Existential questions

You know what the difference (perhaps I should say "a" difference) is between the last institution of higher education in which I was enrolled and this one?

There, we'd spend hours, days, weeks debating philosophical questions, like which came first, the chicken or the egg.

Here, we just learn to cook 'em both on the same day.

(I thought this was really quite witty yesterday. Today I'm not so sure...)

Chef Bruno taught us how to make an amazing caramelized onion omelet that I can't wait to teach my dad. Dad has spent quite some time perfecting his omelet technique, and he's got it down to a science ... but I learned a couple of new tips that made this omelet truly delicious. (Hint: They involve butter and creme fraiche. Right. Of course they do.)


He also taught us how to make poulet roti et son jus (roast chicken au jus), served with artichokes topped with vegetables jardiniere. Now, roast chicken is one of my favorite things to eat, a real comfort food, so I was excited to get to give it a try today. My favorite thing I learned today, since roasting a chicken really isn't terribly complicated, is that with a good knife, I too can carve a chicken. It was even easier to carve than my poached chicken from week one!

I also learned that, even more than turning potatoes, I'm not a big fan of turning artichokes. I have a feeling we're going to be turning vegetables a lot from now on. Guess I'd better sharpen my knives.


Oops. An errant green bean.

Cooking chicken on a Friday morning was perfect, though, because it meant that this was my Shabbat dinner:


Almost as good as Mom's!! (Who am I kidding? Pretty much just as good as Mom's!!)

As the vegetables turn

Sometimes, the devil is in the details.

Monday, in demonstration, Chef Bruno prepared aiguilette de boeuf mode, or braised beef with pearl onions and carrots. Since this is red meat week, we were all focused on the beef preparation -- and given that part of the preparation of this dish involved stitching strips of fat that had been soaked in cognac and rolled in a chiffonade of parsley into the cut of meat, there was a lot to focus on! So when Chef was preparing the garnish of pearl onions and carrots, it might have been easy to dismiss as an aside his comment that here we use "turned carrots", which we didn't need to worry about then, but would learn at a later date. But I remember raising my eyebrow, and thinking "hmmm, turned carrots ... what's that?"

Oh, Marn, you didn't want to know.

Fast forward to today, when we made boeuf bourgignon (after preparing the marinade yesterday and leaving our marinating beef overnight in the fridge) ... guess what goes with boeuf bourgignon? Yep, turned potatoes. And guess who learned how to turn potatoes today? Yep, me. And guess who despises turning potatoes? That's right.

Because I'm bad at it! B-A-D. It looks so simple, you hold the potato and carve it into an oval shape with your paring knife. Oh so pretty. But I can't do it. I can make octagons. I can make decagons. I can make any shape that doesn't involve a rounded edge. But ovals? Nope. Moi, je ne peux pas.

I hear it'll be on our final exam, so perhaps I should buy a few potatoes at the market and practice at home this weekend. Or perhaps I should start a revolution at LCB, introducing the dodecagoned potato to the world of French cooking. I'm sure it'll catch on...

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Also on the menu this week, cote du boeuf avec sauce bordelaise, avec tomatoes provencale. Chef Philippe made this for us in demonstration, but we didn't make it ourselves in practical. I'm actually somewhat thankful, as my fridge can hold no more meat products. But I'm definitely looking forward to trying my hand at the tomatoes -- topped with a mixture of bread crumbs, olive oil, garlic, and parsley, and browned in the oven -- they were delicious!

And my favorite by far, a dish I was excited to make in practical -- coeur de contrefilet roti au jus avec pommes mousseline. That's right, roasted sirloin filet and potato puree. Rock on. This was good, really good, and when served on a baguette has made for some amazing steak sandwiches this week. Je suis contente.

Eat your hearts out ...

Okay, so I'll tell you all about the steak we cooked today later, but for now, take a look at my dinner of leftovers. My photography skills aren't so good here, but yum!


I think I'm in heaven.

Exploring by day...

Last week wasn't all dough and no play! I continued exploring the city by foot last week ...

I wandered my neighborhood, finding my local market street and beginning the oh-so-scientific taste test to determine which baguette is best. My current favorite? Still the one at my old boulangerie in the 15th, although I do have a favorite boulangerie in this neighborhood, on rue de Buci. I love, by the way, that rue de Buci is my market street. I'm not sure I can describe it better than a fellow blogger ... but I love that I walk this street every day for my baguette and cheese, fruit and veggies. The market streets in Paris remind me a lot of Tokyo, as that was the city that introduced me to the concept of a market street. We need this kind of shopping and lifestyle in the United States. Or at least, I do...

I explored Ile de la Cite, seeing (but not joining the crowds inside of) Notre Dame and the Palais de Justice.
















I also spent a few moments at the Memorial de la Deportation, dedicated to those who were deported during the Holocaust. Unfortunately, the memorial seemed to be closed for lunch, but I did sit for a moment in the park adjacent, and intend to return when it's open.











I continued my walk on the Right Bank, heading up through Les Halles. The night before, a friend at home had recommended Emile Zola's book Belly of Paris, set in Les Halles a few years after it opened, as a book "no Paris food student should be without!" Well, I haven't been able to find an English-language copy yet, but I was able to wander through the neighborhood last week, and I loved it! I found a great culinary equipment shop called Dehillerin (18, rue de la Coquilliere), and I was like a kid in a candy store looking at all of the kitchenware! I also spent some time in Laguiole, a knife shop at 1, place Ste. Opportune. Even though I just got a whole knife set from LCB, I keep thinking there are other knives I need. Like cheese knives, right? Doesn't every French culinary student need a good cheese knife??

I also found the location where Henri IV was assassinated in 1610 (I owe Ms. Newman a lot for all of this European history that's coming back to me!), and enjoyed the dichotomy of this church and the sculpture in front.




I also saw the first of many boucheries chevalines (everyone know what that means?)








Continued through Beauborg, seeing the Centre Pompidou and remembering exactly how little I like it. Call me old-fashioned, but I find it an eyesore.

Not too far away, though, is place Igor Stravinsky, where, according to my guide, "a whimsical fountain full of colorful spouting scultures awaits you. Enjoy it -- French whimsy can be hard to come by." I loved it, both on its own, and along with the amusing commentary!



One day, I decided to explore the 14th arrondissement, and spent some time in Cimetiere du Montparnasse, where such folks as Baudelaire, Maupassant, Beckett, de Beauvoir, Sartre, and Man Ray are buried.

I found it interesting that there were some Jewish graves, like this one, in the main cemetery ... but most were in a small cemetery across the road, and the grave of Alfred Dreyfus was nearly impossible to locate.






But I found it.


Another day, after class, Nika and I took a walk from school to Place des Vosges, with stops along the way for coffee and to pick up fixings for a picnic lunch. Sitting outside in a gorgeous park, with homemade quiche, a baguette and ham and cheese to top it, fresh nectarines, and chocolates? What could be more fun? We called Anne to meet us, and spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through le Marais.




A few days later, Anne and I spent some time before class sitting in Jardin du Luxembourg. These parks, I really could get used to them. Dupont Circle and the Mall don't compare!

Yet another day, I decided it was time to see where Mom studied, when she was in college. So a stroll through the Latin Quarter was necessary, to see the Sorbonne. It was strange to think of Mom, younger than I am now, walking through those same streets, having her own Parisian summer. Hopefully, she's coming to visit later in the summer, and we can compare notes!

I walked along beautiful Ile St. Louis and had ice cream at my sister and brother-in-law's favorite ice cream shop (sorry, couldn't FedEx any home to you)! I sampled chocolat noir and fraises des bois (wild strawberry), and they were both delicious.


One more exciting thing I've noticed as another week passed -- my conversations in French are getting longer, and fewer and fewer people are switching to English when they hear my broken grammar. I'm thrilled. I wasn't sure how much of my high school French was going to come back, especially since I've studied two other languages since then. But apparently my brain does okay at retaining language. Mme. Grenier would be so proud. As would my very first French teacher, who I know is reading this blog.

Kneading a break from dough

Sometimes, the puns, they are irresistible. I blame my father.


But anyway.

Last week was dough week in Cuisine de Base here at LCB ... and as exciting as it was to find that my doughs miraculously worked (!!!), I am glad to be back to cooking and not baking. I prefer cooking by feel, without precise measurements and with the ability to taste and correct as I go. Baking still seems like magic to me ... with cooking, I feel far more in control.

Not that I'm a control freak, or anything.

So I think for now I'll leave the baking to my friends in the pastry courses here who always let me sample their wares, and to my friend Melina back at home, of whom I remain in awe. Of course, a couple of the dishes we made last week would make a fantastic brunch, so if I am convinced to host such a brunch when I get back, perhaps I'll break out the baking skills ...

Pissaladiere
(onion tart with tomatoes, olives, anchovies, and capers)

Quiche Lorraine

Feuilletee de Poireaux et Oeuf Poche, Sauce Albufera
(puff pastry filled with leeks, topped with a poached egg and Albufera sauce)

Seriously! Homemade puff pastry! Can you believe it? (I couldn't...)

In demonstration, the chefs made a few more dishes with doughs that I'm excited to try out at home, a tarte aux abricots (apricot tart), canneloni aux epinards et sauce tomate (spinach canneloni in tomato sauce), and a quiche aux champignons (mushroom quiche). Yum!

Le Weekend

The schedule at LCB is not terribly taxing for those of us in Basic Cuisine (and not also in Basic Pastry) -- we have three to six hours of class a day, four or five days a week. But because our first day was an orientation, we had class on Saturday of our first week.

So I woke up at 6:30 Saturday morning to cook chicken.

I think this may have been my favorite day so far (but, I may find myself saying that often ... it's still such a new experience that every day seems more exciting than the last). I generally walk to school -- it's about an hour walk, but the weather has been gorgeous here, and I find it a nice way to start my day -- but that morning, I decided I wanted an extra half hour of sleep, so I took the metro. When I emerged from the metro at the Vaugirard stop, I saw a couple of my classmates sitting at the corner cafe, enjoying a noisette before class. They beckoned me over, and I remember thinking how great it is that, after only one week in a new city, I feel like I'm developing a life for myself here. Paris is a big city, but it's a city of neighborhoods, and I'm constantly pleasantly surprised when I run into friendly and familiar faces.

So after a caffeine jolt, we headed into the kitchen to prepare chicken au sauce supreme, avec riz au gras. The chef in demonstration had explained to us that this is a French classic ... one that must be made just so, with little room for creativity or improvisation in plating. The chicken is dressed with sauce, placed on a bed of rice, and surrounded by a moat of sauce supreme.


So I started by blowtorching my chicken. Really. It had already been plucked, but we had to remove the remaining down by burning it off. I then finished cleaning the chicken, and trussed it. Then, into the pot it went, along with some extra chicken wings we had, to be blanched. After discarding the blanching water (filled with impurities that boiled off) and rubbing the chicken with the juice of a lemon (not for flavor, but to make the chicken stay as white as possible), the chicken went back into a pot to make stock (and to be poached).

Next, I started my rice. I sweated my shallots in butter, and then added the rice to pearl (in French, nacre). In goes some freshly made chicken stock, and tada, riz au gras.

All that's left is the sauce. "D'abord, vous faites un roux," said the chef. First, you make a roux. Now, there are only a couple of people in the world who will know why this made me laugh, out loud ... but it did. Gotta love my Louisiana upbringing for giving new meanings to classic French culinary terms.

So make a roux, I did, combined it with stock, cream, butter, salt, and pepper, and cooked my sauce until it napped (seriously, that's the word for it -- a sauce is nappant when it coats the back of a spoon, and running your finger down the back of the spoon leaves a streak).

I plated my chicken, and waited for chef's grading. "Parfait!" he said, after testing the chicken for doneness, and tasting the sauce and rice. "Really?" I thought. But then I carved my chicken so I could take it home, and tasted a bite while packing it up. And it was parfait indeed.

After a walk through my neighborhood, and a drink with Anne, I headed home to enjoy my leftovers. While eating my delicious (perfect, some might say!) chicken and rice, I turned on my television for the first time, to see what my options were. Skipping past BBC, CNN, and al Jazeera (really, I'm on vacation here), I settled on cuisine tv (the French food network). Call me a geek, but it's a really good way to reinforce the language I'm learning during the day at LCB -- the vocabulary overlaps far more than it would if I were watching any other French television channel. I love that I can have it on in the background, and be doing other things, but can generally follow what's being done -- guess I'm absorbing more vocabulary than I realized!

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Sunday was my first day off, and I spent it on a walk through le Marais. The last time I was in Paris, seven years ago, I had a book of neighborhood walks that I absolutely loved -- we would pick a walk, head to that neighborhood, and explore the streets with a purpose and a guide. Of course, we'd stop if we saw something that caught our eyes, but having the tour to guide us made us notice things we might otherwise have passed by.

So I was excited when, in preparation for this trip, a friend gave me City Walks Paris -- a set of cards, each one detailing a 1-2 hour neighborhood walk. And Sunday, I pulled out the three Marais walks, and set out to explore what I remembered being one of my favorite Paris neighborhoods. Wandering the streets I saw what I remembered loving about the area, but learned an important lesson -- le Marais on a Sunday afternoon is busy! I told myself I'd return on a weekday for a more leisurely experience.

But I did get to stroll down pretty rue des Barres, behind the St. Gervais church.





And see some exposed-beam houses from the 15th century along rue Francois Miron (note the Japanese sign across the way). Along the way, I stopped into Musee Carnavalet, a museum dedicated to the history of Paris.


I also saw Hotel de Sens, the oldest medieval mansion in the area, dating back to 1475.

As the afternoon wound down, I got a phone call (yes, I have a French cell phone ... I am so very Parisian) from my very first visitors from the States (the first of many, I hope!), Garrett and Laura. Although they had experienced travel woes much like mine, they were up for a drink and dinner, so I met them in Montparnasse for some bouillabaisse and wine. And headed home to get some sleep in preparation for week two -- doughs. Time to break out the electronic scale for precise measurements!

Having too much fun to write!

I really thought I'd be good about blogging daily, or maybe every other day. But it turns out that between class, and exploring Paris, and hanging out with friends, I get home most nights exhausted and ready for bed! But we'll see if I can catch up...

So, ten days ago, after finalizing my apartment, I returned to LCB to prepare filets de merlan bercy. This was the toughest day of practical yet. We started with whole whiting, which we had to clean (including popping out the eyeballs -- which was shockingly easier than I expected), scale, skin, and filet. I may be from south Louisiana, but I've never skinned a fish! And it showed ... the chef took one look at my first attempt and came right over to give me a quick tutorial.

Once our fish were separated into filets, bones, and trash (those pesky eyeballs), we were ready to get our fumet (stock) started. One thing making stock has taught me is that I need to buy myself a skimmer for my home kitchen. It's the one thing I use every day here, that I don't have at home.

We poached our filets in the stock, and reduced some of the remaining stock with butter, white wine, and parsley to make sauce bercy. Et voila!

I was definitely proud of my work, and gained a new appreciation for anyone who filets fish -- not an easy job! Three of my filets were decent, but the fourth -- I somehow left most of the fish on the bone. Although I get why this dish was part of our first week -- it taught us how to make a basic stock and reduce it into a sauce -- I might have preferred to filet a fish once my knife skills had developed a little more. I'm sure I'll get another chance though!

I went home after class with leftovers for dinner that night. Along with the soup from the day before, a baguette, and the omnipresent glass of red wine, it was a lovely meal. My new friend Nika invited me to a movie premiere on the Champs-Elysees, but I had too many things to do in preparation for moving the next morning, so I passed. Maybe next time!

The next day, my friend Anne invited me over to her place in the Latin Quarter for snacks on her balcony, and then dinner out. Mmm, bread, cheese, veggies, and wine. What could be better??





After we polished that off, we headed out for a bite. After taking a photo aboard a parked motorcycle (Anne tells me this is commonly done ... she also tells me that I'm a natural at the "stolen moto" photo ...) we stopped into a seafood place halfway between her house and mine.

I appear to be *thrilled* about my salmon (don't remember it being that exciting, but perhaps that was the wine talking), and Anne enjoyed her kissing prawns.














And thus ended my first week in Paris. Not bad, eh?

Connecting the dots

Time to try to catch you all up on life here on the Left Bank...

The night I finalized my apartment, I decided to take myself to dinner in my new neighborhood, and sat down at a bistro a few blocks away. Soon a mother-son pair sat next to me, and when the son got up to take a cell phone call, his mother engaged me in conversation. Apparently her son had just graduated from college, and she was taking him to Paris for a few days as a celebration. And where were they from? Cahors!

What a coincidence! Cahors is my parents' favorite wine region, in the southwest of France. It's their sentimental favorite because when they lived in Tokyo (stay with me here, the story is an intercontinental one), their favorite "nice dinner out" restaurant was a tiny little neighborhood jewel called Cahors. The proprietor/chef, Kaoru Yamamoto, grew to know us and invite us to friends-and-family dinners; Mom and Dad brought gifts for him from their trips back to the States. It was at Cahors that we learned the Japanese word "skoshi" -- a little bit. My sister and I were teenagers, and when Yamamoto-san showed us the desserts available, we were clearly torn, and having a hard time deciding on just one. Everything looked so good. Yamamoto-san explained to us that we could order "skoshi" of as many as we wanted ... and won our hearts. For the five years my family lived there, Yamamoto-san treated us as family. And when we returned on vacation a few years later, the one stop we knew we had to make was Cahors. (We even braved a typhoon to do so. Yamamoto-san couldn't believe his eyes!)

Yamamoto-san has since moved to London, to open a Japanese restaurant called So, and I fully intend to cross the Channel while I'm here if for no other reason than to visit him there.

I digress. But meeting people from Cahors, at a little bistro in St. Germain, and having a lovely remainder of my evening chatting with them, just seemed to connect all the dots -- my time in Paris, my time in Tokyo ... what a lucky coincidence that we sat next to each other. I told my new friend that my parents hoped to visit Cahors someday, and she gave me her name and contact information. And I walked away from the restaurant amused at how small the world can sometimes be.

Home Sweet Home

I know, I know ... it's been four whole days since I've updated you guys. Bad blogger!

But the reason is, I've been busy! I've been cooking, and looking for a new apartment, and cooking, and finding a new apartment, and cooking, and moving into a new apartment. And, hanging out with my new friends! When I roll home at midnight or 1am and have to be in the kitchen at 8am the next morning, I'm left with little time to update things over here.

Yeah. I know you all are feeling so sorry for me ...

But that's the explanation ... now, on to the news!

So, you all remember the terribly unfortunate falling-through of my Parisian apartment the night before I arrived in Paris!!! Oh yes, that was tres fun. Tres fun indeed. It meant that I spent most of my free moments this first week in Paris searching for apartments, doing my best to prevent being homeless for the remainder of the summer. (Fortunately, a couple of classmates offered their floors if I couldn't find a place in time, but I was not eager to have to take them up on that offer!)

But file this one under "when life hands you lemons, make lemonade" -- on Wednesday I found a lovely little spot in St. Germain des Pres, on a pedestrian street, mere steps from a bustling boulevard with shops, restaurants, and cafes. It's fantastic! I finalized it Thursday, and moved (with the help of my classmate Sarah) yesterday! Ignoring my half-hearted attempt at making my bed, isn't it lovely??




I also overlook a cute courtyard, and hear birds singing outside my windows all the time!



Moving was a test of my language skills. Flagging down a cab on the street here in Paris is pretty much not done -- you either go to a cab stand (located throughout the city) or call a dispatcher. Since I had all of my luggage, I couldn't easily walk over to a cab stand, so I had to call to order a cab. I always find speaking in foreign languages easier in person than over the phone, as you can read (and use) body language and gestures to get your point across. But I've now had my first French-on-the-phone success, because when I got downstairs with my bags, the cab was there!

There's more, it's true ... but it'll have to wait til I have more time to write!! But, as a preview, tonight's first dinner in my new home (all homemade except the baked goods ... we learn that later in the summer):

Cutting to the chase

So I'm a real live, honest-to-goodness, culinary student.


I know, many of you are waiting with bated breath for the head-to-toe shot, the one with the checked pants, the apron, and yes, the hat. That too will come. The hat is required only in the practical classes, not the demonstration classes, and guess where this photo was taken...

But yes, days one and two -- so far, so good. After orientation yesterday, my French language skills were put to the test as I had to find a tailor and get my chef's pants hemmed. Apparently, my French is coming back quickly, because everyone keeps commenting on how good it is, and how good my accent is (thanks, Louisiana public schools...) -- and I managed to get my pants hemmed in just a couple of hours!

Today we received our recipe book and course materials. Interestingly, a recipe here is merely a list of ingredients ... it is up to us to pay attention in the demonstration class, and write down whatever we think we'll need to know to recreate the dish in the practical session. For me, this is a great teaching method -- because it forces you to both hear the material, and write down what's important. I've always been someone who learns by writing, so this really helps things sink in. The other great thing about pedagogy at LCB is that the demonstration course is lectured in French, and translated into English. So those of us who understand both languages get to hear instructions and explanations twice ... and, those of us whose French is merely comme ci, comme ca get daily intensive practice in comprehension! French lessons and culinary lessons for the price of one! (And practical classes are solely in French, so it's really sink or swim time!)

Lesson one was Potage Cultivateur, a rustic vegetable soup that served as a vehicle for teaching us knife skills and the four basic cuts -- paysanne, mirepoix, brunoise, julienne. The other keys -- making sure each of the ingredients was cooked for the proper amount of time, and proper seasoning.


Chef Bruno pronounced mine "tres tres bien"! Two "tres"!!

Anyway, I'm enjoying leftovers, along with a baguette and some red wine, for dinner. Things could be worse...

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In other news, my luggage arrived Sunday night. And I think I've almost finalized an apartment for the summer. These are good things.

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I've been doing a lot of walking around the city in my free time. I always find it's a good way to get a sense of how a city is laid out, and how neighborhoods connect to each other -- and for those of you who know my sense of direction, you know just how important that is! So the past couple of days, I've spent hours wandering ... through the 15th, 7th, 6th, and 5th arrondissements. I'm beginning to feel like I know the city, at least a little, and that's exciting. I haven't really learned a new city in nearly a decade, and it's exhilarating and fun and even confidence-building. (Also, it keeps me in shape, given all of the cheese and butter and bread and chocolate I'm eating...)

So, I wandered by Hotel des Invalides ... and nearby a building once inhabited by Antoine de Saint-Exupery (which brought a smile to my face, as a very close friend recently gave me a gorgeous copy of Le Petit Prince) ... strolled by the Musee Rodin, which I remember loving on my last trip here (and to which I intend to make a return visit), and the Jardin du Luxembourg (where I'm hoping to jog on the days I don't take multi-hour jaunts through town).


These walks have made me think about the long, long walks we used to take on family trips in Tokyo, Shanghai, Bangkok, and other cities throughout Asia. At the time, my sister and I thought of them as death marches ... never-ending treks with no goal in sight that made us miserable. But now I wonder if they were, for my dad (the trek-leader), the same thing that my walks in Paris the past couple of days are for me -- a way to explore a place that affords you a better sense of a city's culture than merely rushing from place to place, from museum to shopping area to restaurant. As an uneager participant in such walks, they seemed interminable. As the architect, I'm pleasantly surprised each day when I look up, and realize I'm halfway across the city, and hours have passed. (So dad, sorry 'bout the complaining...)

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One more thing. After orientation yesterday, I decided I was in the mood for non-French food. So I stopped into Le Banyan (24, place Etienne Pernet 75015 Paris; tel: 01 40 60 09 31) for lunch. Le Banyan is a lovely little Thai restaurant that I'd read about in both the Michelin guide and Zagats, and their 14 euro lunch special couldn't be beat. I had marinated and grilled chicken brochettes with peanut sauce; a spicy coleslaw made with fish sauce (that was billed as Thai salad); beef sauteed with basil (one of the best renditions of this dish I've ever had); and sauteed noodles with vegetables. I wavered on whether to add dessert to this great deal, but couldn't be happier that I did -- I enjoyed what was by far the best execution of mango on sticky rice I have ever encountered. Rice cooked al dente and held together in a pudding of sorts by thick coconut milk, topped with sweet mango slices, fresh coconut, and a brunoise of strawberries (look at me using my newfound culinary knowledge already...) Wow, I may just go back for that dessert the next time I'm craving something you can't buy in a patisserie!