October 31, 2017
Happy Halloween to all those who celebrate. Halloween is not huge in France, but I guess it is getting more traction year by year. I mean really, who doesn’t like a holiday where you can eat a bunch of candy, dress up, and act silly (well, besides me).
This morning, I slept in a little and then took myself out for a walk to one of the patisseries several blocks down from the Opera House. I could have gone to the bakery around the corner. Since I planned on pairing the pastry, a Chausson aux Pommes, with a Chocolat Chaud, I decided the extra walk would be good to burn a few calories. I sat for a while people watching and letting my Chocolat cool, and then asked for a bit of milk to dilute it (too chocolatey for me). The Chausson aux Pommes was light, flakey, and so delicious. The rest of the morning was spent catching up on writing and social media – a sign of the times.
When it was time to go out, I headed toward the metro station with an air about me that said, “yes, I know where I’m going and how to get there.” Truth was, I knew which route to take on the metro, but had no clue once I got off the train which way to go. No matter, I put my game face on (i.e., no emotion), squared my shoulders, looked at no one in the eye, and got on the metro.
Again, I think I’m getting this Parisien thing down, except I have yet to figure out the whole scarf thing. I don’t like wearing scarves; they feel too constricting. But you just aren’t Parisien if you don’t wear one and look absolutely fashionable while doing it. They must teach a class in school on how to tie different types of scarves so they always look wonderful and put together.
Anyway, I got off at the correct station, went up to street level and decided to turn left, mainly because it looked familiar. My destination today? Back to La Cuisine Paris cooking school to learn to make baguettes and fougasse (a flatbread on which you can put almost anything).
I was about an hour early, so I asked for a suggestion on where to get lunch. The girl at the La Cuisine desk recommended le Peloton, a small cafe around the corner, that also rents bicycles if one is so inclined. The cafe is run by an American and is so small that he had to find me a fork and brought me the fleur de sel and pepper grinder he used in making my lunch. However, he made one of the best avocado toast and fried egg combos I’ve ever eaten. The bread was so fresh and the avocado was super creamy and seasoned to perfection. Just might have to come back here before taking another class.
Back at La Cuisine (which, by the way, means The Kitchen in French), I met the other six students and Segolene, the chef for the day. Segolene has been baking bread since the age of two, studied at one of the most prestigious pastry schools in France, and has worked for most of the major bakeries in town – she’s only 25.
The students were made up of two friends from Canada on holiday, one young woman from Canada who has been taking cooking classes in Paris for the last two weeks, a man from Germany who was really into the details of gluten and why his earlier attempts at bread didn’t result in the “right texture,” and a husband and wife team from New York, who kept us laughing at their attempts at mastering dough kneading. There was an incident where a huge ball of dough went flying by my ear only to land on the floor at my feet. The wife was slamming her dough down on the table (part of the kneading process) when it flew out of her hand. She came around picked it up and we all decided it fell within the five-second rule and any germs would likely be baked off anyway.
Segolene was very patient with us. She described the proper way to mix the flour and salt, make a well, add the lukewarm water, and then add the fresh yeast (none of that powered/dried stuff for us).
She taught us how to use our fingers to properly mix the ingredients in the well. We slowly added flour until just the right amount of flour was integrated so it wouldn’t run out of the well, added the starter, and then cut the rest of the flour in.
And then the kneading began and where the difficulties started (including the flying dough). The German guy was so wrapped up in the technicalities that he couldn’t get the kneading down, the wife kept wanting to add more flour when she wasn’t supposed to, the husband’s dough kept sticking to his hands and my dough “bounced back” too much when I touched the top. Segolene saw us through our troubles, and the mixture was finally ready to be covered and rest.
Then we started all over again to make dough for the fougasse. We basically repeated what we’d done for the baguettes, but we added the starter (called Poolish) into the well with the water. Second time around, we all had fewer problems with our flour integration and kneading. There were no flying dough balls, but the German kept fretting about the elasticity of his dough. Then that dough was set to rest.
Meanwhile, our baguette dough was ready to continue the process. We each cut off a small portion of our dough to learn another kneading process and rolled them into balls to be baked (and eaten) separately.
We took the remaining dough, cut it into two and learned how to fold the dough over properly so as not to break the air bubbles inside the bread, and form the baguettes. (French bread must have air bubbles inside, or all is lost.) Again, the German guy fretted that he wasn’t folding his dough correctly and should he go a few more centimeters over, or was it enough. Seriously dude, lighten up! The formed baguettes, some stubby, some long and lean, and some tubular, were set off to the side again to rise a second time.
It was time to make the fougasse. We sautéed lardons (bacon), grated cheese, cut tomatoes, olives, rosemary and onions, minced garlic and toasted pine nuts as ingredients to be added on top of our dough.
First, we had to form the dough into shapes. Fougasse is usually triangular or oval and usually has a few holes cut into it, but Segolene gave us leeway to be as creative as we wanted. The husband made his two into the shape of a shark and a leaf garnishing them with so many ingredients I lost count. The wife made hers round and decorated them to look like smiley faces. I went with an oval(ish) shape, garnishing one with rosemary, garlic, shredded cheese, and pine nuts, and the other received garlic, cheese, and bacon. Then into the oven they went to bake.
Meanwhile, our baguette dough had risen again. The final step before baking was to “score” the tops of the baguettes. This was the trickiest part because you only want to cut the very thin layer of the “skin” and not cut into the dough below.
If you ct too deeply, it releases the gas inside the bubbles inside and your dough falls. I know this from personal experience. Despite being very careful, my first cuts were too deep. My baguette fell like a pancake (which meant I would have had a light and airy baguette if I hadn’t bungled it). I was able to save it by making cuts with scissors so that the dough fanned out like “wheat stalks” and would bake evenly (although it wouldn’t be fluffy). My second baguette faired a bit better, but my cuts were so faint they hardly made a mark (I was afraid of cutting too deeply again).
The fougasse came out of the oven; the baguettes went in. The fougasse, even the shark, looked awesome. They definitely smelled terrific with all the garlic on them. We let them cool and then bagged them up to take home. [Side note: the rosemary, pine nut, garlic, and cheese fougasse was very tasty for dinner.]
My baguettes should have come out of the oven a minute or two before they did (I wasn’t in charge of the oven). They got a bit brown, but I was happy they turned out at all. We each left pleased with a bag full of our freshly baked goodies.
Returning to the hotel, I stopped by the front desk to ask if butter and jam could be sent to my room. The front desk clerks, who normally wouldn’t give me the time of day, oohed and aahed over my baked creations when I showed them my bag. I guess baked goods trump my uncoolness.
The waiter from the other night (the millennial with no socks, loafers and turned up nose) delivered butter and jam to my room a short while later. Lo and behold, my baguette was pretty good even by itself – but better with butter and berry preserves. I won’t have to go out for breakfast tomorrow, that’s for sure. Yum!
