Eggs, Eggs, Eggs: Cholesterol and The French Paradox Round Deux

After completing beef week, the next natural step was to move on to eggs.  Why not go from one cholesterol laden product to another?  This is France after all...

Our first practical called for beignet battered shrimp with tartar sauce and a cheese souffle. In the end I think we each used about 37 eggs that day.  But here, at Le Cordon Bleu, 37 eggs per person is not enough.  So during our demonstration the chef showed us how to make several different types of eggs: hard boiled, soft boiled, coddled, and deep fried. What is it about these people and loving the richest, most unhealthiest of foods?  I just don't understand!

Anyway, on to practical.  We made a beignet batter that, surprise, had a tons of eggs in it! and then coated our shrimp in it and deep fried them.  Then we made a tartar sauce with homemade mayonnaise (key ingredient: egg) and mushed hard boiled egg into it for "texture."  Ew.  In case that wasn't enough, we finished the session with a cheese souffle.  Surprisingly enough mine rose very high and actually came out quite well!  Making a souffle sometimes can feel like playing craps, so it's pretty exciting when it turns out well.

We finished shrimp and souffle just in time to go home, go to sleep, and wake up again for blanquette de veau at 8:30 Saturday morning.  I'm not going to go into much detail describing b de v because it's pretty disgusting.  It's a veal stew with a creamy egg (surprise!) and cream based stock.  Tasting that early Saturday morning was not fun.  Served with rice pilaf makes for a lot of beigeness- something that the French seem to love in their food presentation.  

Although this wasn't the best Saturday morning I've had in Paris, it turned into a pretty great day because my friend Ariel came from London to visit!  As soon as he arrived we set out to explore the Marais. I never knew how many glasses stores there were in my neighborhood until Ariel arrived! I'm pretty sure we went into all 4,385 of them.  After lunch we wandered into a particularly adorable small glasses boutique at the edge of Place des Vosges.  The store was owned by a very little Moroccan man with some serious ADD.  I think we spent about an hour there just because he wanted to talk to us about so many different things.  Moroccan music, the 50's, his sons, the economy, finance, instruments, physics, the list goes on... It was here that Ariel found his dream specs and I purchased a pair of vintage parisian shades.  Tres chic.  What a successful day!

That evening we went out to dinner to celebrate Dani taking his LSATS.  After dinner Ariel, Alex and I went to a club called Rex by the grand boulevards.  Rex was a pretty cool spot filled with lots of french people and good music.  We drank and danced and danced and drank. After a few hours, it was getting late and I had had a few too many drinks.  I turned to Ariel and said, "Should I be myself or should I try to be cool?"  He responded, "Be yourself, of course" to which I replied, "Ok, I'm going home!"  I immediately put on my coat and left the club in search of a cab.  I guess you can take the girl to Paris but you can't make her cool (or however the saying goes).  

After having a restful night sleep I was ready to show Ariel more of Paris and my friends.  We went to brunch at Briezh cafe with Ali and had some really excellent crepes and mimosas.  Ariel chatted up our waitress, of course, and she gifted him a World Wildlife Foundation panda pen.  What a schmoozer.  We conitnued our day-o-fun by heading over to the boys house for some more mimosas, pictionary, and a lot of snacks. If I haven't said this a thousand times already, being friends with culinary students is so fun!  They're always making yummy things to eat!  

Overall it was an eggcellent (sorry I had to!) weekend.  I'll keep riding this french paradox wave as long as I can. 

Red Meat, Cholesterol, and the French Paradox

Disclaimer: I am writing this on a french computer during a break at school.  Therefore any misspelled words or improper punctuation can and must be blamed on this bizarre keyboard.

Time for beef week.  For someone who hadn't eaten red meat for ten years before coming to Paris, a week of non-stop beef cooking seemed like a daunting prospect.  Surprisingly enough, it was way more enjoyable than fish.  I don't know if youve ever gutted a fish, but there are few things more disgusting.

My perfectly, if I may say so myself, cooked meat.

It all began with meat and potatoes.  What a winning combination!  The first day we made roast sirloin with pureed pomme de terre.  The chef informed us that the famed Joel Rubuchon has discovered the secret to the perfect pureed potatoe.  Equal parts butter and potato.  Absolutely revolting and sublimely delicious at the same time.  Im pretty sure we all used a little more restraint with our own recipes, but either way the dish was amazing.  I think I may have made a huge mistake avoiding red meat for all those years.

Sirloin with canelles of pureed potatoes.

While the dish was a success, our practical was not exactly smooth sailing.  Near the end of the session an intense war broke out between South Korea and China.  (Side note: our kitchen has a geography all its own.  The Chinese are at one end, then the Koreans in the middle, and Americans on the other side).  One of the Koreans is a man, probably in his 40s, who served in the Korean army and as a result has some serious issues.  He left his dishes in the sink, taking up a lot of space, and when a Chinese girl moved them, all hell broke loose.  A massive fight ensued.  They started yelling in a mix of chinese, korean and english, exhanging shoves and insults.  When he started dissing chinese people things got really crazy and the girl opened her knife kit to pull one out on him.  Luckily the chef stepped in, pulling her away and ending the fight.  Drama!  Needless to say we drank a few bottles of wine at lunch that day...

Day two: Beouf Bourginon.  I guess this is what people imagine to be the signature dish of Le Cordon Bleu after watching Julie and Julia.  I find this interesting because it doesnt have nearly enough butter or cream to be really truly french.  The dish takes two days to make and begins with beef shoulder marinated in an entire bottle of wine.  The next day we removed the now purple beef, browned it, and reduced the marinade to a sauce.  No french dish would be complete without turned potatoes or glazed onions, so of course we did a little of that.  It actually came out quite good and I brought it home to have for dinner with a glass of red wine on my red couch in my red apartment.

Day three: Filet de Boeuf and Pommes Pont Neuf.  For those of you who aren't as wonderfully fluent in french as I am, that translates to filet mignon and french fries.  Yum!  We grilled the filet- one "a point" (medium), one "segnon" (rare), and one "bleu" (still mooing).  For the potatoes, a quick blanche and then a stint in the deep fryer.  Oh, and bearnaise sauce!  How could I forget!?  Essentially a hollandaise with shallots reduced in vinegar, taragon, and chervil. Obviously this was a delicious meal, so Alex came over after school to dine with me.  We popped a bottle of red, warmed up our food, and sat down to a gourmet TV dinner in front of my computer with the newest episode of Glee.  Does life get any better than this?

All in all beef week was a success.  I've so far embodied the french paradox- eating totally unhealthily and maintaining my same weight.  Let's hope it lasts!

Four Free Days in Paris: A Feeding Frenzy

After the conclusion of fish week we had a four day weekend.  (That's almost enough time to rid oneself of a week's worth of fish stench.) I had originally planned to go to Berlin with Alex and Ali, but due to our lack of organization we ended up staying in Paris.  Not exactly a tragedy.  With four days free in Paris there was plenty of eating and exploring to do.


Friday Ali and I ventured to the Marche des Enfants-Rouges.  This is a small covered market in the Marais with a legendary sandwich man.  Dani read about this sandwich man in a blog that has since become somewhat of a culinary bible.  As soon as he told us about it, Ali and I had to go.  We met at my apartment and began the trek up Rue du Temple to the Marche.  It wasn't exactly a long walk, but we certainly worked up an appetite.  As soon as we turned left into the market, we spotted him!  THE sandwich man, or as I like to think of him, Paris' version of the soup nazi.


We waited on a pretty significant line and I rehearsed my order in my head.  "Je voudrais un cornet vegetarien, sans miel." Of course, as soon as it was my turn to order I got nervous and stumbled over every word.  "Pas, de miel?!?!  Mais, porquoi!" exclaimed the sandwich man.  "Desole, chef.  Mais je n'aime pas de miel."  Now I had really pissed him off.  (And did I really just call him "chef"?!)


Ultimately, he was quite nice and made my delicious vegetarien crepe sans miel, just as I wanted.  He even gave us a free pain au chocolat!  Ali and I strolled to a nearby park, plopped down on a bench, and devoured the goodness.  It was an amazing blend of fresh vegetables - something really hard to come by in french cuisine - goat cheese (yum!), avocado (yum, yum, yum!) and olive oil.

We finished our day by roaming the Marais, weaving in and out of stores, and feeling tres french.  It was the perfect way to start a long weekend in Paris.

On to Saturday when Dani dragged us to an arab market by the Barbes metro.  I say "dragged," but I was pretty excited.  I figured there would be hummus and other yummy middle eastern spreads, and anyone who knows me knows I love all things hummus related.  Unfortunately the market turned out to be over crowded with sad-looking produce and an alarming lack of spreads and spices. However, being the foodies we are, we found an amazing middle eastern lunch spot where we proceeded to stuff our faces.  We told the waiter to bring us their specialities.  What we ended up with was a feast for forty.  Don't worry- we finished it all!  Marinated peppers, chicken with rice, beef with couscous and kebabs.  I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Saturday night we went out in the 5th to Paris's version of a speak easy, called Curio Parlor.  They got it almost right except for the lack of air conditioning which led to an overwhelming smell of body odor.  If french people aren't going to shower before going out, they should at least go to air conditioned bars.  It was so intolerable that I even went outside to stand with the smokers for a breath of "fresh" air.  

Sunday falafels at L'as: a standard.  Followed by a lazy day and, later on, my first crepe of my time here. Nutella and bananas: delicious.  

Monday.  Monday was rather glorious.  The temperature was in the mid 50's, the sun was shining, I was in Paris, and I didn't have school!  I spent the morning drinking coffee and reading outside a Place des Vosges, and the afternoon roaming around with Ali and Alex.  Four day weekends in Paris?  Oui, chef!

Fish week, not to be confused with shark week...

Last week was "fish week."  While I'm usually a fan of fish, those were not my favorite lessons.  First came the hake.  I don't know if you've ever seen hake, but it's a seriously scary looking fish.  When Ali and I took it out of the bin, two very distinct images came to mind.  1- the evil eels from the little mermaid.  2- the scary sea creatures from The Princess Bride.  Neither is the kind of thing you want to be touching, descaling, defining, degilling, chopping into steaks, and cooking for 3 hours.

We cut the hake into steaks (that rhymes!) and poached in a court bouillon.  Court bouillon is an infusion of vegetables in water with herbs, salt and vinegar (if you're making fish-- vinegar helps with the proteins and the color).  Now let's remember, this is France.  So it would be unreasonable to think that one would simply poach fish and leave it alone.  Obviously it needs some butter or cream or bacon related element.  Enter hollandaise sauce.

This was our first time making hollandaise and it was the biggest upper body work out I had since arriving in Paris.  We started with egg yolks and water - half an eggshell of water for each yolk- put them over a bain marie, and stirred in a figure 8 motion.  Apparently the figure 8 is the key to evenly whisking the eggs.  It sounds pretty simple, but I've never felt more uncoordinated than when trying to do this.  Chef Stril came over to observe me, took over for a moment, and with ease began figure 8-ing with the rhythm of a salsa dancer.  "Comme ca!"  "Oui, chef..." I replied.

After one failed attempt- my bain marie was too hot and my yolks cooked- I properly executed a hollandaise.  It was rather good, although after spending so long working on it I lost any desire to eat it.  I have to say, I have new appreciation for the chefs at Pastis who make my all time favorite Eggs Norwegian.  I always ask for the hollandaise on the side and usually don't eat more than a dab or two.  Now I will definitely think twice before wasting such hard work!


Tuesday night- mid fish week- was our student dinner.  After a long day of hake and hollandaise we were all ready to let loose.  Ali, Alex and I met at the boy's apartment for a pre dinner drink.  Totally unnecessary!  We arrived at L'Atelier Maitre Albert in the 5e, where our dinner was hosted, a little late.  Champagne, and an empty table with charcuterie and wine was waiting for us.  We promptly got to work doing what we do best- drinking and eating.  As the night progressed through our four courses - rabbit wrapped in puff pastry, scallop in a celery veloute, roast veal with pommes dauphine, and a pinapple desert (pictures below)- several events transpired.  First of all, Lee and Dani gave us a wine tasting lesson.  Then, the 17 year old colombian red head's rat tail was cut off! Yes. That happened.  Later on in the evening we met "Alexandra."  Alexandra is Alex's drunk alter ego who is pretty hilarious and entertaining.  She's definitely become my third girl friend here.

A 17 year old innocent ginger having his rat tail cut off by the head pastry chef.

Finally fish week concluded with brill.  Brill is basically sole only a little bigger.  My experience breaking it down and filleting it was definitely easier than last time, and I actually enjoyed the final product.  As with every dish made here, if I ever were to recreate it at home it'd be with 1/79th of the butter.  Despite the penetrating odor, I survived fish week - and our class dinner! -  and lived to blog about it.  I can't say I'll be making hake again any time soon, but maybe there's a little brill in my future.

Rabbit appetizer

Scallop with celery veloute

Veal

Pommes Dauphine (i.e. potato donuts!)

Dessert

French Hipsters, Family Dinners

I'm writing this blog post sitting outside in Place des Vosges enjoying a cafe and a beautiful sunny day in Paris.  My life is pretty awesome.

I'll start by writing about my wildly exciting social life here in France.  Last weekend Lee and Dani's friend Ben invited us to a real live french party.  I have to admit, I was pretty excited.  My stomach wasn't quiite back to normal yet, but I was ready to party with the meilleur (that means "best" in french, duh) of them.

We managed to find the heart of paris' hipsters population in this one apartment.  Everyone had a "unique" hairstyle fit for some kind of fashion show. Everyone looked like they hadn't showered in a while (although i guess that's france for you). One girl was even wearing tights with underwear over them and a cut off sweatshirt.  If that's not a hipster fashion statement, I don't know what is. Now I can't say that I party much in Bushwick Brooklyn, but if I did, I would have felt right at home at this party. Oh wait- i can't forget the cigarettes.  In lieu of an ash tray at this party there was a bowl- a big one, one you'd use to put out chips or bake or something- of butts.  Unbelievably disgusting.

Despite the abundance of smoke and the lack of pants, it was a nice foray into the french social scene.  Maybe next time I'll actually work up the courage to talk to people...

Sunday I woke up hungry and ready for our group "family" dinner.  My four friends and I decided that Sundays would be the perfect time to make group dinners- no french recipes to follow, no butter required, and plenty of coloration.  Ali offered to take the lead in executing our first dinner- an italian feast.  (She grew up in a big Italian family from Staten Island.  Think, My Big Fat Greek Wedding only Italian).  We arrived at the boys' house at 2 to begin the cooking.

It started with the sauce.  Crushed tomatoes, onions garlic.  Yum.  Then onto the meatballs.  Pork, veal and beef mixed together by hand combined with egg, ,bread crumbs and milk.  Ali formed these into perfectly shaped spheres- a true pro.   A little browning in the pan, finish cooking in the sauce, and voilà!  Spaghetti and meatballs, chicken cutlets, eggplant parmigiana... What an incredible dinner.  I love being friends with culinary students!

As soon as we sat down to eat, all conversation ceased.  I consider this the sign of a good meal.  I'm pretty sure we all went to sleep feeling sick that night, but it was well worth it.  Then bright and early Monday morning back to school.  Ready for fish week?  Oui, chef!