Brioche and Croissants Galore

Fashion week and the Opera

This week, much like last week, has been a baking frenzy, but yesterday stood out as the ultimate geekout for croissants and brioche. We made SO many croissants, pains au chocolate and brioches in different shapes—it was truly shocking!

Croissants and more croissants!

The whole gang

There were trolleys full of brioche

We made croissants and brioches like an enemy invader who lived on butter alone was coming and we had to use every last stick in France to save ourselves from certain death. I have already told you all about the long and arduous process of making croissants, but this was a whole new level. We made them four different ways—which I did not, hitherto, even know existed. The different methods changed how many layers there were and how puffy they were, and also what they tasted like. It was a revelation! Truly, just beyond what anyone wants to know. And the brioches—we made small ones, traditional ones, and giant loaves of brioche. I am going to be making French toast forever here in Paris—as I still don’t know what else to do with it all!

After this marathon of baking, was the dreaded “Performance Review”, which I have written about in the past. Very unfairly, LCB schedules this performance review after a full day of classes and they do it alphabetically, ensuring that I will be the last one with my W last name. Ugh. I waited for about an hour and they had only interviewed four people so far and I was number 12, so I knew it would be two more hours before I got my turn to make up some BS about my future plans in boulangerie. This, after being there eight hours already.

How do I explain to them that I am only doing this for fun, and have zero career ambition? Feeling like a loser and embracing my new freedom from culinary expectations, I impulsively decided to —leave. Yep. That is what I did. I was sitting there thinking to myself, this is three hours out of my life that I could be doing something I want to do instead of sitting here trying to make up a story about why I am here, and what my bread-baking future holds—which is nothing beyond making bread for friends and family. So I put on my coat and told my partner—whose last name begins with a V, that I was out of there. She was not fazed—God bless her.

And—I ran home, changed and went to Le Bristol Hotel in the very fancy 8th arrondissement for a Dior exhibit, showcasing 100+ Dior couture gowns that were going to be auctioned off the next day (today) by a local auction house. First, I gotta say-Le Bristol is beautiful! I have been there many times and it is simply a gorgeous hotel. My head was on a swivel from the time I arrived, and, it may be sacrilege to say so, but I am not sure the hotel did not outshine the gowns.

The flower display in the lobby!

The dresses were interesting, but most were from the 1990s—probably why the lady who owned them was auctioning them off—and, if you have been to the Dior museum here on Avenue Montaigne, which I highly recommend on your next visit to Paris—you have seen the best of what Dior has had to offer over the last eight decades.

You proabably wish you owned this

Or this

It was still très chic and way better than sitting for a performance review with a cranky chef—so I considered it a win and way better use of my time. I think I have forgotten to mention that it is yet again Fashion Week in Paris, and the streets are crammed with long-legged models, wannabes, and very dressed up older ladies, presumably here for the shows. I have seen many an impromptu fashion shoot on the streets over the last few days—guessing that is the wannabes and other aspiring model-types but they take themselves very seriously.

This gal in the middle of the rue has a photographer shooting shots

The funniest scene I have seen (pun intended) was the other day at 6:30am when I was walking to the metro for class, and as I turned the corner onto rue de Buci which is lined with cafes—not nightclubs—just cafes—that probably close around 11 or 12, there, at a table, were two model types and a man—maybe a photographer or boyfriend, all sitting at an outdoor cafe table with drinks still in front of them, smoking cigarettes. God bless the young! How they were still out when no one but me and the trash men were on the street is amazing! I wanted to take a picture but it seemed too invasive, so I have this rather blurry one from a discreet distance down the street, which doesn’t really show you anything. Sorry.

There are cocktails on the table and it is 6:30am on Monday

Today, before class was due to start, we visited a real French bakery, where they are making everything in house. It was interesting—and they had the biggest mixer I have ever seen, or will ever see. It held 80 kilos of dough!

Most of the operations and baking took place in the basement, which was accessed by these super narrow and steep stairs and of course there were no windows and stuff was piled everywhere—30 kilo bags of flour, rolling trolleys, supplies, etc.. I started hyperventilating from the claustrophobia after about 2 minutes, and needed a reviving freshly-baked palmier stat to clear my head. Clearly, working in a bakery is not in my future. Tell that to the performance review people!

Maybe, they too were claustrophobic

In any event, after that I decided to take the day off and go to —the Opera! I have always wanted to see an opera at the Palais Garnier, so I skipped class today and bought myself a ticket. Will let you know if it was worth the wrath of Chef tomorrow.