What does a culinary school student do on the weekend? Go to culinary school, of course!
Posted on | February 8, 2010
The two most interesting students at the consumer baking class I took this weekend stepped, I swear, right out of the Soprano’s. The mother, for it was a mother / daughter team, was a rail thin, make-up caked, bottle blonde loaded with jangling bracelets and necklaces, all gold, and buoyed with the most impressive rack I have ever seen.
And I saw a lot of that rack. Because she decided that a skin-tight, gray, four-sizes-too-small designer track suit was de rigueur for baking. An outfit she completed, most predictably, with a truly impressive wad of putty-colored gum. And I saw almost as much of that gum as I did of her twin peaks.
But lest you think that her bosom and gum were the only bizarre things in the room, you have to remember her daughter was there, too.
A daughter who got her dressing cues and gum-chewing manners from her mother.
And why were this mother / daughter team and a host of other characters at culinary school with me bright and early on a Saturday morning? Why to bake. Of course.
What kind of bread do elves eat?
~ Shortbread!
I have an nice arrangement with She Chef: I can take her classes as long as I help with the clean-up. So, today, I attended her bread baking class.
There were four breads on the agenda: Braided butter bread, focaccia, baguette, and cheese rolls.
Now, I had tried the baguette recipe during pastry week in culinary school, so I wasn’t interested in doing that again. And the Chef had made my team cheese rolls to use for our sliders in the second term lunch live fire. And I wasn’t interested in those. But I wanted to learn how to braid bread and I never met a focaccia I didn’t like, so that was my focus.
First, as usual, the Chef demonstrated the breads. Then, she told us we had to work in teams of two.
Which meant I had to find someone to work with.
Why did the cookie go to the doctor?
~ Because it felt crummy!
Here were my options.
On my right there was a sweet-looking, plump, short Chinese lady who, it turned out, wore a wool hat through the entire class. In the kitchen. Where the ovens were blazing. The whole time.
It was a wonder she didn’t pass out from the heat.
Next to her, there was a grim-looking older man who wore steel-rimmed glasses, a denim shirt, and took the whole job of baking seriously, very seriously, damn you.
She instantly latched onto him, giggling and flirting, flirting and giggling.
When classes ended, he got out of there so fast, there were tread marks on the floor.
On my left was an older couple. She had enormous yellow teeth and thick pink gums and, despite these impediments, an absolutely infectious smile. He wore a Chef’s jacket that was clearly two sizes too small (he told me he had a wardrobe full of them) and was very intent on baking.
Baking to him included lots and lots of flour. Everywhere.
They were both very chatty and very interested in telling anyone who was not moving fast enough about their past cooking experiences. Their stories were a bit, well, lengthy, but they were so enthusiastic that you were left mildly befuddled and with a gently sense of euphoria.
They were a lovely couple.
Of course, there was the mafia-style mother and daughter team and their matching sets of breasts and gum. Predictably, they wanted to work together. But, not so predictably, at one point I caught the mother cleaning some flour she spilled on the floor (consumers are typically insanely messy cooks who clean nothing, at any point, regardless of how dirty it is). I was impressed.
(Interestingly, the daughter, who is enrolled to start culinary school in a month, was not bothering to help her mother at all. Heaven help her once Motorcycle Chef gets hold of her!)
Finally, there was a young woman, fresh out of high school, who, also, was enrolled to start culinary school in a month. So, by default, she was my partner.
The only problem was, I was not in a partner mood.
What did the baker do when his shop got caught on fire?
~ He got his buns outta there!
As I was not feeling like partnering, and as I was only interested in making two out of the four breads, I turned to my partner and said, “Hey, how about I make the bread while you make the baguette?”
“Okay,” she said.
That was one of her longer sentences.
So I made the dough, then put it to one side to rise.
“Hey, while my bread dough is rising, how about I make the focaccia while you make the cheese rolls?”
“Okay,” she said.
So I made my focaccia dough and put it, too, to rise.
Then I cleaned up the kitchen as much as I could and, once my bread dough had risen, split it into two (to make two loaves) and split each of those into three sections (so they could be braided), then rolled out and braided my dough.
Some people had troubles with it. But I found it silly easy. I mean, girl here. Girl who had long hair when she was young. Girl who had long hair and braids.
Braiding is like riding a bike; you never forget how.
Next, a light egg wash, and a sprinkle with poppy seeds on one and sesame seeds on the other, and into the oven.
As the bread was baking, I topped my focaccia with olive oil, rock salt, and minced rosemary. And it, too went into the oven.
When I brought my bread and focaccia home, my husband said both the focaccia and the braided breads were professional-quality, but he loved the focaccia best and I should listen to him because he is Italian and he knows about this stuff so there.
It was good. But the braided bread was tastier. And it was pretty, too.
Why does a chicken coop have two doors?
~ Because if it had four doors, it would be a chicken sedan!
I helped my partner make her cheese rolls, helped other students get equipment (we were, after all, working in my kitchen, so I knew where things were), helped keep things as clean as possible while the students were working, and when everyone had gone, helped the Chef and her pastry student helper clean the kitchen.
Student helper: “You know that woman with her daughter? When I saw her, I totally thought of the Soprano’s.”
Me: “Oh my Gawd, me too!”
She Chef: “No! I did, too. She was just like one of the New Jersey wives.”
Me: “Yeah, but she helped clean up. I saw her cleaning the floor with a piece of paper towel.”
Student helper: “Yeah, me too. That was great!”
She Chef: “But did you notice her rack?
Student helper: “Oh yeah!”
Me: “You couldn’t, not!”
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4 Responses to “What does a culinary school student do on the weekend? Go to culinary school, of course!”
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February 8th, 2010 @ 2:28 pm
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Cooking Student and Cooking Student, Jodi Lariviere. Jodi Lariviere said: Knew that was going to be a boob joke! Ha! RT @cookingstudent When is a baking rack not the only rack in the kitchen? http://bit.ly/c1BPIJ [...]
February 8th, 2010 @ 7:37 pm
You made classic challa(sp?) I made that once, I think it’s supposed to be pretty dense, but it may have been my mistake. Oh, and they say that a baker who can make a great baguette is a good baker. Just like they say about cooks and omelets.
February 10th, 2010 @ 4:39 pm
I can’t wait to make bread! I have so much fun with the baking at school. We do some kind of dessert or pastry every day and I often have more fun with that than anything else. School has turned me into a sweets person! And I know we have bread on the agenda in the next few weeks.
February 11th, 2010 @ 9:37 pm
We were supposed to make Challah in Baking I a couple weeks ago, but we got ousted out of the kitchen for some chamber of commerce bull-jank event that was giving some fundage to the school.
The reason I remember this is because I made a 20-ish year old guy laugh so hard he couldn’t breathe by saying, “Cha-laaaaaah!” (like, “hollaaaaaah!) Not sure if it was really that funny, or he was laughing at me for being 34 and saying “hollah.”