Julia Child's 100 and feeling extraordinary

Julia Child was born 100 years ago today. I felt I should write a little something because her life, it seems to me, was pretty awesome. It was all about personality and joy - my kind of living. Quite a few of my friends often tell me they think about me when her name pops up. Surely it's because like me, she studied at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. However, I hope they also think of me because like her, I am a woman with dreams and a passion for the delicious things in life.

She worked for the OSS during WWII and was stationed in present day Sri Lanka. There she met the love of her life, Paul Child, whose position with the US Foreign Service took them to Paris after the war. Paris exposed her to fine cuisine and she became one of the most famous chefs in the world and a standard to which chefs are still measured.

The Julia Child biographies I've read highlight her cheerfulness and drive. When I think of her, I think of the ambition that every woman should have to be extraordinary. Almost two years ago, I turned to my husband and asked him if he thought I was extraordinary. What I meant was whether or not he thought I was more interesting and fulfilled than an average 30-year old wife and mother. He said yes, or course, but I wasn't convinced of it myself. Thus the decision to attend culinary school, toddler in tow, and face not only a career change but also embark on a journey that would waken a new part of me. This adventure would fulfill a personal dream and also challenge the assumption than the average 30-year-old wife and mother can't realize her aspirations because such a plan could affect a family in so many ways. Lucky for me, my husband and I saw how this experience would benefit our family rather than affect it negatively.

Julia was a great chef who changed the course of cooking in the US for the better. I admire this aspect of her life, of course, but for me, the most inspiring element of her life was her ability to make decisions (though often radical) that allowed her to savor and appreciate the things in life that made her truly happy. Cooking and eating bring many of us happiness, but an inherent joy for life is the stuff that takes you that next step to feeling extraordinary.

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In celebration of her life, I made my boys Le Cordon Bleu Paris' Creme Dubarry (Cream of Cauliflower). It was heart-warming and delicious - much like Julia Child's (and my) life.

Creme Dubarry with heart-shaped croutons

Here's the recipe. 

Ingredients:

cauliflower

leek (white part)

butter

flour

salt & pepper

chicken stock

Thickening agent for soup:

cream

egg yolks (optional)

Croutons:

white bread

Cut leeks lengthwise, then in half moons and sweat in butter. Add a pinch of salt and cook at low heat until almost translucent. Add cauliflower florets and stir - avoid browning. Add a bit of chicken stock to help the leek and cauliflower cook and absorb flavors. Add two tablespoons of flour and stir. Once the flour is cooked (without letting it brown), add enough chicken stock to submerge vegetables. Add a bit more salt, and cover pot. Once cauliflower is cooked through, blend soup and strain (optional). 

In a separate bowl, whisk cream, two egg yolks, salt and pepper together. Return blended soup to cooking pot, and slowly add cream mixture to thicken the soup. Season to taste.

Croutons: 

Cut white bread into desired shapes and toast in an oven. Optional: dip a corner of the toasted croutons in olive oil and dip into finely chopped parsley for color.

Toddlers and restaurants

This morning I read an article entitled Non, non and non: Discipline and three-course meals on economist.com that struck a familiar cord. Enter the two-year-old into a Parisian cafe. French customers eating at tiny tables nearby (about 3mm away from your own table since there isn't much room in there) glare down from their Le Monde to give you a sly, almost threatening, look. The look says "you better be able to control that child while I sit here and sip my cafe and read my paper!"

I can proudly say that I am one of the moms who can control my toddler. He was raised to sit calmly and quietly while enjoying his hot chocolate and croissant. Usually a small toy car can hold him off while we wait for our meal. Other times, we rely on i-touch toddler apps. It's not always perfect, of course because he can get frustrated and antsy, but he's sat through (and enjoyed!) meals at michelin-starred restaurants, our regular crepe cafe, among others. One day, some friends invited us to an Indian restaurant near Opera, and they were shocked to see that my son, then barely two years old, sat through the whole meal reading books, chatting, and flirting with our friends. None of them has children, and they told me that they were inspired by our dynamic and were excited to see that it is, in fact, possible to take toddlers out to dinner if you know how to teach then to just chill.

Culture shock: a cafeteria at Disney World. I've talked a bit about the unhealthy options available at US sporting events. Well, the same goes for theme parks. Sugar, preservatives, sodium, fat, more sugar, and yes, more fat. That's what there is to be had at Disney World. We were there over Christmas break and even though we had a wonderful time, after three days of hot dogs, corn dogs, pizza, fish n chips, and coke, I was ready to give my kingdom for an asparagus, or anything green. At Sea World, I was able to find a chicken caesar salad, and the closest thing it came to green was wilted lettuce with the salad. However, Parisians give their kids sugar, and they give their kids fat. My son loved his hot chocolate and croissant - how much more butter can you get? And if sugar makes kids hyper, then why can Parisian parents get their kids to stay still, while the parents at Disney World cafeterias sat there while their kids ran circles around the table?

Parents that were sitting next to us at these theme park cafeterias had terrible table manners, and their attitude at the table was completely different than the kind of restaurant culture you'd find in Paris. In Paris, the meal is the center of attention, each dish is considered and appreciated, and eaten with cutlery. It's harder to see a toddler in the US using cutlery than it is in Paris. In the US, parents usually cut up chunks of food and place it on a placemat, or simply on the table in front of the child, and the child grabs the chunks and stuffs it into his/her mouth. My son has always used a plate, and he's been manipulating spoons and forks ever since he was six months old. Granted it's not perfect, but his eating etiquette is far more pleasant to look at than what we saw in those cafeterias.

Yes, it can be difficult to encourage a two-year-old to sit still through a meal. But if you create a comfortable dining experience and explain to a child that a meal is an important place for a family to come together and enjoy delicious food and take the time to point out the lovely cutlery, plates, flower arrangements, and also the flavors and details of each ingredient, then they are far more likely to appreciate the meal for what it is, and stay still.

Practice makes perfect. Take your toddler out for a 15-minute hot chocolate break at a nearby cafe, and start there. Bring a book, enjoy the drink, and then leave. Talk to them about the restaurant, the decoration, the people, the table, and talk to them about anything at all. I guarantee this will make the experience far more enjoyable for everyone involved.

food available at Disney's Animal Kingdom

food available at Disney's Animal Kingdom

food available at Paris's Rolland Garros - "legumes" means vegetables

drinks available at Paris's Rolland Garros - tropicana fruit juice and sparkling water

Victory: Tooting my own horn

winged victory of samothrace at the louvre, 2nd century BC

At the risk of sounding pompous and arrogant in this entry...I DID IT! I WAS VICTORIOUS! I earned the Grand Diplome in cuisine and pastry from Le Cordon Bleu Paris. Please excuse the tacky reference to the winged victory of samothrace pictured above, but I recently  went to the Louvre, and was inspired. In fact, this inspiration came at a perfect moment because it was a few days before my final cuisine exam. 


This is a sculpture of the Greek goddess Nike (Victory). Ok, now I'm totally pushing it, but I can't resist telling you that my name, Veronica, is a hybrid of Greek and Latin. The first part of my name is derived from the Latin word "veritas", whick means truth. The second part of the name is derived from (you guessed it) the Greek word "nike", which means victory, or victorious. Therefore, I was truly victorious! I ended up with three medals (one gold for the Grand Diplome, two silver for the cuisine and pastry diplomas), three diplomas, six certificates, and a whole lot of wonderful memories. 

Before I tell you about the graduation ceremony, I need to explain all about the final steps to getting there - the cuisine final exam. Preparing for it was one of the most stressful experiences I've ever had. Two weeks before the big day, we were given a list of ingredients to use to create four servings of an appetizer and a main dish. Some of the ingredients on the list were mandatory, and others were made available for our dishes. I love cooking fish and seafood, so I was glad to see sole, cockles, mussels, and scallops on the list. There were also some lovely autumn ingredients like pumpkin, parsnip, apples, and walnuts. 


Coming up with a decent dish was fun, but waiting around was driving me crazy. I became an insomniac and obsessed over plating ideas, flavor pairing, and most importantly, timing. I was a total dork and created a 15-minute interval schedule, printed it out, and scrutinized and memorized it. We had four hours, and any minutes of lateness would count against our grade. In the past, people have failed this exam for being twenty minutes late.  Can you imagine failing after 9 months of work because you were twenty minutes late? 

preparing for the exam

I told myself this simply wasn't an option, so I made crucial decisions that would simplify my dishes in order to buy me some time. I'm so glad I did this because the day of the exam I kept it simple, kicked it into high gear, moved faster than I've ever moved before and BINGO! Finished half an hour before my time was up. This was a good thing because my sole rolls (filled with scallop mousseline and rolled in spinach leaves) were undercooked so I had to poach them a second time. If I hadn't had that time, I would have gotten major points taken off for undercooking my fish. 


This is the final result. My appetizers were verrines filled with cream of pumpkin and parsnip with a bed of caramelized apple and walnut brunoise. My main dishes were sole rolls filled with scallop mousseline, chanterelle mushroom flan, potato puree infused with chanterelles, and beet "macaroons". 

They say that the winged victory of samothrace was created to honor victory at a sea battle. Well, I faced my own sea battle...even if it was with seafood rather than the sea. I defeated those sole, cockles, mussels, and scallops, and I did it! I graduated and it makes me feel relieved, happy, and proud of myself. 


I'm sure I won't always be victorious, and I'm sure I'll burn cakes and overcook plenty of fish fillets. But I will always be proud of my accomplishments - both little and big.

with my chef's hat

The graduation ceremony took place in Cercle de L'Union Interalliee; an incredibly elegant building on rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore, next to President Sarkozy's presidential palace. The chefs and graduates were all decked out in their chef's hats, sporting their new medals, and glowing with pure happiness instead of sweat from cooking in a sweltering kitchen, for a change.

Au Revoir, Paris

It's 5:20am in Paris, and I can't sleep. My husband, son and I are leaving for Charles de Gaulle airport in a few hours to fly to the US for Thanksgiving and then back home to Trinidad. And so our Parisian culinary adventure comes to an end...for now. After all, "au revoir" actually means "until next time".


I've been trying to put into words how I feel about what I've done for eight months, and a few ideas come to mind. I'd like to share them with you, in case they inspire you to take that necessary leap to achieve your dreams.


- It takes a village. This is true for anyone because you need friends, family, and mentors to achieve goals. It's particularly true for parents, and I dare say, mothers. So find your rocks, and make it work together, ideally in a way that everyone can benefit from the experience.


- It takes persistence and positivism. I guarantee that there will be psychological and physical breakdowns. I personally had two major ones and quite a few little ones. At times, my body hurt and my stress wanted to take control. It took effort, but I managed to stay with it, and persevere.


- It takes joy. Remember to appreciate the good things, the little things, and even the difficult things, because they will all help you get you where you want to go. Joy will make it a far better ride.


There are many things that I still want to write about concerning this Paris adventure, including all about my final cuisine exam, wine pairing, museum visits, Parisian life, among others. So I plan to continue writing my blog about Paris, the US, Trinidad, my own recipes, and anything else that inspires me.


For now, I feel nostalgic at the crack of dawn and wanted to give this magical city a proper goodbye. Its imposing elegance and absolute beauty deserve nothing less.


As for the Cordon Bleu, I will tell you all about graduation in a separate entry, but will say that I had a fantastic experience learning at this school of culinary greatness. Thank you, LCB.


We visited the Eiffel Tower two nights ago to say a proper au revoir, and it seemed to look down at us in regal pomp and say, "well done. you were a part of this". I hope so.

Sugar pouring, pulling, and blowing

When I found out what taking a "sugar" exam at Le Cordon Bleu Paris meant, I almost had a heart attack. 150 degree molten sugar that resembles lava more than a sugar cube, sugar flowers so transparent you can break them by blowing on them too hard, and (let's be honest) gaudy shapes and colors that have a place in a 1950's banquet or a very showy and ornate Beijing wedding.

When I was a mere basic student all the way back in March (that really seems like years ago!), I would see superior pastry students waddle down the stairs, half dead, heading towards the front desk for some basic first aid to treat their sugar burns, blisters, and dehydration. Needless to say, I was not looking forward to it.

I would look at Chef Deguignet's sugar sculptures that he'd exhibit after demonstrations and think to myself that they were amazing, of course, and obviously incredibly difficult things to make, but that they were really old-fashioned, gaudy and, well, tacky. No offense, Chef, but you do understand.

So, I made my way through basic and intermediate pastry and all of a sudden I found myself in front of a scorching hot non-crystalized caramel, a heat lamp, some protective gloves, my hands, and my creativity. And guess what? I LOVED IT! Granted it's one of the more dangerous things I've ever engaged in, but also one of the most fun. To make something so delicate with molten sugar. Awesome.

These are the phases I went through to get to my final sculpture.

First, I practiced pouring sugar (cooked with food coloring and a lot of glucose to 155 degrees) to make what would become the base of my sculpture. This was my first piece:

my first poured sugar sculpture

Even though I loved the shapes and the movement of this sculpture, I didn't think to put a base on it, so it crumbled into a thousand pieces (!) but only after the chef had looked at it, thankfully. I was told, however, that if that had happened on exam day, I would get a big fat zero for presentation (eeek!).

The next step was to practice sugar-pulling. In order to get the right consistency, you cook the sugar to 165 degrees, add a little glucose, and finally some tartaric acid. Then you pull the scorching hot blob of sugar a few dozen times to make it look like satin and place it under a heat lamp. Now you're ready to make some flowers. All you have to do is put your hands under the sweltering heat lamp and manipulate the scorching sugar. And voila! A flower is born. You can also make ribbons. Oh, that's so easy. (I know sarcasm doesn't translate too well in writing, but I hope you're getting it.)

my first flowers

Then it was time for sugar blowing. It's a lot like blowing glass, and the chances that your blown piece will shatter into a million pieces is probably just as high. And when sugar like this breaks, it's as if it were glass, and it can cut you in the same way.

Chef Daniel Walter blowing a horn

amazing

my second sculpture. my attempts to blow sugar on this day failed miserably.

Finally, the day of the exam. We were told we had six hours to pour, pull, blow, and assemble. On went the gloves, out came a deep, controlled breath in preparation for this odyssey (I can't think of any other word that hits the spot this well).

After a lunch break, and some breathing (and hydrating) time, I was inspired to blow some sugar and try to redeem myself after my first failed attempt at such a thing....

...and POOF! This is what happened:

So this was my sugar final exam. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I've taken many exams in my day, but I've never been as frightened as when I had to make souffles, and sugar (!) POOF!

I passed. With flying colors (and no flying sugar glass, thankfully).

To be honest, I don't know whether or not I'll ever do something like this again because it's so dangerous, and also so tacky! But I will say that it was fun, and that I have a new found respect for Chef Deguignet's work. This is what he made in two hours:

It's a horn-of-plenty. How's that for a Thanksgiving centerpiece?

In preparation for the end...or is it the beginning?

It's been a while since my last entry because, to be honest, I'm exhausted. Eight months of 13-hour-a-day classes, written exams, practical exams, cooking, filleting, baking, tempering, sugar-pulling in addition to potty-training, apartment-cleaning, uniform-ironing, and all sorts of other fun stuff, have knocked the wind out of me. At the same time, however, these things have filled me with profound joy and excitement for what's to come. 

Today was our last (!) demonstration at Le Cordon Bleu. Chef Lesourd WOWed us with his detail-oriented presentations of a goat's cheese and bell pepper entree, veal loin a souffled potatoes, and poached pear dishes. We took photos of our group with the chef, and some of us started to get teary-eyed and feel nostalgic about the upcoming end of this course.

My sugar-pulling exam is on Thursday, and my cuisine exam is on Monday. I'll tell you all about this sugar-pulling business after my exam, and I'll also write about the cuisine final, and how I've prepared for it. 

For now, I wanted to share some more photos of the superior level at Le Cordon Bleu. This is the stuff the chefs are made of. Even though I'm more tired than I can express, I know I will look back at these photos and remember how inspired I was at this point in my life, and how I hope to some day achieve a similar degree of culinary perfection and creativity.

Rungis: The largest wholesale market in the world

Atelier #1 went well. I made a darn good tartare sauce to go with deep fried jumbo shrimp and mini salmon cakes for my appetizer, and my tiny spinach souffles poofed beautifully, along with my pigeon and mushroom duxelles tian for my main course. I finished in five hours instead of six, so I'm on my way to feeling more prepared for the final exam, which is sneaking up on me like Beethoven's three knocks at the door.

But what I'd like to talk to you about today is my visit to Rungis, the largest wholesale market in the world. There are gigantic fish markets in Japan, China, San Francisco, etc., etc., but this one has it all. It's located about 20km from the center of Paris, and is basically it's own city, covering 232 hectares and selling over 7 billion euros of products per year. That's a lot of fish, poultry, cheese, vegetables, fruits, flowers, and meat. Oh, so much of it.

Le Cordon Bleu organized a visit for us students, and we were awestruck by the magnitude of the place. We were also impressed by the high quality of the products and how pristine it all is. Not a fly in sight, not a thing out of place. 

veal

veal that only drank mom's milk

We had to wear giant vests and hats to cover up every inch of ourselves and avoid contaminating anything. After the mad cow disease scare of the 1990's, hygiene was kicked up about a dozen notches. The warehouses are frigid - the whole thing is basically a series of massive refrigerators containing quality products to supply the Paris metropolitan area, and beyond.

foie gras

rabbit

2 weeks old

piles of cheese (there are over 3000 different kinds of cheese)

gigantic emmental

gigantic steaks

Being a foreigner, and an anthropologist, I was interested to look at the origins of the products. Beef, poultry, and pigs were mostly all French. Most of the vegetables were French as well (with quite a bit of Chinese produce), but many of the fruits were from South America (Brazil, Colombia, Peru, among others). It made me think about how far food travels to get to your plate.

uchuas from colombia

colombian bananas

piles of mushrooms 

piles of pink garlic from toulouse

20,000 trucks go in and out of Rungis every day. I knew the French liked their fresh food, but this visit made me appreciate what it takes to be one of the world's most famous culinary capitals. 

Butchers, smaller Parisian market vendors, and chefs come to Rungis to select their products. It's not only about stocking up, however, it's about discovering new items to add to your menu. Kiwi, for example, was introduced to France at Rungis a few years back. A few chefs tried some of this exotic fruit, thought of ways to incorporate it into French cuisine and pastries, and is now a staple product in France. Rungis is a microcosm of the world's best products, and the French are masters of knowing how to create delicious dishes with them.

Superior rocks

chef deguignet's selection of verrines

Foaming creams in siphons, chocolate caviar, gold sugar, pig's trotters, zucchini blossoms, brik pastry, and much, much more...all in the first four weeks of the superior level of cuisine and pastry at Le Cordon Bleu Paris. 

pig's trotters and foie gras with dandelion leaf bouquet

Chef Lesourd is in charge of superior cuisine. The list of Michelin-starred restaurants where he's worked is longer than my arm, but the most special thing about him is his expertise in presentation. The man is a master of detail, and can make even a pig trotter appetizer look elegant. Here is some of his work:

gazpacho version 1 

gazpacho version 2

Chef Deguignet is an artist. He's in charge of superior pastry, and is a genius chocolatier...and sugar sculptor. Here are some of his masterpieces:

red chocolate sphere with gold sugar 

golden egg filled with chocolate caviar

It's all fine and dandy to talk about how pretty it all is, but it's tough. The standards have been raised and we are expected to do good work, very good work. In superior cuisine, we will have a series of "ateliers", or workshops. We are given a list of ingredients and have to create an appetizer and main course. This saturday is our first atelier, and I've begun to sketch and plan my dishes and presentation. We have six hours and I'm guessing the kitchen will resemble kitchen stadium, except we are all just figuring out what we're doing! Wish me luck! I'll let you know how it goes.