Food in Provence (and elsewhere)

… in more senses than one. The first test is a written test for the pastry course, the first page of which, as chef had warned, is all about sponges and creams. I think I manage to get almost all the points on this. And also on the next page where I’ve revised (as I thought there’d be a related question) the components of the various cakes we’ve made so I can give the chocolate genoise, chocolate mousse and chantilly (plus cherries and cherry syrup) for a black forest gateau. The last page, though, has three recipes which are missing ingredient names or weights. This comes back to the discussion about who the courses are aimed at. I have no need to remember the relative weights of, say, egg whites, flour and sugar in a dacquois sponge. But some of my fellow students certainly do so I consider the questions as fair even though I find I’ve disastrously underestimate the amount of milk needed in a croissant dough and mixed up the weights for flour and hazelnut in another…

Happy enough, though, I head to the pastry kitchen to complete the various steps in assembling our deconstructed tarte tatin. Not surprisingly, chef criticises my piping but is otherwise happy with my plate. And, although I know he is right about the piping, it’s way better than anything I would have been able to do before the course.

Along the way we also poach pears for poire belle hélène. So I know a) what the practical test tomorrow will involve and b) that I won´t be eating the central component…

Then it’s time for a double cooking class as our chef has a check-up tomorrow for a severely broken leg he suffered playing rugby last year. But the double class makes sense: we’re making beef wellington, a preparation that is normally spread across two classes so we see the whole thing through. In the first three hours we prepare the wellington itself: the puff pastry, green pancakes, duxelles, blanched spinach leaves (we end up with many more perfect specimens than we need as I’ve learnt from yesterday how little time they need blanching and the importance of drying them carefully) and, of course, a mustard-coated seared portion of beef fillet. This is assembled into a neat(ish) package with a pastry net coating created using a special tool that cuts a strip of pastry so it can be stretched out. My partner tours the benches and is convinced our wellington is the best looking.

That, though, was the high point of my relationship with him during the day. I haven’t named him, but he is the same person I had last Friday (when he spent time frying dough disks for his dinner…). He can certainly cook (his sauces are good, including the one he prepared today) but he isn’t organised and he loses focus especially when things are complicated. The complication in the second lesson is puff potatoes. These are made by slicing potatoes thinly on a mandoline, drying them with cornstarch, sticking two together with egg white and cutting a disk. This is then fried in oil at 140°C then, if they puff up, again until firm and crispy in oil at 180°C. I prepare four disks while our oil is being heated by my partner, but to 180°C… It takes me a while to cool it down, but all of my four first disks puff up at least a little, so I’m not too unhappy until I return from the second deep frying to find our bench a complete mess and almost all of our two potatoes used to make just six disks. My partner doesn’t want to heed my instructions to clear away his mess but does take notice of chef. I manage to cut enough potato slices for two more disks but neither puff up on the first go so I settle for what I’ve got and watch as chef helps on the bench next to me and as the person opposite finally gets the hang of it. You need to handle the disks carefully (so the edges stay stuck together holding an air pocket) and slice the potato thinly enough (so the expanding air can push them apart). Chef tells me to get another potato and I manage to produce two perfect specimens plus another couple like my first go.

So I have enough to plate my wellington, for which the beef is perfectly cooked even if it wasn’t perfectly rolled up in it’s pastry coating.

Discussing the plating with us afterwards, chef laments the disappearance of things such as puffed potatoes from restaurant fair. As so often, the reason is the cost of labour. In his early career, chef worked at a restaurant in Paris that served beef with puffed potatoes and béarnaise sauce. A French classic. But one that required a dedicated chef who did nothing but produce puffed potatoes!

As we’re cleaning up, chef asks if I’d prefer to work with L. next week, especially as there will be complications and stress as we prepare for the celebration cocktail. I certainly would, but then someone else would be with a partner no-one wants. I talk to him after class and point out that he is good but needs to be focussed and organised if he wants to succeed in his career—and also that I’m not interested in his “reasons” such as trouble sleeping (probably as he stays up late partying…) or problems with his phone, only about what happens in the kitchen. Fingers crossed for next week…