Le Cordon Bleu intermediate patisserie week 9 - time flies when you're cooking up a storm

It feels as though months have passed since my last blog post. I do apologies to those of you who read my posts regularly each week for the radio silence, exams and a number of wonderful opportunities came all at once and they got the better of me! This blog post is therefore going to go back, back to week 9 - my path to patissiere has been full of twists and turns and I'm looking forward to getting them all written down. Here goes...

My last blog post was a tiny taster of the plated desserts module that I completed on week 8. Although a cake lady through and through I found plating desserts to be incredibly enjoyable and a great way to channel my inner creativity. This module covered a variety of new and interesting techniques, from pulling sugar to using textured matts in order to create coloured and textured sponges. A friend of mine, in fact a very wonderful chef friend of mine once told me that for inspiration when plating food, its best to look to mother nature for guidance and for my last dessert, I did just that. 

Whilst fussing around with the white wine vinegar, scrubbing my plate to remove any marks with as much vigour as I could muster my mind drifted off and I began to wonder where this all began. When did we start dressing our plates with food to create edible art rather than just plonking in on? When did food become something to be looked upon first before devoured and when did we stop eating food simply for the purposes of fuel. How did we go from eating meat off the bone like Fred Flintstone to creating the edible wonderlands you'd find at restaurants such as Noma and The Fat Duck? Naturally I had to find out. 

In the middle ages, plating up food was as simple as tearing out the centre of a loaf of bread and filling this trench with a ladle full of home made strew. I'm sure if I was to walk the streets of London for a day that I'd be able to find someone, somewhere be it at a restaurant or a street food vendor serving food in exactly the same way. Of course the wealthy and royals at the time would enjoy much better service and food presentation, and as mentioned before on my blog in the past when discussing the origins of the entremet, the lines between the meal and entertainment became hugely blurred around this time. 

Looking into the subject further it seems that, once again its Catherine de Medici of Italy that we have to thank. If ever asked again who I'd invite, dead or alive, to a dinner at my house I would choose her. She was responsible for a great deal of change when she married Henry II, the King of France. Like me, Catherine De Medici had a sweet tooth so when the time came for her to move from Italy to France to marry Henry II, she refused to do so without being accompanied by her pastry team. Yes, team. The macaron was created by her team in approximately 1533 along with many other favourites of mine. But it wasn't just sweet treats that she brought with her, she also introduced dining innovations such as forks and topless waitresses, which essentially signifies the beginning of our shift from food for fuel to food for enjoyment. 

A century later and it was Louis XIV who really sealed cuisines place as an integral part of French culture, both for its flavour and aesthetics, with meals so lavish that you'd never be able to re create them in your own home. 

The change from large portions of food to smaller, more delicately plated meals can be pin pointed to the work of Marie-Antoine Careme, a wonderful man who's work I've mentioned in the past. Titled the worlds first 'celebrity' chef, Careme is responsible for bringing plating to the modern world. Creme was an avid amateur student of architecture - he considered pastry making to be an art form and often presented his dishes (made for Napoleon Bonaparte) in the shapes of famous waterfalls, pyramids, ships and monuments. He was also believed to have invented the croquembouche, a dish who's name translates to 'crunch in the mouth' and a dish which is still served around the world today and at a large number of weddings in France. 

Creme reduced the portion sizes whilst working within Napoleon Bonaparte's team. He did this as his main focus was the creation of hugely lavish, multiple course meals - he felt that the plates of food individually shouldn't fill the stomaches of the guests, but rather they should enjoy the food from a visual point of view first, then they should enjoy the taste and flavours. He emphasised complimentary flavours and pairings in presentations.  

During Creme's time, it was still only royals and the elite who were seeing and benefitting from these changes to the way we ate and presented our food. It wasn't until two years after his death in 1835 that Auguste Escoffier was born, a man who would see these changes and a much higher appreciation for our food be brought to the masses. Escoffier was born into the industrial revolution. This was a wonderful time of discovery, a rich time. We saw the worlds first millionaires, people began to travel for pleasure and the railroad was introduced making travel much more accessible. 

Escoffier secured his place in the history books for introducing 'a la carte' service to the world. His creations were still served on large trays featuring multiples dishes but the food was decorated beautifully and the portion sizes were still small, as Creme has intended. It was at this time that fine dining was born and became a profitable business. Escoffier was working at a time when chefs were still cooking over wood and charcoal fires. The food would be cooked in a separate building and then carried, sometime relatively long distances, to the dining room. He experimented with techniques which would allow the waiters to finish the cookery process in front of guests, adding a little theatre but also ensuring that their food would be hot when it arrived before them. 

At the turn of the last century, Fernand Point, a French chef and restauranteur considered to be the father of modern French cuisine, introduced elements that would become signitures of nouvelle cuisine. Point stressed the importance of cooking with seasonal ingredients, he focused upon flavours, simplicity, elegance, hospitality and service. Point also saw the importance of accessibility and therefore introduced a lighter fare. Point founded the restaurant La Pyeamide in Vienne near Lyon at the young age of 24 years old. The restaurant was awarded three Michelin stars and proved to be a great success. It was point who made the now ubiquitous baby vegetables a regular addition to the plate.

Sadly Point died when he was just 57 years old in 1955 and It wasn't until the 1960s when his famous protege, Paul Bocuse, solidified his techniques. Bocuse's neat and tidy food presentation became rather iconic and lead the way for nouvelle cuisine. Charlie Trotter and Alice Waters, the next generation of chefs took this minimalist style even further. Portions sizes reduced once again and theatre was added via edible finishing touches. 

Sergio Remolina, a professor at the Culinary Institute of America, when speaking to Bon Appetit said "in the late 1800s, the sauce was used to hide some of the defects in the meat of the smells because of the treatment of the protein, which could be a little bizarre. Today the goal is to feature the ingredients as close as possible to the source. if we have very fresh microgrees, or a fresh fish, we put in right at the centre of the presentation. The freshness of the ingredients guides the arrangement of the food". 

So there you have it, from Kings and Queens to the chefs of Kings, Queens and the common people - those are the names and faces we should be thanking and that is exactly how our food went from slop served in a stale loaf of bread to what we now know as fine dining and me, being stood in a kitchen at Le Cordon Bleu playing around with the positioning of the last red current I deemed fit enough to feature on my plate. What a journey! 

With the plated desserts module complete it was time to shift my focus to my practical and written intermediate patisserie exams. Urgh. I may have covered the course breakdown last term, but in case I didn't... as students at Le Cordon Bleu, our exams are broken down as such;

45% - class practical scores

45% - exam practical 

10% - theory paper

My first exam was at 7:40am on a Thursday. A completely unnecessary time to hold an examination. With sleep still in my eyes I dragged myself to Holborn and into the kitchen I went with the cleanest and best pressed uniform I'd sported all term, all thanks for my presentation scores goes to my Mum. She's got skills like no other when it comes to working magic with an iron so yes, at the age of 31 I asked my Mum to wash and press my uniform. I wanted the extra points, don't judge me. 

As I entered the room all I could think was which of the three dishes would be mine... would it be the Alhambra? My favourite of the three dishes to make due to its robustness and as it features a marzipan rose which I'd be able to whip up in no time and make look beautiful thus scoring more marks for presentation? Nope. Of course not! Of course I wouldn't be tested on my favourite. I wasn't last term so why should I be now? Ok, how about my second favourite? The Fraisier? The pink strawberry filled delight which features a genoise sponge - the sponge I dreaded in basic but actually scored very highly on when it came to my exam? Nope! Of course it would have to be my least favourite of the three - the dreaded OPERA.

They do say that life throws us challenges to try us and well, when myself and my class turned our papers to discover our fate, the title Gateau Opera was met with a chorus of groans and sighs. Why the Gateau Opera? Anything but the Gateau Opera! Thankfully I'd practised this dish only a matter of days before the exam and given that I'd made the cake at home, using only the equipment in my Mothers baking cupboard and ingredients from Waitrose it hadn't gone too badly. I kept reminding myself that during the exam I'd have everything I need to achieve perfection so at least I was safe in that knowledge. 

After 15 minutes spent writing up our ingredients list and method from memory we were asked to prepare to bake. Then as the clock ticked and tocked its way to the hour, at 8'o'clock our marking chef shouted the words we love to hear on the Great British Bake Off but dream under exam conditions...ready, steady, BAKE! 

The beloved Gateau Opera, as discussed at great length in a previous post, is a world wide favourite made up of 6 key elements; a bisuit joconde, a chocolate ganache, a creme au beurre cafe, a coffee flavoured soaking syrup, a chocolate glacace and piped chocolate decoration work. I began by baking my sponge, I prepare my baking tray and the mix then spread the mix over the tray thinly - I knew at this point that something had gone wrong. I'd overworked the mix. There was no time to dwell upon this so I flashed baked what I had and got on with the next task which was to make my ganache and creme au beurre cafe. The kitchen was hot, all ovens were on high and the there was a great deal of noise coming from the cafe kitchen just around the corner. The pot was team were slow meaning we had to wait a relatively long time for the equipment that we needed and I was certain my butter cream was going to split to to this. It didn't. Many others did but mine didn't and goodness only knows why. My ganache was perfect, my soaking syrup was delicious and so I began to assemble my dish. 

As my sponge had been overworked it was tight in texture and didn't have the rise I was hoping for which resulted in my Opera being considerably shorter than intended. When I say considerable, I'm talking millimetres but to me the difference was considerable. Everything ran smoothly and then it was time to decorate the cake. It was at this point that I began to panic. I was tired, my hand wouldn't stop shaking, we had ten minutes to go until time would be called to stop so I just went for it. I'm actually gutted that we weren't able to take pictures of our end results as I was so very impressed with mine! It was hands down the best piping I'd done during my time at Le Cordon Bleu and all you have is my word for it. With one exam down it was time to get a little rest before the theory paper the following day.   

Like my practical exam, my theory paper began at the ridiculously early time of 8am on the Friday morning. I flicked over the cover and was delighted to see questions to which I knew the answers. A few multiple choice questions, recipe writing and plate drawing questions later I was back in the big wide world with a whole day ahead of me. A day which lasted 23 hours and which felt like three days in one! 

Immediately after my exam, a skipped down to Radio Hair in Shoreditch for a trim. I wouldn't normally mention such things on my patisserie blog but they did a fab job and the team was lovely. So why not. Radio Hair are great, go there! I then walked over to Southbank where I did a 6 hour shift for the lovely Crosstown Doughnut team. I can't get enough of these doughnuts which is leading to the size of my bottom increasing...but just look at them! Tell me how am I supposed to resist such temptations?! 

At the end of my very long day I met a friend from the bus stop - that friend is the man responsible for the name of my blog, Path to Patissiere. He's a wonderful words smith and our weekend in London was so varied, in terms of food, that it deserves its very own blog post. So I'm going to give it just that. If you love wild foods and Japanese / Peruvian food fusion keep an eye out. I'll be covering both next week along with letting you know how I got on with my exams and finishing off my last intermediate project, an Easter themed celebration cake! 

*Please note that the views I express are mine alone and do not reflect the views of my place of study*

Le Cordon Bleu intermediate patisserie week 5 - Alhambra's got me all gaga

Monday morning, 5:30am and my alarm is ringing softly in my ear. Gradually the bells of Big Ben grow louder and louder until they reach their crescendo. As I tap the snooze button and my brain begins to process 'waking up', I realise that I'm getting up early for a nine hour day of baking. My body goes from being lethargic to feeling sheer excitement, my brain springs into action as though someone has flicked a switch and I leap out of bed with so much energy that I trip over a badly placed shoe and promptly fall over. Picking myself up I hurry to get dressed, out the door and onto the bus within the 45 minutes I'd allotted. 

Tea in hand (in my beautifully designed Keep Cup) I wait for the number 38 and whilst doing so read through my notes for the day ahead. Monday was the day I was to face my third and final exam dish, the Gateau Alhambra. After last weeks challenging gateaus, which were currently running in order of technical difficulty, I feared the task ahead wouldn't be a quick nor easy one. 

Following a spectacular technical demonstration, after which we were severed an array of tantalising petit-four sales, the time came to take on the Alhambra, face to face. 

Looking at the chocolate covered, chocolate filled, chocolate piped gateau I wondered to myself how hard it could actually be. Chef began demonstrating the difficulties almost immediately as he created a stable French meringue and egg yolk / butter mix almost simultaneously. After sieving all of the dry ingredients which included the finest cocoa powder I've ever come across, ground hazel nuts and soft French flour, he then went about combining the three in several inclusion, and in a very strict order. First to be added to the egg yolk / butter mix was a quarter of the French meringue. The first inclusion of meringue was used to temper the mix and therefore was beaten in with a firm hand, knocking any air whipped in, quickly out. Next in was a third of the dry mix, this was folded in gently to the tempered batter. Next was a second quarter of the French meringue, this time added and folded in with a great deal more care and attention, again followed by a third of the dry mix. This was repeated until the final quarter of the meringue had gone in and a smooth mixture had been achieved. But, warned the chef, deviate from the formula and the mix won't work. Game over. 

The cake was then baked whilst a marzipan rose was made, the chocolate ganache filling prepared, the soaking syrup made and a further batch of chocolate was tempered in order to create decorative leaves to add life to our finished rose. As soon as the cake came out of the oven it was de molded and taken immediately to the blast chiller to cool down. Once cool, the dense chocolatey lump of a cake was cut in half (using nothing but a bread knife and a steady hand), soaked with the coffee / rum syrup and the ganache piped in concentric circles within. The top became the bottom and the bottom the top - a cunning trick often used in the cake world to ensure perfect edges when masking. Back into the chiller the cake went and when ready, it was masked with the remaining ganache. It was at this point that chef began to make the task look perhaps a little harder than it ought to have been. As the ganache began to set it became increasingly hard to mask the sides of the cake and at this stage, even sides were key to an even finish. The aim here is to have a perfectly smooth undercoat, this is then covered with a smooth liquid ganache which sadly wouldn't be 100% forgiving if mistakes are made. 

Thankfully small masking errors made would be covered by the final layer of chocolate, this time a more fluid, butter filled ganache which was to be poured over our chilled cakes leaving behind a silky, glossy coating of loveliness. Chef not only warned us of the potential issues here but also demonstrated them. Unintentionally. The pour had to be quick, hesitation free and thorough. Any messing about with the chocolate would result in drip marks down the sides of the cake or a damaged surface. Wow, this really was going to be a challenge! 

After a quick tasting of the cake, (a tasting which didn't last nearly long enough - this cake is to die for, I would run away and marry this cake if it were to ask me) well prepared but feeling incredibly apprehensive about the results, I headed immediately for the kitchens. Reading my notes step by step I followed chefs instructions until...vola! I had this beauty sat before me. Flawless. No drip marks, a perfectly risen and soaked cake inside, practically perfect ganache masking and a delightfully realistic marzipan rose and chocolate foliage on top. Boom! 

The day felt like a whirlwind adventure, destination chocolate heaven and not only had I arrived but I'd traveled first class. Chef spoke very highly of my cake which filled me with delight. Knowing nothing of the origins of the cake, upon returning home I began to embark on my second journey of the day, this time, a journey of cakey discovery.  

Consisting of two layers of a hybrid Sachertorte sponge, made using ground hazelnuts rather than almond, as mentioned the Alhambra is filled with chocolate ganache and coated in a second layer of more fluid, butter filled ganache. The cake is finished with nibbed pistachios and topped with its iconic (if you can call it that - this isn't a particularly iconic cake) marzipan rose. After a little digging I discovered that this cake was created in celebration of the Spanish city of Alhambra and its lush green gardens. Of course, the lime green pistachio nibs represent the greenery of the city, the marzipan rose...the roses grown in the city and the hazelnut meal in the cake mix celebrates one of the key nuts produced in and around the city. The hazelnut. 

With Morocco being in such close proximity to Spain and Alhambra, and subsequently Morocco having influence over this region of Spain, some will bake this cake using pomegranate seeds to add a little more flavour and a burst of fruit from across the way. Bakers across the world often refer to the Alhambra as the sister cake to the significantly more famous, Sacher Torte, a beautifully rich, dense and delicious chocolate torte invented by Austrian born Franz Sacher in 1832 for Prince Wenzel Von Metternich in Vienna, Austria. As well as being famous for their enriched doughs, Vienna is best known for the Sacher Torte and locals refer to the cake as their culinary spciality. Each year, on 5th December the cake is celebrated on National Sachertorte Day, a day I intend to celebrate moving forwards.   

Of course the original recipe for the Sachertorte remains, to this day, locked away and the title of 'the original Sacher torte', after much dispute remains with the Hotel Sacher. The dispute came about when Franz Sacher's eldest son, Eduard, perfected the recipe whilst studying at the Demel bakery and chocolatier in Vienna. The perfected recipe was first served at the Demel and then later at the Hotel Sacher which was opened and established by Eduard himself in 1876. Of course with a cake so popular that tourists make trips to Vienna especially to eat a slice, the Demel wanted to retain the title of 'the original Sacher torte', and of course, understandably, the hotel and Sacher family felt the title was rightfully theirs.

After a lengthly legal battle the matter was settled out of court the agreement between both parties being as such; the Hotel Sacher serves 'the original sacher torte' and the Delem decorate their torte with a simple triangle of chocolate which reads 'Eduard-Sacher-Torte'. As mentioned, the Alhambra is referred to as the Sachertorte's sister, the difference being the Sachertorte is filled with a delicious apricot jam rather than a chocolate ganache and is served with whipped cream. Having eaten a slice of Sachertorte at the Hotel Sacher in Vienna I highly recommend a visit - the city of course has much more than just cake to offer but it's cake is a wonderful place to start. 

With all three exam dishes now out of the way, more normal, slower paced classes resumed. Our last class before the end of the week took us back to the enriched doughs of Vienna and once again into the boulangerie where we were to make rye bread, focaccia and an enriched breakfast bread, not too dissimilar to a brioche. In comparison to the classes before it, this was a doddle. Onto the Kitchen Aid's went bowls of flour, mixed with various quantities of sugar, salt, milk, butter and eggs, then after time spent proving the dough was rolled, shaped, bench proved, re rolled and shaped, proved again and then finally baked! My results both looked and tasted delicious.

Happy with my condensed weeks work at school, I turned my thoughts to my first shift at Crosstown Doughnuts. Needing a little additional funding (lets face it, London living ain't cheap) and having time on my hands in between classes I got in touch with the Aussie / Kiwi owned company having blogged about them late last year. I thought I'd get in touch to see if they could do with any additional assistance and luckily for me, they said they could. Located in the underbelly of Piccadilly tube station, I was incredibly excited to be surrounded by premium, modern patisserie and to give my sales skills a jolly good polishing. 

After being shown the ropes and run through the deliciously mouth watering doughnut portfolio, I was set. I now completely understand the saying 'it's like Piccadilly Circus' - wow! Doughnuts were flying off the shelf at a rate of knots and selling like hot cakes! At the end of the shift I gather the last remaining few, boxed them up and took them swiftly down to Bristol the very next day. Handing them over to a good friend, they were very gratefully received and Crosstown made their very first journey down to the Southwest. 

As well as bestowing doughnuts upon my Bristolian friends, I went laden with the cake and bread prepared earlier in the week at school and everything I need to prepare not one, but two birthday cakes for Lil. My bags packed, crammed full of pans, cake tins, pallet knives, chef knives and goodness knows what else (I think I threw some clothes in for good measure) I arrived at my home from home and did some of what I like to call 'baking and entering'. Whilst my friends were out at work I spent a solid and highly enjoyable six hours in the kitchen whipping up my take on a modern Fraisier and replicating the Alhambra that I'd produced so successfully at school. I saw this as a great opportunity to practise for my exams which are now less than a month away!! What a nail biting thought that is...

First into the oven went my Alhambra sponge, swiftly followed by the genoise sponge needed to create my Fraisier. Both sponges came out well risen and with the perfect amount of bounce. Like an octopus my arms were flying around the kitchen melting chocolate, whipping eggs, making custards, softening butter, sieving various ingredients and then... Disaster. 400g of beautifully bitter, dark chocolate ganache - split. My heart sank. This hadn't happened at school! I'd done exactly as instructed but instead of a silky smooth ganache what sat before me was a separated mass of oil and lumps of chocolate solids. I tried everything I could think of; warming the undesirable looking concoction over a Bain Marie, cooling the oily mass, whisking to add air and encourage the fats to re connect...everything. Before waving my little white flag of surrender I turned to my trusty friend, Google. Quickly I skim read the top ten hits and noticed a handy hint from a fellow baker, the hint read: don't despair if your ganache splits (I was firmly in the despair category at this point), to encourage the fats to come back together all you need to do is add a little whole milk. The fat content is significantly less than that of the cream and will help the two ingredients and fats to combine. At this stage it was worth a go, I'd try anything if it meant avoiding binning £6 of chocolate and traipsing back down the road to the shops in the rain. 

In a pan I warmed a little whole milk, making sure it was at the same temperate as my mess of a ganache. Of course this is done to prevent any further buckling due to temperature difference. When the two temperatures matched I poured the milk over the chocolate mass and began to stir from the middle, creating a chocolatey cyclone in the centre of the bowl as chef had shown us. Nothing was happening and then all of a sudden...the ganache began to come together and there was that silky spread like consistency I'd been longing to see. Without wanting it to spoil, I turned out the Nutella like spread onto a tray and left it to cool.

Thank goodness. I was back on track and ready to assemble my cakes and add the finishing touches. Inspired by a few of the London bakers I thought I'd try my hand at making some meringue kisses. Into the oven went a tray of sugar whilst I whisked up yet more eggs to medium to soft peaks. After five minutes of baking the sugar was ready to be incorporated. With each spoonful of sugar added, the fluffy white egg mix grew glossier. When ready I painted the inside of my piping bag with pink food colouring, popped in the meringue mix and began piping a variety of kisses. After baking at a low temperature for 40 mins they were ready and just how I'd imagined. Crunchy on the outside, chewy in the middle and just the right size to pop in your mouth and sit upon my modern patisserie bake. A few feathers later and of course a little gold glitter and my cakes were ready for the arrival of the birthday girl! Cakes fit for a Princess. What do you think? 

Next week on my path to patissiere I'll be whipping up a couple more entremets and having an experiment with choux pastry puff balls! Of course it's also pancake day and I'll be meeting my first bride of the year to discuss her wedding cake. Exciting times ahead!

*Please note that the views I express are mine alone and do not reflect the views of my place of study*