the day that was super boring

tomorrow is my last day! wootey woot! hugely fucking relieved and ecstatic. just like when you’re having fun and you want time to stand still, when you want it to speed up, it halts to a snails pace…this whole week has been slower than Christmas. enough already. and today was especially painful.

i don’t know what is up, but there wasn’t much to do today. the chef that is normally in charge of the afternoon shift (the same chef i worked with yesterday) was off today; i’m assuming because he had to work on the holiday. must be nice. the next in line is a funny guy with piercingly blue eyes and a decent sense of humor…when he’s not making jokes about how cleaning is really women’s work or busy sexually harassing someone. he’d give me a task, i’d finish it and ask for another and he’d tell me to go downstairs and work with the chocolate/ice cream person. i’d go down, ask her for a task, and she’d tell me she had nothing and send me right back upstairs. um, this happened about four times today. i felt like a yo-yo.

so, the exciting recount of this most exciting day…

1. made a milk chocolate “chantilly”

this goes inside the cherry cake. i actually made this pretty fast, but got held up putting it away because my plastic wrap kept falling into the mixture. <– this is one of those cases, of which there are many, where we’d be required to film “on contact,” meaning place the wrap directly on the surface of the stuff we’re filming. you just press it down, trim the long bits of the wrap and tuck the edges inside. well, my mixture was very liquid so the edges kept floating when i’d move it. and then my freaking exacto knife fell out of my pocket and into one of the boxes of chantilly, landing on the film, pulling in all the edges and quickly sinking to the bottom. that’s nice and sanitary for sure.

2. placed stickers on the bottom of ice cream containers

3. arranged a bunch of clean silpats

4. sprinkled metallic powder on some macarons

5. trimmed a bunch of cakes out of the parchment paper that it was baked on

i swear the chef made up this activity just to occupy my time as i’ve never seen this done before. i literally stood there with a pair of scissors and cut each round cake out. then stacked them. really weird.

6. cleaned the stupid cake molds

7. cleaned the floor of the ice cream lab

and that’s it. OMG it was SO HORRIBLY BORING. please tell me that tomorrow will be more exciting; i can’t bear the thought of another day like today. i learned nothing, except that if you ask 500 times if you can go home because there’s nothing to do, they  don’t let you.

the only reason why i’m going to work tomorrow is to get my free book! my gift for finishing my stage. the chef told me to pick any cookbook they sell as a thanks for all my hard work, but he made sure to pause after “hard work,” laugh and give me this funny look, like, “we know you really didn’t work that hard but we’ll be nice and give you one anyway.”

just kill me now.


Filed under food!

the day that was a holiday for everyone else but me

happy BASTILLE day!

it’s the day the French fought hard for their independence from the British so many years ago! wait. that’s not right. um….from the queen cause she ate too many cakes! no, that’s not right either. i’m sure they were mad about something, cause it’s really not like the French to stand up and protest. probably had something to do with foie gras.

so, it’s Bastille Day, which basically the 4th of July for France…everyone’s off work, partying hard, watching fireworks, drinking FREE booze provided by the pompiers (firemen)…in any one of their designated party spots alllll over town. really. how handy that they have more than one party in more than one place! it would make it virtually impossible to miss this fête-making opportunity because you’re guaranteed to live within stumbling distance of at least one or two, if not more. and it’s free! but. yes. i missed it. last night. because i had to work at 8 am today. and everyone else got the day off.

i digress. today i was lucky to be chosen to WORK! i’m trying really really really REALLY hard to take it as a compliment that this one particular chef chose me, little ole ME, to work one-on-one with him on this incredibly rainy morning. and i’m definitely not taking it as punishment for speaking shitty french or screwing up one too many things yesterday morning. yes, definitely not taking it as that. absolutely.


so i arrive at 8, secretly hoping that it would be me and at least one other staigiare working with this one solo chef, you know, to take the pressure off, speed up the day, whatnot. nope. just me. me and him.

let me add that this chef is kinda “intense.” like…run around at 800 miles and hour, if you get in his way you’ll be knocked over, works fast, talks fast, yells commands, etc intense. when i say talks fast, i mean FAST, and it’s FRENCH (of course).

don’t get me wrong, he’s an amazing chef. he works fast and very efficient. he’s very good at what he does. and he has an amazing amount of knowledge. but he’s a little serious sometimes. and he’s definitely a slave driver. and today i was riding shotgun. in a smart car.

(seriously, he’s a very very nice guy. and i’ve seen him make jokes! it’s all good)

but i was really hoping that he’d have just a teeny bit of work to do. no such luck. damn you, ice cream, you and your freaking summerness.

my day:

1. arranged ice cream cartons

2. assisted with packing and labeling ice cream into said cartons

this is an exhausting process because they’re super concerned that the shit doesn’t melt of anything before we get it packed up and in the freezer again. it’s all RUSH RUSH RUSH. whatever.

3. cleaned ice cream machine

i was designated the “cleaner” for the day. again, my luck runneth over.

4. roasted and chopped pistachios

to be used in pistachio ice cream, naturally.

5. repeat #1-3 with a different flavor of ice cream.

wait. it’s important to note that the ice cream they make isn’t just one flavor. no! that would be too easy. the flavor combos are always a melange of something and something. so so they make a separate something-flavored ice cream, layer it in the bottom of a pan, then make a second something-flavored ice cream which they layer on top. so when it’s packed (by hand), you have to make sure to scoop all the layers into the carton. basically double the work. A+.

(they’re worth it tho)

6. made pistachio ice cream mix

this has to sit and “cure” overnight for some reason. ice cream is that way. always.

7. ran around in circles grabbing a bunch of crap in the basement that the chef wanted.

and then had to run it all back downstairs afterwards. repeat. a lot.

8. wash dishes

9. measure ingredients for a chocolate cake or something

fun to note too that the day wore on and on and…there was no break. every 30 minutes or so, the chef would nip out to have a smoky treat (smoke a cigarette, people), leaving me there sifting shit or sticking my head deep inside an ice cream maker. meanwhile, my mouth felt like i’d just eaten a kilo of cotton balls. i was so thirsty.

(i finally got a cup of water about an hour before we finished. don’t worry or anything, i’m not ACTUALLY a slave there. i can be a bit-overly dramatic. sometimes.)

10. ran more shit back and forth and around in circles

11. sifted 3 kilos of powder sugar

12. moved all the empty ice cream cartons back into the dry storage room

they call this room the “cave” (yes, french for basement or thereabouts). i call it creepsville cause you literally walk through a short door in the food storage area into a subterranean stone cavern built in 1403 (rough estimate). the cave branches off into several different dimly lit “hallways” (i use quotation marks because i don’t want anyone to think it’s a normal walkway, it’s a short version of a just-dug cave tunnel with metal waste pipes and all kinds of cords and windy shit hanging right down the center so you can’t even walk upright), several which terminate with stairs that lead to nowhere. the creepiest ones just fade into darkness. there’s a light illuminating the path about every 10 steps so you’re basically wandering around in the pitch-black dark of a freaking ANCIENT Parisian cave and god only knows what you’ll find or what will find you. i mean, we all have skeletons in our closet but shit, this is Paris, we’ve all heard stories about the catacombs of stacked skulls and dead-whosie whats just lying around. and so this dry storage room is kept at the very end of the longest hallway.

i am PETRIFIED that someday i will trip and fall in this hallway. you can BARELY see the ground that you’re walking on, and it’s a very uneven surface, with several steps to climb and a few pipes to duck under. combine that fun with carrying huge cardboard boxes to and fro, you know, where you can’t even see around the carton it to know where you’re going. i am an accident waiting to happen.

14. cleaned all the surfaces and select areas of the floor as pointed out to me

and it was at this point that i was totally expecting to get the “allez! go!” all-clear, but there was more stuff to sort.

15. wrapped a rolling rack by myself

this is a lot like trying to shove an unwilling cat into a cat carrier. it’s just so much easier with an extra hand.

and i really can’t remember what else. got out of there after 6 hours of work. i was very pleased it wasn’t more.

but still bitter that i could have been in bed all day…



Filed under food!, paris!

the day i lost a battle with a 25 kilo bag of powder sugar

countdown until operation freedom clare begins: 7 work days

that means i only have a week and a half left of my stage! YIPPIE! this second stage has FLOWN by. which is really good because i’m kinda growing tired of it. i realized this today when i was asked to run up and down the stairs about 300 times to get stuff from storage…and take stuff back to storage…etcetera and encore.

i failed to document the last two days of last week, but i can honestly say that there wasn’t much worth writing about. i’m pretty sure that i made the same shit that i’ve mentioned before. yawn. this week i’m back on the afternoon shift, which means i work from 2:00 – 10:00 pm. it also means that i get more sleep…but then have less time during the day to do anything. naturally i don’t wake up any earlier than i absolutely have to (about 12:30 or 1?), which is pathetic. but i’m ok with pathetic.

so today and yesterday were pretty much the same, so i’m going to combine them into one post. don’t let it fool you into thinking that i was extremely productive, because i really wasn’t; the majority of both days i spent cleaning and there’s nothing exciting about that shit.

the rundown:

1. made ice cream

it’s summer which means the ice cream production has kicked into high gear. they sell grand and petite containers as well as these ice cream sandwich thingies they call, are you ready for this, “Miss GlaGla.” really. i can’t figure out if this is an attempt to be uber trendy and resemble crappy pop musicians, or just their normal amount of lame. i asked a chef about it and apparently “gla-gla” is the noise french kids make when they’re freezing…like “burrrr,” i’m guessing? sorta more interesting, but still incredibly stupid…and now that i think about it, most of the names they use are random english words like “fetish,” “desire” or “plentitude,” except, of course, avec un accent française. ANYHOW, today i made two sorbets (strawberry and lychee) and a pistachio ice cream. but just the mixtures, i didn’t actually churn the shit.

2. made orange marmalade

not lady marmalade, just regular marmalade. nothing particularly interesting about this process

3. measured and sifted 12 kilos of powdered sugar for a macaron pyramid

this is the most bizarre concoction…they make these pyramids of macarons, similar to topiaries or some such. they start with styrofoam forms which they coat with what they call “royal” icing. except i’d never want to eat something that actually touched it; its powdered sugar mixed with egg whites and VINEGAR. wtf? yeah, technically it’s edible, but who’d eat something that smells like that? i don’t really know why they use this stuff, except maybe because it turns into a sort of glue, but it’s really gross.

OH, and i had to fetch a large bag of powered sugar today — went down to the storage area where the 25 kilo bags of sugar and flour can be found in neat little stacks (um, make that giant stacks) — and of course, the bag on the very top of the powdered sugar pile had a giant tear in it. someone had carefully drawn a giant triangle with a bunch of “!!!!!!!!” inside, pointing to the hole, meaning, i guess, faire attention. so not only did i have to move the damn heavy-as-shit, awkward-to-manage bag from storage, up the stairs, through the hallway which had just been cleaned (and therefore slippery) and into the lab ALL BY MYSELF, which is a struggle enough, but i had to do it holding it a certain way while praying that upon every step the bag doesn’t move or rip more, the hole doesn’t grow and i don’t accidentally spill 25 kilos of powered sugar somewhere en route. that would be a BITCH to clean up.

i managed to make it into the lab (i think it took me about 20 minutes, i was walking SLOW) and when i got there, someone had moved the sugar container that i needed to a) put the bag on and b) dump the contents into. FUCK. it left me no choice but to place the bag on the counter, which is a HUGE no-no. naturally the chef started yelling at me, “jamais! jamias! never put anything like that one the counter, etc, etc” and i managed to eek out a “it’s broken!” in my bad french, to which he responded, “it doesn’t matter, you fucking idiot, (<– i might have taken a few liberties with that translation) you have to ask for help, you pathetic, weak-ass american woman.” (<– again, roughly translated) (what is it about French that always sounds so mean?) and so the 20-year-old comis, or whatever the hell he’s called, came over and attempted to help me. he picked up the sac, i worked the bag open near the bottom, which was hanging inside the bin, but i was also bent over, inside the bin, and all of a sudden the bag breaks in the center and powered sugar fell EVERYWHERE in one big giant “poof.” this shit creates a lovely dust storm that could carry for miles. and, naturally, i was in the way and got covered in sugar from the torso up. one of the head chefs, who kinda flitters in and out of the lab, making comments here and there, and does god only knows what else for his 6 figure salary, saw the whole thing, stared right at me while waving his finger and said, “c’est pas bien.”

thanks for pointing that out.

did you know that powdered sugar is impossible to wash off? i will probably feel sticky for a few more weeks.

my next task: cleaning

4. i cleaned the molds for the “la cerise sur le gâteau,” the cake i made the insides for (as seen here)

finishing this cake is a bitch. the girl who makes it is meticulous and amazing at it; she’s also really cool (and probably the first person i befriended here, but that’s neither here nor there), but it takes her a VERY LONG TIME to make it. they have these molds custom-made especially for this cake…they’re fiberglass or some substance on the outside with rubber molds that fit tightly together inside. you make it by pouring tempered chocolate inside the mold, tapping it around to remove the bubbles, then dumping the chocolate out. repeat. this is basically how you make anything that’s molded from chocolate. after two good layers of chocolate, she places in a tall stack of the cake cut into wedges, closes the whole thing up somehow and then unmolds them. hopefully everything is peachy with your chocolate…and it’s not streaky or shadowy or any number of things that can go wrong with chocolate (ahhhhhhh, chocolate is very difficult to work with; i definitely don’t have the patience for it) and that the cake is perfect, or you have to start allllllll over. they only have seven molds and each one is custom-made to fit together so no two molds are the same. AND in order to clean the damn things you literally have to do ONE AT A TIME. disassemble, wash the rubber, scrape the chocolate off the fiberglass part, rinse the rubber pieces REALLY REALLY WELL, then dry the rubber pieces REALLY REALLY WELL, reassemble and then wrap with rubber bands. without breaking anything. or getting them dirty again. it’s a pain. but apparently i cleaned them well enough the day before that they specifically asked for me to clean them again. it can be a curse to be detailed oriented. this took about 3 hours each day.

5. cleaned the ice cream machine

pain in the ass too. but not as painful…except when i accidentally turned the machine “ON” instead of “CLEAN” and made some ice. which meant i had to start over. the stupid knob is backwards.

6. cleaned the ice cream lab

which is where the gâteau and ice cream is made. it’s downstairs next to the food storage (which they call it the “economat”); both are in the basement, and there’s no drain for the dirty water (which every lab has! super handy, that). which means you have to use a wet vac to suck up all the dirty water. i do love to run a vacuum…and this would be no exception. FUN!

7. cleaned the main lab

great. cleaning. more. heaps more.

8. and the greatest tease of all…arranging shit after we clean

ahhhh. cleaning is a total drag but it also denotes “IT’S THE END OF THE WORK DAY! YOU’RE ALMOST FINISHED!” because a lot of time you clean and then peace out. not with the afternoon shift. you clean, thinking you’re almost at the finish line, then you have another hour and a half of work to do after that. shoot. me. now.

et c’est tout.



Filed under food!, i can't speak french

the day we made a million tiny, itty-bitty things

it’s positively SCALDING in Paris today. the high is meant to be 92°… and i don’t have A/C. i’m literally sitting here in front of an open window sandwiched by a 20″ fan that’s blowing hot air directly into my ear. and my eyeballs are sweating. this sucks.

today will hopefully be a banner day on planet [e]clare…with me actually finishing all my posts and releasing them onto you — YES, you — my adoring public (ha! raise your hand if you have to read my blog because we’re related or because my parents are still paying you to be my friend. yeah, i knew it).

bugger. where was i?

oh, right. today.

something weird is going on this week at work. we’re either preparing for the king-godliest wedding to ever hit Paris or France is about to be attacked by millions of starving, midget children; we’ve been making massive batches of everything in mini-size. and it’s really fucking cute, but it’s a lot of little, little work for one wee, tiny bite-sized pastry. it’s like they took our normal-sized stuff and placed it in that Willy Wonka shrinker machine and set the size at 40%…and then multiplied it by 300.

here’s a recap:

1. made and decorated 310 mini-ispahans

every soul available was present to knock this job out, it was a lot of work. it took almost 4 hours.

2. had coffee!

i was telling my friend Kara yesterday about how crazy different this work environment is…this is how my typical day goes down…walk in the door, go straight to the “vestiaire” and immediately change into my chef’s jacket, pants and uncomfortable shoes. run up to the lab, wash my hands, make my “bonjours” and am given my first task. then for the next three to four hours, i’m busy running back and forth, getting ingredients from the storage closet, unloading 10k cubes of butter, standing and making stuff, plucking petals from roses, etc etc etc with absolutely no pause. then we’re given a 10 to 15 minute coffee break, where we get to eat the ugly pastries and some baguette with butter. while we’re standing around looking at each other. so it’s…slurp down some coffee, clean up the coffee mess and quickly back to work. make two or three more things, arrange it all in storage, and it’s time to clean. run around with buckets of water and hoses…clean clean clean. then hopefully we’re done and it’s time to go. and that’s an 8 hour day for me. there’s no lunch break. no time to stop and pee. definitely no chance to ever sit down. if you cut yourself, you waste time while you try to stop the bleeding. i’m on my feet and moving for the entire 8 hours. and it’s exhausting. so…yes, we get a coffee break, but it’s not long. i’m not sure if i’m cut out for this kind of labor.

3. made a raspberry gelee

it was mixed with lychees, so i’m assuming it will be used for something ispahan-flavored, but i have no idea what. cake maybe? millefeuille? anyway, it’s only raspberry puree, water and sugar mixed with this stuff called gelan, which acts as the gelifier.

4. assisted one of the head chefs make a gazillion macaron ice-cream sandwiches

more tiny things

5. made these tiny “emotion” hoo-has.

these are kinda like a small parfait in a glass.

this flavor is ispahan...note the rose petal! barf.

we normally have two or three flavors available and the same holds true with the twee ones; i think one was montebello (pistachio and strawberry) and the other had blueberries in it…don’t know what that’s called. so one of the chefs filled the tiny glasses with cream something and i stood there and placed three wee green macaron “hats” on them in a triangle. i tried to tell the guy that they looked like wee leprechaun hats but he had no idea what the hell a leprechaun was. figures.

6. and finally we cleaned

and usually after we clean, it’s time to go home! but today there was still a butt-load of work to be done. so after that, i…

6. placed a piece of chocolate on top of a piece of pie


and then it was 2:45! that’s 45 minutes past the time we were supposed to be released! and they tried to give me more work, but i said i had an appointment and had to go. i did. sorta.

(i know, it’s not honest, but do i really need to remind them over and over that i’m an unpaid intern? let me leave, damn it.)

and that’s it. next week i think i move to the afternoon shift, which i always liked working before. but it’s a different beast these days with a new chef and apparently they’re always finishing late…like at 11:00 or 11:30 (2:00 to 10:00 = eight hours). joy.

oh, and today i decided that i would rather have gill sans than glucose (note i didn’t say garamond or goudy). and that i miss the shit out of InDesign (it’s very unfortunate that a pastry lab doesn’t utilize the command + z button. it really would come in handy).


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the day i was reprimanded for being poopie

sometime soon i will write a post where i’m not spending at least part of the time complaining about how tired i am. today will not be that day.

i started the morning off on the wrong foot; je suis en retard. i was late. for the second day in a row.

all my old co-workers from Doubledown (especially you, Brian) would be impressed that i manage to get to work at 6:00 am everyday, almost always on time…considering that i’d struggle to arrive at the DDM office ontime at 11 (i’d normally hit 11:30 or thereabouts) and was ALWAYS late for staff meetings held at 9 am (i’d roll in about 15 minutes late, still half-asleep, complaining about how freaking early it is). but i’ve only been a retard here a small handful of times, four maybe, which is remarkable considering how much i hate waking up and how freaking early i have to be functioning around knives and other sharp objects while speaking a different language. yeah, i know what i just said.

i think they punished me today because of my tardiness. or maybe i should view it as flattering because they trust me to do so much stuff by myself — they kept giving me more and more shit to do — but it takes too much energy to be positive, so i’ll stick to being embittered for now. and i worked in the finishing section for most of the day.

1. made ispahans

small amounts compared to the other location; just 28 individual and seven entremets.  and i didn’t have to decorate them!

2. made surprise balls

only four! this location is apparently dudsville.

3. sprinkled powder sugar on some tarts

literally the extent of the work i had to do to finish those.

4. stood around and waited for orders to do something else

which is when i was reprimanded. i was leaning over the table going over the list of stuff to do with the chef of that section, my leg kicked out ever-so-slightly and my head in my hand, elbow on the table, and i was told to stand up straight with both feet on the floor. sigh.

i was also yelled at later for “allowing” myself to be burned. “ah, you burned yourself? you have to pay attention! dumbass!”

(i added the “dumbass” part, but it was assumed.)

AS IF I WANTED TO BE BURNED. “yes, can you please give me yet another permanent scar to remind me of the time i was an indentured slave at your establishment? because the burn on my other arm wasn’t enough.”

(nor were the cuts on my hands…nor the ink in my blood-stream…nor the crusty skin on my hands and feet…i could go on but it’s safe to assume that i’m perfectly gimpy by now)

(photographic evidence)

burn on other arm after one week. oooh.

jammed bird finger! owie! oh, and there's something written on my hand.

it’s also safe to assume that when i’m really tired, i’m really sensitive. perhaps some of my rant is exaggeration…maybe. only slightly though. just a little.

(no, really. everyone i work with is really very nice. but the response i got when i asked my boss if he had a cream to put on my burn was really bizarre. i wish i knew how to say in french, “(so and so) [<–insert french chef name here] pushed my arm into the side of the scalding cooper bowl because i looked at him funny. it wasn’t my fault.”


5. made jivara chantilly

i’m not really sure what this is used for, but i made a shit-load. over 25 kilos worth. boiled a lot of kilos of cream and made a ganache-type thing.

now is a fun time to point out that i really despise doing anything that involves heat from the stove (not an oven…that’s different!). this is why i went into pastry, people, i need to be able to control the elements. but put something on a giant flame and all bets are off. anything can happen! it’s like asking for something to be screwed up. and sure enough, my cream boiled over.

6. made chantilly café

this is that thing that i made before…brewing a giant pot of coffee with cream (not water) where you act as the human coffee filter (i.e. stand there for a loooong loooong time banging the liquid from the chinoise. comprendre?)

7. made chocolate sorbet

the third thing i had to make which involved heating cream/milk. and the third thing that boiled over.

(well, they kept giving me crap to do! and i was having to multi-task and run back and forth between jobs, which left me no time to baby-sit the cream. stoopid)

8. balanced praline

they made the praline sheets! and i missed how! but i got to help them measure it out on the trays.

and i think after that i was the last one from my shift still working. they DID punish me. :(



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the day i played with work dough

today i worked on the tour! which means i worked at the dough station!! which means i played with dough all day long!!! and it was awesome!!!!

but i don’t remember what i made.

that’s it.

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the day i worked with a fetus

lord, this industry is full of titty-babies.

(big lau would scream “JUSTICE” after learning the extent of which i have embraced this term, which i used to despise. i have yet to incorporate “the mighty cod” or “codcakes” into my everyday vernacular, but i’m working on it. using the word “vague” in a way that doesn’t really mean vague and “what’s the what on the whatty-what tip” are still going strong, lausey. xo!)

my pastry classmates and i would complain when we’d have to share the lab with another group…mostly because this other class was always 13-15 year old french kids doing the exact same shit that we were doing. i coined them “titty-babies” and the name stuck. they smelled and acted obnoxious (um, the boys didn’t wear deodorant). and they always used vinegar to clean the stainless steel, which stank worse that the armpits. but i figured that was just school, since we were a special division of a school run by the Paris Chamber of Commerce, and the regular students ranged from kids going to tech school (instead of regular high school) to college-aged kids (i think, but they all looked like infants to me).

but then i met a titty-baby at work. he’s an apprentice, whatever that means (maybe he’s a step above staigiare, but slightly paid?). he looks barely old enough to leave the house unsupervised. he hasn’t begun shaving yet (but he needs to, slightly. enough that i noticed though, and i promise you that i did not want to notice). he’s 15 years old. i’m old enough to be his mother. and today i worked with him. and he gave me orders.

(just a few)

today was really fun. remember a few weeks back when i described how the pistachio-covered lemon-flavored cake was made with all its various steps? well, i helped make that today. here’s the play-by-play:

1. made 12 kilos of whipped cream

they have this super cool machine that just churns out the stuff. you basically drop a little pipe into a tub of cream, the machine sucks it up, whips it into a frenzy and out pops piles of fluffy, delicious whipped heaven. i basically stood there refilling the tub of creme, making sure that it didn’t overflow in the bowl, for 12 kilos worth.

2. arranged the rings for the “desire” base

3. made the “desire” base

placed a lemon flavored biscuit on some lemon flavored creme (maybe some of that whipped cream mixed with lemon curd? who knows. but it was delicious) inside a ring. place some more creme, top with a piece of round lemon cake, press well and scrape off the excess. freeze.

4. made the “desire” donut dome piece

place the same creme (except i think it has gelatin added?) in the ring molds, added a strawberry gelee, press and scrape. refrigerate.

5. scraped the excess creme off the outside of the rings of the base

this is one of my favorite things to do. it takes a while and you can just zone-out and speed through the shit

6. place the ring on the dome-thing

first you have to warm up the outside of the ring with a huge kitchen torch (which is why they’re scraped first), then place the base on the bottom of the dome. to speed up the chore, you warm two at a time on the flame while wearing gloves. if you’re really sleepy, like me, you burn more arm hair than metal and melt lots of gloves. interesting to note: repeatedly flamed latex  smells like ramen after a while.

this is what i first did with the titty-baby.

i was also stopped by one of the chefs and was told that it’s not good to write on my hand. i make notes on my right hand CONSTANTLY. i always see it again and i never have any paper. i was told, “it’s not good, it’s poison. it’s cancer. that’s what paper is for.” Florian, are you reading this?

i also managed to make a joke in French today. we ran out of coffee filters (????? random) so one of the chefs brought out instant coffee and made a pitcher of it. as he was mixing it (i brought out a large spatula to stir it but was told by the TB that he needed a whisk), i asked in my really shitty french, “how much school do you need to learn how to make instant coffee?” and my chef looked at me and said, “ah! that’s a joke?” “um, yeah” “ahhhhh! hah! hah! hah! hah!” and he let out a hearty laugh (it’s also fun to note that my chef is maybe 25 or 26? but he’s super cool). i was so super proud of this, mostly because i finally felt normal…and i could show him that i’m not a total non-french speaking dumb-ass…but a non-french speaking smart-ass. justice.

i can’t really remember what else i did after that. some cleaning. scraped some vanilla beans? i’m too tired to think straight (4 hours of sleep last night. going to get at least 10 tonight). i did almost pull out a can of american whoop-ass on another staigiare today who pushed me around, literally, and was basically an incredibly stupid waste of space. the new staigiare and i always give each other looks and laugh when she stands there like she’s orbiting in outer space. the new staigiare is awesome.




Filed under food!