Sunday, 28 August 2016

Thank you, Paris

August 2015

Today I don't have running shoes on my feet, but my need to run- run away - physically- nearly got me sprinting through the streets of Paris with my huge red bag.

I listen to an italian song: "I'll wait for you in a city that is vanishing. Leave everything behind, leave to start over again.  If we lose its okay because we're only passing through, and what a long road there still is to go... share the love, share the love, share the love. The world is only a sea of words. It's yet so hard to explain, it doesn't matter where, it's just matters, to leave. What a long road there still is ahead. Have a good journey, my love. Wherever you go, share the love, share the love." 

Thank you Paris, for training me up for hard times. Thank you Paris, for teaching me excellence, obedience and skill.  Thank you Paris, for showing that idealism and proudness should not overtake you, and humility and honesty are perhaps just a little harder to acquire, yet their benefits are underestimated.

Thank you Paris, for teaching me to be alone, and for showing me that no matter where you are, you're the only one who can get yourself up. Thank you Paris, for allowing me to try and try again and not judging me too hard for failing.  Thank you for allowing me to succeed, eventually, and letting me know that "success" doesn't really exist.  Life is just a road of continual improvements with ups and downs. 

And thank you for introducing me to people who care, and I mean, really care.  And those people, when they smile and when they laugh it means that they truly mean it.  I thank you for letting me live in a city without falsity but just reality. 

But of all things, Paris, I thank you for teaching me the true value of the artisan and the meaning of patisserie that is hand crafted,  from the heart and the soul.  Showing me and allowing me to feel that I could - die - for this, and that suffering to such a degree means that our fight to create patisserie that is so godamn good- that is worth sacrificing everything for- that is what it means to respect and love others. And no matter what, if they are delicious artisanal breads, cakes and chocolates, they have a big part in the meaning of life. It may sound dramatic, Paris, but I mean it. You taught me that I thank you. 

Share the love
Share the love
Share the love 

Tuesday, 27 October 2015

The Softness of Temptation

I principally blog at so please check that one out!

I've arrived back in London and despite spending half the time panicking what-am-I-doing-with-my-life (please tell me I am not the only one) I have also spent a lot of time searching for the best pastry shops and bakeries in town, so thats great fun!  Not just for me but for anyone who reads this blog.  
I suppose I am a little bit of a yo-yo in the whole pastry chef and culinary food scene: one minute I am admiring top chefs who are rushing around creating incredible dishes and and then the other half I am just looking out for beautiful, artisan pastries and cakes and wishing that we did not have to be so complicated and could I please just work in a beautiful patisserie, where there is passion as there is skill but perhaps no press behind it? 

I am a big fan of finding the places that no one has found before.  I admire those secret places that don't brag about being wonderful and new but just get on with doing stuff, you know?

A few weeks ago, my sister and her boyfriend talked to me about a pastry shop and bakery called "Les Douceurs de La Tentation" in Maida Vale. (The Softness of Temptation.)  The lady who runs this patisserie bakes all the bread and makes all the pastries herself.  She works alone making baking bread at night, incredible brunches in the morning as well as coffee and has ALSO got a smile on her face.  If that's not wonderful, I don't know what is. 

I was so fascinated by what she does, I really do not think that there are many people like her.  Especially in London, everyone is so driven to become a top chef that many people forget about kind food.  No matter how many experiences I have in different kitchens I always come back to this feeling. 

8 Fernhead Road, W9 3ET

Friday, 23 October 2015

The Sugar Tax & Infinite Sugar

So we've all been following Jamie Oliver's campaign for a sugar tax on sugary drinks for a while.

A new article in the Evening Standard written by Rosund Urwin on 22 October outlined, very rightly, how the nation is addicted to sugar.  In "A tax alone won't curb the nation's sugar addiction" Urwin highlights how the sheer amount of promotions on sweets and chocolate makes anyone tempted to overload.  She's right, it's a lot cheaper to eat Maltesers for breakfast than fruit salad and nourishing yourself on Drumsticks and Double Lollies has never been so easy.  For a kid who gets a fiver pocket money a week and does maths at school knows that a bag of Flakes a day can get you through the week Monday- Friday until your parents give you some more nutritional snacks on the weekend.  (Or not.)

Now, on returning to the capital after a long time abroad in France and in Italy, I must admit that this is one of the first things I noticed as I walked into the supermarket: milk chocolate and sweets everywhere.  Sorry Britain but, what the * is going on here? Why is there such an abundance?

Sweet and chocolate promotions

Vs "healthy food" on lower less viewable aisle.

Being away, I learnt that the Italians and the French are very much into their "sugar." The French have pain au chocolat for breakfast and dessert is on the lunch menu every day and there is a boulangerie selling artisanal patisseries on every corner where kids rush to for l'heure du gouter (tea-time.)  Typically, Italians have a gelato a day and espresso with biscuits for breakfast. 

As a pastry chef, I find that promotions and advertising on sweets and chocolate is unfair.  Not only is it undervaluing sugary food, but as a result artisanal products have to be lowered in price in order to attract consumers.  It's a shame to think that bakers and passionate professionals are forced to undervalue their products for the profit of these huge industries.   In addition, journalists and nutritionists are attacking the consumption of sugar and unavoidably, artisans are getting stick for people eating too many sweet foods as well.

I see that in the UK we now pay for plastic bags which is a brilliant initiative to start thinking about ways to reduce the amount of plastic that is thrown away and to help the planet a little.  However, this is a bit of a smack in the face when you open up a bag of sweets which are individually wrapped in plastic.  Surely they should add a penny a bag?

Jamie Oliver's sugar tax is a good way of helping the NHS financially cure people who are victims of obesity and diabetes.  Jamie believes that the amount of teaspoons of sugar should be displayed on bottles, another good way of controlling the amount of sugar we drink.  And perhaps if there were fewer promotions on kinder buenos and digestive biscuits people would start developing a palate for less sugary and more refined chocolate?  We'd all be thinner and have less of a complex, the amount of plastic that pollutes the earth would be reduced and it would also open up a small path for those artisans who believe that a bit of sugar makes the world a sweeter place.

Tuesday, 20 October 2015

Saying goodbye to the Plaza Athénée

Just over a year ago, I wrote a blog post called "Finding the Masters." It was a blog post about how at that stage in my life I needed to find people who would essentially teach me what I needed to know.  

Back then, I was looking for a more intensive training, somewhere where passionate professionals would teach me a thing or two about the job.

I worked for six months as an intern in the pastry lab, working long hours and being taught by the very best.  I knew I was so lucky to have been accepted there and despite the hard work I was willing to put up with everything.  Every day was an adventure and every day I would leave either overwhelmed with inspiration or bawling my eyes out.  There never seemed to be much in between.   

In turn, I created a bond with each team member.  There were moments of love and care, laughter and joy, as there were also moments of anger and hurt, frustration and stress.  I don't think I have ever learnt any lesson more instructive than the one I learnt about there, which I'd like to say is cake, but is actually: humans. 

When I went to work as an intern, every day was difficult.  I was refused certain tasks because I was not quick enough at doing them.  However, I was allowed to make errors, and in the evening I would practice certain techniques which these pastry masters would teach me.  In turn, they would spend hours after work showing me how to make "rosaces" (rose shaped cream piping)
or "quenelles" (beautiful ice cream shapes) as well as advise me on certain pastry and cakes I would present them with.  I never realised that there were people out there who were willing to sacrifice their own time for someone else, over and over again.

After about five months of working as an intern, I asked my head chef Jean-Marie Hiblot if there was any way I could continue working there after my internship.  I couldn't quite believe how he offered me a job as a commis pastry chef.  At the end of the day, the work I had been doing (basically for free) had been in some way accumulated to offering me a solid position in the team.     

The kindness and patience that each team member had put into training me up to essentially, "be one of them" was enormous.  As they had accepted me all those months ago, they re-accepted me again.    

Working as a commis and working as an intern was a whole different story.  It was the same work, the same team, the same hours but what was expected of me was something that I had never been able to do before.  Not only work well, but also take full responsibility and show that I know this shit, not forget it, focus and do it not to the best I can, but to what was expected there.  The severity and rigidness of working to such perfection would sometimes drive me mad.  

I rebelled quite a few times about this.  I would go home and ask myself, "do I have to be an arsehole to be respected?" I asked everyone how you can be an arsehole? What qualities do arseholes have? Do they hate everything? 

Fortunately for many, I never became an arsehole, because I realised that the guys that are arseholes are actually the nicest guys, the ones that care enough to be arseholes? Hear me out.  If someone can yell so much about those utensils not being perfectly aligned,  it's not him being an arsehole it's because he genuinely believes that an orderly kitchen is VITAL to a sane working environment.  Blogfriend, I did not learn this overnight.  I think it took me over a year to process this information.

The last month working at the Plaza Athenee, I finally saw myself change for the better.  I think I kind of became a woman rather than a girl, and all of a sudden the respect that I gained got me confused about how to come about this new level of being.  I'm not saying I have become someone strict or rude, but more that I've become aware of the importance of responsibility, discipline and hard work.  

I'd just like to say thanks to those guys.  

Friday, 14 August 2015

The Chocolate Eclair

It turns out that the chapter I'm at in the book I'm reading is titled "L'eclair au Chocolat" and I am not sure if it was entirely coincidental that I walked into a deli and coffee shop who are proud to promote themselves as being elected "the best chocolate eclair in Paris 2015."

In his book, titled "Eloge Politique du Chocolat" (Political Praise of Chocolate) Serge Guerin says that the chocolate eclair is the nomads best friend, it comforts he who eats on the go and after a quick insignificant sandwich it re-donne de la vie "re-gives life."  

I must admit, when I was a child, the pastry that I craved the most on trips to Paris was the eclair, and it stays true as being one of those classic French patisseries that you can't find so easily abroad.  It is in fact, France's most popular patisserie. Perhaps that has something to do with the fact that it is not too messy to eat but hits the chocolate spot, is not too rich but rich enough...

Continuing on the chocolate eclair chapter, Guerin says that there is "the chocolate eclair and the chocolate eclair," meaning that you can either get a good one, or a bad one.  Unfortunately, a couple of weeks ago, I had a bad eclair and I actually had to throw it away.  I can't stand throwing food away, especially pastry that is (supposedly) hand made, however this was, as the French would say sans interet - with no interest.  The pastry cream was hard and the taste of coffee was insignificant.  The only true taste was the sugar from the fondant, which created a sticky sweet layer which stuck to the roof of my mouth and left me reaching for the bottle of water in my bag. 

The chocolate eclair must be creamy yet chocolatey, the choux pastry must be well cooked and the icing must be perfectly executed.  Serge Guerin writes about how real patisserie is incarnated in the artisan, in authenticity, in passion and in love.  French pastry is known for being one of the best and French techniques are used worldwide.  Those who devote themselves to pastry and chocolate do it only because they are passionate about creating great tasting desserts.  Life is about existing for others and not just for yourself.  Le patissier, the pastry chef considers his customers real human beings who deserve the very best, who understand what tastes great and should be taken care of.  Patisserie and chocolate is not like other food- it is entirely for pleasure.  We eat to survive, but we do not eat pastries as actual food but as a sinful delicacy- and that is why the importance of the sensation you get from indulging must be at the very top.

When a chocolate eclair is delicious, there is a little oasis of serenity dans ce monde de bruits fureurs in this world of brutal fury (a very common French saying!) 

Luckily, today I discovered the best chocolate eclair in Paris at Maison Pradier.  The choux pastry was cooked to perfection and not being a pastry cream (creme patissiere) but cremeux chocolat (a chocolate cream with 70% cocoa solids) it was moussey and light.  It made sense. 

The sensation that you get from eating a patisserie that is truly good is the feeling of your taste buds coming alive, your hairs on end and a smile on your face.  That sensation is what what we're searching for.

Maison Pradier
6 rue de Bourgogne
75007 Paris

Wednesday, 29 July 2015

Olia Hercules at Carousel, London

Last year, my parents phoned me telling me that neighbours of ours were opening up a supper club. My dad (being the crazy old neighbour he is) even knocked on neighbour Ollie's door to put him on the phone to me so I could talk to him about their supper club.  Our neighbour told me that they were always keen to grow their foodie network and I should pop in (get the pun) to a pop up when I was back popping. 

I typed "carousel" into Google and have been following their updates on social media for a little while, so I decided to finally pop along. The event I booked was hosted by Olia Hercules, a Ukrainian born chef and food writer. 

Funnily enough, on my way to London from Paris, I opened up the Eurostar magazine to the foodie page and found an interview with Olia Hercules in "My life in Food."  Sometimes coincidences are just too weird. 

 On attending Carousel, we were welcomed very openly by the staff and invited to get a drink and sit in the beer garden which was filled with a group of fellow food explorers. 

Olia gave a welcoming speech just before the dinner started about the menu, which was called "The Wild East," she had created and the inspirations she had from her Ukranian heritage. 

The dinner started with a shot of vodka, designed to accompany the plate of toasted rye bread served with Ukranian Salo, and fermented tomato. The idea was to take a bite of the rye bread with Salo, a sip of vodka followed by the fermented tomato. It was an explosion of flavours, a great way to start the dinner. 

The course that followed was Ukranian Green Borsch, Pulled duck with sorrel, spring onions, quail's egg and dill, served with homemade crusty sourdough bread. 

We then had Steamed pork belly manty. Absolutely delicious.

The main course was Georgian Poussin Tabaka with an assortment of different fresh salads: vegetable caviar, picked carrots, Ukranian grilled aubergines, onion, herb and pomegranate salad and tamarind, beetroot, walnut and prune salad. 

The last but obviously not least (and if anyone knows me I eat dinner just to have dessert) was "Verguny and two sauces." The pastry was served with chocolate and caramel sauce. 

A huge thanks to Olia Hercules and the Carousel team for such a brilliant supper club! 

Friday, 24 July 2015

Poem: One Art

One Art by Abigail Scheuer


The art of dining is not hard to master,
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be dined that their sugar may not be caster.

Eat something every day.  Accept the fluster 
of eaten cornflakes, that hour badly spent.
The art of dining is not hard to master.

Then practice eating farther, eating faster:
creams, and chocolate, and what it was you meant
 to taste.  None of this will bring disaster. 

I ate my mothers cake! And look, my last, or
next-to-last of three loved truffles went.
The art of dining is not hard to master.

I ate two cookies, delicious ones.  And vaster,
some brownies I devoured, some tarts, a whole pie.
I ate them, but it wasn't a disaster.

Even eating everything (the crumbly pastry, a taste I love
I shan't have lied.  It's evident 
the art of dining is not too hard to master,
though it may look like (Write it!) like caster.


One Art

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster