Intermediate Week Six

First, I'm going to start off with a little PSA. Actually, it's more like begging, except it won't cost you anything! My Facebook friends who already voted can just skip to the next paragraph, but my credit union had a calendar photo contest and I was one of the thirty photos chosen for the finals. The grand prize is only $250, but for a starving student... well, a student without an income, it's a huge deal. I'd promise that angels will visit you or Bill Gates will send you $1000 if you vote, but I trust that you'll do it simply for altruistic reasons. If you're on Facebook, all you need to do is click here, "Like" Truliant's page, and vote for my photo (Claude Monet House & Gardens). You may be tempted to vote for another photo (the one with the horses is actually my favorite, but they don't need any more affirmation), but it's not about the best photo, it's about... well, me.

This week was pretty relaxed as class schedules go--only five practicums and six demonstrations spread out fairly smoothly over six days--but a bit on the distressing side. Actually, I figure that I've been in a perpetual state of anxiousness for these past four months. I've probably been under greater pressure before, but not for such an extended period of time. Each day, even the ones where I don't have classes, greets me with nervous butterflies in my stomach. The feeling isn't one of dread, but more like what you get while waiting in a lobby before a job interview or sitting on a stage right before a speech in front of a large crowd or on a roller-coaster as it slowly crests the top of a huge hill right before a big drop. I'm always hopeful that I'll make a good impression, not screw up and embarrass myself, and not go plunging off the edge, but I'm never quite sure how things are going to go. What I do know is that everything sets me off more easily these days--something as little as Andy Williams coming on Spotify singing "Moon River" almost put me in the fetal position. Am I soon to become like Mrs. Bennet from Pride and Prejudice, just begging people to have "compassion on my poor nerves"? We shall see.

Monday

Chef Poupard greeted us first thing Monday morning with Auvergne-region fare: foie gras-glazed pigs' trotters on toast (yes, they are exactly what they sound like), braised cabbage stuffed with veal forcemeat (of course) with a side of daikon radishes, carrots, celery root (real veggies again!), and potatoes, and a sweet apple "flan" and strawberry soup with white pepper. The only part of the meal that I truly enjoyed was the flan which the chef insisted was mislabeled because it was more like a custard. Whatever it was, it was terrific.

Pigs' trotters; Braised stuffed cabbage; Strawberry soup & apple flan 

Our next demonstration began at 3:30, so after a trip home to iron the rest of my uniforms and to type up my recipe for practicum (yes, I'm still keeping up with that), I joined the pastry students for a demonstration on Baba au Rhum and Kugelhof with Chef Deguignet. It was our first demonstration with this chef although he wasn't unfamiliar to us--he was in charge of our Opéra cake practicum and he frequently walks into other chefs' demonstrations to tell us to be quiet if we ever want to get into superior. Each chef has his own pet-peeve, and Deguignet's is talking. He did a good demonstration, although the Baba au rhum was typical of French pastries--a tasteless cake made edible by soaking it in syrup and covering it in vanilla cream. During this time we also received our pastry final exam recipe list. I immediately identified exactly three of the ten that didn't terrify me. 

Kugelhof; Baba au rhum

The basement kitchen chef,"Phil," supervised our practicum on making the braised stuffed cabbage. We hadn't had him in class since we were in basic and I was happy to see him again--he's one chef that always makes me feel at ease even when I mess up. When we did the salmon-stuffed cabbages a few weeks ago we wrapped them in plastic wrap before boiling, but braising requires something less synthetic and more porous such as caul, the membrane surrounding a pig's internal organs. It wasn't one of my favorite dishes, but it was quick and easy (although I overcooked my potato batons and the meat inside of my cabbage was a little too pink).

Tuesday

In the morning Chef Caals began the demonstration on the French Riviera cuisine with braised beef and olives, getting our hopes up that we were finally getting to make beef until we realized that we would be doing only the starter in practicum--a galette, which is a sort of puff pastry pizza covered in tomato concassée, black olives, balsamic vinaigrette, and marinated raw sea bass. Caals then made lovely "tulip" cookies with lemon emulsion for dessert. Most of the desserts in our cuisine demonstrations have been more appetizing than anything we make in pastry, but they also tend to be much simpler which is why, I suppose, we will never be making them. At the end of class we received our cuisine final exam recipe list. It wasn't quite as scary as the pastry list but I still quickly identified the less desirable options.

Galette with marinated sea bass; Braised beef;
Tulip cookie with lemon emulsion

Over our lunch break my cuisine practicum group began discussing our game plan for making the sea bass galette. We've transitioned into a more team-centered group to speed things up--one person may take on the task of peeling all of the tomatoes while another person may reduce the balsamic vinaigrette and someone else will roast the peppers and tomatoes for everyone, for example, but it's almost becoming too extreme. For one thing, in the exam we will be working independently and I can certainly use all of the practice that I can get. But more than that, if someone in the chain does something wrong, particularly if it involves seasoning, it could effect everyone's evaluation. I didn't want to be the wet blanket, but I casually tried to suggest that we should each do our own tomato concassée, and I noticed that Dao was vigorously nodding in agreement with a worried look on her face.

In the end it didn't matter, because while the Korean lady chef normally wouldn't have given it much thought, a new chef was joining our group to observe. Before he came into the room, our chef warned us to be on our best behavior and quickly cut down the teamwork plan. I thought that my concassée was quite good, but my sea bream lacked enough lemon juice--I wouldn't know otherwise because I couldn't bring myself to taste the raw fish. Throwing all of my fish into the trash, I wolfed down the rest of my little galette before heading home.

Wednesday

Back to that whole perpetual state of nervousness thing--one of the many contributing factors is the question of which chef will greet us in our practicals because it will set the mood for the next three hours. So when I asked, "Do you know who the chef is?" as I joined my pastry group Wednesday evening and a student whispered, "Jordan!" I thought for a moment that he was pulling my leg... because that's actually a really good prank to pull on someone. It wasn't a joke, unfortunately, but Chef Jordan seemed in a much better mood than our first encounter with the Bavarois. That's not to say that he was smiling or being friendly, but he wasn't exactly scowling and calling people stupid, either.

My cake came out just fine, but my vanilla cream had issues--it was edible but a little too heavy. Chef also stated that my cake wasn't imbibed enough although I wasn't sure how it could have held any more syrup--I could actually squeeze liquid out of it. He didn't make any positive comments but I heard him giving them to other classmates which was a welcome change from the last time. For his closing speech he said, "All the cakes tonight were good and everyone got good marks... almost everyone got good marks," and I caught the quick glance in my direction. Oh well... he's kind of like the Simon Cowell of patisserie--nobody likes him but a positive remark is like getting a standing ovation (or I'll have to assume that's the feeling for now).

Thursday

Our only class of the day was a morning demonstration on the Loire Valley cuisine with Chef Caals. In it he made a warm salad with lightly smoked pike perch, rabbit tournedos with prunes, potatoes with cheese, and anjou-style choux fritters with orange cream (again, a dessert that far exceeded the ones in our pastry practicums). The rabbit wasn't half as terrifying as it was when Chef Lesourd introduced it to us in basic--we have handled much worse items in the days since then--but former intermediate students claim that it is the most difficult exam dish. Indeed, Caals spent the first half hour of class just preparing the rabbit which in student terms translates to at least an hour. Unlike the rabbit in basic, this one needed to be carefully deboned prior to cooking in order to stuff it. Still, it didn't look that hard...

Warm salad with smoked pike perch; Rabbit tournedos & cheesy potatoes;
Anjous-style choux fritters with orange cream

On my way home I stopped off to get the groceries that I always have to have in stock--apples, butter, eggs, and a baguette. Not having bought anything for a a few days and having a lot of free time on my hands, I pulled up my budget spreadsheet when I got home to enter my purchases and do the regular check of my bank account, credit card, and cash on hand. The last item came up exactly 20€ short. I've come up short before on my expenses and usually figure it out quickly or in rare cases for small amounts mark it up as a forgotten purchase; this time, however, panic suddenly hit me with a strong sense of déjà-vu. The week before I had marked a 20€ shortage thinking that the ATM must have given me the wrong amount, and the week before that I had marked a 20€ shortage thinking that I didn't get my change back from a restaurant. My first thought was that I was losing my mind--maybe sleepwalking at night and spending money at best and completely losing my memory at worst. I even looked around the studio a few times to see if there were any new items sitting about. It was probably the closest I've come to a complete meltdown since I arrived in Paris--even more than when someone stole my flash drive with all of my life's information on it.

After regaining some of my composure I finally decided that I was (mostly) sane and that someone must be taking the money from my locker at school--the only place where my purse is not with me. A pickpocket was out of the question--if someone could manage to get in my purse and get out my wallet and take only a 20 while leaving the rest of the money, and do that every week... well, he probably deserves the money for such brilliance. My first course of action, thinking that my lock was compromised, would be to get a new padlock and report the theft to student services in the morning.

That evening I watched an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000 because it never fails to make me laugh out loud and I figured that I could use it. Within the first minute it reminded me of a couple of friends, so I recorded the scene and texted it to them. Soon we were having a three-way conversation that had me smiling and feeling better than watching any TV show could ever accomplish. Sometime during that conversation one of my friends deposited $100 into my PayPal account, and before the night was over someone else deposited the same amount into my bank account. While it didn't completely relieve the anxiety over the locker mystery, it made me stop and thank God for all the wonderful people that he has put into my life--not just the ones who help me financially, but those who pray for me and encourage me--a treasure that far outweighs stolen money. My last tears for the day were only those of gratitude.

Friday

I didn't have a class until 3:30 but our mid-term evaluation meeting for pastry began at 12:30 so I left early to buy a lock and talk to student services. The only place that I could think of to look for a padlock was at a key shop (how I miss Walmart). The clerk ripped me off by charging 10€ for a lock that couldn't have been more than 5€--he replied too quickly when I asked the price, took only cash, and just handed me the lock without a receipt--but I was in too big a hurry to install the new lock before something more important was stolen to quibble with him.

As I tried to put the lock on my locker I related my story to a classmate a few lockers down. She watched my frustration with the padlock not fitting and said, "You're doing it wrong--look," and proceeded to demonstrate how to properly put it on. Suddenly an idea hit me--I put on the old padlock the wrong way as I had been doing it for the past six weeks and tried turning the lock handle. Sure enough, it rotated just enough to get the door open. Apparently the thief had noticed my error a few weeks ago and was using my locker as her personal ATM, taking just one bill each week in the hopes that I wouldn't notice. I felt a mix of anger for being violated and relief that the perp hadn't decided to go for something more expensive like my knife kit, uniforms, or my entire wallet. My next step was to report it to student services who said, as I guessed they would, that the couldn't do anything about it.

Chef Tranchant had just returned from vacation and was in charge of delivering the grades to us. When I say, "deliver," I mean that when I entered the room he sat watching me as the translator handed me the grade breakdown and asked if I had any questions (I did not). After about 30 seconds I thanked them and left. My grade was 3.316, below the group average of 3.443 but better than what I expected. Out of the ten practicums graded, I remembered only two or three that went well, but this grade was definitely in the "safe" zone for passing practicum. Only the final exam hangs in the balance.

A few classmates and I headed to the cheap Chinese restaurant and then to Starbucks to fill in the gap before our 3:30 demonstration. [In case you're wondering, yes, their caramel maccchiato IS as good in France as in America.] I had been looking forward to this class ever since we got our recipe folders--savory petit-fours. After five weeks of being up to our elbows in chocolates, creams, and syrups, "savory"sounded fabulous. Starting with an inverted puff pastry dough, Tranchant made little pizzas, cheese straws, and pastries stuffed with chorizo, meat pâté, sausage links (i.e., pigs in a blanket), and salmon and dill. As a bonus, the chorizo was actually a bit spicy--a rare treat in France.

Salmon palms; Pâté-filled pastries; Chorizo pastries;
Pigs in a blanket; Pizzas; Cheese straws

Saturday

The consequence of a slow week at school was that Saturday was the biggest schedule slam. We started at 12:30 making the rabbit tournedos with one of the nameless chefs that speaks only French. As he "helped" me debone my rabbit leg (he actually did the whole thing) he looked at me and said something about a chapeau. I gave him a puzzled look and repeated, "Chapeau?" while patting the one on my head... which actually wasn't there, nor was my hairnet--I had completely forgotten them. By the time I ran downstairs and came back he was almost finished.

Even with his assistance we didn't finish preparing our rabbits for over an hour. Apart from carefully deboning one leg and the saddles we still had to caramelize the bones for the sauce and make the stuffing--a mix of the meat from the other hind leg, chopped prunes, mushrooms, and parsley. The cheesy potatoes were simple at least--the assistants had put them in to bake at the start of class, so we had only to halve them, scrape out the centers, mix them with goat cheese, butter, and scallions, and rebake them in the skin. We could hear the next class waiting outside for us to finish and even the dishwashers were telling us to hurry. I finished my plate by 3:20 (on the exam that would be 20 minutes late--a deduction of 40 percentage points), but the chef said that all of it was good--the meat, stuffing, potatoes, and sauce--so I just need to work on speed.

Most of our group arrived to class about five minutes late but Chef Caals let it slide under the circumstances. He was focusing on the Provence region of France, a southern coastal region, so he of course introduced seafood recipes. The starter was a baby calamari salad, the main course was Mediterranean Scorpion fish and John Dory fillets in Provençal fish stew, and dessert was a Menton lemon and candied orange tart.

Baby calamari salad; Fish stew; Menton lemon & candied orange tart

Chef Olivier joined us in our pastry practicum to make the savory puff pastries. The inverted puff pastry dough was actually easier to work with than the regular one that we did in basic. A regular puff pastry is made by folding dry butter into a dry dough; an inverted puff pastry is made by kneading flour into the dry butter and layering a wet dough on top of it before doing the turns. After making our dough we divided it into four and made the cheese straws, pigs-in-a-blanket, chorizo-stuffed pastries, and pâte-filled pastries. Olivier declared that everyone did a good job and sent us on our way. These pastries won out over the rabbit as my 9:00 PM dinner of choice.

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Reflecting back over the week, the hardest lessons that I learned were on love and forgiveness. While I certainly experienced love from others, if I'm honest, that was not my spirit when I thought about the girl who has been stealing from me. There was no love in my heart for her--as a matter of fact, for a couple of days I entertained visions of me catching her and slamming her face into the locker and then shutting the door repeatedly on her head. These imaginings would make me feel better only temporarily, which is I guess how hatred and bitterness work. They may offer some temporary consolation, especially if you can get other people on your side, but they just feed and grow off of such thinking. And why do I feel so angry? If this happened to anyone else but me I'd be sympathetic towards that person but I wouldn't feel that same level of hatred towards the thief. It's a proud and selfish reaction--that because I was the victim it's somehow worse.

I finally had to remind myself that my sins are just as terrible in God's eyes, including the sin of hatred, yet He forgave me when I asked--sent His Son to die for those sins. The girl stealing from me is a soul that will one day be in hell if she doesn't find the way to Christ. I couldn't wish that on anyone, but loving her still doesn't come naturally. I can't say that I'm quite there yet, but I am forcing myself to add her to  my prayers each day--no longer in the context that she'll return my money, but that she'll come to know Christ somehow--and it has helped to bring peace.

John 3:16-18: "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved. He that believeth on him is not condemned: but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God."