Dream divas

My good friend and founder of Panama Kontacts, a facebook group in which Latin American expatriate women share information about life in Panama, invited me to speak at this month's "tertulia", or "discussion/chat". She told me my story inspired her. Wow. That was my first reaction. My next reaction was to get very excited about what I was going to say to a group of women who wanted to know how I fulfilled my dream of going to culinary school in Paris...and to facilitate a discussion about how to open your mind to the possibility of realizing your dreams.

What to say, what to say...to a group of women who live in a country different from their own. Why are they in Panama? Housewives? Business executives transferred by their companies? Did they come seeking political asylum? Seeking a better life? Are they mothers? Are they wives? Are they single? What to say to them...what to say.

They turned out to be strong, interesting women with a lot to share. The setting was DGAG, a rockin' contemporary art gallery whose owner is a dynamic Venezuelan woman filled with creative energy. I decided to ask my audience of dream divas about their own dreams, and to keep those visions in their minds while I gave my presentation. I told them my story and talked about being positive, having a happy life, about building your life instead of just living it (see Ashton Kutcher's speech in reference to Steve Jobs' concepts of building your life). I said that fun marriages and relationships are all about adventures, and that if you support your significant other's dreams and they support yours, you will have many adventures. I told them that by realizing your dreams you would most likely enrich the lives of the people around you and some dreams would result in better communities, cities, countries, and a better world. 

I reminded them that if their children had visions of them as strong, determined women, they would inculcate the idea that you should never settle for mediocrity and that once you experience the feeling of achieving one extraordinary thing, you'll become addicted to being that way, and that you'll forever be motivated to do bigger and better things. We agreed, however, to always be thankful and feel humility by the thought that what you achieved, you did so with the help of others.

I gave them three tips: 1. every morning, when you wake up, close your eyes, take a deep breath, and envision your dream, and do it again before you go to sleep; 2. say "yes" more; and 3. once you achieve one dream, think of the next.

We identified the following characteristics of happy people (inspired by a Huffington Post article): they dream, visualize, and succeed, they tell their stories in order to share tools that are necessary to build, evolve, and persevere, and they turn gratitude into energy that helps them face challenges.

I received positive feedback from the audience about the conversation. But the most satisfying part of this experience was being in a female powerhouse, a room filled with women who created a new life for themselves in a new country, some for professional reasons, some for personal, some who had to leave their country of origin because the political situation became so bad that their dreams were being stifled. 

The human right to envision hopes and aspirations is a powerful and beautiful force to be reckoned with.

Cue Pride Tears

I'm back after a hiatus from blog writing. Instead of baking a bun in the oven in the literal sense,  I've been nursing and taking care of the bun in my oven in the figurative sense.

My second baby boy was born in September, and even though there hasn't been much action in my kitchen lately, I managed to invite friends and family over for a few memorable meals.

Jumbo deep fried shrimp with tartare sauce

Combine the emotional extravaganza of maternity hormones with successful taste pairing, and the result are tears at the dinner table. 

These are photos of a meal I made for my parents and a family friend. The menu included a to-die-for tartare sauce* (see recipe below), lamb with a bechamel truffle topping, and a chocolate orange souffle that made my parents cry.

Lamb with bechamel truffle topping, green beans wrapped in bacon and mashed purple potatoes

Even though the food was tasty and sophisticated, my parents' tears probably had more to do with how proud they were that I achieved my dream of completing culinary school in Paris, toddler in tow.

As lovers of good food, they were beaming with gluttonous pride. As a mother of two, I understand what motivates parents to cry with pride. My three-year old recently started swimming free-style beautifully, and my five-month old turned over on his own yesterday. Cue pride tears. 

I can't wait to see what my sons come up with that will make me react the way my parents did. I'm guessing it was more than just the chocolate.

Chocolate mousse with orange segment and juice reduction and pomegranate-stained candied orange zest

***
Tartare sauce recipe:
- mayonnaise (I prefer to make my own - by hand - I swear it tastes differently). Whisk two egg yolks until creamy consistency and slowly pour 1 1/4 cups of vegetable oil while whisking very quickly.
add these ingredients to taste:
- lemon juice
- mustard
- finely chopped capers
- finely chopped shallots
- fresh tarragon
- fresh parsley
- salt
- pepper
- cayenne pepper
- 1 boiled egg (pressed through a fine sieve/chinois)

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.

***

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.

A note on this father's day

Please pardon the mushy content of this entry. I hope you're able to look beyond it, however, and appreciate what I'm trying to say.


Husband
I fell in love with my husband immediately after I met him. But the thing that really told me he was the one for me was when I realized that he would be a wonderful father. I can remember the moment I thought to myself that if he had children, the world would be a far better place. I knew he'd be an awesome person to have a baby with. To educate the way I wanted, to travel to the places I wanted to go, to experience the world in the way I can appreciate, and to love in the way I know how to love. 


Father
My father is one of the coolest people I've ever met. He is the voice inside my head (actually - it's his and my mom's voices together that does the trick) and guides me. He has a high position at one of the world's most important organizations, he is generous, intelligent, hilarious, and everyone he meets loves him. 


Father-in-law
My father-in-law is one of the most giving, patient, and selfless people I know. He's dedicated his life to teaching wealthy, underprivileged children, and everyone in between, to adoring his wife, and to supporting two wonderful sons. 


So, my son is covered. He has the best possible male role-models I can think of. He's already showing signs that he has all of the traits he sees in the men around him. I'm a happy mom.


What does this have to do with my food blog? Well, I just wanted to write about how these three men are making this experience possible for me. My husband, for not only telling me to go for it, but for constantly encouraging me and telling me I'm going to be great at this cooking business, and also for living up to that image I had of him as a magnificent father. My father, for being that voice inside my head who tells me that if I want to do something, I have to do it right. And my father-in-law....well, I think I'll tell you a little story to illustrate this man's limitless patience and joy for taking care of his grandson. I came home the other day and found him on all fours and my son on top of him saying "fire chief!" with the biggest smile you can imagine.


So, all you fathers out there. Remember that you're not only raising your own children, but are supporting an entire network of people, including grandchildren and daughters-in-law. You have a lot of power. Your image means an awful lot, and your encouragement can raise mountains. 

hold my hand, and i'll take you where you want to go

Moms and dreams

A note on this mother's day.


I'm not sure if I've been sufficiently explicit about how tough this whole culinary school business is. It's difficult for me because I'm studying both cuisine and pastry, which means I have classes up to six days a week and sometimes 12-hours per day. As a point of reference, only about 25 of the almost 300 students currently at LCB Paris are doing this.


It's particularly difficult for me because when I finish class, instead of hanging out and relaxing at home or going for a drink with my classmates, I come home to take care of my son. I am blessed with the world's greatest 2-year-old. He's been sleeping through the night for a very long time, he's a good eater, he listens to us, and has a calm and collected temperament.


However, I'm exhausted. Any parent understands exactly what I'm talking about.


This entry is not about me complaining. After all, I have absolutely nothing to complain about. I'm realizing my dream and loving it. The purpose of this entry is to pose the question: What sacrifices are made when a mother pursues her dreams? I'm talking particularly about stay-at-home mothers (or fathers) who dedicate all their time and energy to raise their kids.


I've always been incredibly independent, and worked for a while before getting married and becoming a mom. And guess what? I wouldn't trade it for the world. However, I do like my alone time, my time to concentrate on myself and my own project. Granted, it involves standing up for hours on end in a hot kitchen, but it's still my own thing. 


The tough part is that I have to click back into mom gear as soon as I walk in the door. It's on full-blast, and I better be on my toes. I have such admiration for moms and dads who work outside the home and then come home at the end of the day to take care of their kids. Hats off, all of you out there. I collapsed yesterday when I had to clean the apartment, iron my uniform, study, and spend quality time with my son. It was the only day of the week that I had to do all of these things since I'm so busy the rest of the time, and it was tough. 


Despite my exhaustion, I appreciate that I'm doing something extraordinary - in the literal sense of the word. Something that is not ordinary, that makes my life even more special. I will forever remember this experience as one of the most difficult things I've ever done, but I can venture to guess, one of the most rewarding as well. I am convinced that it is this special because my son is with me, and he is growing and learning and thriving from this experience as well.


So, moms and dreams.  You can do both and the results will be extraordinary. All of the moms I know have wonderful qualities, but the ones I admire most are the ones that continue to dream and to make choices that will help them realize those dreams. You know what your dream is so go for it!

Sitting my the fountain with my best creation

Le Cordon Bleu = The Plan

This journey begins in Port of Spain, Trinidad & Tobago. As wild parrots fly by my window to make their morning calls, the French Embassy telephones to inform me that my student visa was granted.

The Plan: 

Move to Paris for eight months to study Le Grand Diplôme, the highest degree in culinary and pastry arts, at Le Cordon Bleu.

Why:

This crazy idea started when I was telling my husband (for the millionth time) about my dream to go to culinary school. But I didn't want to go to just any culinary school. I wanted to go to the culinary school. Le Cordon Bleu. And I didn't want to go to just any Cordon Bleu. I wanted to go to Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, the city that has inspired some of the most influential and creative people of all time.

He, being the most generous, supportive, and fantastic man in the world, said, "Do it!"

Background:

In order to tell you the whole story about this dream of mine, I should start from the beginning. I remember eating (and enjoying) spinach crepes at age six, when my friends thought they were "yucky" and "weird". I was raised eating escargots and drinking Möet Chandon (even if a bit watered down) before the age of ten. The protagonists of this exposure were my mother, a fantastic cook, and my father, a fantastic eater.

I eat street food, restaurant food, and everything in between. Macaroni and cheese from a box (which I first ate at the age of 26, when my husband introduced me to the stuff), to warthog in peanut sauce in a remote village in Equatorial Guinea, Africa. Fat ants in Colombia and fried grasshoppers in Mexico. Boeuf Bourguignon in a Parisian cafe, and lovely spots of tea in London, Karachi, and Beijing.

I was born and raised in Colombia, one of the most beautiful places in the world. My family is from Cartagena, the most beautiful place in the world. Cartagena's history dates back forever and ever as a melting pot for West Africans, Middle-easteners, Native Americans, and Europeans, among others. The food of Cartagena is a product of its diverse immigration history. A common dinner in Cartagena, for example, is a pot roast cooked in the French style, served with coconut rice and plantains, which are West African dishes that I also ate in Equatorial Guinea, Africa, by the way. But I'll leave that for another blog entry. 

Inspired by the social context in which I grew up, I went on to study two Masters degrees in social anthropology, one at the London School of Economics (LSE). The LSE is a petri dish for international development workers, one of which I became. I worked at an NGO in Washington DC on education programs in Africa and Latin America. A couple of years later, I moved to Trinidad and Tobago because my husband was offered a job working for an international organization. I left my job and dedicated myself to being a wife and mother. Shortly after our son was born, I realized I didn't want to continue working at the same pace as before he was born. That's when I considered realizing my dream about attending culinary school.

I'd like to think of myself as an amateur food anthropologist. I have much to learn, however, and thus my plan to become a chef. I am not a foodie, nor am I an expert in anything. What I am is an ethnographer who enjoys learning about food, its history and context, and who wants to become a chef. In this blog, I plan to chronicle my experience living in Paris and studying at Le Cordon Bleu as well as talk about the food of my travels. Trinidadian cuisine, for example, is fascinating to me, so look for entries about it during the next few weeks before I head off to Paris.

Here we go...