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