cooking thermometer. I keep all my reserve gear at Isabelle’s place…the boning knife, melon baller, meat skewers and other implements that have been issued by the school but are not often (or never) used for Patisserie making. In this case, the thermometer had never made it into the daily-use kit which I keep in my school locker. Chef Cotte had encouraged us in Basic to use a digital method for measuring the temperature of boiling syrups (by digital I mean literally OUR FINGERS not a type of display!!) So while my fingers were grateful for a thermometer, I had still come up short-handed on the planning front. Fortunately, David offered to lend me his thermometer. We were swapping back and forth during most of the practical, but thankfully it didn’t slow either of us down.

We would be making 2 types of hand-dipped milk chocolates this practical: Pralines & Muscadine. Now almost any American can truly dig Pralines. If you are from the South, don’t let the name fool you. In terms of taste, these are less like a pecan/caramel Turtle, and more like an awesome peanut butter cup. The filling is made with melted milk chocolate, praline paste (basically ground hazelnuts) and gavotte fragments. Gavottes are a thin, lacy crepe-like cookie…so imagine the crisp texture of a extra thin, crumbled waffle cone mixed in with the taste of creamy nut paste and chocolate. This decadent filling is then formed into crescent shapes and dipped in chocolate. When Pralines are freshly made, they can transform your opinion about milk chocolate. The texture of the filling was like pure velvet, much more appealing than the industrialized versions of Pralines you can buy nearly everywhere in Belgium and France.

The praline paste is chilled until it is the texture of a firm cookie dough, then it is rolled out between measuring bars and cut by hand into the crescent shapes. Chef Tranchant was encouraging everyone to make these crescents as big as possible, to yield only 12-15 pieces, as the dipping process would then take less time. Okay…it’s Saturday afternoon so I partially appreciate the logic to get out of the kitchen, but what about portion control!?! Looking at the mound of filling in front of me, I decided to disobey his request as it would result in chocolates the size of boomerangs…potentially flatlining even the most die-hard chocolate fan due to the overkill portions. In my opinion, chocolates are meant to be sampled in small pieces, so a variety of pieces can be enjoyed. So I exercised more sensible portion control and made mine much smaller. As a result, I ended up with about 30 pieces, more than double what the rest of the class had made, but at least my pieces could be eaten in more or less two bites.

As for the dipping, Chef Tranchant was absolutely right…the process for Pralines did take me much longer, but it provided me with a lot more practice (and I did not hesitate to kindly remind him that is why I am here :-)). My dipped crescents were evenly coated but not to excess, so I had no big ‘puddles’ forming around my dipped pieces when placed onto the parchment to solidify. So I was feeling happy that the technique came pretty easily to me.

Muscadine features a filling of milk chocolate, fresh cream, praline paste, fresh vanilla seeds & Cointreau. The fragrant & creamy mixture is piped out into long, straight ropes onto parchment, then cut into 2cm lengths once the filling is slightly solidified. These lengths are then dipped in milk chocolate, then rolled in a oblong baking dish of powdered sugar.

In terms of flavor, Muscadine is a wonderfully creamy and very more-ish taste delight, and the fact they are rolled in sugar after dipping takes the edge off the perfectionist aspects of presentation. Visually though, making them reminded me of cleaning a litter box!! All those little pieces of chocolate being rolled around in a pan of white powder…I kept chuckling quietly to myself during the process and eventually was called out by Aurore and Alberto to verbalize my thoughts. When I told them, they roared with laughter. Chef Tranchant came to investigate the commotion, and shared in the laughter when Aurore explained the litter box observation.

So despite my elaborated Praline quantities, by 3:15 pm I had pretty much finished and cleaned-up. I had filled about 2 small carton trays with chocolate, and I was really happy as it meant that I’d have plenty to share with friends and colleagues. Chef Tranchant gave me some positive comments about the evenness of my dipping and tempering results…not hesitating to laugh one last time about my litter box comment as he farewelled the class. Despite having revealed my observation, at least it seems that I hadn’t grossed him out. Then again, I didn’t see his grade markings for my work so maybe my surprise will come later!

Be a Pleasure Merchant: more parallels to FMCG

During his fascinating and highly entertaining presentation on pulled sugar and sugar formations, visiting Chef Christian Faure from Le Cordon Bleu Ottawa reminded everyone in the audience that while we must follow the laws of divine proportion (and ultimately the universe), primarily patissiers are merchants of pleasure.

A merchant of pleasure!! It was something I never thought I’d hear during a patisserie presentation, but the truth of it completely resonated with me. I was already standing in the back row of the demonstration room, completely rapt by the piece montee he was creating and straining to get as good of a look as possible. His presentation style drifted from French to English to Fringlish, was sprinkled with crazy innuendos and a repetitive ‘boomdelaboom’ phrase, so needless to say his sense of humor had already engaged me. But when he framed the objective at hand as being a pleasure merchant, I smiled even more broadly and felt like cheering. What a great concept, not just for patisserie but for anyone involved in making consumer goods.

In speaking of divine proportion, he referred to the numbers displayed in nature as well as the laws of the universe. So respecting the number of leaves, petals, seeds, appendages, etc. that exist in nature, but also the color, harmony & symmetry of the respective elements. He said jokingly, “That simply means, you don’t put your fish in the sky, and your doves in the ocean and you try to follow the numbers 3, 5 and 7 when designing your work.” He reminded us how many items in nature follow these numbers, including the human body with its 5 ‘branches’ and preference towards symmetry. And it is instinctual that we are attracted to things that follow these laws in their design.

In calling us pleasure merchants he elaborated further, explaining that a person who comes to buy a piece montee wants to be delighted, to be fascinated, to have their eyes rest upon something that is designed to look good and attract attention. They also want the experience to be personal, displaying a photo or emblem or motif that means something to them. Then they will want to eat…probably not the piece montee itself, but something sweet since the sight of such a beautiful creation will stimulate more than just people’s eyes. “So always offer something tasty within their reach, to ensure they are not disappointed.”

He was quick to remind us, however, that simply being good in piece montee was probably not going to pay the bills. “In running a patisserie business, what makes money is being good at really basic stuff, the stuff people buy everyday: Bread, croissants, simple but well prepared cakes. These things must taste good and look good. This is how people come to recognize you, what builds their trust in your products, and what will keep you working.”

The inverse message of this was obvious, but he spelled it out clearly anyway: “You might never become good at piece montee, and still be a very successful patissier,” he advised. “But, you can probably never be a successful patissier – at least financially – unless you can offer people the basic items they’re after, as good as these items can possibly be.”

It is so true. I thought about my design work in FMCG. One the one hand, the total commonality of it; on the other, the beautiful convenience (bordering on necessity) that these products afford to consumers everyday. What makes my brand different vs a competitor is not just how it performs but also finding some new way to incorporate the delight factor…somehow to make it a bit more special, surprising or more personalized even though it is a mass produced product.

And so I left this presentation realizing that my job objective as both a design manager and a patisserie student is to be a pleasure merchant. What a wonderful and inspiring task! I want to change the title on my business cards!

French Nouvelle Cuisine by a Japanese Chef

One of my greve-related joys of staying in Paris was being able to attend two demonstrations by visiting guest chefs. Normally, I am in transit between Geneva & Paris and miss out on these extra events that happen on school premises. I decided I would take advantage of the opportunity of being in Paris a couple of extra days and attend a couple events.

The first of these was on Thursday evening. I attended a cooking demonstration by Chef Tsukasa Fukuyama, Chef de Cuisine of the A&M Bistrot in Paris. Based on his name, I was expecting Japanese or possibly fusion cuisine. But instead he prepared an inspired 3-course offering in nouvelle cuisine consisting of roasted foie gras with 4-spice, a wonderful pork tenderloin served with a galette made of pig trotter, and an iced mousse made with candied fennel and served with a cardamom infused pineapple coulis.

I’ve had foie gras served lightly grilled before, but the quality of his sourcing this ingredient was evident in how little it rendered down during the cooking process. The addition of 4 spice gave the final flavor a unique twist. Accompanied by caramelized apples, batonnets of cooked beet root and a reduced balsamic vinegar, it was a stunning presentation. All I was longing for was a cold glass of Sauternes!

I’m not a huge fan of pork dishes, but this tenderloin was certainly some of the best I have ever eaten. And the wonderfully easy cooking method made me feel confident I could try it at home. The tenderloin was carefully trimmed of all visible fat yet with the cooking method of searing and slow roasting, it remained so tender & moist. It was flavored beautifully with fresh rosemary and served with wilted spinach.

The galette was similar to a seared terrine or aspic. It is made of seasoned pork trotter and ear, gellified in a loaf pan, then cut into cubes and lightly seared on each side in a super hot skillet; then served with a delicately oiled herb salad as accompaniment. It came out golden brown and lightly crisp on the sides, retaining a slightly gelatinous but pleasing aspect at the centre. This combined with the textural aspects of the ear cartilage vaguely reminded me of a dish called “thousand layered wind” that I was once served for dim sum.

The most inventive course was undoubtedly the dessert. I love fennel, but I’ve never had it served in a dessert. He showed us how to candy the fennel pieces; then he covered these with a cream mousse containing Ricard, finishing it with a brulee-style top of caramelized sugar. It was quite simple but the most inventive dessert I’ve had in quite some time. My only critique was the coulis, which did not offer much in the way of infused cardamom flavor (the pineapple seeming to overdominate the flavor). Still, seeing how easily it came together, and my love of things with aniseed flavor, I am keen to try it again at home.

Chocolate Goose and La Greve for Debutantes

The Tuesday evening following my practical on Bavarois au Trois Chocolats concluded with Isabelle and me sitting at her kitchen table, re-hashing our day’s events in earnest while eating our microwave dinners. About 9pm, having finally convinced her to indulge in dessert with me, we were giggling like a couple of sneaky teenagers as we cut into this glossy & creamy chocolate creation and wolfed it down shamelessly. The day wasn’t supposed to end this way, but lately my life has a funny way of serving up opportunities and challenges in even portions. I’m learning to not ask so many questions and just savor the taste of it all.

Oddly enough, the wonderful evening that unfolded between us was not even scheduled to be. I would have normally been returning to Geneva on the 6pm TGV that evening, with the Bavarois in tow. I would have then spent an intense Wednesday in back to back meetings in Geneva, before squeezing in a couple of social activities that evening (involving Bavarois degustation), repacking my suitcase with a fresh change of everything and returning to Paris early on Thursday morning to attend my next class demonstration.

Then news of a planned transport strike for Thursday changed all that. It was announced that the strike (or greve as I learned it was called in French) would affect underground, RER, buses and even some TGV connections (Geneva routes being identified on the list). As it was only Tuesday, I wasn’t worried about getting home to Geneva; rather it was the getting back into Paris on Thursday in time for my next demo. Frankly I couldn’t afford any further attendance issues this term, so I decided I’d better not risk it and remained in Paris (Actually, the mental math came out something more simplistic like: I’m female + next lesson = chocolate. Conclusion: I’m staying!). So, expecting cataclysmic hardening of the city’s transport arteries, I made my way to Montparnasse station and changed my TGV tickets, then rang friends back in Geneva to advise them neither I nor the Bavarois would be joining them on Wednesday.

I realized as I walked home from Montparnasse that it was to be my very first transport greve. Oh la la! Another small milestone. A notch on my wooden spoon of Parisian experiences. I figured something like this would happen eventually; these things usually do have a certain timing to them. Then in dismay, I wondered if it could drag out for weeks rather than just one day. I quickly realized that this would probably never happen. My theory was founded as such: the Parisians organizing the strike are just bored. As it was, Christmas was now over, the final days of Galette des Rois drawing nigh, the January sales/shopping period also nearly done, the weather quite gray for weeks on end, and the Easter and May bank holidays were still a few months away. The sum of this would certainly warrant an expression of distaste from a Parisian. But prolonging this distasteful expression into the weekend? Jamais! Frankly the strikers would probably prefer to be doing something else more enjoyable on their own time. They’d rather go sit in a café than spend these precious hours trying to make a point about working conditions. I could easily imagine some Union leader sitting at his desk, ringing his collaborateurs and proposing the idea: “Eet weel be gret, non?! Un petit greve…just to get zer attention. And we are done by Friday, so we have ze weekend to enjoy!! C’est parfait, non??!”

Earlier that Tuesday afternoon, I’d had my Bavarois practical and had achieved very good results with my dessert. Bavarois is basically a mousse-style dessert that is set with gelatin, allowing for some elaborate molded shapes to be achieved in the final presentation. You can imagine in the 1800's (when it was apparently invented) that it would have made quite an impression on dinner guests; the mixture not only being formed by elaborate copper molds but for being served cold (when refrigeration was a rather a novel concept, not just an everyday appliance). Like its sister dessert, the Charlotte, you can somehow imagine this creation being placed under a sterling silver dome and then served to an emperor and his court, the stunning finale to a grande banquet.

I think the most difficult aspect of this whole lesson was pronouncing the name correctly. It rolls off my American tongue a lot closer to the French words ‘bavard’ and ‘oie’ (which translates into something like overly talkative goose!). So whilst my pronunciation techniques often fail me, at least I know how to make Francophones smile. Observing an American woman offer up a ‘chocolate goose’ is not something Parisians would hear every day…at least not in the quiet streets of the 15th arrondissement.

Apart from the challenging linguistics, the only other thing that didn’t rock my world about the Bavarois was the glaze. This final couche of gelatinous mass ended up looking suspiciously close to Neoprene: being dark, quite shiny and kinda spongy. At first glance, it more or less could have passed for pure dark chocolate; yet for all of its brilliance and intensity it lacked profound flavor and unctuous texture. So during the demonstration tasting I quietly detached this layer from my portion and discarded it when Chef Cotte wasn’t looking. As the quivering sliver of darkness hit the trash, I was suddenly reminded of those Dr Scholl’s gel insoles and wondered if the two might be formulaically related. Hmmmm. It goes without saying that I prefer my insoles under my feet not atop my cake. (Still, if my riding boots wear out from all the running to class, I have a good backup plan.)

Chef Deguignet had attended my group again at the practical. Fortunately, some blessed but unidentified person in Group D had remembered to start the lab oven before he walked in, as we would need a super hot oven for our ladyfinger sponge base. So Chef D was all smiles when he arrived at the class door and spied the oven already humming and ramping up quickly to 220 degrees C. He greeted us warmly and we responded with an equally hearty “Bonjour Chef!” (almost in unison, which seemed to please him even more). From that point, things just continued to get better.

The fantastic four (ie Alberto, Aurore, David and I) were working again like clockwork, our personality cogs just meshing perfectly without any prior discussion. Everyone just seemed to be aware of what needed to be done and was offering up a task in benefit to the group at just the right time. This synchronized behavior by my subgroup would mean less running around for each individual and this in turn would enable our subgroup to get our biscuit quickly into the oven. The chefs are always reminding us to work systematically, particularly with the freezers and ovens, since it is not efficient to throw open the door of either appliance repeatedly for each individual. It wastes time and energy, both of which are paramount to running an efficient kitchen. So we often group ourselves into pairs or fours for steps involving oven and freezer.

Timing was important in this practical. While the Bavarois is not especially difficult to make, adequate freezing of the final assembled dessert is critical and would take as much time as we could allow during the 2.5 hour class.

I prepared the baking plaque for the four of us, anchoring the parchment with industrial magnets; then tracing circles using Alberto’s marker and writing each person’s name next to a circle (these would be our guidelines for piping out the round ladyfinger bases). Alberto organized a set of mixing bowls and balloon whisks for each of us and David gathered various missing ingredients, finding the ever-illusive gelatin sheets and then hauling the massive bucket of egg whites out of the fridge. Aurore distributed the disposable pastry bags to each of us. The team efforts paid off. We were the first subgroup to have our tray of biscuit ready and into the oven, and this was at least 10 minutes before any other group.

Chef D put me in charge of the oven. I don’t know why, but I am often assigned to monitor the oven. I guess it is because I am tall and can more easily monitor the progress of the top racks during baking. I am also pretty adept at quickly turning the heavy baking sheets during the baking process. It is not unpleasant work, but the trick is not getting distracted (and hence ruining someone else’s work) while still remaining focused on completing your remaining tasks.

I had followed on with the good habit learned in my last practical, which included organizing all my needed equipment into an aluminium baking pan, then measuring all my ingredients onto parchment squares. So before lifting a whisk to make the sponge biscuit, I was ready to move forward with the remaining steps of the recipe. So being assigned to oven monitor was not distracting to the other tasks I had to do for myself, and I could easily vascillate between ovening and my mixing, syruping and trimming. The difference in my speed of assembly was remarkably improved and it was really easy to keep my work area cleaner and organized. I can’t go back to my old ways now!

The only preparation challenges I encountered were (once again) primarily based on teaching differences between chefs. And it’s not just me, everyone who is a student comments on this. You are told by one chef to do something a certain way during the demo, then at the practical you are questioned for following these very instructions since it is often a different chef with a different point of view. It always leads to some funny interaction; the discussions always have a certain pattern to them, only the specific details or tonality of the conversation changes depending on the recipe we are making and which chef is asking. For example:

Chef: “Why on earth are you __________??!”
Student (surprised): “Uh…but during the demo Chef ______told us to _____ for this step.”
Chef (irritated): “Quoi??! Mais non, that’s totally ______! You should never _________. You should always _____.” (This is sometimes followed with some snide comment about the other chef, par exemple, “Well, of course he’d tell you to do it that way…you’ve seen his hands haven’t you?? More like two feet!”)

Thus, just when you think you might’ve learned the correct technique in the demo, some other authority steps your space in practical and really teaches you. It is pointless to offer up class notes, eye witnesses or sworn testimonials as rationale to your argument. In fact, don’t even try to argue; it will be of little interest to the chef in your practical. The unspoken rule is just respond to this interaction with a hearty “Oui, chef!” and do exactly whatever you’re being told at that moment, even if it no longer coincides with the rest of your class notes or leaves you in total confusion about what to do next. Then, when the chef walks away, you are free to roll your eyes & shake your head at your neighbor across the way (who, by the way, will be equally dumbfounded in overhearing this discussion and is now nervously awaiting their serving of verbal flogging when the chef reaches his or her side of the table).

Fortunately with Chef D, this interaction doesn’t involve any yelling or surprise attacks, so it doesn’t cause tension. Still, I chuckle to myself every time because with the exuding of different authoritarian personalities and apparent lack of calibration on methods within the school it just seems so very…French! (funnier still, maybe the chefs are calibrating their teaching differences ahead of the classes: ‘Ho, ho, wot eef you says zis and I says zat, it weel really make zem crazy, non?!”;-)

The other important lesson with this recipe is to never, ever start moussing until you have imbibed (which, come to think of it, probably gives a certain strange wisdom to life outside the classroom as well). Actually I made this mistake; although the finished dessert did not show the error of my ways, I just had a slightly harder time with the glazing process. Basically, you should prepare each of the different chocolate bavarois layers only right before you fill the ring mold with that mixture. Egad! I hadn’t even imbibed my sponge layer and had dived headlong into moussing! (Ok, speaking in my defense: I am female. Chocolate is a reflex. There are three chocolate layers, I had no choice but to take action. It was instinct! I rest my case, your honor.)

The practical ended with application of that rubbery chocolate glaze to the top of the Bavarois. Not an easy task. At the point you are ready to start glazing, the Bavarois has been frozen once (after creating the first dark chocolate layer) then refrigerated after each subsequent chocolate layer is added to the stainless steel mold, so it goes without saying that your base for applying the glaze is very cold. And the glaze contains a substantial amount of gelatin, which gives it some shine and allows it to set. So when the warm gelatinous glaze comes in contact with the nearly frozen Bavarois, you have to move fast because of the thermic shock between the glaze and the mousse beneath it. The glaze sets to the texture of a dental dam almost instantaneously, so you have to use precise & decisive movements to achieve a good finish. It was a lot tougher than it looked in the practical but I managed.

David had the best result out of the 4 of us. I complimented him, telling him that he got the look of Chinese lacquerwood with his finish…it was like a disk of pure, flawless ebony. He looked pleased. (in fact, if you very look closely at the photo of my cake, just atop the glazed surface you can see his reflection grinning in the background!! I’m not kidding! What a great moment unexpectedly captured on a cake top! I circled it in red so you can see...:-))

My glazing came out well, but a drop of water came in contact with the surface of my glaze (I was using a wet rag trying to clean up some of the overrun of glaze that was messing up my gold cardboard disk). Using a paper cornet filled with melted white chocolate, I applied a decorative band of thin drizzle, then put one of the ladyfinger hearts over the offending spot to mask the spot and saved the day! Despite having expressed dissatisfaction with my rambunctious moussing, Chef D still seemed pleased with my overall appearance of my Bavarois.

I walked back to Isabelle’s with the Bavarois, looking at my reflection on the glossy surface and wondering if the transport strike on Thursday would be like that chocolate glaze…setting in quickly and rendering everyone immobile. Again, the whole incident was just so French! As long as I stayed close to Isabelle’s, the strike would not affect me much…so I’d work from internet cafes these remaining week days and walk to school as I normally do. In my wider circle of contacts within Paris, no one seemed remotely worried about it, except maybe a couple of people who live outside the city and have no option but to commute by RER and metro to get to school. Everyone else cast a gallic shrug as if they were all a bit blasé about the whole thing, kind of a ‘been there, done that’ attitude that suggested that a day of working from home (or in some cases not working at all) would not even come close to shattering their world. And in seeing all those shrugs, I realized my theory about weekend strikers was probably spot on.

Madame Butterfly

Sometimes a nice cake comes together without a lot of effort. It reminds me of those times when you can pull together a great outfit from bits and pieces lying around your wardrobe. It doesn’t always happen, but when it does it brings a smile to your face.

For this weekend’s metamorphosis in patisserie, all I had to do was make a fresh batch of crème mousseline. And the rest of the creation came together from bits and pieces I had stowed away in my pantry or freezer.

For technique, the composition of this cake took inspiration from the Fraisier, using an exposed border of fruit and crème mousseline between two layers of imbibed vanilla genoise. Since I had canned peaches and frozen raspberries available, and I love this taste combination, I decided to put them to use. I created a gellified raspberry coulis filling, topped it with drained peach halves, using some of the peach syrup to imbibe the cake layers.

The remaining peaches were sliced into wedges and used for the decorative border, along with some spiral cake slices. These fun little spirals were made from some leftover strips of Joconde sponge cake and chocolate ganache, rolled together and then sliced into decorative rounds. It would have been perfect if they’d been just a little bit larger in diameter; still I loved the fun, swirly effect it provided as a border element. I can totally imagine playing further with this idea in future!

The garnish used consisted of a couple of sliced & fanned peach halves and the dried vanilla pod (from making the crème patissiere). Since I am still attracted by acetylene but torchless in my home kitchen, I decided not to make any Italian meringue as I could not have burnished the edges unless I used my oven broiler (and this would have destroyed the rest of the cake). I found a box of mini meringues in the pantry and used one of these to provide a simulate a small white flower and give some differing proportion. Then I added one nice, pistachio macaron as the final touch of color. I’d been experimenting with my macaron making technique earlier in the week (and finally got the results I was after…yea!)

The cake was a small glimpse of summer in the middle of winter. Despite being an impromptu composition, it looked pretty good even upon slicing with the miscellaneous layers of color coming into view. Taste was great…using branded canned peaches made a noticeable difference in taste vs unbranded, and having real vanilla pod in the crème provided a much more authentic flavor to the mousseline than we’d achieved in the Fraisier practical. Of course, if I could have used fresh, in-season fruit this one would only taste better. Better hold that thought until July. Anyway, it delivered a small slice of sunshine that was well worth the practice session.