For two years the chefs at The Culinary Institute of America
harped at me the importance of knowing the classic French foundations. This
meant that words like “mise en place”, “au sec”, and “chiffonade” were all
vital parts of my everyday vernacular. At the time, it sometimes seemed silly
to use such particular and old-fashioned language, yet the school insisted upon
following in the ways of the traditional French chefs.
I graduated almost two years ago, but this past weekend I
finally fully appreciated the French foundations of my alma mater.
In Paris every corner I turned displayed of the techniques
and terms I spent so long learning. Confits, gastriques, and braises were found
chalked on every menu board I passed, reminding me of the long hours spent in the
kitchens of Roth Hall. It was the paradise that a true gourmand could
appreciate knowing the rich history and culture that surrounded the food.
In between seeing the breathtaking sights of Paris I had
some incredible food, which included the most decadent hot chocolate of my life,
a perfect crepe, and a surprising Caribbean lunch at a Sunday market.
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| Such decadent hot chocolate at Angelina's |
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| A nutella crepe at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, what more could you ask for? |
While these were all wonderful, the true epicurean delight
of the trip was the opportunity to utilize those French techniques of The
Culinary by actually cooking.
After an afternoon espresso with my roommate, (which was a
Parisian experience in itself) we shopped in the neighborhood around our hostel
for our dinner. First stop was the boulangerie where we picked up two
baguettes. Next we crossed the street to get some fresh produce at a grocer
before grabbing some cheese, chicken, and foie gras on the corner. Lastly, we
picked up a few bottles of Bordeaux and Beaujolais to enjoy with our meal.
Granted, it was a hostel kitchen which meant wrestling to
dice a sweet potato with a butter knife, but it felt great to cook nonetheless.
The meal had a quick salad topped with fruit
(grapes and orangas), toasted walnuts, seared foie gras and a balsamic vinaigrette. There was also sauteed chicken, a side of fresh vegetables, and torn off hunks of chewy baguette with fromage.
Nostalgia filled me as I shared this meal with my roommates
because I remembered learning all of the different techniques I used for the
dinner at The Culinary. Somehow, I appreciated knowing the proper way to sear
foie gras or to emulsify a vinaigrette even more in Paris. Perhaps it was the
culinary capital sweeping me up in it’s magic, but every aspect of cooking that
meal (even cursing the crummy sauté pan for being bent and uneven) felt pure.
I’ve always been a proud graduate of The Culinary
Institute of America, but now thanks to Paris I truly understand the importance
of the French culinary education I received.
