Monday

Last night I was exhausted which explains the no BBB (blogging before bed, thanks Durdam). Yesterday I decided that I should walk to school to work off some of the absolute scrumptious bread I have been eating. I set out at 12 for school knowing that I wanted to stop along the way at Bon Marche typically I didn’t make it to Bon Marche, but I made it to the largest Monoprix I’ve seen yet which was in the 14^th, a wretched place if you ask me.  It reminds me of downtown, there are so many people and the only (that I can see) high-rise in Paris.  I find the 14^th to be quite nasty, the Monoprix is its only redeeming quality.

After having just eaten an egg in the morning at home, I was looking for something on my walk to school.  Naturally I thought I would find Poilane along my way, I was so determined that I backtracked up Rue de Vaugirard a couple times until I realized I was completely wrong and kept going.  I passed a few good looking places along the way, however something told me to keep moving.

I would probably get into a lot of trouble with my sister, but I was able to see how far I walked because I wore my tennis shoes that connect to my ipod through Nike+. So I strolled through the streets with my tennis shoes, jeans, black T, my over sized burlap sack and my knives.  I lugged all of my stuff occasionally switching shoulders about 3 miles for an hour and 15 minutes when I found the Monoprix.  At that point I had given up all hope at a civilized meal.  The further I moved away from my neighborhood the more my hope in a quality sandwich diminished. I ended up eating a slice of pizza and pretzel at Monop.  Frankly I think that they should leave those types of foods to their country of origin, to say the least. The pretzel was like an airy, stale croissant with a hard shell, pathetic. I pulled my map out to find where on earth I was.  I arrived at school two hours early and full of undesirable food.

There are two types of classes in the program, the demo and the practical.  In the demo, the chef demonstrates what you are going to make in your practical, where you execute the dish along with 14 other students. Yesterday, group E had their first practical.  We were to make Diamonds, a type of shortbread biscuit.  During the demo I thought there would be some logic to the name, like its cut out in the shape of a diamond, but there was a less exciting explanation, when rolled in sugar at the end, they sparkle like diamonds (what a load of crap).

When we do our practical we are required to wear every piece of our uniform we have. We start with the black and white checkered clown pants, then there is a chef’s jacket that I will have embroidered with my name on the back once I get home. Oh, I cannot forget that dashing necktie we have to wear.  Funny enough the small man who runs the place came around on the first day making a big scene about the neckties being tied like a man’s tie.  Turns out in demo that same day the instructor showed an example of the neck tie and how it should be tied, he simply took the two ends, crossed them over and then shoved them into his jacket. Thank you short man for stressing us all out for no reason.    After all that lovely gear is adorning your once slim physique you put on your horrifically ugly (no one should every have to add those to their shoe collection) chef shoes.  They are an uglier clog. Once those are on you put your apron on which spans from your waist to your ankles, you tuck the white dishtowel that says Le Cordon Bleu (incase you forget where you’re training) on it multiple times into your apron strings. After you feel suffocated by the get up, you have to, well I have to put my mass amounts of hair into a small bun and shove it into a hairnet then top it off with a Jonny Rockets style hat. Basically, without makeup, everyone looks like a man.

Once I looked officially like a man I went up to the third floor and waited for the instructor to let us in.  On the door there is a sign with their favorite word at LCB “it is FORBIDDEN to enter the class before the instructor has invited you in”. We all waited until the instructor or Stanley Tucci’s French twin walked into the room. We all followed like ducklings.

Everyone generally did a good job in making their ‘biscuits’ although as we were cutting them and putting them on the baking sheet he stopped at one guys table and studied his cookies briefly.  He proceeded to tell the guy that they look like a family, pointing to one and saying, father, another one, mother, another, baby. He came over to my station on the long marble table, uh oh I thought. First of all I had a lovely girl Nargis from Switzerland sitting next to me, so naturally she is sweet and just wants to help.  We shared a baking sheet and we talked the entire time. Luckily in my class there is only one suck up and 2 fuck ups. One girl made her dough into a snake looking thing instead of a uniform 2-inch thick 12 inch long log looking thing.  Snake girl took 10 minutes to cut her snake into pieces and it took one and a half very large baking sheets to cook them all. The other unfortunate soul was putting her dough into the fridge and of course spilled all the sugar and cream on the floor and knocked my baking tray onto the floor.  You could see the fury in Nargis’ eyes.

Once we had finished, our instructor took the baking sheets out of the oven and we all marveled at the sight of our first baked good.  The instructor had us arrange them on a small plate and we lined them up. He called out our names and we had to point ours out.  It was our first grade!  I’m pretty sure in this case, a dot means that we passed.  Once that was over, short man came in to give a small speech, “there should be one question in your mind…. Can I sell this in a shop”.  On the contrary short man, my question is, how can I make them better. SO with that in mind, after the chef graded our “diamonds” I asked him how I could make them better. 

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I ended up walking back to my apartment and stumbled upon Poilane.  What an amazingly wonderful place.  I also stopped at a cheese store someone had told me about and picked up a pre dinner snack.  Dinner was also amazing.  I ate with the Rocherolles and Shibani, who gave dinner the Indian seal of approval. Post dinner we had Grom ice cream again.  Must find a gym..

I almost forgot, within the first 10 minutes I cut myself.  I was the only one to do so in my class.  I looked 20 minutes later and I had cut the band aid in the same exact spot I have originally cut myself.

Bisous