LETTER HOME #8: LAST WEEKS

It's insane to think that just 5 months ago I was still in Yssingeaux, anticipating my arrival in Paris and my internship. And now in only a few months I will be leaving Paris, ending my year abroad, and returning to the states and back to real life! Here is one of the email's I wrote to my family wrapping up the last few weeks of my pastry program and describing my excitement for my internship. 

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Bon Jour!

So I just finished my last week of labs and now we are moving into review and final exams. Here's hoping it all goes well! I have finally secured my internship at Pain de Sucre where I will start on the September 15th. Very exciting stuff. Of course I am terrified. Firstly, I return from California where I'll be visiting my wonderful sister and her beautiful family to have some key bonding time the day before I start my internship. Can you say, jet lag? But hopefully I'll be able to time my sleeping on the flight and train so that I won't be in a complete zombie state. Second, I am going to be surrounded by Parisians speaking french and starting a new job where I have absolutely no idea what is going on. I hate the first few weeks at a new job anyway and I'm sure that adding a nice dose of lost in translation won't make it any easier. I have accepted that the first month will probably involve a lot of confusion, feelings of stupidity, and tears, but it's all a part of life in the culinary world. C'est la vie. I'm going to have to come up with a positive mantra. But I'm sure that by the time I leave I'll be sad to go, and hope that I will make some deep connections with my fellow coworkers. 

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I have also found an apartment in Paris after many long hours of searching. Nothing in France is all that efficient and so looking for an apartment may have started as a fun little adventure but it quickly moved into a realm of annoyance and frustration. Paris is in no way cheap and so while I may not always play well with others I decided that having a roommate was essentially unavoidable. So Christy, my friend from Indonesia, and I will be living together for five months while I spend the last two months in our apartment alone. Everyone here is convinced we will kill each other but I am sure that as long as I set down, I mean we set down, some house rules things so be just fine. Plus we have completely different work schedules and so we will mostly be two ships passing in the night. Our apartment is a charming 1 bedroom with a separate living room that I will be converting into my bedroom. Nothing a privacy curtain and bed won't fix. It's much better than any of the one bedrooms I was considering and is only a 20 minute walk from my pastry shop. It's in the eleventh arrondissement on the corner of tree lined boulevard and avenue in a newly popular part of town. Apparently all the hipster kids hang out in this section and it's art, music, and chill bar scene has blossomed within the last few years. It snuggles right up against the Marais which is a very popular area but is much less expensive as far as rent goes. 

I cannot believe that I only have two more weeks here in Yssingeaux. I am happy that most of my close friends will be coming with me to Paris and so it won't be too hard to say goodbye. I will definitely appreciate an atmosphere with a bit more life in it than this po-dunk little town. Paris will be quite the 180. I know I will miss Chef Baccon and some of my friends but I am fairly certain that we will end up visiting each other while we are still in France. 

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I have attached some pictures of the last three weeks of production. We had a week of viennoiserie with Chef Baccon's husband, Mr. Chef Baccon, who was absolutely lovely! They really are a power couple and are both extremely talented chefs. It doesn't hurt that they are adorable, too. We made a bunch of beautiful breads with him including some perfectly flaky croissants. My favorite were the croissant purses with passionfruit pastry cream inside. I ate about four of them throughout the day and continued to eat the leftovers the entire week. Sugar sculpting was a bit more of a challenge though I found it to be quite fun. It's hot stuff and you have to wear dishwashing rubber gloves in order to work with the molten sugar. Luckily a past of manual labor mixed with a genetic predisposition towards dry creepy lizard hands made me ideal for the job and I was one of the only ones to come out without blisters on my fingers. We had to make a double cake stand and while I find sugar sculpture (especially in the form of cake stands) to be a little kitsch I still enjoyed it and I can see myself making sugar flowers and ribbons in the future. The ribbons were especially beautiful. 

Our last week was entremets part two, which again is just a fancy word for cakes. We made a modern black forest cake with had chocolate mousse and sour cherry coulis filling on top of a brownie base, lauraget which had a cake base similar to angel food and was topped with mango and apricot mousse with a caramelized apricot center and the whole thing was coated in a chocolate hazelnut glacage. Then we had the fraisier moderne which was by far my favorite. Not only did I score the highest in the class on this cake because of my beautiful chocolate flower (what can I say, I'm gifted) but I also found it to be the tastiest. It had a pistachio financier base, vanilla bavarian cream and a center of raspberry cream mousse and strawberry coulis. There was also a framboiser modern which was very similar to the fraisier in that it had vanilla bavarian cream and a raspberry cream mousse center, but it had a rum cake bottom and was coated in a pink glacage. We also made a coffee charlotte with a layer of vanilla bavarian cream and layer of coffee bavarian cream topped with a mountain of milk chocolate curls. And finally we made a traditional opera cake. I especially enjoyed this because we had to trim the edges and the coffee buttercream, coffee soaked cake, and ganache made for a perfect breakfast snack. 

Opera Entremet

Raspberry, Strawberry, Pistachio Entremet 

with a Chocolate flower and Chocolate Decor

Cafe and Chocolat Charlotte with Milk Chocolate Curls

Foret Noir (Black Forest Cake) Moderne

I have definitely learned a lot and I am anxious to continue expanding my culinary mind at my internship. As scary as it may be for the first few days, or month, I know it is going to be an incredible opportunity and I hope that they will trust me enough to let me get my hands dirty. 

I miss you all and hope you enjoy looking at these photos (I know I enjoyed eating the cakes). 

Much love!

Lora




Oh what a cruel mistress reality can be! And naivete and youth are so often prime victims to such truths. All the same, optimism and excitement are wonderful states of being and I hope that, though I certainly was feeling negative and pessimistic while I was in the midst of it, I can be able to return to such states prior to my other future endeavors. C'est la vie! 

LETTER HOME #7: SPAIN!

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Bonjour! 

Over the last weekend we (Camilla, Suanne, Elze, Paula and I) had Bastille day and so we were given a long holiday to enjoy ourselves. Thank you french revolution. We decided to celebrate by leaving for Spain (so really we didn't celebrate Bastille day at all) and had quite the time doing so. Pamplona is famous for the running of the bulls which is a part of a week long celebration called the San Fermin Festival. Though none of us know exactly what they're celebrating (Wikipedia informed me it's in celebration of Saint Fermin, duh) we knew that there were bulls, sangria, white outfits, red scarves, hot Spaniards, and a handful of deaths every year. Plus one of the biggest parties seen in Europe. What could keep us away?

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We stopped in Bordeaux on our way to Pamplona. Sadly we were there on Bastille Day in the morning and so everything was closed but we got to see enough of Bordeaux for me to want to go back. Hopefully Camilla will be able to do her internship there and we all have already planned on sleeping on her couch and enjoying the beauty of Bordeaux (as well as the wine). We left Bordeaux and arrived in Pamplona just as everyone's siesta was ending. Our concierge informed us that most people were recovering from the night before and that we had not missed any serious fun yet that day. So we donned on our white outfits and took the bus to the centre of old Pamplona. Though our excitement was almost overwhelming, we could not help but notice how beautiful of a city Pamplona was. A great thing about Europe is that most of the cities I have been to have "old town" which is filled to the brim with beautiful old buildings and I can't help but be charmed off of my feet, especially considering how young the US is in comparison. We wandered around for a bit, got lost, and asked a local where a good bar was for pinchos (the Basque version of tapas) and ended up in bar Gaucho which was overflowing with people. Always a good sign. We began our night of sangria, which was served in gigantic glasses almost too big for Suanne to hold onto, gave each other a "Salud" and started in on the pinchos. Everything was delicious. It ranged from miniature sandwiches which looked unimpressive but didn't fail to surprise and delight, to fried Roquefort, to toasts topped with ham swimming in a creamy cheese sauce. After finishing our sangria we started on our way around the streets of Pamplona. The last night of the bull run is actually one of the more tame nights in Pamplona and since we did not make it for any actual bull running (we aren't exactly the athletic types nor are we all that into near death experiences) we didn't get to see anything too crazy. Thank goodness. Mostly it was just a wonderful festival fiesta where people of all ages take part. I was surprised to see a good amount of children still out with their parents til late. The last event of the festival takes place at midnight in front of a church and everyone stands and sings and holds their red scarves above their heads and waves them around. Then men carrying a large fake bull with sparklers around it and fireworks shooting off of it chase all the children in a mock bull run. I was unaware of what was going on and was quite frightened at first when the crowd started running in my direction with children looking as if their feared for their life. For a moment I thought that the bull run was not over. Then I noticed the smoke and while this is usually a bad sign, this time I was put at ease, that is of course until a spark from one of the fireworks landed on my head and scorched a small spot on my scalp. This stuff would totally be illegal in the states and this wasn't even a real bull ready to gore me!

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By the end of the night (and after many glasses of sangria) we were no longer white but dripping, sticky, and purple, from pouring sangria over each other. This is part of the tradition of the San Fermin festival where people start in white and end up drenched in sangria. It was fun and after calling a truce, breaking it, then calling one again, we decided to go dancing. Paula found a Royal Marine who looked like a greek god and disappeared with him into a corner while the rest of us continued to enjoy sangria and dance. Suanne made her way to an outside bench where her camera, the only one we had from the night, got stolen as she was getting sick from one too many glasses of wine. Elze and I decided to be good motherly friends and pour her into a taxi and take her back to our hotel. Luckily I had had enough to drink that I was able to speak Spanish fairly well. I ordered Elze and I some hotdogs (which were topped with something fried and crispy and were probably some of the best hotdogs of my life), hailed us a cab, and asked the cabby en espanol to take us back to our hotel. Elze turned to me and thanked me because not only was she completely turned around, she also didn't think she could have ordered a hotdog or get back to our rooms. The three of us made our way to our room, crawled into bed, and slept. 

At nine o'clock, Camilla, who is always extremely rambunctious, came busting into our room practically jumping up and down. She had met a few men, gotten lost for four hours, and was now just returning from a night on the town. Paula, on the other hand, had managed to return around 5am and was sleeping in the largest of the two rooms which had four single beds in it, all to herself, while Suanne and I were crammed into a single of our own. Camilla pulled Suanne out of bed, dragged her to the other room, and we all fell back asleep (though Camilla of course had not been to bed yet). A few hours later Elze and I awoke to realize that we had overslept our checkout time, took the fastest showers we could (though I would have given anything to spend more time under the hot water, my head was feeling all of the sangria from the night before) and made our way to the car. The other three had, of course, over slept, and we gave them an hour before going and asking the woman at the front desk to let us into their room. We crawled to the car, forced ourselves in, and began the drive to San Sebastian. 

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One thing about beautiful european cities that can be somewhat frustrating is finding your way around them. Street signs are often hidden and the names of streets seem to change with every block. It makes it especially difficult when you're staying on a tiny one block street in a hotel that is called "Colegio Mayor." What's even harder is when the navigator (Suanne) is using her computer to figure out where to go and it dies just as you're entering the city. Though Camilla is from Guatemala and thus speaks Spanish fluently, it wasn't all that helpful since no one in San Sebastian seemed to know where to direct us. We were sent from one side of the town to the other and one man straight up told us that what we were asking him did not make any sense. Colegio Mayor isn't a hotel, he told us, it's a college. And frankly, I was beginning to get concerned that he was right. After about an hour of driving around I remembered that I had written down the directions myself. It was one of those, "wow I'm an idiot" moments but none of us were too upset at my forgetfulness since we had had a wonderful tour of beautiful San Sebastian while winding around it's old streets. The truth was that we were staying in a college. Apparently the schools turns into a hotel in the summer months when classes aren't in session. The building was beautiful and had a ton of lifelike, life size statues of people who looked to be enjoying the beach. Though these statues were a bit creepy (especially the one of the homeless man who was right by the entrance) the school was absolutely lovely and our rooms were impecable. We were only a short bus ride away from the center of town and after napping for 4 hours until 10pm, we decided we should venture out and get some food. It was late and so the choices were limited but we ended up finding something decent. Probably not the best pinchos in San Sebastian but good nonetheless. 

We were more than thrilled to have two wonderful days in San Sebastian. It is probably one of the most beautiful places that I have ever been and I want to live there for a year when if I can. It's right on the beach and has a small island just a ways from the coast. The buildings are the beautiful and white and the streets are lined with trees. The people are wonderful and the food is delicious. There are green hills that stretch up from the beach and the fine sand is covered with people enjoying the sun. There are numerous old churches which are dotted throughout the city and the entire place has a calm vibe that makes you want to put on something light and freeing and eat paella next to the ocean. Which is exactly what we did. Our second day in San Sebastian we went out for a lunch of paella at a small restaurant near the ocean. It was wonderfully fresh. The prawns were incredible and their heads were full of red juices. I told Suanne that she had to suck the heads if she wanted to get the good stuff because all of the juice from the sauce gets trapped in there and mixes with their tiny prawn brains and is delicious. She turned her nose up at it but was more than happy to donate her prawn heads to me and by the end of the meal I had quite the carnage on one corner of my plate. We made good use of a pile of wetnaps and left for the beach, where we lay for an hour or so getting tanned (or in my case, burned) before the tide came up and started lapping at our toes. Though were were sticky from sweating in the sun, and itchy from having sand on our skin and in our hair and between our toes, we decided to get some shopping in before going home to shower. We are, after all, five girls. How could we resist? I managed to find an awesome leather jacket for half off (too good of a deal to pass up, and since being in Europe I feel quite left out not having one. Apparently it's a must for one's closet) and we got some ice cream before taking the bus back to our hotel to wash off the beach. 

This night we were determined to find some stellar cuisine. We walked around the center of the town and turned down a street that both smelled fantastic and sounded crowded. I knew that we were in a good spot. The entire street was filled with people. Every bench was taken. You could tell that strangers were sitting next to strangers but no one seemed to care because they all had some kind of food in their hand. Most people were holding long sandwiches. Others had plate of hot pinchos. And all of them had come from one bar. El Quinto Pino. I don't think I'll ever forget it. Elze and Paula weren't up for sandwiches so they went to find somewhere else to eat. I knew they were making a huge mistake. Not only was the bar tender a charming though rugged looking spaniard (he somehow managed to pull of a ponytail and curly beard as if they were in style) but the place was absolutely packed with people. The bar was lined with different types of pinchos but I could tell that most people came here for the sandwiches. Camilla spoke to the bartender who informed her that they only had five sandwiches left and that we had to hurry if we wanted some. We debated over what to get. He returned and told us that there were only now only three left. We made haste and put in our orders quickly. I ordered a chorizo sandwich. Camilla a mushroom and roquefort. Suanne a patatas and chorizo. None of them were over 3.50 euros. All of them were incredible. Though it was only a giant chorizo sausage on a beautiful baguette, it was one of the best sandwiches I have ever had. The chorizo was absolutely mind blowing and so greasy that it soaked through the bread making its own red, spicy sauce and forcing me to go through one tiny paper napkin after another. Suanne's chorizo and patatas was so big that she could barely fit it into her tiny mouth but she smiled and cooed the entire time she was eating it. I don't think the three of us have ever been so silent for so long except for some random "oh my gods," and "this is incredible's." While eating bite after bite I noticed that numerous patrons were walking away with plate of what looked like grilled green beans. I asked our bartender what they were (happy to know how to say something in spanish) and he went and grabbed to raw tiny green peppers for me. "Pimentos" he said. I went to bite one but both he and two men at the bar started saying "no no no" very quickly. "They need to be fried he said." I got the impression that they were spicy but decided to try one anyway. They were good and tasted like a cross between a weak jalapeno and a green bell pepper. The three men all seemed impressed that I would eat one raw (though I still don't understand what the big deal was) and I ordered a plate. They were, of course, delicious, and much better fried than not. How surprising. Between bites of our sandwiches the three of us ate pimento after pimento and soon enough the plate was empty. We had a cervesa or two and went to meet up with Elze and Paula, so happy that we couldn't stop talking about the incredible meal we had just experienced. 

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After meeting up with the other two girls we went to a bar and had a beer. I knew I had to go to bed early because we were planning on leaving at 7am the next day. Suanne was still feeling the pain of too much sangria. The other girls, however, wanted to stay out and that they did. Suanne and I made it back to our hotel at 2 in the morning (after waiting for the wrong bus for an hour then getting off two stops after the right one and having to hoof it in the rain to our hotel). I collapsed into my bed and was happy to be mature and smart enough to know when to go to bed. I woke up continually through the night and noticed that Elze had not returned to our room. I figured at first that she must just still be partying. I woke up again and thought she had slept with Camilla and Paula because she didn't want to wake me up. I woke up again and saw light peeking in through the curtains. Suanne was supposed to call me at 7 to make sure I was up. Perhaps she forgot, I thought. So I got up and opened the curtains to see just how light it was. And who do I see making their way into the hotel but Elze, Camilla and Paula in their dresses, wet from the rain, and looking like something the cat dragged in. Just as I looked down at the, Elze looked up at me and I opened the window and called down to them, "just getting in I see?" They laughed. "What time is it?" I asked them. "Eight." Elze said. I don't know how they do it. It's not like they're spring chickens any more. I keep telling Elze she's going to look like hell at fifty if she keeps this up but she doesn't seem to care. She calls me an old lady. And for some reason the three of them thought they were going to be in trouble with me. Really I just wanted to hear the gossip of what I missed. Apparently they had met some spanish guys outside of a club and made friends. They danced with them until the club closed and then went back to their place for some continued drinking and frivolity. By the time 6am rolled around they decided to wait outside of the local bakery hotspot and got fresh croissants for breakfast. They then waited forever for a bus which never came and then in a long line for a taxi. By 8am they were making their way into the hotel and I was getting up and getting ready to drive nine hours back home. Elze was still drunk and trying to convince me that we should stay in San Sebastian and that the guys they had met said we could stay in their apartment for a week. "I'm sure they did," I told her, but I wanted to get back. I was a bit jealous that I missed out on all the fun though as I was driving back and saw them passed out on top of each other in the back of the car, I wasn't all that upset. 

I hauled ass back to France and on the way explained to Suanne what the term "hauling ass meant." We made it back in eight hours and managed to miss most of the weekend traffic. All of us want to live in Spain now and Elze and I are trying to figure out how exactly we can justify spending another year in Europe at some other time in our life. San Sebastian was absolutely enchanting and I definitely could go for another chorizo sandwich. 

As usual I have to collect all of the pictures from the girls before I can send some along. I'll probably wait until the end of the week so that I can send some pictures of what we're making this week with them. It's creme glacee entremets, which is just a fancy french term for what is essentially an ice cream cake. I am sure I will be thoroughly exhausted this week not only because of how fun this weekend was (and the fact that I'm getting older and can't quite bounce back as quickly as I could when I was eighteen) but also because we're back with Chef Baccon and started at 6am this morning. It will take some time to get used to and I'm going to need a nap! So I apologize in advance if some of my stuff doesn't look as great as it could. C'est la vie. 

Also this week I am hoping to lock down my internship. It's looking like I'm going to end up in Paris and I am getting very excited about it. Suanne and Elze are planning on being there too along with our friend Christy who couldn't make it to Spain with us because she was vacationing with her parents in Paris over the holiday. It'll be nice to spend more time with them since after this is done I may not get to see them again and we really do have a lot of fun together. I want to stay at my internship until the end of next March and spend that April travelling around Europe. I'd love to go back to Spain as well as make my way to Belgium, Germany, the Czech Republic, Austria, and maybe go to Italy and Portugal as well. 

Miss you guys and love you! Hope you're having your own adventures this summer. 

Love, 

LETTER HOME #6: ROADTRIP

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Hey All!

I just got back from a long weekend travelling to some beautiful cities. Six of us decided to pack into yet another tiny car (though this one at least was made for five, and being designated driver means that I get to be somewhat comfortable, though exhausted). We decided to go to Nice for the bulk of the trip though we stopped off in Aix for a night and a day to see the glorious little town. And of course, we all fell in love. Though it rained horribly the majority of the day and was gloomy if not raining the entire stay there, we adored it none the less, which shows just how magical it really is. We stayed in a cheap hotel which was funky to say the least, but was central. It had no elevator of course and Elze and I, who had the biggest heaviest bags, were on the top floor. So after grunting and dragging and stomping our way up the tiny spiral of old stairs we managed to make it to the top. Assured that we had awoken everyone we changed our clothes from the trip and went out for a beer or two, steered only by the noise of raucous enjoyment. A clever frenchman spotted the six of us, alone and weakened from exhaustion and decided to engage us in conversation. He asked us where we were from and we all smiled. Any time anyone asks us this it is quite entertaining, for they never expect us to be from all over the world! So we went around in a circle spouting out where we are from. America. South Africa. Singapore. Indonesia. Guatemala. Brazil. And, just like everyone else, he was surprised. But he had traveled all over and spoke a little spanish and we were entertained with him for an hour or so until we decided to retire for the evening. 

The next morning we awoke to rain beating down on our window and were saddened that we wouldn't have a beautiful sunny day to explore Aix. But we decided to brave the storm and make good use of our umbrellas, of which we only had three. So we each found a partner and walked, arm in arm, down some tiny streets until we made our way to the Cours Mirabeau, which is a beautiful wide stone street that makes its way to the central fountain and round about. All of the shops were so charming and we stopped for a cafe and some souvenir shopping. We also bought a gigantic jar of Griottines, which are sour cherrys soaked in Cognac, for our future plans of sun bathing in Nice. Once we were along the Cours Mirabeau we decided it was time for lunch and split up into two groups. Those who didn't mind spending some good money for some good food (I of course was in the crowd) and those who did. The three of us who were looking forward to a Menu, made our ways through an old building into an open courtyard to the Cote Cours, a restaurant recommended to me by Helen's friend who live in Aix. And it certainly was wonderful! We sat under the safety of their outdoor "tent" which obviously could be opened if the weather had permitted it. I ordered the menu and had Eel for my starter, peanut chicken for my main course, and bananas and rum for my dessert. It was delicious with the Eel by far at the front of the crowd as the star of the meal. I cannot remember what Christy ordered for her appetizer, but it came with a tin of caviar which was absolutely spectacular and I had to exhibit some severe self control in order not to finish it and lick the empty tin. The owner and head Chef made his way around to each table and we were happy to speak with him. Not only was our meal lovely but the chef wasn't too bad himself. We managed to control our drooling long enough to let him know that we were pastry students and would potentially be interested in doing an internship somewhere in Aix and would he possibly know of somewhere to recommend. He offered that we could do our internship there, with him, in his restaurant, and we were more than pleased to shake his hand and take a card from him. He also informed us that he would be appearing on "Top Chef France," and we all expect that he will do well not only because he is talented as a chef, but also because lady viewers will be easily charmed by his appealing smile and pleasant attitude (something that is somewhat of a scarcity in France, especially when it comes to customer service). 

After our meal, we continued shopping for a short while before making our way to Nice. The drive was entertaining, as always, since having five back seat drivers, three of which do not have drivers licenses, can be "interesting." We, of course, managed to get lost, and drove around in circles looking for our hostel. We asked an old french couple which way to go and they pointed us back the direction we had been, to which Elze replied, "I told you so!" and which she repeated throughout the navigational experience. After passing the same five streets a million times looking for OUR street, we finally managed to find where we needed to be. For reasons unknown to me (I was not there when the arrangements were made) we were staying in a hostel. Apparently it was cheaper, though it ended up not being so, and would force us to be more social. As we should have expected, the man at the front desk was extremely rude. We had reserved a room for just the six of us online, but were placed in a room with a seventh unknown person, and when we mentioned it he told us that it was not his fault and that that was just how it goes when you reserve through the website. We should know better than to think that anyone in france is ever responsible for anything. When we told the woman at the fron that the bathroom was out of toilet paper she informed us that there were two other toilets down the hall as if that somehow fixed the problem. As is standard in any hostel situation, we made our own beds, and I was surprised to find that one of the previous tenants had left a bit of themselves behind in the form of a petrified booger adhered to the mattress. At this point things were becoming comical and so it didn't exactly put a damper on the stay, though Elze and I certainly vowed never to stay in a hostel again. 

We went out for a light snack (since we all had gorged ourselves at lunch) and went for a drink along a road filled with bars in Old Nice. Though or waiter was Irish he had obviously been in France for too long for the bad service had infected him. We drank our fair share of passion fruit mojitos and met two guys from Norway who bought us some drinks and who came with us to another bar when the pub we were at closed at the early hour of two am. The bar, The Blue Whales, was impossible to find and we wound our way from cobbled street to cobbled street until I asked a slobbering drunk fellow from Iceland if he knew where the Blue Whales was. He did, in fact, know where said bar was and even offered to escort us there. This turned out to be quite the treat, since there was a live band and our Icelandic friend was quite the music connoisseur. We all were entranced as we watched him, sweating and swaying, sitting on his chair, his eyes closed and his head either tilted slightly back or slightly forward, playing one air instrument to the next, with such fervor and such passion that we ourselves were taken away with excitement and became quite involved in the music ourselves. This continued until the bar closed and by the end of the night he had gone from drums to base to guitar and back again, making sure to spill an ample amount of beer on anyone around him. 

We finished the night at about 5 am and made our way back to our hostel but managed to make a quick stop at a bakery that while not open was just beginning its day. We harassed the poor baker boy until the first batch of bed was out of the oven and he gave us two just to make us go away. We devoured them as quickly as a pack of sharks does a wounded seal and then passed out in our designated bunk beds. The next morning we awoke to the maid storming about our room at 11am. She angrily confiscated our trash bag and disappeared. None of us stirred but a good ten minutes later another woman entered the room and began scolding us in french. Again, we made no noise except for Christy who hoarsely squawked to her, "five minutes," before the woman turn on the light (which certainly felt forceful since it blinded me) and slammed the door. We all began to giggle though we were all, also, quite pissed and insulted. The truth was that we were expected to be out of our rooms from 11am to 3am so that they could do some cleaning. Apparently it took them four hours not to scrape other peoples phlegm from the mattresses and what not, and our presence in our own rooms was not only unwanted but also strictly forbidden. We bitched as we brushed, showered, and dressed, putting on our bikinis for a relaxing day at the beach. We simply could not believe that they would actually throw us out of our rooms! Though, at this point, it serves us right for being surprised by anything from the french who are unfortunate to work in customer service. You would think they were flogged on a regular basis. Perhaps they should be...

The beach was lovely, though it was not your traditional sand beach. It was made up of large stones and we all had to arrange our towels and bodies, moving this stone or that stone, to make a comfortable "nest" for us to lounge on. We ate our Griottine, turned from side to side, and dipped in the beautiful mediterranean, which was a magnificent aqua. It was somewhat difficult getting in and out of the water, since the tide was strong and threw rocks at your ankles and feet if you were close to shore. But we toughed it out and enjoyed a light swim between tanning sessions, cooling off sufficiently and getting a nice dosage of salt water in our hair and eyes. 

We returned to the hostel after getting side-tracked by some stores (I had no choice but to adopt two pairs of beautiful shoes that I simply could not leave behind), showered and went out for some fresh seafood. We went back to Old Nice and had a few drinks at a bar with a live band, whose lead singer was a woman and a rockstar at that, but we turned in early since we were all exhausted from a long hard day of tanning. We stopped for some incredible ice cream, I had salted caramel and honey pine nut, and ate as we walked back to our beds. 

The next day we made sure to be out of our room by eleven and decided to take a day trip to Monaco. We drove along the Moyenne Corniche which goes along the coast and is famous as the site of Grace Kelly's untimely death. In spite of such a morbid history the drive was breathtakingly beautiful. The Moyenne Corniche makes its was through a handful of charming little towns made up of gorgeous stone villas, twisting and turning between cliffs going up to the sun and cliffs going down to the sea. It was only a short trip to Monaco and we walked around, stopping at the Casino and Hotel De Paris (where we were asked to leave since we were not guests). We walked along the beach and went to lunch at a beachside cafe where we saw some beautiful men and were happy with service that was not french. After lunch we went to Old Monaco and walked through the royal garden to the palace. We were lucky enough to catch the changing of the guards and were even happier to see one guard come and give the guard on duty a pair of sunglasses to wear. It was quite unexpected. We also were lucky enough to see a bride enter the chapel for her wedding! It was beautiful and oh so romantic and we all imagined, as girls often do, about finding a beautiful rich man in Monaco to marry and live with in a beautiful estate overlooking the water. He would, of course, drive something juicy as all people seem to do in Monaco. We even saw a Porsche Spyder exactly like the one James Dean had parked outside of the Monte Carlo Casino. 

On our way back to Nice we stopped in the tiny town of Eze. It was all stone and had miniature streets that wound about in a dizzying fashion. We got lost almost immediately, but did not mind and choose willy nilly weather to go left or right or up or down and mostly tried to follow the sun and the sound of the ocean. We stopped at a beautiful and expensive hotel and decided to go in just for one drink. These ended up being 20 euros and we sipped them as slowly as we could so that we could savor the moment on the beautiful hillside patio over looking the mountains and ocean. Unluckily we became trapped as a violent lightening storm forced us inside and the tempest kept us there. It hailed as hard as it could and we continued to suck on our melted ice since none of us could afford another drink but none of us wanted to leave and make our way back to the car in the storm either. Luckily the storm left as quickly as it came and we were able to strike up a conversation with our barman who informed us that they were looking for people to stage there (which means to work for free) and he gave us his card. We walked back, which took a bit longer than walking in since we had to turn around and change directions after reaching a dead end, and stopped for dinner at a less expensive but tasty little local spot. 

I was happy that the storm was over as I drove the winding road back to Nice and we were all quite exhausted and quickly went to bed knowing we would have to get up early and make our way back home. It was so sad to leave though the storm had returned as was sending us home. Of course there was traffic the entire drive back and we were forced to stop at a McDonalds since it was that or add another hour to our trip. I almost cried. First off, I was eating McDonalds in France. Second, all of my travel mates were excited to be doing so. Third, there was an extreme line and the entire place was packed! Fourth, the fries were better than any I'd had anywhere else in France. Vowing never to sink so low again while in Europe we continued our trek home and made it back in nine hours when it should've taken only six. And now we all have to go to bed early since we are making an early trip out of town to get our medical exams for our Visas. At least this time I won't be driving and will be able to sleep in the back!

Love you guys! 

LETTER HOME #5: EAT AMERICA

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Some of the best parts of my pastry program was the time I spent with my fellow students. We really got to know each other very well and while we may not have all gotten along at all times, we did manage to have some great moments together. This was particularly true whenever we sat around a table together. Since we were all from different countries, many of us took turns cooking traditional dishes from our homelands to share with one another. It was a fun way for people to express the pride they had in where they grew up, to open others up to comfort food they had grown up with, and a great reason for all of us to get together.

I was not above this and was more than happy to share some traditional American dishes with my peers. So I stole a table from my neighbor and commenced with a hot day over the stove.




Bon Jour!

So we have just finished our first week with the new Chef and the new, early hours. It has been absolutely amazing. Chef Baccon is probably one of my favorite people in the world and to dislike her would be about as inhuman as slaughtering a bunch of kittens. As I mentioned earlier, she's one of the tiniest people I have ever seen and watching her wield a gigantic knife is impressive to say the least. She's also immensely sweet and to top it off is an insanely talented chef and teacher. Though her english is not nearly as good as her french counterpart, she manages to be succinct and clear. She also has a light yet professional attitude about her. We tempered chocolate the last two days, which was no easy feat, and she was definitely laughing at all of our misfortune and frustration, but it was fun and lightened the mood as opposed to being cruel and mocking.

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Though switching  your internal clock can be a bit tricky, and waking up at 5am instead of 11am can cause one to be exhausted and slightly grumpy, the change in times was much appreciated by all! Sure we were tired in the morning and unable to fall asleep at night, but it is wonderful to have the rest of the day to do things! Stores are open, the sun is out, and you've just finished eight hours with a minuscule, charming, Korean woman and made some beautiful candies. I am looking forward to these next few weeks and dreading the switch back. But c'est la vie!

I have begun the process of looking into my internship and thus far it appears that I will end up in Lyon. I am also interested in Aix-en-Provence (for obvious reasons) as well as Annecy, though they both have less options as far as shops and housing. I am planning on going to Lyon next weekend to check out some of the Patisserie options, and am excited to be going back to one of my favorite cities! 

One of the most wonderful parts of this trip is the fact that I have been able to meet people from all over the world and that we all have bonded to one another quite quickly. We really are a team and are always looking out for each other. One thing that we have taken upon ourselves to do is cook dinner for everyone from our native lands. Chinese night was absolutely incredible! But I'm sure part of that was due to the fact that we have more Chinese people here than anyone else, and it was quite the feast. Since this Friday the second group, myself included, was able to finish class early I decided to make everyone some good old fashioned American food. Camilla had requested fried chicken and while I should know better than to take on deep frying anything for such a large group of people (20+) I just couldn't say no for her excitement was contagious. And Suanne had asked me how to make macaroni and cheese and so I decided that that, too, would be a good representative of the states. Everything was delicious and I am thrilled that my house does not still smell like fried food this morning. I must admit that I have promised myself never, ever, ever, EVER, again to make fried chicken for that many people, but at least it went over well. My roommate, who I have not had the best relationship with (to say the least) was shocked at how I knew how to cook and wanted me to give her all of the recipes. She doesn't have the most mature palate but she certainly loved fried chicken. But who wouldn't? Perhaps the best part of the entire evening was that the star of the whole show, the recipe that every single person asked me for and swooned over was my mother's salad dressing! Since I was serving fried food and pasta slathered in cheese I decided that a little vegetation was in order and of course I had to include my mother's salad dressing. People were pouring it over everything, including the chicken, and though I was convinced at the beginning of the night that I had made too much, once the guests had left I discovered that the bowl of dressing was drained. 

Martha Stewart

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I'm still not sure how I managed to fit that many people in my house, but we all have this "family dinner" thing down to a science. We each bring our own plates and utensils (this has led to a few friendly battles over whose stuff is whose) and we each bring our own chairs. The person on the same floor of the party carries their dining table over and we push two of them together and have a big, long, feast. I am glad that I got mine out of the way, though I do feel that I am going to have to make Gramma Chris's chicken and noodles at some point. But perhaps I'll make it for a more exclusive crowd, just so that I'm not swamped with dishes the next day! It also is quite difficult to cook for such a group when you have limited supplies and a tiny dollhouse sized oven. But, as I said, everything turned out and as long as there's enough wine nothing can really ever go wrong. 

Next weekend my friend, Christy is going to make traditional Singapore cuisine since her boyfriend is visiting and bringing about a gallon of Singapore hot sauce with him. I'm very excited. 

American food, while not pretentious or romantic, is delicious and I realized that it's so comforting, people from all over enjoy it and crave it. So way to go USA!

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Love you guys!

Lora

So I may not have ended up in Aix like I planned but when do things ever go as we plan them. It just goes to show that no matter how secure it makes me feel to plan every upcoming detail of my life, there are forces beyond my control. And really, how boring would it be if everything turned out as I expected?

LETTER HOME #4: AMANDE

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Hello All!

I hadn't written in a while so I thought I would send along some pictures of what we've been making. We just finished week five and I cannot believe how quickly it has flown by. Tomorrow we switch with the morning group so we will be starting with Chef Baccon, a four foot tall Korean woman who couldn't weigh more than a potato chip. She's about as sweet as can be and is extremely talented. I am looking forward to the change since our other chef, Chef Leroy, who was undeniably french and a bit...frustrating...was lovable but not the best of teachers. He could be quite confusing and his pronunciation of English words often led to a few lost in translation moments, (air sounds like hair, wrap like wahp and so on). I am also looking forward to the earlier mornings. We will now be starting at 6 am instead of 1pm. I'm used to much earlier hours since working in bread and am anticipating getting a lot more done with all the time I will have after class, especially considering that most of the shops close by 8pm around here, which was when the afternoon class usually ended up getting out...if we were lucky! It also means that I will get a chance at cooking dinner one night for everyone, and I plan on something very American like macaroni and cheese and fried chicken, everyone is quite excited about it. 

I had my birthday here a few days ago and all of my new friends were absolutely wonderful about it. We didn't do too much, just went to a dinner at the local pizza joint, but they all were quite concerned that I have a good time. Chef Leroy even sent me out of class on my actual birthday on a wild goose chase and, to my horror, when I returned they had turned off all of the lights and had placed and lit candles in a lemon cake we had made that day and sang me "Happy Birthday!" All of the people in my group pitched in to buy me a set of six miny cocottes (tiny casserole pots) in a rainbow of colors and they are absolutely adorable! 

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Prior to my birthday, I came out of class one day to find a little mangy dog wandering around the campus. This is quite normal in France since people seem to let their dogs roam free and apparently they return home when they are done with the personal canine affairs. I gave him a bit of my brioche and he followed me home. Everyone in our apartment (who are all in the same group as I am) were thrilled to have a bit of excitement for the evening. We named him Amande (for almond, since he looked like Creme d'amande) and fed him more brioche, cured beef, scrambled eggs, and whatever else we had around, including a bit of foie gras. He was one of the happiest dogs I've ever seen, and followed me around quite contently. I made a small bed for him the corner of my room, since it was too late to take him back to the school that evening, and while he obviously would have rather cuddled under the sheets with me (he was absolutely disgusting, or I would have been all for it), he was managed to make himself at home in no time. He returned with me to school the next day and waited outside the door for a short while, but when I was finished with class eight hours later he had gone on his own way. I haven't seen him since, but I'm sure he probably returned home. He made me miss my own pets quite a lot, and if he had been there when I emerged from lab I certainly was planning on adopting him, after taking him to the local groomer, and was wondering how difficult it was to get a dog back into the US. 

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I have been struggling a bit with my French and it seems to be the most ridiculous language. I can't understand why they include all of these letters that they have no intention of pronouncing, and our French teacher won't teach us the basic rules of grammar because apparently they rarely apply. I am hoping that now that I have my computer back up and running I will be able to continue with my Rosetta Stone and, at the very least, improve my pronunciation. But one of the guide books we read said that French men find women with American accents as irresistible as we find French men with French accents, so perhaps I will not try too hard. I just hope I learn enough by the time I go to my internship so that I can bumble around the kitchen and learn as much as I can. I expect to learn more in my internship than in the five months I spend here so I pray that my French will be good enough to get as much out of it as I can. 

It's been quite gloomy and rainy here the last few days, but I have aways loved a good storm and it reminds me of winters in San Rafael. It also encourages me to stay inside and get some studying done, which I should probably go do now! 

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Wishing all of you the best!

Lora


See! At least at one point I was optimistic about my internship. But reality has set in and while I know I'm always going to be happy that I've done this, I still think I'm going to end it early and research/visit/enjoy Paris while I'm here. 


Of course all that french studying didn't really happen. Sure I got through a few levels of Rosetta Stone but I'm much better at procrastinating than doing. But working in the kitchen has definitely helped to improve my kitchen french at the very least. Plus as we got further along in the pastry program, Chef Baccon was particularly helpful in immersing us in french language. She really is an incredible person and I am so lucky that I got to study under her. Truth be told I appreciate both of my chefs and now that I'm in the kitchen I can see how much they really did teach me. 


As for Amande, like any one night stand he was never seen from again. It was quite sad, actually, and I looked for him every day on my walk home. I guess he just went back to his people. Still it was a fun night and I enjoyed his company. I miss my own pets so much that it was nice to get to have some dog bonding, even if it was with stolen property. 

LETTER HOME #3: EASTER IN CHAMONIX

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Only a week or so into my pastry program at ENSP in Yssingeaux we had a long weekend over Easter and so a few of my friends and I rented a tiny little car and drove to Chamonix. Chamonix is right on the alps and is incredibly beautiful. The road trip was a wonderful way for us to bond and get to know each other and we found that getting extremely drunk together helped aid that bonding process further. 

Bonjour!

This weekend we had got out of class early on Friday and did not have class on Monday, since apparently everyone I France really celebrates Easter on the Monday after it. I also think it is because the French love not to work! This is especially apparent in all of the French waiters I have met, since they don't seem to care if you are sitting there or not, what you ordered, or if you receive it in a timely fashion. It makes me appreciate tipping just a little bit more...

So, since we had a long weekend, a few of my fellow classmates and I decided to take a trip to Chamonix Mont-Blanc. We rented the world's tiniest car and the five of us crammed into it for our four hour trip to Chamonix. I drove, which was quite entertaining since the French are aggresive drivers, since I have no idea exactly how fast 130 km/hr is, and since I haven't driven a stick in a few years. I also felt like we were going to blow off the road since the klennex box we were in could fit completely inside the midsize SUV I drive in Colorado.

Off we went and it was quite smooth sailing though I did stall in one of the many tolls they have on the highways here. On our way to Chamonix, we decided to stop in Annecy for a late lunch and it turned out to be one of the most charming towns I have ever seen. It sits in a valley next to a huge lake, and has canals running through it like Venice. All of the buildings were old and beautiful and we bought some fresh baguettes, a round of soft regional cheese, herb salami, olive tapenade, and a tin of foie gras and for a makeshift picnic next to the lake. There were people everywhere (a lot of them rollerblading), and we made friends with a nearby Cocker Spaniel who appreciated the bit of baguette I shared with him. Once we were finished with out lunch we made the rest of the trip to Chamonix, arriving after sunset.

Chamonix was what I imagine a traditional Swiss skiing town would look like, which makes sense since we were right on the Alps. It was dark when we arrived so we only went for a few drinks (or perhaps more than a few) before retiring for the evening. When we awoke the next morning we were amazed to see that our window was facing Mont Blanc, which was absolutely breathtaking! We also discovered that our adorable hotel was in the center of town, and we could even see the town clock tower from our room. We spent the day exploring the small town and doing some shopping. I bought some handmade chocolates for myself since it was, after all, Easter weekend. The town was filled with toursists, mostly from Italy and Switzerland, as well as dogs! Dogs ran free all over the town and were even allowed in restaurants, on trains, and in hotels. We ate fondue and raclette for lunch and I was definitely in a bit of pain from the massive ball of cheese that was sitting like an anchor in my stomach.

The next day we took a train up the mountain to visit France's largest glacier and took a tour of the ice cave that they carve into it. It was absolutely beautiful! Near the entrance you could see how truly blue the glacier was from the sun shining through it, and as we walked deeper into the tunnel they had multicolored lights illuminated the
incredible ice. It was definitely a sight to been seen, and probably a once in a lifetime opportunity for me, since it is melting at an alarming rate! All along the 350 steps leading down to the glacier, they had signs posting here it had been in previous years and it was somewhat depressing to imagine that in only a decade it has diminished
by so much.

 

After our ice journey we returned to town and decided to go to dinner at Atmosphere, which we noticed had been mentioned in the Michelin guide. It did not recieve any stars, but it was delicious! I started with the seared salmon which was served with a soy sauce honey mousse which tasted like heaven. For my main course I had the veal which was perfectly cooked and melted like butter in my mouth! I finished the meal with strawberries topped with lime mascarpone and meringue and was quite content, though extremely full! We finished our final evening in Chamonix at a bar with live music, and went to bed relatively early in preparation for our trip home the next day.

On our way home we stopped in Lyon which is quite a beautiful city! It is surrounded by two giant rivers, and all of the buildings are yellow, orange, pink or cream. We walked along one of the small cobbled shopping streets in Old Lyon, and had lunch at one of the many brasseries. Though the service was absolutely appalling (even by French standards) there was a restaurant kitty that I chummed onto my lap by sharing my sausage with it, and it sat there contently, sharing my lunch, until it decided to go and hunt pigeons. We continued to shop for a bit before getting back into our tiny car and returning home to Yssingeaux.

While we had a few detours and mishaps (my friend Elze was navigator and she accidentally tossed the map out the window) it was quite a fun trip. I would love to return to Lyon, especially since it is only a half hour drive from my tiny village.

I am starting to miss a few things from home, like burgers, customer service, less tax on my meals, and my pets, but I am really having quite an adventure!

Miss you all!

Lora

This trip was truly wonderful. Annecy was a wonderful detour and I would love to go back there sometime. It is just such a charming old city. Very relaxing, very french, very enchanting. Chamonix is breathtakingly beautiful and if you're a big skier I'm sure it's a great place to go (I wouldn't really know though since I haven't been on skis in a few years). And, as always, a roadtrip with a bunch of girls, while at times stressful (especially when you're the designated driver and you have 3 backseat drivers without maps or any driving experience) is a guaranteed good time. I also managed to get a speeding ticket on my way there from a speed camera even though I was only going 4 kilometers above the 90 kilometer limit. Total bullshit. First, 4 kilometers is nothing. Second, if I had been pulled over I would've been able to sweet talk my fine ass out of it. Third, I doubt that little car could even go that fast!