SHEW. Yesterday was the last day of Baking and Pastry, which meant final exam time.
We had 4 hours to make whole wheat dinner rolls, pate a choux, buttermilk biscuits, cookies, and pastry cream. the pate a choux was piped into cream puffs, which we had to fill (with our pastry cream) and dip in chocolate ganache (which also had to be made). Oh and after scrubbing the kitchen from top to bottom, then we got to take the written exam. woof.
Despite the stress of the last day, the second week was a lot of fun!
There was pie
There was cake
[sidenote: if you’ve got a thing for sisyphean tasks, you would be an EXCELLENT cake froster.]
There was quiche..ohhh was there quiche
Eclairs and Cream Puff and Profiteroles, oh my!
Sweet rolls (think parker house):
And on the 7th (ok 8th) day, God rested. And He created pizza. And it was good.
It was a little sad to say goodbye to our chef, who had an amazing balance of high expectations and understanding patience, but there was no time for dilly-dallying. At 6:45am this morning, we were off to the races with Stocks, Sauces, and Soups!
Our professor is an ex-Marine with a thick Boston accent (and demeanor). It’s a lot to take before the sun comes up. But he’s fiercely passionate about food and education–and it shows. He’s doing his PhD dissertation on the issue of the sub-par math skills of today’s youth and how it impacts their performance in professional kitchens. After my altercation with Baby Bear, all I can say is ROCK. ON.
So before class ended at 1pm today, i was known as “the hugger.” If you know me, you know I have the amazing capability to be completely devoid of all emotion. So, this was a change.
Chef asks the class, “who eats granola?” Silence. “I eat granola, chef.” “Perfect. There’s always one tree hugger in every class. You are now my Compost Queen.”
“You are in charge of the compost buckets. Make sure there’s no trash in the compost or compost in the trash.”
Cue giggles and jeering.
“And if there is, you get to dump it on the freshly washed floor and let your classmates sort it out. And re-wash the floors.”
Silence. I giggle.
So then we made stock. I’ll spare you pictures of boiled chicken carcases and beef bones. But man it smelled good. We’re cleaning up and I’m untangling stacked chairs in the hallway (…teenagers) and all of a sudden Chef is in the window screaming–SCREAMING–“WHERE’S MY HUGGER??!?!” Time to take the compost out. Perfectly sorted, might I add.
Then I treated myself to an exciting sale item at the grocery store:
WHO NEEDS A HUG?