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November 2008
How this Journey Began, A Crack in the Ice
It was in October of 2003. I made my usual pass through the front of my bakery to have friendly exchange with my customers. One of the ‘fixtures’ of the bakery—as I liked to call the customers who had created the bakery as their home away from home—Fixture Joe called for me to sit at his table for a moment of conversation.
As a Pulitzer prize winning author, he often winced when I introduced him to a new customer as a Nobel prize winner. He would respond on more than one occasion, “well, April, I would like to be credited with furthering world peace, however,” then I just blushed profusely and laughed nervously—hoping to smooth over my mistake for the fifthteenth time in my exhausted baking stupor.
Most often we would talk about France. I have always had this ‘thing for France.’ When Fixture Joe would talk about his lengthy excursions with his traveling friend, Fixture Bill, I escaped to a totally different place. Unfortunately, after talking about the food and the incredible boutiques and the painfully obvious tourist attractions, i.e. the Eiffel tower and The Louvre…the Eiffel tower and the Eiffel tower…I had no more words. What could I say? I had never been to France. No matter how hard I would like to pretend, I just plain hadn’t been.
I have one word for Fixture Joe—profound. So now I would like to change Fixture Joe’s name to Profound Joe. One thing is for sure, I don’t think Profound Joe ever advertises himself as a prophet, but, somehow I think he always knows the events that will unfold. This particular day, with my signature dark circles under my eyes, I walked out front for my usual precious rounds with my dear bakery customers.
Profound Joe said, “April, have a seat.” I hesitated knowing everything I needed to get done in the kitchen, but, thought it would probably be good for me to take a break, I would be there late anyway.
I wiped my hands on my towel tucked into the strings of my apron and sat across from Profound Joe. He continued, “April, there are two kinds of people in this world, people who travel and people who talk about it.” I laughed nervously…as freakin’ always…and he said again, in a loud piercing voice—almost as if peering at me over a pulpit, “April, there are two kinds of people in this world, people who travel and people who talk about it.”
I smiled sitting at attention now and squeaked out a weak, “Thanks, Joe.” We talked some more, but, I could only see a talking head, I heard nothing. All I could do was think about what he had said about traveling. As I made myself a cup of coffee on my way back to the kitchen I thought of a thousand reasons why I could not travel right now.
As I pushed through the double port-holed doors to the kitchen, a smile crept across my face and I found myself thinking, “Was that a double dog dare? That was a double dog dare!”
Immediately, I was filled with energy and excitement. I was one for going all the way with a double dog dare. I wouldn’t cower this time either. I flooded over the rest of my self-imposed assignments for the day and couldn’t wait to get home that night. For the remainder of the day, everything worked like clockwork.
When I got home that evening, I sat down to my computer and logged on to www.cheaptickets.com. A few clicks on the keyboard, one hour and 300 dollars later (as if the cheap price was not confirmation enough) with my ticket to Paris, France, in my hand—I officially could look myself in the mirror and see a ‘Do-er not a Talker.’
I left on Christmas day 2003 for a trip that would change my life forever.
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Chef Alain Ducasse’s Restaurant Le Jules Verne in the Eiffel Tower
As we took the elevator to the second level, anticipation overwhelmed me. My parents, whom were my dinner guests, celebrated their 48th Anniversary this year, what more reason could their be to celebrate? We were led around the glass restaurant until we were seated at a perfect table with a view of twinkling Paris at night, more than 400 feet above the city.
Originally, when making the dinner reservations, I was concerned about choosing a restaurant in a high traffic area for fear of it being too touristy—beautiful view with overpriced disappointing fare. When I came across Le Jules Verne in my research, it proved to be the perfect match for our special birthday outing. Science fiction meets French Master Chef and the resulting experience was not one soon to be forgotten.
Everything in the restaurant had been custom made for the Le Jules Verne down to the NASA-like chairs that allowed the guests to seemingly levitate above the floor. The artist’s modern palette of dark purple with silver and white accents was dramatic against the backdrop of the stellar city. The futuristic ‘organic forms’ plates by JL Coquet, lay face down on the table and the design was coordinated with the 3D design of the ceiling.
Beginning the meal, the server offered an amuse bouche or ‘mouth pleaser’ from the chef to the guests of the table, free of charge. Often the amuse bouche is an example of the chefs cuisine to come, and this was no different—simple and delicious, exactly what Michelin six star Chef Alain Ducasse is famous for. The amuse bouche was a parmesan profiteroles. Next, we savored une petite portions of a warm lemon butter cream with perfect vegetables in tiny glass ramekins with tiny glass spoons.
A sea salt pastry, a whole wheat or crusty sourdough roll was offered at the table with fresh butter, there was no doubt the butter was fresh from Brittany. The service was ideally comfortable and not too fussy or overbearing. The crowning moment of service was when three servers delivered our entrees to the table and each placed our plate in front of each guest at the same time, then proceeded to pour the sauce or au jus in unison onto our perfectly painted plates.
The celebrities of the meal for tonight included a pan-seared turbot with crayfish and mushrooms a la riche, roasted veal as a blanquette with seasonal vegetables and cooking juice and a red wine crushed black peppercorn beef filet with puffed potatoes and foie gras with puff pastry. We all passed tiny portions to each other and savored every bite. Combined with the view this meal would prove to be the best we would have on this Parisian adventure. But, the adventure was far from over.
The birthday guest’s dessert came first with a candle and ‘Joyeux Anniversaire!’ written in chocolate ganache around the parameter of the plate. We sampled the bittersweet tower bolt with dark chocolate praline and hazelnut ice cream and a light wild strawberry and coconut cake with lime and coconut sorbet.
The servers again in unison brought handmade lemon verbena marshmallows and bittersweet chocolate truffle squares to the tables in gleaming silver urns and then to ‘gild the lily’ they placed a beautiful silver tray with mignardes or tiny desserts—Madeline’s, macaroons, and bittersweet chocolate napoleons in the center of the table. We had coffee americain and relished the moment.
The stars outside the beautiful panoramic windows reflected the stars in our eyes. As the music in the background played, ‘April in Paris’ serenaded our table, the timing could not have been more perfect.
As we left the Eiffel tower, it began to sparkle like a huge diamond, a reminder that the French are never finished. The experience of Alain Ducasse’s world class cuisine at Le Jules Verne restaurant in the Eiffel Tower was truly out of this world—From the Earth to the Moon.
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Ritzy School
Chef Didier walked in and introduced himself to me and the others in our culinary class. The director over the chefs in the Ecole Ritz Escoffier, chef Didier is definitely one to be commended and revered. Didier is a fantastic chef and by the time I finished my coursework with him, we had gone over my favorite part of the culinary world: bread making and viennese pastry. The perfect French delights that no other culture has been able to duplicate or even come close to, precisely the reason I came to Paris.
Each morning started with a delightful coffee and pastry break served by Charlotte, Didier’s assistant. Thanks to Charlotte, the entire course was translated from French to English, just for me. She was schooled in English, but, I am convinced she will be in hospitality before it is all over with. She has a kind demeanor, an amazing gift for multi-tasking and makes everyone feel as if they are the only person in the room.
After our morning break, we would typically have an introduction to the day by lecture. Then after going over the basics, baking history, baker’s percentages, wheat varieties, temperature, humidity and timing we were off to the kitchen. Each day was spent mixing, shaping, baking, and experimenting with different techniques and exotic flavors.
Part of the day we would stay in the Ecole pastry kitchen and the other part of the day we would spend in the boulangerie (bakery) of the Hotel Ritz taking turns using the steam injected brick oven and stealing glimpses of the baker’s French baking secrets.
Even though the baking foundation was similar to my Culinary Institute of America background and my bakery experience, I value the many differences in techniques and nuances in artistic expression that I learned from Didier. All of the professional chefs that I have had the privilege and honor to work with in my experience all have perfected their own ‘system’ over time. It never fails that these ‘systems’ have priceless techniques that are unique and helpful in countless ways and cannot be found in a book. Didier is a plethora of passionate pastry knowledge.
Most importantly, found in the course curriculum was the development and techniques of making a perfect French baguette. In addition, some more of the wonderful recipes we baked were smoked bacon Fougasse, decorated Bread, Vienesse Bread, Danish, Croissant, Brioche, Puff Pastry, Kouglof, Fouace, and English Muffins.
Like a peacock flashing his colorful plume, Chef Didier never stopped with simply the recipe, he always added his signature touch. For instance, his fairytale-like mushroom shaped Viennese rolls filled with Madagascar vanilla bean pastry cream and powdered with sugar ‘spots’ and edible gold leaf or his flaky, crusty French butter croissants (yes, it matters that the butter is French) filled with pistachio almond paste and bittersweet Valrhona chocolate finished with a sugar glaze and fresh pistachios left me well, for once, speechless.
Everything chef Didier did was effortless to him. Like vividly colored cobalt blue and turquoise jeweled peacock feathers, Didier’s talents were all just an extension of who he was, is and will become. I didn’t even see a hint of the rumors of a French chef’s arrogance in Didier. Yes, he is over-the-top. Yes, he is confident. Yes, his talents are better than the rest.
“Every day is a competition,” he would say. But, somehow in my mind I couldn’t help but know, he is exactly as he should be.
As the old saying says, “It is what it is.”
I say, in reference to Chef Didier, “He is what he is…naturally talented and effortlessly splendid.”
After all of this great instruction from an amazing chef and professional, we all were given beautiful Ritz Escoffier bags to carry home all of our beautiful baking projects daily. I have made lots of friends since being in Paris with all of the unexpected baked gifts I have given to my neighbors. Who doesn’t love bread and pastry?
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Ode to a Guinea Fowl
In cooking class last week, for some reason, I volunteered to butcher the guinea fowl. Fortunately, I had a cooking partner and we took turns chopping vegetables for the main course and butchering the bird. The two fowl were purchased earlier at the outdoor French market. As I unfurled the yellow paper and revealed the interior, in my hands lay the whole, featherless bird complete with large claws and the head.
My first thought was of Saturday mornings at the bakery. Sometimes the pretty birds with black and gray feathers peppered with white spots often ran and squawked outside the front of the bakery, early in the morning when the dew was still on the grass. Today the guinea chattered no more.
I thought to myself, I cannot appear to be bothered. I have to do this. As I peered at the featherless bird on the French tiled counter, my eyes kept meeting the birds’. I had flashbacks of every pet I’d had since I was a child—-even my pet hamsters, Annie FeFe I, II, and III. I pictured the guinea being jerked from its little girl’s night out date in front of the bakery—-a mean trick. And then before I could give it a name, I said out loud, “The head has got to go.”
I thought back to my grandmother, how in the world did she ring a chicken’s neck? No wonder she was so thin.
After chopping off the neck, I cut the wings and legs off at the joints. Then I ran the sharpened knife along the backbone to release the breasts and to my hidden dismay, I was ordered to leave the large claws on, in the name of authenticity. I trussed the neatly cut guinea pieces, so that they would cook evenly and put them on a beautiful French ceramic platter. I could not wait to cut the oranges.
Chopping, dicing, mincing and sautéing, the small French kitchen began to bloom with the scents of the meal to come. Positioning the authentic Le Creuset cast iron pot on top of the French stove, I spooned some fresh butter from burgundy and some olive oil from Provence into the bottom of the pan to melt. When the pan was good and hot, I started gently laying the guinea pieces, skin side down, in the pot and sprinkled in some lovely sea salt from Normandy. Then the instructor came by and tossed in the neck, organs and head…for flavor.
The guinea sizzled and cracked as it turned golden brown. Everyone in the kitchen began to softly chatter about the warm and enticing fragrance, now in full bloom. I tossed in the garlic, black peppercorn, chunks of onion, fresh thyme sprigs and sweet orange halves. I was in my kitchen rhythm now. I loved every minute of it. As I put the lid back on the big Le Creuset pot, the lid sat open on one side. “Peculiar,” I thought, as I peered over the side.
Complete with music from The Shining, I spotted a guinea fowl claw sticking out of the pot, face up—as if it were trying to force the lid up to escape. I stopped and swallowed and pushed the guinea fowl claw back in the pot. I pictured the bird regenerating itself like a salamander and laughing inside the pot waiting for the right time escape. Holding the lid shut, as if my life depended on it, it was time to simmer the bird. Thank goodness.
As we all sat down for the entree course, the guinea fowl braised with parsnips, carrots, and onions and a variety of fresh herbs was truly a rich, French delight. The stock had thickened during simmering and had a very rich and earthy aroma. Everyone sat at their seats with exhilaration and anticipation.
“Oh, how beautiful—how really, really French,” I said as I put a strong accent on ‘really.’ I smiled and began to plate the guinea onto the perfect French plates with a drizzle of sauce and a hearty portion of vegetables, generously serving the large clawed pieces to someone other than myself.
Maybe the packages at the grocery store aren’t that bad, I reasoned in my mind. Never once when opening the sterile chicken package from the grocery store in the states did I consider giving the dead bird a name.
As we sat down to enjoy our decadent lunch, I took a bite of the fowl with the rich brown sauce. It was the most tender, delicious buttery poultry I have ever tasted. Nothing I have ever eaten in the states compared to the flavor.
I will have to hire a butcher.
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Salon du Chocolat Style Show 2008
This year the Salon du Chocolat once again paired famous chocolate houses and the best chocolatiers with Paris’ most acclaimed haute couture designers to create fashions made with and inspired by chocolate.
My instructor Chef Didier Stuedler labored extensively with Xuan Thu Nguyen haute couture fashion designer of Paris. Working day and night until completion, tonight their efforts would be unveiled at the opening night of the Style Show for the Salon du Chocolat.
She was dripping in chocolate. The model stepped out onto the runway and cocked her head at the audience with a striking gaze. As if a chocolate dam had been pierced, this audience of chocolate connoisseurs poured out applause and shrieks of delight as all of their chocolate fantasies literally came to life.
As women draped in chocolate swung from a trapeze, men spun on the stage in life-size rings, and whimsical glittering fairies on stilts danced about, the show continued to wow the onlookers with an exotic circus theme. Each person was perfectly painted with chocolate designs and sparkles on their gleaming faces. Their costumes were finished in shades of white, milk and bittersweet and accented with peach, gold and iridescent pearl.
“The synergy of the designer and the chocolatier create the final look,” said Chef Steudler. “Truly the designer is the lead, I just bring the chocolate, my tools and my talents.”
All of the extremes were touted at this year’s style show. There are always a few designs that boast more art than they do fabric. At one point a model pranced onto the stage in a chocolate corset with high heels, fish net tights, and a chocolate top hat. Another model wore an A-line chocolate frock with a front and back, but, no sides…not leaving a whole lot to the imagination!
Like pulling a card from the deck, we never knew what design to expect next out on the catwalk. Thrilling culinary and fashion surprises graced the runway. The chefs and designers incorporated chocolate into their one-of-a-kind designs in so many fascinating ways. Bohemian designs were painted on dresses with cocoa powder paint. Hand-sculpted pearls, beads and vines were displayed in avant-garde style along necklines and bodices. And even one tiny idea I mentioned, may have possibly inspired the chef. Tiny oblong mosaic tiles patterned the skirt of a flamboyantly flowered ensemble.
One model wore a belle epoch design inspired by the Antoinette era and another one beamed in a modernistic candy bar sheath with metallic wrapped chocolate caramels individually attached to the gown for dramatic effect.
Drawing gasps and sighs from the chocolate crazed audience, next on the scene was an earthy design. Crowned with a chocolate headdress made of leaves, the design seemed ‘to grow’ down the front of the gauzy dress. Even more magical, was the twinkle of golden chocolate leaves that trailed behind as the model disappeared behind the black curtain.
The designs were so clever, pure ingenious. Just as I chose my favorite chocolate couture design, the next one would replace it. How could one ever choose a favorite?
Pondering the answer to my question, I asked Chef Steudler if the Salon du Chocolat Style Show was a competition. “No!” he said passionately. “We are French, we could never agree on which one we liked the best.”
I pictured wild riots in the French streets over chocolate. That would never happen, I thought shaking my head, how could I think such a thing?
Then I remembered one of the causes said to have started the French Revolution…Bread!
