Le Cordon Bleu intermediate patisserie week 4 - here we go round the strawberry bush

Whilst preparing this weeks blog post, a little notification popped up letting me know that Path to Patissiere has now had over 5,000 hit (5,108 to be exact)! I'm totally blown away. Thank you to everyone who's read about my little culinary adventures at Le Cordon Bleu London. I hope, at the very least, I've made you giggle at my misfortunes and baking accidents and of course broadened your knowledge of this fantastic subject. I am incredibly lucky to be studying this course and as you can tell, despite the mishaps, I'm loving every minute...and although tough, this week has been no exception.  

Having been warned by both the chefs and superior students at Le Cordon Bleu of this weeks arrival and the challenges I'd face, I entered my 4th week of intermediate patisserie training with much trepidation. Now, we were told, the real challenges would begin and we'd come face to face with two of our three exam dishes; the Gateau Fraisier and the Gateau Opera. 

Although trepidatious, I couldn't wait to meet the cakes I'd heard so much about. Having never tried either, I was looking forward to hearing all about their origins and sampling their many complex layers. Whilst first researching the Fraisier, I was inundated with many beautiful pictures - some showing the cake made in the traditional fashion and others branching out to create a more contemporary take on this colourful dish. Reminiscent of balmy summer days and perhaps a chapeau one might have found at the milliners during the Victorian era, the Fraisier is a deliciously romantic confection made from feather-like genoise sponge, delicately whipped, silky smooth creme mousseline, freshly cut strawberries arranged in a crown formation, kirsch syrup, marzipan and royal icing. 

Requiring an incredible amount of focus and artistic attention to detail, this wonderfully feminine cake begins to spring into the windows of pastry shops across France as soon as the first summer berry is ripe for the picking. You'd think that a cake with such popularity and beauty would be well documented in terms of its creator and origins but sadly it's not. Named after the strawberry bush, digging a little deeper I discovered a Scottish clan by the same name with links back to France. Perhaps entirely unrelated, but interesting none the less, I'd like to think the cake was designed with this clan in mind but there are no records to indicate that this might have been the case. Strawberries however have a rich and juicy history.

First discovered as a wild fruit, the strawberry (and still growing happily in the wild around the country might I add...if you look hard enough. Pictured below, my good friend Thom owner of 7th Rise - also known as @soulful_hunter on Instagram, with a handful of these mini bursts of oral pleasure. He ate the entire handful for brekkie but please note the size, they are so incredibly far from the gigantic fruits we find on the shelves of our supermarkets) is well documented within ancient Roman literature for its medical uses. Its said that the French first began taking the strawberry from the forest to their gardens for harvest in the 1300s. Charles V, the King of France from 1364 to 1380 boasted 1,200 strawberry plants in his royal garden and enjoyed the fruits the plants bore regularly. During the early 1400s the monks of western Europe were using the wild strawberry in their illuminated manuscripts - the fruit can also be found in Italian, Flemish, German and English art dating back many centuries. During this time, the entire strawberry bush was used to treat depression related illnesses. It's safe to say that simply casting your eyes over the scrumptious Gateau Fraisier will lift ones spirits and the taste of a ripe, juicy, in season strawberry on the tip of your tongue will certainly assist with more positive thinking.

Demand for the strawberry from both a medicinal and indulgent point of view grew in the 1500s across Europe. Strawberries began to be studied and categories by botanists and instructions for their growth and harvest in the UK was documented in 1578. Its clear to see that our love affair with this romantic fruit has been one of longevity, but sadly our greed and demand has put huge amounts of pressure on the farming world - the results? We've sacrificed quality and flavour. Now available day in day out at every local supermarket in Great Britain, these once strictly seasonal fruits are pumped and injected with water so that they meet consumer standards in terms of their size, colour and shape but once purchased and taken home, biting into a shop brought strawberry in February leaves you with nothing but a hint of the flavour the fruit used to be so highly sought after for. Its truly saddening, even their sweet aroma has been removed and what we're left with is something which resembles what we desire, but in fact, is far far from what our ancestors (our less greedy and significantly more patient ancestors) enjoyed. Technology and advances in farming is a wonderful thing but when we begin to compromise on flavour just to satisfy greed - should we not question what we're doing and eat as mother nature intended us to? Season by season? 

Regardless of the season, the Gateau Fraisier was the first of my three exam dishes to be demonstrated by chef. Before heading in for my 8am lecture I turned to tea for inspiration and I wasn't let down. Inspiration was found. 

Comprising of five key elements (the genoise sponge, the fruit, the creme mousseline, the soaking syrup and the marzipan decoration), when broken down the baking and construction sounded fairly simple. First we'd make the genoise sponge, which you may remember was my exam dish for basic patisserie. The genoise is a beautifully light sponge made only of a large quantity of eggs, beaten into submission along with sugar, next flour is gently folded in and a tiny amount of melted butter added after that. Once baked our cakes, approximately 6cm in height needed to be hand cut into three discs. INTO THREE! And might I add evenly into three discs...thankfully the top of the cake was to be used as padding within the centre so it's appearance was less important but still, with both the middle and bottom discs being very much on display, it was important they were cut perfectly. 

Before the cutting came the making of the creme patissiere, later, once cooled and knocked back, softened butter was added to create the mousseline and of course, a drop of sweet tasting kirsch. The soaking syrup was then prepared and the strawberries cut with absolute precision. Using the elements prepared, the cake was assembled and topped with an embossed marzipan disc, marzipan rose, vines and detailed royal icing piping. 

Before entering the kitchen I checked my knife kit for one very important piece of equipment. My ruler. I wasn't exaggerating when I said the chef cut the strawberries with precession. He dwelled over the nine individual fruits required to make the dish for some five-severn minutes which in chef terms is an incredibly long amount of time. This was one of the areas where we lost a great deal of time during our practical, having never made this dish we of course wanted to do our absolute best so out came my ruler and no fruit entered my cake ring unless it had been thoroughly checked and measured for size.  

Thankfully I made up time when making my marzipan rose. As mentioned in last weeks post, I've been making these for years so I was able to quickly throw something delicate and dainty together and crack on with the more challenging task. The emulsion. With any cake, such as the Gateau Fraisier, made using a semi stable emulsion - in this case, a creme mousselinee (the butter being the key to creating stability), before de moulding the cake is chilled to assist setting. Its then the act of de moulding which fills you with terror and nerves. Chef demonstrated this process with no nerves at all and as he, rather violently, picked up and shook the cake ring the class gasped with fright. When the cake popped out gently in one solid piece the gasps turned to applause and sat before us was a thing of beauty. When the time came to de mould our own cakes, we approached the task with caution. When you've come this far and spent many minutes carefully measuring fruit, tirelessly whipping up a genoise and managing to successfully create a stable mousseline the last thing you want is to drop the damn thing on the floor. Although a littler slower than I'd hoped, I'd managed to do all of the above, and create a beautiful marzipan rose at the same time. Out my cake popped. There it was, sat before me - just as chefs had done. Perhaps not quite as beautiful but it certainly had an enticing charm about it. 

There were very few dramas involved with the making of this dish. Other than time and the odd bit of practise required on the piping front, chef was impressed with my design, my rose, my construction and the quality of my core elements. He mentioned the next time I am to make it that I must ensure the creme is sufficiently smoothed against the wall of the cake tin, but other than that, what you see before you is a dish that would have passed at intermediate level. Pretty hey? 

Following a take away, a bottle of prosecco, two slices of this light and airy cake (shared with a friend of course) and four hours sleep I returned to school to take on the Opera. I was dreading it. 

Eyes barely open I stumbled off the tube (it was 6am so you'll forgive me for using public transport rather than walking on this occasion), rode the escalator to ground level and began walking through the incredibly quiet streets of London, in the snow, in the direction of Le Cordon Bleu. You'd think it would be a rather magical moment and it was until I looked up and a large flake of snow landed in my eye. Nothing extinguishes magic like ice in your eye. Whilst walking, and rubbing my eye better, I was reciting the break down of the task ahead of me. Step one, beat the almonds and egg yolks, step two, whisk the whites and sugar to create a medium peak meringue, step three, combine, step four, spread out onto a tray evenly and bake. Make the ganache, prepare the soaking syrup and buttercream, cool and cut the sponge, prepare the pate a glace, assemble and...enjoy!

Again, broken down into simple steps it sounded perfectly achievable but in reality, and I should imagine due to the very early start, the task seemed just a touch too much for everyone. We took far longer than chef would have liked and I made some pretty silly mistakes along the way. Regardless, my end result was a Gateau Opera. It had all the necessary layers and tasted delicious. Sadly my chocolate ganache failed to sufficiently bind the layers and strangely my buttercream seems to be a little set back from the edge but for a first attempt...

The positives; chef liked my design. It needs a little more work but she liked the concept (I apologies, chocolate on chocolate is a little tricky to photograph, especially when in a rush), and it tasted lovely. Next time I need to make sure I don't mess about with my pate a glace. What a mess. Whoops! Following a long walk home in the bitterly cold wind with my freshly made Opera, I cut myself a slice and sat down with a cup of tea to find out more about this delightfully complex cake. Like the Gateau Sabrina (which I've still heard nothing more of from the chefs in Paris), the Gateau Opera is a relatively new cake but its origins are hugely disputed. 

Sadly after reading extracts from several books and blogs it seems that we'll never know the honest truth as to this cakes past. There are two main contenders battling for claim over the recipe, they are the house of Dalloyau in Paris and Louis Clichy, one of Paris' legendary pastry chefs. The house of Dalloyau claim to have invented the Gateau Opera in 1955. According to the owners it was Cyruaque Gavillon who invented the cake which was later named 'Opera' by his wife, Andree, in honour of a prima ballerina at the Paris Opera. A feasible story, however Louis Clichy claims that Gavilllon stole the recipe from him which he'd had written down since the turn of the century some 50 years prior. Its said by many supporters of Clichy that he'd premiered his famous Gateau Opera at the Paris Exposition Culinaire in 1903 after which it became the signature cake at the Clichy's patisserie on the Boulevard Beaumarchais, Paris. 

Whilst the two Parisian families continue to squabble over who created the dish, another truly delightful story has emerged. Some say that it was in fact the pastry chefs at the Paris Opera who created this dish in 1890. It was said that the chefs wanted to created something heavily soaked in coffee to help the audience stay awake through the final acts of the lengthy Wagnerian epics.  

What ever its true origins, the Gateau Opera is now an incredibly popular cake found in patisseries across the globe. Made using high quality coffee and dark chocolate, its comparable to drinking an incredibly creamy mocha and as someone who hates the taste of coffee and has never drunk a cup, I rather liked it.

Before my week came to a close, I promised my babe of a Nan a visit and a batch of the English madeleines she'd been dreaming of since she was a little girl. You may recall I wrote about them and experimented with a couple of recipes a number of weeks ago: English madeleines

The madeleines were very gratefully received but it was in face the slice of Gateau Opera that I'd set aside for her that stole the show! It's just such a crowd pleasing cake. I shall look forward to making it again when the time comes to practise my exam dishes!

Next week on my path to patissiere I'll be facing my final exam dish; the Gateau Alhambra, and I'll be back in the boulangerie making frocaccia, rye bread and baguette Viennoise. I then have the pleasure of making a cake for a very dear friend of mines birthday and I'll be doing so back in the fabulous city of Bristol! I'm incredibly excited to be returning, even just for a couple of days. 

I shall be naming the cake the Gateau Lillian, after the birthday girl, and the Gateau Lillian shall take its inspiration from the Gateau Fraisier. I love experimenting and the changes I intend to make are as such; I'm going to add sherry to the mousseline rather than kirsch. I don't find the taste of the kirsch to be particularly present which, in my eyes leaves the creme feeling a little bland. Adding sherry will be both complimentary to the creme and the fruit and hopefully will lift the flavour and take it in a more desirable direction. I'm going to try adding white chocolate to the genoise in some capacity and will top my gateau with white chocolate bottomed strawberry meringue kisses topped with gold and no doubt I'll add a few features for flamboyancy. The cakes appearance will take inspiration from both its names sake and her fancy dress fashion inspiration, Effie Trinket. 

The very next day I shall be whipping up a Valentines inspired tea party for my girls, the details of which I'm keeping closely guarded in case they are reading this post ;o) Expect to see a lot of pink, many hearts and heaps of smiles. 

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

Le Cordon Bleu week 10 - Per Ardua ad Astra

Through adversity to the stars. 

This week was exam week at Le Cordon Bleu, and exams are my adversity. Course work has always been my preferred way to be tested. I've never kept it a secret from anyone you see that I'm dyslexic. It's very much a part of who I am and I'm proud of that part of me. Being dyslexic has me a fighter, it's made me work harder and it's made me determined to continually challenge myself. You'd think however that by doing something you truly love, something you've chosen to do rather than something forced upon you, that it would make learning that particular subject easier. I've found that to be very far from the truth. If anything it makes it harder - you want to succeed more and as such you put more pressure upon yourself to get to where you want to be. 

When I signed up to study patisserie, to leave my job and career in marketing, I imagined feeling the happiness I felt when I was alone, in the kitchen, singing and dancing to the radio, flour all over me, the floor, the cupboards and anything else in close proximity (sorry Gandy) everyday. I imagined that I'd be in a constant state of happiness - on a baking high and that my self taught knowledge would see me sail through the first few months at Le Cordon Bleu. I've made wedding cakes for goodness sake. How hard could the rest be? Oh how wrong our assumptions can sometimes be. 

All that I've learnt in the years I've been baking hasn't been completely useless, but at the same time I wouldn't necessarily say that it's projected me as far as I'd anticipated. I was prepared to have to use my brain - something which following university, really...if we're honest with ourselves, we don't often do. Not in the same capacity. I just didn't realise how much I'd need to use it! Day after day in my job I'd work on auto pilot...facing the same challenges, having the same conversations, meeting the same characters, talking the same talk. I had stopped thinking and often had surreal, almost of of body experiences where I'd look down at myself and simply ask "what are you doing?" and "why are you STILL doing this - is this really what you want? Is this the best use of your time on this planet?" I missed learning, I missed using my brain and I missed thinking for myself - having my own thoughts and being honest with those thoughts.    

When I met my form (who's ages range form 18 - 37) I was prepared to have to work twice as hard as the school and university leavers surrounding me, those who still remember how to revise, and three times as hard as those who'd worked in the catering industry prior. I was prepared to have to grasp the sciences and tackle my inability to retain the French language in order to jump through the first ring of fire - to pass BASIC patisserie. Oh...one thing I've not mentioned in the past 10 weeks is that I gave up studying towards my French GCSE after scoring 2% on a test paper. The marks gained, I believe, were for correctly naming and dating my answer sheet. The rest was utter tripe.

But I've tackled all of these challenges head on and I've really enjoyed it. I feel incredibly lucky to be in the position I'm in today. To be able to return to learning and to study a subject so close to my heart but looking back on the past two months, it's not been, by any stretch of the imagination, easy. This course has pushed me both mentally and physically. To realise my dream I've had to make sacrifices. I've had to leave Bristol, I've had to go back to school, leave my friends, make new friends, mix with an extremely wide range of ages, races and religions. I've had to make allowances for language barriers and cultural differences that I only ever rarely came across whilst at work. I've been faced with bullying, my own insecurities and mid way through I had to face failing, or at least being less than perfect at doing what I love. It's all been quite scary but I never thought it was going to be easy...easy wouldn't be worth it. 

I've loved every second of my first term at Le Cordon Bleu and I've learnt far more than just the recipes in my incredibly heavy course folder. My brain finally feels as though it has a use, a purpose in life and it works - it really does work and it can think for itself. A refreshing discovery. I don't really want for the term to come to an end but sadly, on Monday we will have our last basic level class and on Tuesday I'll be receiving my patisserie exam results. Thankfully we're making chocolates during our last class so if my exam results do go tits up, I'll be able to console myself and eat myself into a chocolate coma. 

I'm guessing, if you're reading this post you'll want to at least know how I feel my exams went, you can probably grasp that I found revising hard and what I'm now going to say may shock you. You see, I heard a lot of my peers talk down their performance. They feel that by doing so they'll be more pleasantly surprised to find out that they've succeeded or they'll be better prepared to cope with any negative results. I can understand their logic, I used to try and trick my mind in the same way when I was at school and university. But why bother? I know I've done OK. I'm not saying that to come across arrogant but when I turned over the theory paper on Wednesday and was able answer the first ten questions without really having to dig deep into the achieves of my mind, I knew I was going to be OK. And following my bakeathon last weekend I knew that I'd be OK in my practical examination also. My Dad has always said the following to me: prior preparation prevents piss poor performance. And he's my Dad so he's never wrong, so I always make sure to be as prepared as possible.  

Obviously I was met by my least favourite dish in the practical exam but I'm glad I was - I take no pleasure in having an easy ride. I much prefer to face my demons head on. It makes success taste that little bit sweeter. Genoise a la confiture de framboise - I owned you. 

Perhaps it's wrong of me to speak so confidently before I've had my de brief and received my final results. Perhaps, like my peers I should feel negatively towards my performance and prepare myself for bad news - but I'm not going to. I feel I did well. I studied hard, I practised harder so what will be will be. I know that what ever the outcome, it'll be the way it is for a reason. I gave both exams my all and that's all I can really ask of myself. 

Sadly I wasn't able to take any pictures of the cake I baked under exam conditions and I really do feel sad about that as it was probably the best version of the genoise that I've made to date... and I have Micheal Jackson and the guys stood next to me to thank for that. 

In previous posts I've mentioned two things, the first is that music is incredibly important to me and the second is that hand whisking a sponge cake almost killed me a few weeks ago. When it comes to music, I like to surround myself with it, going from radio to Spotify, headphones to speaker and back again continuously throughout the day (I'm convinced I was in a girl band in a former life, or separated from Beyonce at birth...except I can't sing and my dancing is, at best, questionable). Although I'm dyslexic and struggle with spelling, grammar, numbers and languages, my brain seems to have this strange ability to retain song lyrics, word for word, extremely quickly and for an indefinite amount of time. And the same goes for melodies. I find, like many that music motivates me - the right song at the right time can fill me with adrenaline and help me to power through the hardest of situations. 

When it comes to the whisking, I hadn't suddenly grown the muscles required to really do the genoise justice. I haven't been pumping iron as part of my exam revision. Therefore when the chef plonked down the cake tin needed to bake the genoise on the marble table in front of me, thus identifying the dish we were to create for our final exam - all I could hear in my head was Michael Jackson powerfully communicating a message to me - BEAT IT. I then looked to the guys stood either side of me, both much taller with huge biceps, and said to myself "I will not stop beating this egg / sugar mix until they do. I might be 5ft 4 and a half with the upper arm strength of a toddler but I will not stop, under any circumstance, until they do. And I'll do it on my tiptoes" After all we had 2 hours and thirty minutes to make a sponge cake, I thought it wise to spend a bit of extra time at the beginning beating the mix into submission, getting as much air into it as I possibly could, rather than trying to rectify a flat cake following the baking of the mix. 

So beat it I did whilst reciting over and over in my head (I may have even been humming under my breath) "just beat it, beat it, beat it, beat it, no one wants to be defeated. Showin' how funky strong is your fight, it doesn't matter who's wrong or right, just beat it." After about 6 minutes most people in the class had their cakes in the oven but the guys were still going strong, and so was I. Finally one of them stopped, and although my entire body wanted to also, my determination wouldn't allow it. Two minutes later the guy to my left stopped beating and so did I. 

The powerful song lyrics, paired with my determination not to quit before the lads thankfully resulted in a cake which rose beautifully. I'd go as far as to say that it rose as well as the cakes I'd prepared during my practise run which I (naughtily) made using the Kitchen Aid for speed. 

On this occasion both my jam and buttercream worked out perfectly, my cake was moist as intended and well soaked in the imbibage (alcoholic raspberry soak). I masked the cake as best I could and decorated it using the almonds, raspberries and chocolate provided. By the time I was finished my genoise looked good enough to eat and in my eyes, good enough to pass. I can only hope that the chefs agree. So there you have it, I think I did well. 

Following my exams, and all that beating, I treated myself to a macaron. It seemed only right. Down to Selfridges I went where I was delighted to find that the Pierre Hermes counter had begun selling the special Christmas edition macarons: white truffle and roasted piedmont hazelnut slithers and chocolate, caramel and gingerbread spices. I thought it silly to try and choose between the two so I had both, but just look at the detail which goes into each tiny macaron...they were absolutely divine. 

Sadly, other than making my exam dishes over and over again, my oven has been cold and I've baked nothing. All my time this week has gone into revising and practising my exam dishes and I hope that this time next week I'll be able to tell you that it was all worth it. 

I suppose this week has been about reflecting upon the past two months, more than just revising. I've reflected on the changes made and the new challenge I've set myself and I'm happy with the progress I'm making and where my adventure is taking me. I shall keep thinking positive thoughts until Tuesday and I'll let you know how things work out. 

Next week on my path to patissiere I'll be making truffles au chocolate blanc et kitsch (music to my ears - I bloomin' LOVE kirsch), truffles au chocolate noir et rhum (who doesn't love rum) and muscadines...which I've never heard of but they sound delicious and I cannot wait to taste them and find out more about them. After that, I'll be baking up some treats for friends who are visiting at the weekend and then I shall be preparing myself for my second and last challenge of the year. The Ritz! All will be revealed next week :o) 

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

Le Cordon Bleu week 6 - CAKE!

Finally, after just about making it through custard week 1 and 2, the making and baking of puff pastry, short crust pasty, sweet pastry, fruit salad, tarte au citron, tarte aux pommes, meringues made three ways, lemon meringue pie, coffee eclairs, creme caramel and a burnt creme brulee it was time to move onto CAKES!

Naturally, having come from a very cakey background this filled me with much joy, excitement and anticipation. Surely, this had to be my best week yet! But, not wanting to be over confident I decided to take things in my stride. After all, the past 5 weeks have taught me that everything I thought I knew was wrong and every little trick of the cake baking trade I'd learnt over the years I needed to quickly forget, because at Le Cordon Bleu I'm being classically trained which means whisking...with a whisk. No short cuts. 

Rather than beginning my week as I've done before, by researching the bakes ahead of me immediately due to my excitement, I postponed my research in favour of taking a trip back to the city I like to call home, Bristol. With the key to my old house still in my pocket, I snuck in and whilst my friends were still at work, I cooked up a huge spaghetti bolognese and a chocolate tart for pudding. As you do. After all, home is where the tart is ;o) I like to call this 'baking and entering', however it was a little tricky explaining the concept to the neighbours when I popped over seeking a rolling pin and sieve, without it sounding like I was up to no good. The following day I made a plum and creme patisserie tart with the left over pate sucree. Both were very well received and proved to be great practise for me. Edible homework is the best! 

Upon my return to London it was back to business and excited by the task ahead of me I began flicking through my cookery books to learn more about my bakes. This week, beautiful burnt butter madeleines, gateau au citron and a genioise a le confiture de framboises. Even the names of the dishes sound delicious. 

Having always loved the simple but charming appearance of the palm sizes snack that is the madeleine I was excited to learn more about it. Surrounded by romantic fables, the origins are sadly not set in stone, however it was thought that, given their scallop like shape, that they were first baked in the town of Commercy, in Alsace-Lorraine. Some suggest that a servant of the disposed king of Poland, Stanislaw Leszcynski, began baking these delightful cakes in real scallop shells taken from the coast line, and handing them out to pilgrims travelling through the town on their way to Santiago de Compostela in Spain during the eighteenth century. Over the years the baking tins have changed, resulting in a narrower snack which lends itself very well to dunking. 

In France, dunking is exactly what these cakes are baked for (no rich tea or chocolate digestive will be found in the hands of our frog eating friends) and for many, the dunking of a madeleine is habitual. Enjoyed with tea, coffee, hot chocolate or milk, these cakes are a hit with the old and young alike. Baked with brown butter, or beurre noisette, they are sweet with a hint of nuttiness. Due to the way the tins are lined, they have a slightly crisp, caramelised outer and of course, look like a sea shell on their underside and have a nipple on top. 

Chef couldn't bring himself to say the word 'nipple' in demo - and I don't blame him. Stood in front of a class of 60 odd girls, it's not really something you want to get into! However interestingly, the nipple is formed in the oven due to the pressure of the mix. As the butter within the batter begins to melt and the chemical reaction between the baking powder and other ingredients takes place, the mixture is forced upwards to create these perfect little domes. I was incredibly excited to bake madeleines. As mentioned in my previous post, I've been on the look out for a vintage tin for many years and haven't yet found one so I've never gotten around to making them. Dad has been put on look out duty and is currently scouring every charity shops baking section in the county of Worcestershire. He does love a challenge so I doubt it'll be long before he hunt proves to be fruitful.

Following demo I finally had the chance to bake madelines! 18 to be exact. This was a slightly more complex mix than I'd imagined, and one that needed to be handled with the upmost care. First I prepared my beurre noisette, a simple task which involved essentially burning my butter. It didn't look partially pleasant but it smelt fantastic. Almost like the smell of chestnuts being roasted by the street vendors in London at Christmas time. Once cool, into the flour, baking powder, egg and sugar the burnt better went, along with honey and lemon zest. The mixture was then chilled whilst the tins were buttered, chilled, buttered a second time and then coated with soft flour. 

When sufficiently chilled, preventing the chemical reaction taking place outside of the oven, the mixture was piped into the madeleine tins and immediately baked. The instant they were ready they were turned out of their trays and not one of us in the room could stop ourselves drooling at the sight before us. The smell that filled the room was just to much and when chef wasn't looking, into our mouths they went. Heaven. 

The next task during this practical session was to bake a lemon cake, or a gateau au citron. Often referred to in the UK as a pound cake due to it's equal quantities and overall weight, this cake wasn't a challenge for me. Into a lined tin went the mix, this was then baked for 35 minutes, during which time we prepared candied lemon julienne which was to be used as decoration, as well as a lemon juice glacage which was used to soak the cake making it super moist and truly scrumptious. 

Upon marking, chef gave my lemon cake a good squeeze, "oooh" he said "this is a very well soaked cake! This is going to taste delicious, well done!" He also complimented me on my madeleines and my overall presentation of both dishes before signing my grading sheet and moving onto the next student. I was happy with that, and even more happy at the thought of tucking into a madeleine or three on my walk home. 

As promised, I halved my bakes and the homeless men of Old Street tube station enjoyed hot madeleines and gateau au citron just before bed time. The remaining half I took with me on the train to Lemington Spa to be enjoyed with friends over tea this afternoon! Cakes on a train, not to be mistaken for snakes on a plane. 

The last challenge of the week was the Genoise a la confiture de framboises – a very fancy title, translating to a Genoise sponge layered with raspberry jam. It made me giggle when I told a friend what I was due to make and she responded with “so basically a Vic sponge cake yeah? Easy!” Oh how I wish it were but being our third and final exam dish, I knew that ‘easy’ wasn’t a word to be associated with this cake.

Knowing very little about the Genoise sponge I set about investigating it thoroughly. Sadly I couldn’t find a patisserie in Bristol that sold any Genoise in order for me to sample this light and fluffy sponge prior to my class, but I was able to hunt down some macarons which instantly made everything better. Looking into the origins of the cake, I discovered that its creator was an Italian pastry chef, rumoured to come from the Italian city of the same name. As with many of our patisserie favourites the sponge was created in France, during the French revolution. Other than this vague top line, not much was said about this cake. 

Luckily I did find an article titled ‘how to make whisked sponges’ in a Le Cordon Bleu cookery course magazine dated 1969 which was given to me by a friend. This certainly helped to shed a little more light, although the food photography left much to be desired! The tips and methods covered in the article were of course well over 45 years old, but I came to the conclusion that the classical techniques couldn’t have changed much in this time and might in fact help me if correctly integrated.

“Whisked sponges are the lightest of all cakes”, the article read. “They contain only a small proportion of flour and their texture depends almost entirely on the amount of air beaten in with the egg”.

Great. So the success of my cake essentially depended entirely on my upper arm strength. I felt a sudden wave of nerves wash over me as I dropped to the floor and into the plank position which I held for 3 minutes and followed by several rounds of press ups in the hope that the additional exercise would put me in good stead for my forth coming whiskathon. It didn’t.

Following the demo, the whiskathon began. Into the kitchen we went and into a large bowl we placed the eggs and caster sugar. The bowl was then positioned over a bain marie and the contents, beaten. 2 minutes in and I’d reached the foam stage but my mix hadn’t really grown much in size. My arm began to ache. 4 minutes in, the sugar had successfully dissolved into the egg mix, which had grown significantly, but my wrist was telling me it was time to stop for a break. I ignored the nagging feeling and continued as best I could. 5 minutes in and I agreed with my wrist and stopped, only to be told by Chef not to stop even for a second for fear of loosing time and air.

6 minutes in and my mix had grown further but it was far from the desired ribbon stage. I thought back to the article I’d read only the night before “the cake batter is ready when a little lifted on the whisk falls in a thick ribbon on the mixture in the bowl and holds its shape”. It wasn’t holding so I continued to whisk with as much vigour as I could muster.  

8 minutes in and I’d started to loose all sensation in my hand but sadly I still hadn't achieved the ribbon needed to move onto the inclusion of the flour. 9 minutes… all feeling had now gone from my hand, my wrist was starting to cramp and my shoulder was begging for the torture to end. I powered on. Ten minutes in and I was contemplating crying in the hope that Chef might take pity on me and help, but then I tested my mix and to my delight the magic had happened and my ribbon held its shape!! I almost cried anyway just because I was so happy to see the elusive ribbon and also because I still couldn’t feel my hand.

Trying to ignore the lack of sensation in my fingers, I grabbed my pre sieved flour and begin sieving it for a third time directly into the mix in small inclusion. Chef suggested the flour should be sieved twice during demo to ensure it was sufficiently aerated; the article recommended this be done three times. I saw no harm in giving the flour a third airing so carried on as such. After each flour inclusion I gently and delicately incorporated my flour into the sugared eggs, trying my absolute best not to loose any of the air I’d worked so hard to include but with each turn my mixture became flatter and flatter. “Not to worry”, I thought “the mixture is bound to puff up nicely once in the oven”, so I kept turning my batter, as instructed, making sure that every ounce of flour was mixed in well. I then poured my flat looking cake mix into an 8 inch pan, popped it in the oven, crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.

Whilst in the oven, I prepped the meringue butter cream which was to be used to mask the cake, made my raspberry jam and prepped the sugar syrup used to soak the delicate sponge. Within a flash the oven timer sounded and it was the moment of truth…bugger, mine hadn’t risen nearly as much as I’d expected or hoped! I looked around the class and luckily I wasn’t alone. I cut my cake in two, soaked the delicate sponges with sugar syrup and tried desperately to think of a plan to salvage my cake. The funny thing is, I knew it wasn't going to rise. I knew I'd over stirred and in my mind there was only one way to rectify my pancake like sponge – a thick buttercream filling. 

On to the base of the cake I piped not one, but two layers of buttercream which the top of my cake floated perfectly above. I then masked the entire sponge with buttercream, as instructed and set about decorating my slightly taller cake as best I could. Around the base I patted on a thin line of toasted almonds, and on top, I piped a design I’d conjured up over my lunch break. This was done using a combination of buttercream and melted piping chocolate.

Luckily for me, on this occasion, the inside of my cake wasn’t being marked. The same cannot be said if this recipe comes up during my practical exam in a few weeks time! Thankfully, Chef complimented my efforts and joked that in future perhaps I needed a stepladder to make the whisking of my eggs a little easier. I suggested an electric whisk would be more useful and perhaps a few of the other tools I have in my baking box at home such as a cake wire and mini pallet knife, all of which we’re forbidden from use.

Thankfully my decorating saved the day. Chef loved my design and recommended that I practise it a few times prior to the exam, just to perfect it, in case this dish should come up. He said it was simple, elegant, made good use of the space available but didn’t overcrowd or dominate. He did however mention that my lines were a little on the thick side. Never again shall I try to shade using chocolate. I breathed a huge sigh of relief – my dish would have passed the exam he said! Hurray!

During our practical de briefing Chef advised us to invest in can or two of Tesco value shaving foam. I strange suggestion I thought to myself, but it had been a long week. Jokes aside, he said that the consistency exactly mimics that of piping meringue and the meringue butter cream we’d just used to cover our cakes! A great insider tip to make practise a little less expensive and wasteful.

Happy with my week’s progress I went home laden with cake. A cake that looked a little like this...

Next week on my path to patisserie we continue with cake, covering a few more of the basic sponges used in classical French baking and we shall also be looking at les cremes bavaroises et mousses...which I'll be honest, I've never heard of but after a quick google, I think it looks very, very pretty so I can't wait to get back in the kitchen! Week 7 - I'm ready for you. 

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