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Flashbacks

Culinary school flashback: sweet memories of baking & pastry

Since I’m often asked about what culinary school was like, I’m periodically re-posting “flashbacks” from the blog I kept during my certificate program at Le Cordon Bleu (2009–10).

Piping cookies in baking & pastry class
Piping cookies in baking & pastry class (photo by Adriana Willsie)

Baking & Pastry ended up being my favorite class in culinary school. I really liked the chef, I was refreshed by the precision of the recipes, I got to partner up with my closest friend for most of the assignments, and it was just a lot of fun to learn to make more elaborate desserts. Here are a few snapshots from the six-week course, including the sugar-laden practical exams.

The first thing that’s very different about baking is scaling out ingredients instead of more roughly estimating. We measure everything in ounces using digital scales, so no more rough cups or pints or anything like that. We’ve learned that correct scaling is absolutely essential in order for a product to turn out right. Since we get all the formulae (bakers’ term for recipes) beforehand, we can start scaling before class, and there’s something oddly calming and fun about precisely measuring each ingredient and putting everything in its little container, grouped by product. Maybe this isn’t your idea of a good time, but I’m enjoying it.

The most eye-opening process so far has been making a croissant. Now, most people know that croissants are high in butter content, and know that because they’re so flaky and delectable, there has to be some kind of catch. Well, here’s how you start making croissants. Once you have a square of dough (about 12″ square and 3/4″ thick), you flatten out a pound of butter into a slightly smaller square, and set it in the middle of dough at a diagonal. Then you fold all four corners of the dough in so you have what looks like one of those paper fortune-teller things. So yes, you just wrapped up a nice package that hides a POUND of butter inside your dough. Then, you roll it out into a thinner rectangle, so that you can then fold it into thirds (like a letter) and turn it a quarter-turn…You do three turns total, letting the dough rest for 20 minutes between each one. By the time you’re done, you’ve folded tons of layers of dough and butter, so that once you cut/shape them and finally put them in the oven, the butter melts and the steam that’s created makes the layers puff up into the croissant we know and love. Fascinating, right?

…And that brings me to last night’s first round of exams! For our practical, we each had to make buttermilk biscuits, tea cookies and baguettes. The first two I felt fairly confident about, but our whole class is still having trouble getting the hang of the baguettes, especially when it comes to shaping and proofing and slashing them correctly. So my biscuits were going along fine, and I was all ready to pipe my tea cookie dough using my new pastry bag…until I realized that the tip I had was too small. I had a decision to make: Try to pull out that tip through all the dough and put in a new one, or move the dough into someone else’s pastry bag with the correct tip already intact. I chose the latter, but ended up losing enough dough in the process that I barely had enough to pipe the required 12 cookies. And let’s just say a few of them were less than perfect, so I was pretty disappointed that I didn’t have enough for extras. Alas, I just had to go with it. And then, to the baguettes. Oh, the baguettes. I thought I had shaped them just fine and had loaded them onto the long pizza peel to put them in the oven. There were a lot of other people waiting to put in their baguettes as well, so they were gathered on either side, watching as I was about to slide them in. For some reason, I started pulling out the peel way before I was supposed to, so the baguettes were only half in, and then when I tried to push them in, they basically became S-shaped. I was mortified. Chef was also standing there, and of course jumped in to tell me how to fix them. I tried to tap them back into place myself, but I was so flustered that it wasn’t working. Thankfully, Chef came to my rescue and took matters into his own hands to get them mostly straight again. But I knew my grade would suffer for my misshapen baguettes, and I was not feeling too good about myself. Once I had everything ready for grading, Chef didn’t go too hard on me, and said he could tell there were a lot of perfectionists in this class. I told him I learned all about that at Northwestern 🙂 But his advice to relax and not be so hard on myself was much needed.

…Behold, my final platter:

My final practical exam for baking & pastry
My final practical exam for baking & pastry

In case you can’t read my scrawled pink captions, that’s nine each of chocolate brownies, tea cookies, chocolate-raspberry tarts, vanilla cheesecake, carrot cake and macarons (French spelling) with raspberry filling — all in petit four size. I was pretty proud of putting this together over our 2-day practical, and though Chef wasn’t a fan of the whipped cream garnish shapes on my cheesecake, or of my over-mixed macarons, everything else was to his liking. But rest assured, I did NOT eat all those treats! Instead, since we were all on sugar overload and couldn’t bear eating any more sweets, a group of us took three big trays of desserts to a favorite bar, and let all the other patrons feast on our final product.

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Flashbacks

Culinary school flashback: Handling my first bad day

Since I’m often asked about what culinary school was like, I’m periodically re-posting “flashbacks” from the blog I kept during my certificate program at Le Cordon Bleu (2009–10).

Prepping a dish at my station
Starting to prep a dish at my station

First, a couple classmate shout-outs: Will, who took the photo above, went on to open an awesome barbecue joint in Roselle called Smokin’ Will’s, if you find yourself in the northwest suburbs.

And Stu, who helps save the day in this particular story, has since started his own business, specializing in artisanal pickles and bloody mary mix, so go check out the gorgeous website and buy some!

Now, the story…

Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later: a night in the kitchen when it seemed like everything that could go wrong did indeed go wrong (all my fingers are still intact, however, so at least I did that much right). It started out fine — we were making our last two sauces, chicken velouté and sauce tomate…So we prepped everything for the sauce tomate just fine, adding carrots, onions, and salt pork to cook down before putting in garlic and deglazing the pan with red wine. Then we were supposed to put in diced tomatoes and tomato purée, but there wasn’t enough purée to go around, so everyone improvised a little with the tomatoes. Tie the string of the sachet of herbs around the handle, and the tomato sauce is good to go for at least a half-hour of simmering.

Or so I thought. I started the roux for the velouté — it was supposed to be a blond roux — and somehow the heat got really high and the roux got really brown, really fast. It started to char and smell terrible. The new Chef came over and said flatly, “That’s ruined. Start over.” I got flustered at this point, just because I didn’t expect to screw it up that badly, so I rushed into the dishroom and tried to clean the pan off before the roux adheres to it any further. But of course, it was way too hot to put water on and started sizzling like crazy. I dumped the roux in the trash, which also started smoking, and set the pan down, hoping it would magically cool itself. I eventually got most of the roux off, and went back to the burners.

Then it got worse. While I was gone, Stu and Tony informed me, my tomato sauce got scorched. Big time. Again, not sure how the heat turned itself up, but I looked into the pot and saw a black mess of vegetables, the bottom layer completely glued to the bottom of the pan, with the sachet melted in the middle. And did I mention that the string to the sachet kept unwrapping a bit and dipping down into the burner, causing it to catch on fire? This probably happened at least three times — I kept putting it out with my towel. So new Chef sees this little sauce disaster and just goes, “Just scrap tonight. It’s not going well for you.” Then, thankfully, she showed a kinder side: “But if you’re really careful, you can scrape the top part (the part that wasn’t burned) off, add water to it and save it.” I attempted this, transferring the salvageable part into another pot, and it worked out alright, though I had way less yield that I did before. I took the ruined pot into the dish room and started scrubbing — it was my fault, so I should be the one to scrub the pan. Then, just for good measure, I splattered a black, greasy mix of pork fat and burnt tomato all over my apron. Doubt that’s coming out in the wash.

Struggling to pull it together, and keeping my tomato sauce on VERY low heat, I set to starting my velouté over. Stu gave me his extra roux, which was very helpful, so all I had to do was whisk in chicken broth. New Chef (who had grown accustomed to checking on me by this point) told me when my sauce was the right consistency and had me show it to Chef in the other kitchen. “Just a hair thick” was all I got, so that worked for me. Then my small amount of tomato sauce went through the food mill to show Chef, who evidently was only checking for consistency and thankfully would NOT be tasting what I’m sure still had a generous helping of burnt flavor. He was in a rush, so I got a “very good” before he sent me on my way. After all that!! So I guess of all the nights to go horribly wrong, this one was a decent choice.

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Flashbacks

Culinary school flashback: first-week lessons

I’m often asked about what culinary school at Le Cordon Bleu was like, back in 2009–10, and since I kept a (long-winded, diary-esque) blog during my time there, I thought it would be fun to re-post snippets here from time to time.

One of my first few nights in our culinary school uniform
One of my first few nights in our culinary school uniform

Also, this week, one of the friends I made during culinary school was named a finalist to become the next host for Check, Please (good luck, Flavia!), which of course got me reminiscing about our many nights cooking in the same kitchen.

So, straight from the blog, here are a few memories from my very first week of the 9-month program:

“I came into class a little late, having gone to floors 3 and 4 before determining that the kitchens were on floor 2. And of course, I had no clue how to tie my cravate. In the handbook, it’s an 18-step process, and apparently it’s a half-windsor knot, for those of you who actually tie neckties. Fortunately, most other people didn’t know how either and came to the kitchen with their cravate in hand like I did.

From the moment I stepped foot in the kitchen, I knew the chef was trying to scare us. His gruff voice coupled with a shaved head and dark goatee made him someone you did NOT want to mess with. Before he began covering material for the first class, Food Safety and Sanitation, he went on about how tough the industry is, and what is and isn’t tolerated in terms of hygiene, cleanliness, and appearance. He did teach us how to tie our cravates — and berated a girl for wearing flip-flops by calling her a hippie for the rest of class — along with reminding us that we could wear NO nail polish or fake nails, that our hair had to be INSIDE our hats, and that we had to be clean and smell good, whatever that required…”

“On day 3, it was time to actually cut things. Right before the break between sanitation and culinary class, Chef wrote two headings on the board: “Bleeder tally” and “faint score”. Yuck. A little ominous, don’t you think? We all realized that yes, people WOULD cut themselves, and yes, that can sometimes lead to fainting. I was just praying I wouldn’t be the first one to do so! Before we touched the knives, Chef demonstrated everything for us … After showing us his impeccable 1/8″ x 1/8″ x 2″ allumettes and dices using onion and carrots, it was time to let us loose. We all gathered our materials and washed our vegetables, but then the room fell nearly silent as each of us became completely focused on measuring with our rulers and cutting as precisely as possible. Though at first I had trouble cutting straight, I finally ended up with a decent brunoise of potato! (That means tiny 1/8″ cubes.) I started a carrot, too, but didn’t get very far. And even better, I didn’t cut myself — nor did anyone else, for that matter…”

Dramatic re-enactment of my lessons in knife skills
Dramatic re-enactment of my lessons in knife skills

“[Two days later] was the very first time we had to present what we’d made for Chef to taste — now I know that look of fear on the Top Chef contestants’ faces when Tom Colicchio is about to taste their dish! It’s slightly terrifying. First, I presented Chef with my vinaigrette, which I wasn’t super confident about but wanted to get his opinion so I could go back to the potato purée. He checked the consistency with his tasting spoon, swirled it around a little, and told me it wasn’t homogenous enough and that you could still see too much oil. Then he tasted it and concluded that it was also a little too acidic. “Whisk it more and bring it back.” So the first critique wasn’t too bad; it could have been far worse, I’m sure. I whisked and whisked and whisked, and added a little sugar, only to bring it back and have him tell me it was a little too oily, but otherwise fine. I’m sure I’ll get used to his evaluations, but I’m a little nervous to see how harsh he gets as things get more complex!

Then Flavia brought up our potatoes soon after for Chef to taste. Basically, he told us they were cold and lumpy. So we first put the bowl over a hot water path, whipped it more, went back and forth. Then we realized they weren’t going to get hot enough that way, so we transferred them directly into a saucepan and heated them, put them back in the bowl, added more butter, salt and milk, more whipping, and so on. The next time we served them to Chef, at least we made sure that he couldn’t tell us they were cold! He still didn’t think they were smooth enough, but let us go with it. There it was, our first big moment of approval and getting to proudly eat the fruits of our labor.”