The day began with a plastic bucket falling on my head, breaking the skin on my nose. Despite my obvious bleeding, no one paid any mind, and I was forced to soldier on. The day ended with yet another raw baguette dough calamity that had Chef Amy looking at me like I was the biggest klutz that ever walked into her classroom....but, in between, class today was ok.
Not fun. Not happy. Not exuding the joy that baking bread is supposed to bring, but so much better than yesterday that I was able to laugh at myself.
And, it didn't hurt that the French guy, let's call him Guy, made a major mistake in weighing his team's flour. And, it also helped that one the better bakers in the room was called out for 'slashing too shallowly.!"
During the day, there are many conversations that happen between the twelve students and the two chef teachers. Some are banal, as in "...did you hear that Chef Roger won an award for scoring in Las Vegas" to fearful, like "...did Chef Amy tell us to fold or not fold the dough?"
But today, I overheard the New Girl tell the French guy Guy, as we were mixing the brioche, that she has always loved the Marie Antoinette story about this dough. The version where Marie Antoinette said that the poor should eat brioche, though for many years, in many books, it has been mistranslated as cake. Guy, the French guy, looked at her puzzled and said, "Non. Zat iz not true. She said cake and meant cake."
Trying to keep my eyes on the two of them and still feed the mixer 'cold but pliable butter' was not easy, but I was determined. I heard the New Girl repeat the Marie Antoinette story is if Guy did not understand. But he did understand, rolled his eyeballs and muttered something in French under his breath. Then his weighing error was discovered and we all feigned compassion....when really, we were all just SO relieved that it was not us!
Tomorrow we make fogasses...which I hope is better than it sounds!
sending love....
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Willy Wonka
Day 4 is over and there were no disasters today, either created by me or anyone else, though I am telling you there is something about the New Girl that just does not add up!
Overall, I will say that what I thought was so is not. Like I've entered a Willy Wonka world, where former execturives who got paid oodles to advertise Kleenex are now sentenced to hard, physical labor; or nice people who thought they were going to be taking an intensive baking class find themselves on their feet for eight hours a day, in a scratchy uniform, and afraid of ovens.
More examples ?
-This is called a Master Bread Program...sounds hard and highly intellectual...not one where you are actually responsible for 130 baguettes a day...baguettes that are actually consumed by unsuspecting human beings?
-The word 'retarder' is used a lot, and my politically correct ears always cringe. Turns out, it's a refrigerator where you put dough you want to proof on a very slow timeline. And, speaking of ears, the expression also heard multiple times daily, "try and slash your bread to get ears" actually sense to me now!
-The concept of culture is oft discussed. In my old life, it was usually about the anthropological nuances in the world, or at least teen behavior....here in this world, it basically means old dough. As in, add 435 grams of culture to your pate fermentee.
I can only hope and pray that Friday really means Friday to these people!
sending love....
Overall, I will say that what I thought was so is not. Like I've entered a Willy Wonka world, where former execturives who got paid oodles to advertise Kleenex are now sentenced to hard, physical labor; or nice people who thought they were going to be taking an intensive baking class find themselves on their feet for eight hours a day, in a scratchy uniform, and afraid of ovens.
More examples ?
-This is called a Master Bread Program...sounds hard and highly intellectual...not one where you are actually responsible for 130 baguettes a day...baguettes that are actually consumed by unsuspecting human beings?
-The word 'retarder' is used a lot, and my politically correct ears always cringe. Turns out, it's a refrigerator where you put dough you want to proof on a very slow timeline. And, speaking of ears, the expression also heard multiple times daily, "try and slash your bread to get ears" actually sense to me now!
-The concept of culture is oft discussed. In my old life, it was usually about the anthropological nuances in the world, or at least teen behavior....here in this world, it basically means old dough. As in, add 435 grams of culture to your pate fermentee.
I can only hope and pray that Friday really means Friday to these people!
sending love....
Monday, March 8, 2010
The New Girl
Well, the day started with my new Canal St. umbrella snapping up and exposing my head and clothes to an amazing amount of rain. This was an umbrella that I loved. I loved it because I had bargained hard for it, and wasn'teven swayed when the man at the kiosk told me, "...good umbwella, yell made!" No, I kept bargaining. Now I believe the $5 I paid was too much to spend on an umbrella that lasted 43 seconds! But it was a Gucci!
By the time I got to school, I was completely wet and remembered a high school experience that taught me that damp clothes sitting in a locker for hours on end is not a good thing,,,,,but I digress.
The good news today is that class was better....SO much to do, and a ton of pressure to do it quickly and right. (I think I could master speed or accuracy, just not both!) But again, others made mistakes which, I hope, took the attention away from my fumbling: Team 2 must have weighed the wrong amount of flour and had to restart a huge batch of baguettes .....and all I could think, was thank heavens I am on Team 1!
Though lest you think I had a perfect day, hardly. A wooden board of raw baguettes, which I was trying to slide onto the proofing rack, slipped a notch and when I heard the sick sound of a 'plop', I knew I had dropped one...but again, trying to put this day in context, I did not slip and fall as someone on Team 3 did>
BUT, the big news today was that one of our classmates quit. hmmm....I think its amazing more of us did not!
So, today, the new girl joined us.
I admit I was a bit paranoid from the start. After all, how did they find someone so quickly? When she was asked to share a bit about herself, she said "...I used to work in advertising and orange is my favorite color." Wow I thought, perhaps this is a kindred spirit, someone who could help me tunnel out!
But my friends, there is something amiss about this new girl...she seems to know too much and is way too confident!
She has two less days of experience than the rest of us, yet she wasn't at all afraid of the ovens or the peels and could hoist the 50lb bags of flour like she'd been doing it for years. Then, right at the end of the day, she started taking pictures of some of the breads we all made. My pal, the surgery assistant (lets call him Mike) said...."Did she just take our picture??" I am grateful for all my practice during my marriage of zipping my lip and accomplishing not laughing even thought it is very, very tempting!
I am not saying she is a ringer or a spy, but I am going to keep an eye on her!
Friday, please get here soon.
sending love....
By the time I got to school, I was completely wet and remembered a high school experience that taught me that damp clothes sitting in a locker for hours on end is not a good thing,,,,,but I digress.
The good news today is that class was better....SO much to do, and a ton of pressure to do it quickly and right. (I think I could master speed or accuracy, just not both!) But again, others made mistakes which, I hope, took the attention away from my fumbling: Team 2 must have weighed the wrong amount of flour and had to restart a huge batch of baguettes .....and all I could think, was thank heavens I am on Team 1!
Though lest you think I had a perfect day, hardly. A wooden board of raw baguettes, which I was trying to slide onto the proofing rack, slipped a notch and when I heard the sick sound of a 'plop', I knew I had dropped one...but again, trying to put this day in context, I did not slip and fall as someone on Team 3 did>
BUT, the big news today was that one of our classmates quit. hmmm....I think its amazing more of us did not!
So, today, the new girl joined us.
I admit I was a bit paranoid from the start. After all, how did they find someone so quickly? When she was asked to share a bit about herself, she said "...I used to work in advertising and orange is my favorite color." Wow I thought, perhaps this is a kindred spirit, someone who could help me tunnel out!
But my friends, there is something amiss about this new girl...she seems to know too much and is way too confident!
She has two less days of experience than the rest of us, yet she wasn't at all afraid of the ovens or the peels and could hoist the 50lb bags of flour like she'd been doing it for years. Then, right at the end of the day, she started taking pictures of some of the breads we all made. My pal, the surgery assistant (lets call him Mike) said...."Did she just take our picture??" I am grateful for all my practice during my marriage of zipping my lip and accomplishing not laughing even thought it is very, very tempting!
I am not saying she is a ringer or a spy, but I am going to keep an eye on her!
Friday, please get here soon.
sending love....
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Day Two
Day Two was not fun. I am not sure I can take this for the 40 days I just realized I will have to to survive this course. I made three big mistakes today. Mistakes that were evidence of no natural talent and overall stupidity. Mistakes that were called out to the entire class:
1. I used the scale that has weights and is an abacus-type apparatus from the 1490's completely, entirely, thoroughly backwards, prompting Chef Amy to call out "_____(my name)< Why are you using the scale that way?"
2. I folded my baguette dough the wrong way, and I mean big time, the wrong way. You are supposed to end up with a 22 inch baguette (not 21 or 23 for you slackers, just 22). In order to achieve that, in the pre-shape (this may be too much info, but it is pertinent I promise), you must roll the dough in the lengthwise way. I forgot that, being so tired my fingers could barely feel the dough at all, and heard Chef Amy say, "____(my name)< Why are you rolling that way?"
3. When I put some baguettes in the oven,I was too aggressive and bashed five so hard against the back oven wall, they came out looking like "C's". (I wonder what I feel aggressive or angry about? hmm...) This promtped Chef Amy to say "_____(my name), Why would you use the ovens that way?
Obvously, all these so-called questions were rhetorical, and her way of alerting everyone to stay away from me. If our grades are interdependant on our fellow classmate, and they are, this was a warning that I was not a smart choice for a team....which SO reminded me of not being picked for the basketball, baseball, even handball teams....but I digress.
So, looking on the bright side (and one has to!!)< I was NOT on the team that forgot to add salt to the baguette dough, making 30 baguettes inedible. AND Chef Amy dropped a hot baguette as she was taking six out of the oven AND, while I may be repeating myself, I take tremendous pride in the fact that I did NOT cut myself nor lose a limb to the giant mixer nor burn any part of me getting too close to the scary ovens today!
sending love...I am off to take a bath, have a good cry and try to think of how this all could possibly be funny.
1. I used the scale that has weights and is an abacus-type apparatus from the 1490's completely, entirely, thoroughly backwards, prompting Chef Amy to call out "_____(my name)< Why are you using the scale that way?"
2. I folded my baguette dough the wrong way, and I mean big time, the wrong way. You are supposed to end up with a 22 inch baguette (not 21 or 23 for you slackers, just 22). In order to achieve that, in the pre-shape (this may be too much info, but it is pertinent I promise), you must roll the dough in the lengthwise way. I forgot that, being so tired my fingers could barely feel the dough at all, and heard Chef Amy say, "____(my name)< Why are you rolling that way?"
3. When I put some baguettes in the oven,I was too aggressive and bashed five so hard against the back oven wall, they came out looking like "C's". (I wonder what I feel aggressive or angry about? hmm...) This promtped Chef Amy to say "_____(my name), Why would you use the ovens that way?
Obvously, all these so-called questions were rhetorical, and her way of alerting everyone to stay away from me. If our grades are interdependant on our fellow classmate, and they are, this was a warning that I was not a smart choice for a team....which SO reminded me of not being picked for the basketball, baseball, even handball teams....but I digress.
So, looking on the bright side (and one has to!!)< I was NOT on the team that forgot to add salt to the baguette dough, making 30 baguettes inedible. AND Chef Amy dropped a hot baguette as she was taking six out of the oven AND, while I may be repeating myself, I take tremendous pride in the fact that I did NOT cut myself nor lose a limb to the giant mixer nor burn any part of me getting too close to the scary ovens today!
sending love...I am off to take a bath, have a good cry and try to think of how this all could possibly be funny.
Friday, March 5, 2010
My First Day
Hello world. Today was definitely not what I expected. I am one tired student baker. I now know why bakers often are red cheeked and grouchy....it hot near those big, scary ovens and your feet burn after 8 hours on your feet!!
I am going to take a hot bath and try to calm down, but I thought I should try and go on record with the high points (just an expression, there weren't any) of the day:
-The course vs the Saturday bread class I took here have nothing in common. Repeat, nothing. I now learn that this is called a "Professional" course of study and that was a "Recreational" class. They are as different as a medical doctor trained in intensive care medicine vs a bad actor who plays a doctor on TV>
The Class began and within the first 18 minutes, the teacher, a rather stern woman named Amy (not her real name, but I am afraid of our litigious society) who we were intructed to call Chef Amy, (again, she didn't say 'Amy", but just go with me on this) used these words: "....If you graduate." WHAT???????
How could that be? I paid (big) money for this....they can kick us out? Then, when I realized that happens all the time college and thought, wholly hell, I could be the family's first flunk out!
To better understand my day, here is some perspective on my new world order:
-My fellow classmates total 12 and we have 2-3 chef teachers depending on the hour. The class included many young women who just graduated the six month Pastry program and seem to have that carefree confidence of those who know the ropes. I can't tell if they are friendly and will share the scoop, or will leave me dangling so that I flunk out and they don't. The guys, brave souls five, are much more diverse: A Frenchman who owns a restaurant in Manhattan, a former cop who looks like he came from the set of the Sopranos, a medical assistant who works in the emergency room and a cute 20-something well built guy lets call Lyle. Lyle had my favorite response to the quesion we all had to answer: "Why are you taking this course?" He simply said, "I like fermentation"...and since no one could top that, or had the guts to ask what in god's name he meant, we all just nodded in agreement.
-We have one guy who is as big as my son-in-law, with a wingspan as wide as five baguettes. Unfortunately for him, unlike my very coordinated son-in-law, this guy's thumbs are as unruly as a Saint Bernard's paw, and he stayed after school to practic baguette rolling. Apparently his touch was so heavy that the school is worried patrons at the restaurant would think they were being served flatbread when they were expecting good baguettes. Amazingly, ridiculously, we in this novice class are responsible for baking bread for a pulic, legitimate, licensed restaurant. Are they crazy??
-Some favorite words/ expressions of this incredibly long day include: friction kills germs; if you can't lift a 50 lb of flour, maybe you should get out of the class now; the craggly piece on top of a baguette is called an ear, and it a very good thing. There is lame, bagel board, speed rack and couche. Pater Fermente means fermented dough, but you could call it a culture, a poolish, old dough, and my personal favorite, the mother.
So, I am beyond happy that the day is over. And, I am proud to report that I didn't cause blood to come out of my fingers nor lose a limb in the huge mixer. But this class is way hard, nutty scary, and I wish I had let my kids quit piano or college when they begged....since I wouldn't let them, I can't and that just makes me weepy.
sending love
I am going to take a hot bath and try to calm down, but I thought I should try and go on record with the high points (just an expression, there weren't any) of the day:
-The course vs the Saturday bread class I took here have nothing in common. Repeat, nothing. I now learn that this is called a "Professional" course of study and that was a "Recreational" class. They are as different as a medical doctor trained in intensive care medicine vs a bad actor who plays a doctor on TV>
The Class began and within the first 18 minutes, the teacher, a rather stern woman named Amy (not her real name, but I am afraid of our litigious society) who we were intructed to call Chef Amy, (again, she didn't say 'Amy", but just go with me on this) used these words: "....If you graduate." WHAT???????
How could that be? I paid (big) money for this....they can kick us out? Then, when I realized that happens all the time college and thought, wholly hell, I could be the family's first flunk out!
To better understand my day, here is some perspective on my new world order:
-My fellow classmates total 12 and we have 2-3 chef teachers depending on the hour. The class included many young women who just graduated the six month Pastry program and seem to have that carefree confidence of those who know the ropes. I can't tell if they are friendly and will share the scoop, or will leave me dangling so that I flunk out and they don't. The guys, brave souls five, are much more diverse: A Frenchman who owns a restaurant in Manhattan, a former cop who looks like he came from the set of the Sopranos, a medical assistant who works in the emergency room and a cute 20-something well built guy lets call Lyle. Lyle had my favorite response to the quesion we all had to answer: "Why are you taking this course?" He simply said, "I like fermentation"...and since no one could top that, or had the guts to ask what in god's name he meant, we all just nodded in agreement.
-We have one guy who is as big as my son-in-law, with a wingspan as wide as five baguettes. Unfortunately for him, unlike my very coordinated son-in-law, this guy's thumbs are as unruly as a Saint Bernard's paw, and he stayed after school to practic baguette rolling. Apparently his touch was so heavy that the school is worried patrons at the restaurant would think they were being served flatbread when they were expecting good baguettes. Amazingly, ridiculously, we in this novice class are responsible for baking bread for a pulic, legitimate, licensed restaurant. Are they crazy??
-Some favorite words/ expressions of this incredibly long day include: friction kills germs; if you can't lift a 50 lb of flour, maybe you should get out of the class now; the craggly piece on top of a baguette is called an ear, and it a very good thing. There is lame, bagel board, speed rack and couche. Pater Fermente means fermented dough, but you could call it a culture, a poolish, old dough, and my personal favorite, the mother.
So, I am beyond happy that the day is over. And, I am proud to report that I didn't cause blood to come out of my fingers nor lose a limb in the huge mixer. But this class is way hard, nutty scary, and I wish I had let my kids quit piano or college when they begged....since I wouldn't let them, I can't and that just makes me weepy.
sending love
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Starting School
It began as so many 'first days' of my life, with my heart both excited and nervous, my stomach full of butterflies and nausea. Or at least that is how I remember 1st grade, my date with David Soul and starting graduate school. To say nothing of my wedding day. But I digress.
Today, I began my life as a baker of bread. A real baker. A professional bread baker who, if I wanted to, could sell the bread I bake to you and your family. That's why I am here...I want to know how to do it right and feel confident when the panel of the Farmer's Market stares at me and asks whether I know what I am doing, I don't look too sketchy. And, I'd like to look legit without wearing this ridiculous baker outfit I had to wear all day. Lets talk just briefly about that uniform.
What I know so far is that the uniform i am being asked to wear meakes me feel less professional than I have ever felt. In fact, it makes me feel like I have regressed into a world of such bad fashion taste, that my mother would have curled her lips and said, trying to be positive, "Well, let's just hope that your classmates look as bad."
But I am excited. I have chosen this particular school becuase it is in New York City, tightly associated with many Food TV chefs, and has a program that is solely devoted to bread...no pastry, no cookies or cakes, nothing that does not have yeast! I know myself well enough to know that I don't have the parience or eye/hand coordination to create wedding cakes or roll fondant to that perfect and perfectly even height. I do think I have an instinct for flavor, a curiosity for why the bread I made at home tastes like leaden hockey pucks and am eager for a new intellectual adventure.
So, join me...its eight weeks, five days a week, seven hours a day. I will be as honest as i can. Let's see if i can learn how to bakemeacareer. And, lets see if I can be amusing at the same time!
sending love
Today, I began my life as a baker of bread. A real baker. A professional bread baker who, if I wanted to, could sell the bread I bake to you and your family. That's why I am here...I want to know how to do it right and feel confident when the panel of the Farmer's Market stares at me and asks whether I know what I am doing, I don't look too sketchy. And, I'd like to look legit without wearing this ridiculous baker outfit I had to wear all day. Lets talk just briefly about that uniform.
What I know so far is that the uniform i am being asked to wear meakes me feel less professional than I have ever felt. In fact, it makes me feel like I have regressed into a world of such bad fashion taste, that my mother would have curled her lips and said, trying to be positive, "Well, let's just hope that your classmates look as bad."
But I am excited. I have chosen this particular school becuase it is in New York City, tightly associated with many Food TV chefs, and has a program that is solely devoted to bread...no pastry, no cookies or cakes, nothing that does not have yeast! I know myself well enough to know that I don't have the parience or eye/hand coordination to create wedding cakes or roll fondant to that perfect and perfectly even height. I do think I have an instinct for flavor, a curiosity for why the bread I made at home tastes like leaden hockey pucks and am eager for a new intellectual adventure.
So, join me...its eight weeks, five days a week, seven hours a day. I will be as honest as i can. Let's see if i can learn how to bakemeacareer. And, lets see if I can be amusing at the same time!
sending love
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