Diplôme de Patisserie

It’s a foggy and chilly Friday morning in Paris. But no matter, because today is the Big Day: Susan receives with her Diplôme de Patisserie from Le Cordon Bleu.

This past Wednesday Susan finished her final exam for the superior level certificate. It was all about sugar sculpture. The class spent the last week or so of their time working towards this objective and, while one might question the value of spending so much class time on this sort of thing, the results were very impressive. (photo right: Susie with her final exam. For more photos click here!)

Three levels, three certificates; at times it seemed like it was going to last forever.

So of course it’s hard to believe that it’s just about all over. It was barely a year ago that we were sitting in our apartment in Siena, Italy, contemplating our next move in life. When I asked her what she would like to do, Susie said, “You know I’d really like to become a baker.” Next thing you know we were on our way to Florence to Apicius for their pastry program. After one term in Italy Susie realized that Apicius was not the serious program she was looking for, but where to go now?

Looking back that turned out to be an easy question to answer. If you want to become a pastry chef where else would you go but Le Cordon Bleu and where else to learn about pastry but in Paris?

So we packed up our stuff and at the end of July off we went north to the Frankish Kingdom. And here we are in mid-December and not only is Susan finishing the pastry program but she is going to be doing an internship at a wonderful little patisserie just a 10 minute walk from our apartment! And not to forget that it was right here in Paris Susan met some wonderful people, people who transcended age and nationality: 20-, 30- 40-year olds from Canada, Taiwan, Thailand, Japan, Greece, Spain, Slovenia, Argentina, Turkey. What a fantastic experience!

And of course for me, meeting Marie and Philippe and being able to spend so much time browsing through the history of France is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

And even more fantastic is that it continues still.

So this afternoon Susan goes back to the school one last time and sometime shortly after 3:30 she will receive her Diplôme. She said to me yesterday that she couldn’t believe it’s really over. And of course it’s really just begun.

Wish you were here,

Steve

French pastry, Italian food and Al-Jazeera

Well the verdict is in, and the news is we are staying in Paris for Susan’s internship.

The interviews were held on Tuesday and Susan got her first choice, Pascal Pinaud’s small artisan patisserie, located at 70 rue Monge, just a 10-minute walk from our apartment. Susan had heard about Pascal through the school grapevine; that he used to teach at LCB, was very kind to the students and has a wonderful sense of humor. We walked over to the shop a couple of weeks back and sampled some of their wares. His breads are exquisite (particularly his artisan “tradition” baguette), his chocolates scrumptious, and his desserts really great to look at and even better to eat! (photo: Pascal Pinaud's patisserie in Paris.)

Today (Sunday) we went back for a second helping and had his croissant “amandes”. These are found throughout Paris and one can usually gauge the quality of a pastry shop (in my opinion) on how well they do their “amandes. The idea is simple: day-old croissants, split them down the middle, add a healthy dose almond crème (paste) in the middle and re-bake, and finish off with powdered sugar. Absolutely out of this world! And Pascal’s are the best I’ve had so far.

So here we stay for another three months at least. After that who knows?

But speaking of food (and in this city, by law one has to speak about food constantly) we caught up with Beth Green last evening (Saturday), and ate “Italian” food. Beth, who is from NYC, was in the intermediate class with Susan at LCB this past fall and she will be doing the superior level during the regular session beginning in January. Beth is as keen on food as we are – I mean why would she be at LCB, right? In fact she turned us on to a great noodle “bar” the night of the intermediate level graduation ceremony.

So we arranged to meet up at L’Enoteca, in the 4th arrondisement (25 rue Charles V, 75004, in the “Marais” neighborhood). We had read about this place in a magazine article Margie Cheff gave us this last September and when we saw that it was reputed to be one of the finest Italian restaurants in the city we had to go. And the great news is that it is only a 10-minute walk and 1 Metro stop from our place! How cool is that!

Susan and I got there a few minutes early and though we might explore the adjacent little funky street, Rue Saint Paul. In fact, right across the street from the restaurant is a place called “Thanksgiving”, which touts itself as a bit of Louisiana Bayou in Paris, and as we squinted through the window into the darkened room we could see all kinds of American food products lining the shelves (for example, Campbell’s soup, a well-known Louisiana product). Later that evening Beth said that she had even heard you could order Thanksgiving turkeys from them! (Thus the name perhaps?)

We strolled back to the restaurant, walked in and heard that lovely music, so sweet to our ears, “Italian”! That’s right and we plunged right back into it with ease (if not grace) and quickly realized how much we long to hear and speak that clear, distinct, every-syllable-is-pronounced language!

Since Beth hadn’t arrived yet Susie and I sat at the bar, ordered a couple of Proseccos, calmly eyed the place and listed to the wait staff hurrying by usinto and out of the kitchen: Lombardia, Piemonte, Emilia-Romagna, Liguria were represented so we were told. Ah yes, we had come home.

After Beth arrived we went upstairs where we were seated and commenced a wonderful evening of good food (OK outstanding food!), good wine and great conversation. Beth is funny, quite delightful and she and Susan bantered stories about LCB back and forth. Of course we also talked about the future, all of our futures.

A couple of hours later, after we paid the bill and walked out into the bracing night air the three us stood on the Boulevard Henri IV with the Bastille at one end and the Seine at the other, chatting about this and that thing, laughing and just enjoying being alive and in Paris.

Al-Jazeera?

OK, the other day while I was searching for the new 24-hour French TV news channel (it’s actually two channels, one English and one French of course), I came across the new English-language Al-Jazeera channel. I must say this is one slick production. It looks just like any of the other major players in this field and the readers and reporters are from all over the world. (The ads are at least for the moment largely centered on Dubai companies, of course.) In addition to playing the proverbial “devil’s advocate” by providing a different angle from those found in traditional news channels (CNN and BBC for example) on stories out of the Middle East, they also provide stories that might not get covered in the west; like the story about the fake malaria drugs in Southeast Asia which pose a significant health problem in the region.

It’s one of the perks of living abroad – that of seeing the world, our world, through different eyes. It naturally gives one pause and helps to make us a bit more humble about who we are and what we are about.

Wish you were here,

Steve

Sugar sculpture at Le Cordon Bleu

It's just a week from graduation and Susan's class is moving into their final phase, poured and pulled sugar sculptures. Basically you cook sugar (adding the color during this phase) and then either pour it into a mould (British spelling) or pour it onto a special mat, and then pull it and create shapes. And each of the petals on the flowers are individually pulled and shaped. Simple, huh? Yeah right. (photo right: Susan's sculpture.)

So do you eat it? You can. It's really like hard candy; for example, those green and red ribbon candies that some of you might remember from Christmas time.

Anyway, this is what they are going to have to do for their final exam next week. (photo below: Ann Chang with her calla lily sculpture.)



(photo above: Susie and her sugary work of art.)

Aux Lyonnais or not

Now it’s quite possible that you have eaten at Aux Lyonnais in Paris, one of the Ducasse properties, and you might have had a grand time. If so I’m happy for you believe me. But if you haven't, well I think, with all the wonderful restaurants in Paris “hungry” for business you can skip this place.

I went to their website early in the week – very slick and flashy – and found the link to click to make a reservation online, which I did. I waited several days and not hearing back from them I decided to call and confirm.

Me: “Bon jour, I’m calling to confirm my reservation for tomorrow night.” (Happy as a lark.)

Minion no. 1: “Sorry we are booked up for tomorrow night.” (Don't bother.)

Me: “Yes, well, OK but I made a reservation online several days ago.” (Harrumph.)

M.1: “Wait a minute.” (Hmmmmm.)

Minion no. 2: “Sorry but we are booked up.” (Sniffing the air at my English.)

Me: “But I made the reservation online.” (Hurt and embarrased for not speaking French.)

M2: “We don’t take reservations online.” (So there!)

Me: “So let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you don’t take online reservations although it says right on your website you you do.”(Shocked and appalled.)

M2: “Yes.” (Oui)

Me: “I don’t believe it.” (Really.)

M2: “Let me get the director.” (The Big Kahuna.)

Director: “I’m sorry but we are booked up and I never received your mail.” (I can just hear Steve Martin’s French accent doing: "I don’t care for you, you dirty American doggy.”)

Me: “Oh so you do take reservations online.”(Ah ha!)

D.: “Of course.” (“Sniff sniff.”)

Me: “Merci, bon journee.” (Lacking in sincerity.)

D.: Nothing. (Nothing.)

Now this may not sound like much but if you had heard the tone of the conversation – condescending and patronizing and not at all friendly – them not me -- you would agree with me that going somewhere else is the wiser choice.

Maybe the food is wonderful but if this were an indication of their service, I’d skip it. And apparently we will.

Wish you were here,

Steve

Just a Saturday in Paris

Yesterday (Saturday) was a really wonderful day here in Paris; Susan got to renew friendships from this past summer and I thoroughly enjoyed a chaotic, confused and totally gratifying afternoon. (photo right: what happens when you stand around naked holding a sword in Paris.)

Let me explain.

The week has been largely chilly and overcast with a constant threat of rain. Winter is here apparently. Christmas trees are now for sale around the city and decorations are starting to spring up seemingly overnight. December is also Susan’s last month in school. And I am starting to feel a bit of time pressure to finish my videotaping of Pere Lachaise and to try and put online at least two or three podcasts with Marie and Philippe.

Two or three weeks back Anna and her husband Pietro invited us for a return engagement at their house for dinner on December 2. (Anna and Susan had been in the same Basic pastry class in August.) And another surprise is that Valerie, who had been in the same class with Anna and Susan and who lives in Paris, would also be coming. Rounding out the evening’s guest list was a French Swiss banker and his wife – so how could we refuse – you can count us in we said!

Anyway, yesterday morning Susan took the RER train (the somewhat faster version of the Metro) from Gare de Lyon (an easy walk from our apartment) out to Rueil Malmaison, on the far western side of Paris, where Anna picked her up and the two of them went to the holiday “boutique” at the American School in Paris. Anna had volunteered to work the Friends of the American School Library booth and Susan tagged along.

As for me I hung around the apartment catching up on some computer stuff and about 12:45 pm headed off for the Metro. I was going back to Pere Lachaise and meet up with Marie and Philippe to start our first attempt at podcasting from the cemetery.

Well I was just about to board the Metro when Marie called and said there had been a change of plans. It seems that she and Philippe had read in the local weekly Pariscope,(a listing events throughout Paris) that there would be a special guided tour of the rarely opened crypts beneath Les Invalides (where Napoleon I is buried). Marie said they had been waiting for years for this opportunity and would I care to join them about 2 pm? You bet!

So I retraced my steps to the apartment, hung out for a while, called Susie to see how she was doing (“Fine”) and headed off towards Les Invalides (line 10 from Jussieu to the no. 13 at duroc and then off at Invalides. Simple.).

I arrived about the same as Marie – we met up in the large courtyard just as you enter the main gate (the other end from the “eglise”, the church, where Napoleon and crew are actually buried). A few minutes later Philippe arrived and soon afterwards a crowd started gathering in the courtyard, some 30-40 people eager to take the tour. It quickly became evident that the guide had a bit of a cult following in Paris and that many of the people there had already signed up via (French) word-of-mouth. We soon found ourselves left out in the cold – which it was a bit actually – although in typical Gallic uncertainty the guide informed Marie that “Maybe there’ll be room in an hour or so.” No thanks. I told Marie and Philippe that I would head home and after saying au revoir off I went. A few minutes later, just as I left the main entrance to the Invalides I heard someone calling out my name and I turned around to see the two of them chasing after me. “So Steve do you want to go to Picpus cemetery?” Whoa! Yeah! The cemetery is rarely open and very hard to find so I jumped at the chance, you bet.

“Picpus cemetery”, you ask? Besides the funny name what’s the deal here? Well several things actually.

The cemetery is actually composed of two parts. One part is where 1306 of the great and common people of Paris were guillotined in the June and July of 1794. The executions took place on the nearby Place de la Nation (then called the Place du Trone), some days as many as 55 people were beheaded, and the bodies were transported to the closest open space where they were dumped into mass graves. (photo below: the 2 mass graves.)


The second part is the little cemetery next to the mass graves, which holds the remains of some of France’s most well known families. Moreover, it is also the resting place of the Marquis de Lafayette. Yes, that Lafayette: “Lafayette we are here”, Lafayette, Indiana, ,Lafayette College in Pennsylvania, Fayetteville, North Carolina and on and on. I mean the man was made an honorary US citizen in 2002.



So the three of us headed for the Metro line 13 got off at the Opera stop, picked up the RER to Place de la Nation where Philippe showed me the spot where the guillotine had been set up. We then pent 15 minutes trying to find our way out of this enormous Place. At last we located the right “spoke” of the hub and soon found the little cemetery, down a small side street away (35 rue de Picpus).

After paying our fee (2 euros and change each) to the fellow at the “conservation” building he showed us to the gate, which he unlocked and let us in to wander around ourselves.

The first thing that strikes you as you enter is a long rectangular green space running deep into the block itself. At the far side of that is the original door (some speculation here between Marie and Philippe about this), or at least the original entrance used by the carts which brought the headless bodies from the Place to the mass graves here; several dozen a day in fact. Nasty business. There is also a small segment of the original wooden palisade that once surrounded the gravesites.

Off to the right, is the small cemetery itself, behind which is a stone wall and a locked gate, and at the far back are the two mass graves. The little cemetery where you can find Lafayette’s grave, decorated with various markers from the United States or organizations such as the Daughters of the American Revolution.


There is also a plaque memorializing the 16 Carmelite nuns who were executed on July 24, 1794. Ranging in age from 29 to78 they went to the scaffold singing hymns as a choir, until one-by-one the last nun, still singing was executed. They were beatified in 1906.


From the little cemetery we walked back toward the entrance and into the small chapel near the main gate.



The interior was nearly dark except for the far back left wall of the transept which was lit up so one could read the enormous plaque listing some of all the names of those 1,306 who were executed that summer. Reading the plaques on the walls – there was another one on the opposite transept wall -- which seem to go all the way to the ceiling, and arranged by date of execution, one can’t help but feel the tragic, stupid absurdity of what happened just a few hundred meters away more than two centuries ago. I used to think of the Terror as striking mainly at the nobility – which it did certainly – but more than half of the names on these lists were simple commoners like Marie Bouchard, age 18, “domestique”or Jean Baptiste Marino, age 37, porcelain painter or Raymond Borie, age 19, shoemaker. Horrible.

We left the chapel and walked out into a light drizzle, said au revoir (again) and plan to meet up the next weekend at Pere Lachaise.


I got home with just a few minutes to spare before getting ready to go out to Anna and Pietro’s house for dinner. Susan finished packing her things up – she was bringing dessert – and we headed for the Gare de Lyon and the RER (again) and less than a half hour later we hopped off the train. Pietro pulled up to the station just as we walked out of the station and two minutes later we were in their warm house, full of cooking smells and chilled champagne. And grilled Merguez sausage! Thank you Pietro! (photo: handing anna the champagne.)

Valerie soon joined us and then Francois and his wife Katrina.

We sat down to a superb dinner – I mean we had the best of all worlds cooking that night: A Canadian of Italian ancestry born and raised in Montreal; both Anna and Pietro know good food, and how fix, serve and eat it.

It was a grand evening of lively conversation, delicious wine and outstanding food. I often wonder that if some people, and here I’m talking about people who don’t like each other very much but in whose hands are the lives of countless numbers of people, if these folks would be put into a situation where all they could do with one another would be to fix food, sit down and eat it and talk about just the food (OK and wine too if one’s religion allowed that sort of thing), I suspect it might be a bit easier to get along. (photo: Katrina.)

But hey what do I know? I spend most of my days with dead people. . . . It’s called history.

Wish you were here,

Steve