Gastronomicom I- A Brief Introduction

The preparation of good food is merely another expression of art, one of the joys of civilized living. – Dione Lucas

I am here, in Cap d'Agde in the South of France. I am sore and exhausted and more full of life than I can remember. I've never slept this well. I've never cooked this well. I've never learned this well. How do you articulate the realization of a dream? The taste and smell of adventure? Where do I begin?

My days are structured. The bus comes to the Residence at 7:56. We ride by vineyards, stark and naked under the gray winter sky, and in the distance the sea on the horizon stretches dark and stormy up and down the coast. Sometimes the sun rising lights up the sky in pinks and oranges and purples seemingly on all sides. Sometimes a gentle, lulling fog wraps around the cape making it that much harder to get out of bed. We arrive at our stop and nearly empty the bus.

We walk down the sloping hills of the Baldy neighborhood to the school. Past a Michelin guide restaurant, a hot tub store, a gym, a food wholesaler... We're a scattered line of students from 25 different countries chatting in the sun or the rain. Our love of food and France are the initial ties that bind.

School starts at 9 so we have a little under an hour to queue up for the coffee machine, eat our breakfasts, cruise the internet, make plans and guess at the day ahead. We change out of our street clothes into our uniforms and wait for the warning bell that we have five minutes to class. We gather loosely outside the two kitchens: one for pastry and one for cuisine, until the second bell invites us in.

'Bonjour chef's and hands washed, tables wiped, stations set-up and menus referenced; we're ready. We watch Chef demonstrate and explain. Writing words in French on the wall in marker. Chopping without looking down. Stirring. Melting. Tempering. Emulsifying and discussing with us the finer points of the dish and technique. Some days are prescriptive. Some days we're given ingredients and told to create. I have cuisine in the morning so the start of my day is with cold starters, hot starters, seafood, meats and sauces. I chop, sweat, blanche, stir, sieve, bake, steam, fold, cut, roll, crush and plate. Of course these are the English words for these things. There are rolling French terms for everything we do. The words that have shaped French, and some might argue global, cuisine. Once instructed, or reminded or corrected we always answer 'Oui Chef.'

"Alors, you do enough and more will be too much."
"Oui Chef"

Three hours in the morning. Three hours in the afternoon. One hour for lunch. My schedule is cuisine, lunch, pastry.

We're partnered with new people each week and work in pairs. We cook side-by-side and face-to-face. We make mistakes. We help others not to do the same. We grab extra for our benchmate. We save over-boiling pots for our neighbors.  We fail together. We succeed together. We move quickly and are aware of each other, the kitchen, the food and the end-goal. Every motion has a purpose. Has an intended result. It's fast. It's hectic. It's amazing.

Lemon and Raspberry Tarts

And we're students so, naturally, sometimes we break a sauce or drop a pan or waste an egg. Sometimes we use three potatoes to get it right when one was all we needed. That's part of the learning process. We're given independence and creative license but Chef is never far if there's a question or concern or a macaron with a spotted and crinkled top.

And of course we taste! We taste, season, correct, adjust, steal bites, reference Chef's and sometimes start all over again. We plate gorgeous, landscaped dishes. We pipe, glaze, and delicately lay gold leaf on raspberries. Precision and care in everything we do.

And we clean. Thorough kitchen cleanings after each class. Dishes, floors, tables and on. Just as we're expected to be clean and neat, so the kitchens must be.

There's no way for me to put in writing everything I've learned. In and out of the classroom. This continues to be one of the most amazing things I've ever been lucky enough to be apart of. And of course I don't want it to end. Not yet.

So I've decided to stay. One more month. I want the chance to challenge myself to intermediate cuisine and take French. Pastry has been overwhelmingly educational but my heart lies with cuisine. I'm extending through the next session and I can only thank my family, friends and network for sending me onward with their blessings.

I miss home. But I'm not done yet. You do enough and more will be too much.

Sea bass tartare on a duxelle tart with beet root and fish skin flakes