Thank you for accompanying me on this journey up to this point. The time has finally come for me to tell you about my first few days at Le Cordon Bleu Paris. The reason I didn't do so before is because I've had 13-hour days and when I come home, I'm more tired than I can express. I've had no energy to start typing and only manage to brush my teeth, put on my pajamas, and crawl into bed. Today I only had one class, so I'm bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and thrilled to finally tell you about how it's going.
My first observation: wow.
Second observation: OMG, this is tough.
LCB classes are composed of demonstration and practical sessions. The school provides us with a binder that includes ingredient lists for the recipes, and we have to take note of the techniques used to make the recipes during the demonstration sessions. During practical sessions, we prepare some of the dishes we observed the chef make. I have two masters degrees from prestigious institutions. That was tough. This, however, is tougher because think about it - if the souffle doesn't poof, it doesn't poof. Period. There is no credit for writing a very well written essay to analyze why the souffle didn't poof. No way around it. You fail miserably.
Ok, so maybe I'm exaggerating a wee little bit. I actually haven't made a souffle yet (that's in lesson 18). The chefs have all actually been very kind, and seem to genuinely want to help us learn. It appears that they're sympathetic to the fact that none of us know what we're doing, and that feels better. However, they all say that things will become more exigent.
I've done pretty well so far. The chefs have told me when I've done something wrong, or that they'd like to see me doing some things differently, but the results of all three practicals have been successful. Definitely not enough for a three-star Michelin rated restaurant, but good enough to get a "good" from the chefs.
However, because you've been loyal readers, I think I need to confess. During my first pastry practical, I was so nervous and obsessed with moving quickly and efficiently, that I didn't notice the difference between the salt (unmarked and coarse in texture) and sugar containers, and used 100 grams of salt for my shortbread dough. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I did that. I feel like the queen of morons. THE fool. Shameful. Awful. The worst part is that the chef didn't even notice, and he wouldn't even have had to know, but I needed to ask him for the vanilla because he'd put it away. The best part, however, is that I told myself I needed to redeem myself and get back to business. I told myself that I was in fact not a moron, and that not only did I have to get over it, but I had to catch up and make the best damn shortbread cookies ever. Well, perhaps not ever, but ever for me. So I rolled up my sleeves (literally), dumped out the original salty dough, made another, rolled some darn good looking shortbread rolls, and created these:
They turned out well. The chef said "very good" and pointed out the ones he liked the most. Phew. Disasters happen. Don't do it again, get over it, and move on.
Last night I scaled, filleted, skinned, and cooked sole. Sole is a very thin salt-water fish. Did you know there's a knife especially for filleting sole? Well there is, and I have one. Three hours of gutting, trimming, boiling, reducing, seasoning, buttering, and many other ing's later, I achieved this:
The chef said it was good but that next time I should add some lemon when reducing the sauce to give it a kick. This was a relief since other people got "too much butter", "too salty", and "no taste" as responses. Double phew.
My first observation: wow.
Second observation: OMG, this is tough.
LCB classes are composed of demonstration and practical sessions. The school provides us with a binder that includes ingredient lists for the recipes, and we have to take note of the techniques used to make the recipes during the demonstration sessions. During practical sessions, we prepare some of the dishes we observed the chef make. I have two masters degrees from prestigious institutions. That was tough. This, however, is tougher because think about it - if the souffle doesn't poof, it doesn't poof. Period. There is no credit for writing a very well written essay to analyze why the souffle didn't poof. No way around it. You fail miserably.
Ok, so maybe I'm exaggerating a wee little bit. I actually haven't made a souffle yet (that's in lesson 18). The chefs have all actually been very kind, and seem to genuinely want to help us learn. It appears that they're sympathetic to the fact that none of us know what we're doing, and that feels better. However, they all say that things will become more exigent.
I've done pretty well so far. The chefs have told me when I've done something wrong, or that they'd like to see me doing some things differently, but the results of all three practicals have been successful. Definitely not enough for a three-star Michelin rated restaurant, but good enough to get a "good" from the chefs.
However, because you've been loyal readers, I think I need to confess. During my first pastry practical, I was so nervous and obsessed with moving quickly and efficiently, that I didn't notice the difference between the salt (unmarked and coarse in texture) and sugar containers, and used 100 grams of salt for my shortbread dough. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I did that. I feel like the queen of morons. THE fool. Shameful. Awful. The worst part is that the chef didn't even notice, and he wouldn't even have had to know, but I needed to ask him for the vanilla because he'd put it away. The best part, however, is that I told myself I needed to redeem myself and get back to business. I told myself that I was in fact not a moron, and that not only did I have to get over it, but I had to catch up and make the best damn shortbread cookies ever. Well, perhaps not ever, but ever for me. So I rolled up my sleeves (literally), dumped out the original salty dough, made another, rolled some darn good looking shortbread rolls, and created these:
Last night I scaled, filleted, skinned, and cooked sole. Sole is a very thin salt-water fish. Did you know there's a knife especially for filleting sole? Well there is, and I have one. Three hours of gutting, trimming, boiling, reducing, seasoning, buttering, and many other ing's later, I achieved this:
fantastico!
ReplyDeletequestion: do many people enroll in both the savory cooking and the baking coursework at the same time, like you? who are the others in your classes? folks who want to be restaurant chefs?
as for the ingredients lists: is each student responsible for bringing the day's ingredients to class? or are they provided for you? are classes entirely conducted en anglais?
looking forward to more posts!
Excellent! looks like ur doing good then! Triple phewww
ReplyDeletechiqui
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeleteHey, I'm curious as to how LCB conducts their lessons..
ReplyDeleteDo they provide you recipes to work with?
Just wondering because you mentioned some students dishes had comments like "tasteless" etc.. Shouldn't the students' dishes taste similar if they were to follow the recipes..?
S,
ReplyDeleteLCB gives students an ingredient list, and we must takes notes on technique during demonstrations. We do all use the same ingredient lists, but it is amazing how tastes can vary. For example, reducing sauces is a tricky business, and this is the most common place for people to go wrong. Perhaps they reduce it too much, not enough. Not enough salt, or too much, not enough stock, or too much, etc. Hope this helps.
V