Graduation: A Few Words of Thanks

Friends:  Friday night was graduation at the National Gallery of Canada.  I had an amazing evening meeting the families and friends of my classmates, and sharing more than a few hugs.  And, oh yeah... a jacket with my name on it and a silver medal!

What’s more is that I had the special honour of speaking on behalf of the students in front of a few hundred invited guests.  While that might seem like a task with a bit of pressure attached, it was actually rather easy, especially after having written this blog for the last number of months. I knew what I wanted to say and what needed to be said.

But before I tell you what I said, I think it’s time to put some names to the talented and remarkable people you have thus far known only as "the Chefs".  You can check out their rather impressive biographies here.

Chef Gilles (aka Chef 1).  Chef Gilles was a Chef instructor at the school when I did Basic Cuisine more than two years ago, and was the instructor for the first part of Intermediate Cuisine. I may be the only person in the history of Le Cordon Bleu Ottawa who overseasoned something for his palate. A sidelong stare over his glasses was enough for me to know that my dish wasn’t quite what he expected of me.

Chef Didier (aka Chef 2).  I can’t say enough good things about Chef Didier. While he sometimes struggled to explain things in English, he was a master of showing us what to do.  I never had trouble getting up early in the morning for one of Chef Didier’s classes because I knew I was going to learn something worthwhile. A pat on the back or “congratulations!” from Chef Didier was enough to make my day.

Chef Frédéric (aka Chef 3).  That thing on your plate you wished would disappear?  Chef Frédéric  would find it, but he would also respect you if you worked hard, asked smart questions, and tried to do better. I soon came to realize that it wasn’t that hard to get a smile out of the Chef: a self-deprecating or slightly salty joke could get him laughing nearly every time.

So here’s what I had to say.  I think I summed it up pretty well.

Good evening Chefs, family, friends, staff, and most of all, fellow graduates!

Well, we did it, didn’t we!?

Over the last three months, six months, nine months, or even longer, we’ve all been on a journey  - a journey of learning the ins-and-outs of cuisine and pastry, but also a journey of learning about ourselves.  Each of us has tested our skills, our memories, and on more than a few occasions our tolerance for pain, exhaustion, and criticism.

We’ve burned things (including ourselves!) and dropped things.  We’ve cut ourselves, had meringues fail. We’ve underseasoned, and overseasoned.  We’ve had sauces break and made grainy caramel.  And in my case, on one rather notable occasion, I served duck that was, ummm… so raw it was still quacking.  Sorry about that Chef Frédéric!  I’ll remember – it's not duck tartare!

But we’ve also had moments when we walked out of a practical class or a workshop tired but happy – maybe because of a really beautiful cake or an almost perfect dish. Or maybe because Chef Didier looked at our plate and said “C’est trés joli!”

Or maybe it was because we surprised ourselves with what we had learned and how far we’d come.

And that learning is thanks to a special group of people – our Chefs.

Without the Chefs, Le Cordon Bleu would not be Le Cordon Bleu.  Their collective talent, experience, and skill as teachers is what got us here today.

In particular, I’d like to thank three of the Chefs. 

Chef Gilles – Thank you for welcoming me back to LCB after a long absence.  Thank you for your honest and fair comments about my work, and for your sly sense of humour.  I swear I will hear you shouting “Allez allez allez!” whenever I get in the weeds.

Chef Frédéric – Coming right from the industry, you brought a fresh perspective to our class.  You beat us up a little at first (I don’t think any of us will ever forget those quails!), but we quickly figured out that you meant well, and wanted us to be ready for what awaits us after graduation – timing and details are important! A compliment from you about our plates wasn’t always easy to get, but when we got one, we knew we had truly earned it.

Chef Didier –  Je peux pas vous remercier assez pour tous j’ai appris chez Cuisine Superieure.  Vous avez apporté si tant d’experience, connaissance et de joie à nos classes.  Vous nous avez enseigné si tant de choses qui peu transformer une bonne assiette à une magnifique assiette!  J’ai seulement le regret que je ne puisse pas vous cotoyer plus longetemps et apprendre d’avantage!

And to the other Chefs – Chef Phillippe, Chef Armando in the production kitchen, Chef Yannick in the Bistro, and pastry Chefs Hervé, Jocelyn, Eric and Arnaud – thank you for being excellent resources.  We never felt we couldn’t ask you questions (even dumb ones!) and for helping to make our experience that much better.

And that’s the key to the Cordon Bleu experience – we have amazing Chefs who want to teach us everything they know – and we need only ask.  We have the opportunity to learn that goes far beyond the demos, the practicals and the workshops.  We have hours in the production kitchen were we might be asked to do something we’ve never done.  We get to help a Chef with a demo, or assist with a short course (an experience I highly recommend, by the way!).  We get a chance to work in the kitchen in the Bistro and in the dining room.  These are great opportunities – a wise person takes advantage of them because you always learn something new.

And one last thought – I started at Le Cordon Bleu two and a half years ago doing the Basic Intensive Cuisine program.  I never intended to come back for Intermediate, let alone Superior.  But I did notice something interesting had happened. When I’d go for a job interview, the first question in nearly all cases wasn’t my qualifications for the completely non-food related job, it was: Wow… you went to Le Cordon Bleu?  Tell me about it! When friends would introduce me to new people they would say:  This is Sarah, she studied at Le Cordon Bleu.  People ask because they know the Cordon Bleu means something special. It means that regardless of whether you go forward into a career in the industry, or if today is the end of the experience for you, you have done something very special.  And it means we all have a whole lot to live up to.

So, on behalf of all the students, I thank Le Cordon Bleu Ottawa, the Chefs, and our friends and families.  We could not have done it without you.

Let’s wrap this up and get some champagne, shall we?  We have some celebrating to do!

The Sweet Taste of Success

Friends:  A little earlier this afternoon I found out that I passed my final exam!

 <insert rockstar howl here!>

Yesterday's exam was a pressure cooker.  Three and a quarter hours to plate appetizers and mains for two doesn't sound that hard, but with an original menu, a crowded kitchen, mandatory ingredients and techniques and the accumulated pressure, it was hard.  Very hard.

When I submitted my recipes nearly two weeks ago, I was pretty confident that I'd chosen well - the ingredients, while not my favourites, were easy enough, and I was sure that I knew my techniques well enough that it would be fine.

On my menu:  salmon and shrimp mousse napoleon with wilted spinach, sauce hollandaise and red pepper sauce.   A replay on something similar I had done on the white box exercise a few weeks ago.  The main was chicken ballotine stuffed with chicken liver farce a gratin with apple and shiitake mushrooms, herbed spaetzle, beet puree, a "breadstick" made with pate a choux, and a little salad of parsley and yellow summer squash with mushroom infused oil.  Nothing difficult about any of these techniques.

I had nearly two weeks to fuss with my recipes and did I ever!  I timed things, second-guessed things, re-ordered everything.  While I was nervous, I was nowhere as freaked out as I was before the Intermediate exam where I had to have memorized nearly a dozen dishes from class.  This was my stuff - what could go wrong?

Well.... a lot, actually.

The other group of Superior students did their exam on Monday afternoon, and by most accounts it was a bit of a shit show.  Pots on fire, a shattered blender, and a good deal of angst.  The problem, as I came to understand it, is that most people spent too much time on their appetizers, and then scrambled to finish their mains in the remaining time.  And when each minute late costs you two percent of your exam mark, this is a very bad thing.

But even with that knowledge under my hat I still had similar problems on the exam.  By luck of the draw I was cursed with one of the most annoying stations in the kitchen - the one where I would have to share an oven with someone, where I would have to bump someone out of the way each time I wanted to open my fridge, and where I was in the furthest possible place from a sink, a garbage can, the dishpit, and any shared tools.

When I finally walked into the room on Tuesday afternoon I was anxious, but optimistic. The first half an hour passed in a flash, with a little humour even.

I had packed every tool I could think of from my kitchen that might help me: grater, ramekins, parchment paper, plastic wrap, etc.  Chef 3 was slightly amused.

"Did you bring your entire kitchen with you Sarah?"

"Yes I did Chef!"

The rest of the exam was a blur.  I tried to keep focussed on making sure the mise en place was coming along for the main even though I had to get the appetizer done first.  I knew that if I didn't have my chicken ballotine poached and resting by the time the appetizer was on the plate, I would be screwed.  And I kept to that schedule, and it seemed to be working.

Yikes - the rest of my main plate?  The spaetzle, beet puree, etc?  I didn't keep on top of those as well as I should have. I started to freak out a little in the last half hour.

Somehow, I got it all on the plate.  It didn't exactly look the way I had envisioned and I cut more than a few corners.  I might have been one or two minutes late plating my main, but I'm really not sure.  But food was on plates, I think it was edible, and I was exhausted.

And then the waiting began.  In typical Cordon Bleu style, we had to wait for an email from the school telling us we passed.  A phone call was a bad thing.  I slept reasonably well last night (though I did wake up at 4:30 in the morning after a freaky dream about carrots), but I started driving myself quietly crazy by mid-morning.

Shortly after noon I had to get out of the house before I started chewing the furniture, so I set about doing some busywork errands like picking up cleaning supplies from Canadian Tire and some groceries at the store nearby.

It was while I was in the grocery store that I got the email.  I think I let out a sound somewhere between a primal scream and a gagging noise and nearly walked into a display of dried pasta.  I PASSED!

Since then I have been absolutely overwhelmed by all the congratulations.  I called and texted a few of my closest friends and family right away, but I let most other people know via that very 21st century tool: Facebook.  Since then I have had more than 50 "Likes" and lots of comments from friends all over the world, many of whom I never knew were interested in my little adventure.  I'm so grateful and so very happy.

There's a whole lot more to say, but I'll save it for a few days.  Stay tuned... it's not over!

The Day Before

So here I am.... the day before my final exam.

I've spent the better part of the last week practicing my exam dishes and quietly freaking out.  I'm usually pretty calm under pressure, but there is nothing quite like the formality of an exam to get the adrenaline going.

I've made all the components of my dishes several times. I've timed everything, re-ordered my mise en place several times, and looked for every shortcut possible.  I've made part of my dishes without measuring, just to see what happens.  I've tried shaving time off the complicated parts, just to see what might be the worst case scenario if I get in the weeds.

And, all things considered, it's been pretty good.

My uniform is washed, starched, pressed, and in my locker at school.  My tools are all sparkling clean, my knives sharp.  I'm not sure I can do anything more except get a good night's sleep tonight and try to remind myself of a few important truths:

1. These are my dishes.  I created them because they work for me and I know what I'm doing.

2. I'm not going to forget everything I've learned on one day.  All the practice and good instincts will help me if things start going wrong.

3. It's just a test.  If I can do as well as I do on most practicals I'll be fine.

Exam starts just after 1:30PM tomorrow.  Wish me luck.

The Point of Nori-Turn

Today was lesson 19 of 19 - the last demonstration and practical of the Superior term.  Time for a little more fun, in this case with sushi and vegetable carving.

Sushi?  At Le Cordon Bleu?  Indeed!  We are fortunate to have among the Chefs at LCB a master of sushi, so why not, eh? For our purposes today, I’m calling him Chef 6.  Chef 6 is generally known at the school as the master of the production kitchen.  While much of his work involves making sure the school is properly stocked for our classes and managing the folks making the daily staff meals, he steps out of that job to teach classes in sushi, vegetable carving, ice carving, and on more than a few occasions to create amazing sculptures for special events. 

Just last week I was messing around in the production kitchen with one of the staff trying to iron out the details for my Black Box exam, and I had the privilege of watching him prepare some sculptures for the school open house that weekend, part of the Ottawa “Doors Open” event. 

“So Chef, after the class next week I’ll be able to carve just like you?”

<crickets chirping>

“Of course.”

Yeah…. Right.

When I spent some time in Thailand a few years ago I took a short class in fruit and vegetable carving.  It was a one-on-one thing and, I must admit, I was kind of all thumbs at it, even with lots of help.  But it’s a beautiful art, one that I wish I had more time to study, so I’ve been looking forward to his class all term.  I even went to the expense of picking up a carving tools kit last weekend and proceeded to stab myself several times trying to practice at home.  Some interesting new wounds, but no greater insight.

So bright and early this morning our class enjoyed a demonstration of rolling maki-sushi and carving.  Chef 6 is clearly a master and makes it look easy.  I mean, this is what he came up with in about three hours.  Nice lunch, eh?

 

I took notes and made little diagrams to help me in the afternoon practical, but I have to admit I gave up when it came to the turnip swan.  Clearly a hands-on only thing… pointless to try to describe it.

The practical class itself was a lot of fun.  No pressure, and lots of time to make mistakes.  My partner and I actually came up with a pretty decent little sculpture in a little over two hours.  I think a little of my previous knowledge came in a bit handy, and Chef 6’s techniques were a LOT  easier than what I had learned before.  And I only punctured my thumb once!

 

But now that this class is over, we have just one more workshop, then a few days to practice and study for our final exam.  I submitted my recipes last week right before the deadline, and as of now have tested most of the components/techniques at least once.  I’ll certainly be making them several times more, and will do at least one “stopwatch” practice before the exam next Tuesday afternoon.

And, true to my usual form, the pre-exam stress is kicking in, only much earlier this time.  The crazy dreams have  started too – last night a weird, disjointed thing about one of the Chefs teaching me to ski on an icy hill (I do know how to ski, but in the dream it seems I had forgotten) and somehow ending up with a basket on exam day that contained none of my requested ingredients.  But you know what was in the basket in my dream?  Bubblegum.  I’m going to take that as a good omen!