It's Okay for You

Tart Envy

We are now in the second week of Intensive Patisserie and I am loving it! When we are in the kitchen preparing these delicious little nothings—time flies. I haven’t been so absorbed in a task since I was practicing law. You know the type of absorption—where you look up and two hours have passed and you haven’t had a single thought cross your mind unrelated to your work. It is like the whole world just falls away and there is nothing but you and your dough. Weird..but true.

Yesterday we made apple tarts. The type you see, well, in France of course, but also in fancy bakeries in the US where the apples are laid in a rose pattern and there is a beautiful glaze over the entirety of it. I always wondered how they do that. The secret is all in how you slice the apple. I have tried to do this a ton of times but was never slicing in the correct direction. Some of you might be rolling your eyes thinking, anyone could have figured that out—but I didn’t. Maybe I just never took the time to really learn or to practice. It is truly a gift to be here and have nothing else to do but think about exactly what I am doing in that exact moment. It would be easy to say that you could take a class or watch You Tube videos or whatever, but, for some reason when daily life and all the obligations that go along with it are present, you tend to push off to a later day these other, seemingly less pressing matters.

A thinly sliced apple tart!

My new favorite chef is a French man ( of course) but a nice one. He barely speaks English and he has all these funny phrases that he says during the practical. For example, no matter what your question is or what you are doing, he will look at you and state, “It’s okay for you.” Or “it’s okay for you?” or “It’s okay for you!” None of us are exactly sure what he means but his inflection changes to make it sound like it is a different phrase each time. He also always says, “In ten minutes, it is finished.” Which we have now come to understand, means —you will be finished in ten minutes or you won’t get a grade. We all love him though because he is the most generous grader. Speaking of grades—oddly, mine have been pretty stellar. I am making almost all fours all the time, and today I received my highest grades to date.

The subject of this near perfect score is a pear tart with an almond and lime filling, covered with an apricot glaze. She is a beauty! Such a beauty in fact, that my work mates named her Gorgina! And we took a photo with the three of us where Gorgina was in the gold medal place and the others were silver and bronze! When I presented Gorgina to be evaluated, Chef said, “I have no criticisms”—which honestly, is about the highest praise you are ever going to receive at LCB. Kill me now and I will die a happy death.

The debut of Gorgina!

Ok, their exuberance may overshadow Gorgina’s first place finish!

Arabella arrived from Dublin today for a quick visit before school starts, so, after carefully boxing up Gorgina, I was in a rush to get back to the apartment and show her my new best friend. I trotted, carefully, holding Gorgina in front of me like a gift, from LCB to the metro station. Just before one arrives at the metro station near LCB, there is this pitiful run-down park with maybe two benches and some—what I believe to be—ancient workout equipment. One of the things kind of looks like you might have rowed on it or maybe stretched. I can’t be sure. In any event, I was cutting across the little park to get to the stairs of the metro and just as I entered the park, there was a woman seated on one of the two benches, holding on to a large dog. As I pulled up parallel to the bench, out of nowhere, a giant rat, ran between the dog and me! As you can imagine, the dog lunged for the rat, causing said rat to abruptly change directions, careening toward me, and causing him to run right across the top of my shoes! Well I was holding Gorgina carefully in my arms and I was not for the life of me going to let this rat make me drop her. So instead of shrieking like I wanted to do, I let out more of a yip, kind of like a dog whose tail got stepped on, and I did a quick hoppity hop to get my feet off the ground (as if that was going to do anything!) as the rat continued racing for cover toward the bushes, not even remotely interested in me or my prize. My heart was pounding, but Gorgina was safe so I continued bravely on down the stairs and headed home.

After greeting Arabella and hearing all about her recent excursions, I unveiled Gorgina—waiting patiently to bask in the “ooh and ahh” that I was surely due. Instead, my very own daughter, who I birthed, with no small amount of inconvenience I might add, curled her lip and said, “I hate those tarts, they think they are too pretty.” Whaaatttt? I was baffled and disappointed as Arabella went on to say, that while she was working last summer at Village Baking Company she had come to loathe the fruit tarts as they all thought they were better than the other pastries. I thought about this for a minute, and after a short, internal pop-psychology assessment, I realized that my daughter has constructed an entire social hierarchy for the baked goods on sale at the Village Baking Company and had firmly placed the fruit tarts in the category of the popular, mean girls who thought way too much of themselves. Well, I can’t compete with that. My homeless man has scored himself another dessert.