As I may have reminded you once or twice, we had to retake the cuisine written final, and 36 hours later, it was time for our practical exam. The night before, Nicole came over and we ran through all of the recipes, practiced making a Bearanaise sauce (the technical portion of the exam --- very similar to a Hollandaise), and bought a sole to fillet just in case fish popped up as one of the dishes.
 |
| Wine, chocolate chip cookie dough, and sole. What more do you need?? |
Before I came to culinary school, I don't think I had ever touched a whole fish in my life, let alone fillet it. Let me tell you, folks, that night I did the best fillet I have ever done. It was so good I had to document it for fear that it would never happen again. I finally understood the concept that the point of filleting is to separate all of the flesh from the bone. Voilà!
As far as studying the recipes went...well, there isn't really much I could do other than run through them a few times out loud and in my head. After that, it's a hope and a prayer. My luck isn't the best (I avoid the lottery, indoor umbrellas, and broken mirrors at all costs), so rather than gamble like I did in Basic --- when I kept repeating, "as long as I don't get the sauteed veal chop, I will be good to go" -- I decided to fully prepare myself for any of the 10 dishes that could potentially come my way. (In case you forgot, I got the sauteed veal chop) I wasn't playing that game this time around. I was ready.
A mere 7 hours later, it was showtime...whether I liked it or not. My group was the first to go, meaning that we didn't have the luxury of finding out from previous classes what the two exam dishes were (they gave us a list of potential 10 recipes that we had to already completed once in practical, and it was up to us to memorize the steps, etc. They randomly choose 2 dishes from that list). My stomach was in knots, and I can't even describe the level of nervous energy in the room as my classmates and I headed up to the kitchen 2-by-2 at our designated start times. Being blessed with a last name towards the end of the alphabet only meant that myself and another end-of-the-alphabet-er had to wait around and attempt to calm our anxiety until our 09:10 start time.
Prior to entering the kitchen, the chef made me pick between his right hand or left, each holding either a blue chip or a yellow chip --- lamb fillet or sea bream. Before I picked, the chef asked me which I preferred, and trying to keep my nerves in check, I told him I would take either one. I ended up with the lamb fillet, and when I think back on it, I'm pretty happy that I got that over the fish. Even though the last lamb dish I made in practical was a COMPLETE disaster, I felt pretty confident that I could pull this one off.
I didn't have a chance to take a picture of the actual platter that I sent in to the jury because I set my watercress garnish down and stepped back at exactly 11:40 ---totally Iron Chef style. We had 2.5 hours, and I used every second of it.
 |
| This picture of the dish when I made it in practical. The only difference is that we had to plate everything we had on a large silver platter, rather than just an individual portion. |
As I was cleaning up my station, the chef came over and told me that the jury said everything was good, so I walked out of there feeling pretty proud of my work. It was one of those days where everything had fallen into place like I wanted it to, so it was a huge relief to have one exam down and another to go.
Although I felt confident about my performance, I didn't make it out of the kitchen that day unscathed. Rather than splattering screaming hot oil all over my hand like I did in Basic, this time I decided it was a good idea to slice my thumb open while cleaning my boning knife. Why is it that I only cut myself when I am either cleaning or putting away my knives? As soon as I did it, I wrapped my thumb in paper towel and kept working because I didn't have time to stop. The chef brought over a bandaid and a finger "préservatif" (pictured below), and I got right back to work.
 |
| Enjoying my post-exam almond pain au chocolat! |
I had a day to relax, and then it was time to get in the pastry zone. That study session was focused primarily on writing Opéra in chocolate, and of course, running through the recipes several times --- trying to get fish, lamb, and Bearanaise out of my head, and strawberries, meringue, and mousse in.
Once again, we were the first class for the exam and had absolutely NO idea which cakes we would have. (Side note: I did remember my pants this session -- unlike my Basic Pastry exam--, so I didn't have to run around the school like an idiot asking everyone for a pair of pants...only to end up with a pair fit for the elephant man with hot pink highlighter stains all over them. I cringe when I think of how many people have worn those nasty, wrinkled, parachute pants.) Anyway, a few minutes before class started, the chef came out with a bowl full of green, yellow, and blue chips. We each had to choose one (4 people per color), and then he called us in separately based on our colors to finally see the recipe we would have to regurgitate. I was the last group called in, so those few minutes of anxious waiting felt like hours...
Based on my track record and lackluster luck, I'll give y'all one guess to figure out which cake I had. Could I have chosen a cake that I successfully completed in practical? No, of course not! I had to get the cake that I successfully melted and set of fire...the Treasure. I should have known that would be it. When I was studying with a friend from class, I believe my wording was something along the lines of, "If I get the damn Treasure, I am going to revolt." He couldn't stop laughing at me during the exam.
 |
| In case y'all forget... |
I was all over the place, but at least I can say that the Treasure I made for this time was much better than what I made in class (which actually isn't saying much). Also, the days I spent practicing Opéra at home clearly didn't pay off because it looked terrible. My nerves were making my hands shake like a crackhead, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn't steady them. After writing and rewriting (when the chef wasn't looking), I had one decent cake board that I felt like I could submit. So, what did I do as soon as I put the chocolate away? I stuck my finger in the border, smearing it on the cardboard. (Insert expletive here). After successfully smuggling just one more cake board, I wrote it for the last time, placed it as far away as possible from any stray appendages, and finished off my cake.
 |
| Not my best work (by far), but it wasn't a total catastrophe |
Graduation was 2 days later, and while a lot of people skipped town in order to enjoy a full week off before the start of Superior, Mom flew in and accompanied me. I will still really nervous as to whether or not they would call my name, but considering I've already mentioned that I am, in fact, in Superior now, y'all can guess that they did.
- a tout à l’heure!
No comments:
Post a Comment