I believe that some things are bound to happen. Things like a major failure.

A failure that shows that wine might be good in your risotto, but not in your glass when baking.

A failure that makes those red macarons – kept in the freezer for a couple of weeks – quite helpful. Even though they don’t really belong here, on a taste point of view.

But as my Pentax taught me, failures can be good. Because we shared the trimmings, but also because it involves mascarpone, Tahitian vanilla, confiture de lait, roast banana, and milk chocolate.

I was in love with someone. Or, as I recently realised after some happy times we spent together again, I was just loving some parts of this someone. Very much.

In fact, I was so smitten with the idea of him, that I would live in the illusion and forget – or more accurately, not even notice – the things that didn’t feel right.

But I now see them. Bright and sparkling. Right at my face. But I’m not crying, as I thought I would. Instead, I’m smiling. Embracing the facts, stopping expectations, celebrating the lovely moments we’ve had.

And before it gets too late because our love is wasted, I lock all the memories we have in a safe place.
Memories made of cold winter nights, squirrels, and film photography. And more recently, memories made of Pimm’s and lemonade, afternoons at the park, and breakfasts taken too late to admit it.

On any given day we would have piping-hot brownies with a tall glass of fridge-cold milk. But last Monday we shared a giant bowl of French fromage blanc, lightly sweetened and with just enough vanilla seeds to give it that lovely freckled look, topped with the pinkest rhubarb compote.

And as we were digging our spoons in it, I couldn’t not refrain myself from remembering the delicate vanilla mousse served with poached and compoted rhubarb that I told you about weeks ago.

I had made you a promise. And as bad as I am with promises, the less-frequent sight of rhubarb stalks at the farmers’ market, made it a now-or-never kind of thing.

Just like our break-up. It’s either now and we’ll be fine, or never and we’ll be torn.

Mousse à la vanille et rhubarbe pochée à la grenadine
Despite the super-long recipe, its name says it all. It’s basically a vanilla mousse served with grenadine-poached rhubarb, a rhubarb compote and meringue.

As usual you don’t have to make all the components. The mousse itself is a delight, topped with fresh fruits or even a chocolate sauce.
You could even pipe it into small bowls, and arrange some sliced poached rhubarb and rectangles of the rhubarb compote on top for an easier dessert.

For the poached rhubarb, I’ve decided to cook it at low temperature overnight so it keeps it shape and flavour. To do this, I place it in a Ziploc bag, along with a mix of sugar syrup and grenadine (a French favourite cordial). Then vacuum-pack it using a method very similar to this one (check the packing without the vacuum section). And finally, cook it overnight in warm water.

Strangely enough, the past couple of days have – unlike the thousands that came before – felt soothing.

Almost like a slow motion picture.

In fact, this has sort of become a common fact. Every day spent in Entrevaux – a small village surrounded by mountains, and where wearing a Peruvian hat makes it to the local news (well, gossips) for at least a fortnight – seems to last forever.

Definitely a good thing in my book. Especially since Guillaume and I booked our plane tickets to a new life.

On the 7th of November, we’ll be landing in London, scouting for the cutest little flat, and more importantly to the sweetest little jobs as pastry cooks. Any hints are more than welcome!

A one-way ticket. And a promise of busy days ahead. Come what may.

Somehow, the Concorde seemed fit for the occasion. Even though I suspect its name comes from the Parisian place de la Concorde, I can’t help but remember that express Paris to NYC flight.

New and exiting. Just how I feel right now.

Concorde
Adapted from Pierre Hermé.

This entremet might be: 1. from Pierre Hermé, and 2. pretty delicious, it’s nonetheless very easy to make. Picture a simple chocolate mousse sandwiched between crisp yet soft (due to the freezing) chocolate meringue disks.

Then comes the montage [assembling], which requires special care so you have a smooth entremet, reading for glazing. The secret lies in gently pressing down the disks of meringue into the mousse before piping some more mousse, just so that the mousse coats the edges of the disks and don’t form any air bubbles.

Whenever I’m stuck in a kitchen, where all I have on hands are a couple of Pyrex bowls, a hand-held mixer, and an oven; well, I must admit I feel a bit lost.

Now, this might be a common statement, but I haven’t spent much time in a home kitchen – let alone made pastries in a home kitchen – for the past eleven months.

It’s not that I don’t like pâtisserie anymore.

In fact, I’ve never been so smitten with it as I am right now. It’s just that I get to have my daily fix every day, at the pâtisserie Lac.

But when – the much needed – holidays came I, all of sudden, started to make things. Over and over. At home, or to be more accurate, at my grand-parents’ house.

Read: I cut out the bottoms of metal cans to make cercles. I used baking paper instead of rhodoid. I whipped cream with a hand-held mixer. And I probably did many more unusual – at least for the pâtissière I’ve become – things I couldn’t even describe.

By the end of the week, I had a nice collection of homemade pastries: a fondant au chocolat, strawberry meringues, a tiramisu, fruit focaccias, and a raspberry charlotte.

Charlottes are one of those desserts I will never get tired of.

Think of it. Their endless customisation make them the most versatile entremets you could dream of.

The one I made during my off-time certainly don’t look perfect. Store-bought biscuits cuillère, and visible mousse. There, I’ve said enough.

FAIL.

In fact, a proper berry charlotte should: 1. use homemade biscuits, and 2. have plenty of fruits piled on top.

A little like the charlotte below that I made a couple of weeks ago, on the same day my camera decided to fall in love with error 99, and thus, let me down.

Hence the nasty pictures. Oh, I did cry on that day.

And then, I escaped to Fouras.

With its many flowers, endless bike promenades and a garden office (more appropriately, a table, a chair and a huge umbrella, right at the end of the garden = the only place I could access the internet from).

There, the neighbour was sweet enough to let my sister and I pick raspberries from the bushes she grows.

As soon as I graced ny lips with one of those plump berries, I felt like I had never tasted a real raspberry before.

Juicy. Sweet. Flavoursome.

And made a charlotte aux framboises with them. 

So simple it hurts. So good it hurts too. I have to confess that it’s sometimes nice to feel hurt, doesn’t it?

Charlotte aux framboises et au fromage blanc
This is a slightly more elaborate version of the charlotte that is part of one of my earliest food memories. I love to make this during summer while plenty of berries are available, but it also make a good winter dessert. Think pears.

If fromage blanc isn’t available where you live, just use plain live yoghurt instead.

I’m – almost, if you don’t count the past two weeks that seemed to be lived on a post-holiday cloud – just back from Corsica.

The few days I spent there definitely set my mood for summer with a light sundrenched breeze.
Picture many thrilling aventures involving: a guy, a girl, delicious charcuterie and tasty fromage, exciting wine that tastes like spicy candied chestnuts, lots of sandcastles, and ice-cold showers.

And did I mention mosquito bites? Plenty of them? No, right. End of the story.

But since summer has now officially come, I have no reason to keep daydreaming. I could just quit that little cloud, and realise how happy I actually am down there.

I guess the diving did it all!

This week off my daily patisserie routine also made me understand how important making pastries is to me.

Priceless.; although I must admit that building sandcastles remains a close runner-up on my top-ten-things-to-do list.

Isn’t all this pink-and-green pretty pretty? Icecream-licious is the word, or maybe it’s all about fromage blanc mousse, berries compotée and almond dacquois.

Rêve d’été
This is a classic. Perfect for a hot sunday dessert or as a nice way to enjoy your favourite iced tea at four o’clock (THE French un-missable goûter).

For the decor, I decided to colour some nappage (a mixture of syrup and pectin, with resemble a light jelly) and spread it onto the frozen entremet using a spatula. I guess I’ll have to make a little 101 about how to creature such a marbling.

Since I started my apprentissage at Nice best pâtisserie (and no, I’m not saying this just because it’s the place I’m spending the best year of my entire life at), I’ve been talking a lot about Pascal and the chef and the cool people I get to work with.

Quite coincidentally, one of them seems to be my Brazilian counterpart. Amanda. She’s perhaps just as silly as me, and certainly, just as crazy in love with life and pâtisserie.

And just like me she’s a food tasting and photography fanatic. A perfect match.

A couple of weeks ago we decided to venture off from our Nice headquarters, and headed to Cannes. More specifically, to Jean-Luc Pelé’s Atelier.

Located on the tiny rue Meynadier, a parallel of the famous Croisette and its not so pretty marches [steps], it makes an adorable chic-black boutique. And although I must admit I chose not to work there after I met Pascal and the huuuuuge laboratoire, I have to confess that the Atelier it is indeed adorable, and probably more importantly, a good pâtisserie.

You know me. I took tons of pictures, tasted a couple triple of entremets, and a good dozen of macarons. So I figured it would be more appropriate to write about the place in episodes.

Tambours. [Drumrolls].

Let me introduce l’Atelier. And the pâtisseries that you can find there. Simple. No tasting involved here (don’t worry, the entremets will follow; and so will the macarons (delicious by the way)).

As you enter the black-walled shop, you’ll probably like the panoramic view of the chocolaterie just as much as I did. But keep an eye on the pâtisseries because they’re pretty pretty, and definitely worth more than just an over-look.

Sure I did not taste them all, but it occurred to me you might like a little food sexiness around here.

La verrine exotique
Did I ever mentioned how addicted I am to food served in glasses? And when it’s pink, and has berries in it, and litchi. Verrine exotique, I’m all yours.

Les éclairs au chocolat
The éclairs – pâte à choux [choux pastry] filled with a bittersweet chocolate crème pâtissière [pastry cream] – clearly weren’t as lovely with their hazardous icing.

Le sablé breton aux framboises
This is something I quite liked. First, the square sablé got me. Then, the neatly arranged raspberries.

La mousse au chocolat
Rather straightforward. In every way.

Le macara
I’m not so addicted to the glaçage marbré. Or the chocolate and raspberry combination. Overdone.

Le millefeuilles
Another of my crushes. No old-fashionned icing. Sweet crème pâtissière that looks like a pearl necklace. Need I say more?

La verrine fleur de sel
A beautiful verrine in in my opinion. Layers of milk chocolate, caramel, and saltiness can do you no harm, trust me. Although, I must recognise I still do not get the chocolate tribal figurine. Any hints?

La tarte aux fruits rouges
Again. Berries. Square tart. A match made in heaven. This is definitely something I’ll think about for my own pâtisserie. My doodled-over Moleskine proves it.

La crème brûlée au chocolat
And something cute to end up with. A chocolate crème brûlée. And it’s over-the-top bitten miniature chocolate bar.

See you soon for the tasting! On the menu: verrine exotique, tarte aux fruits rouges and verrine fleur de sel.

So far my apprentissage at Pâtisserie Lac has been the most life-altering experience I’ve ever had. This time, I’m not doing this just for school. I’m actually working days after days to become a pâtissier. Something I’ve been dreaming about for years – literally – but am now living.

And as you would expect, living a dream is… well, dreamy.

Pascal, which I now call patron, is one of the most passionate and talented pâtissier I was ever given the chance to work with. He imagines outstanding flavor and texture combinations, and uses the best ingredients available. And despite his overloaded schedule, he does put an apron on every morning to get all the entremets, tarts and petits-fours ready for the daily shop-refill: the livraison.
Passionate, talented and caring.
And it shows: the pâtisserie Lac probably is the best pâtisserie around the Côte.

They say you can’t judge a book from its cover; I say, on the other hand, you can judge a pâtisserie from its laboratoire – the hidden part of the iceberg: the place where all the luscious pastries are made.

Here, things couldn’t be any closer to perfect. In order to have plenty of room, Pascal decided to move the laboratoire from the usual shop-backside to the north-east suburbs of Nice. Sure, this means I get to host a daily forty-minute off-key singing driving party in my car – consider yourself lucky not to be invited! But it also means I get to work on my very own marbre. Picture two metres of stainless steel, just for me.

But trust me, I make a full use of those two metres. Especially from 5.50 to 7, at which point the refrigerated car hops to town to deliver the pastries.

Because you see, during this period of time, my role – and mission – is to produce the fraisiers (something you should be acquainted with if you’ve read my previous post). Le fraisier is a gâteau composed of two layers of syrup-drenched génoise, encasing a fluffly vanilla crème mousseline, and plenty of fresh and juicy strawberries.

Believe me, making eight fraisiers does take time. More time than I’m actually given. And there is a joke amongst the boys – who are so very adorable, by the way – and the Chef – whom, despite his actual name Stéphane, we all call Chef! – saying that we’ll never finish our shift on time (read, before one pm) if I make the fraisiers.

Quite luckily I got faster and better. My génoises now turn out perfect every time I get them out from the oven. My crème mousseline is glossy and feathery. And I love the draw the arabesques with my chocolate cornet on top of the pâte d’amandes disks.

Coming up next, she who almost enrolled in a pâtisserie rally.

Aside from my daily – and so very exciting – job that feels like holidays, except for the 3am wake up, I’ve had to make many cakes and entremets this month.

Basically, I didn’t spend a minute not making patisserie; well, bar the sleeping, and the driving – although, they both make pretty good times for inspirational brainstorming (just watch out for that tree and those damn tight bends).

So far four entremets have been made and eaten until the last crumb. Two chocolatey ones, and much to my happiness, two berryliciousnesses.
Local berries in October totally are one of the reasons why I’m thrilled to be back on the Côte. Picture juicy – and organic – raspberries and strawberries; and trust me when I tell you how hard it is to resist munching on them.

Anyway, on the 11th, one of the people I love the most turned 15. Can’t believe my girl, my little sister, is all grown up. She’s the coolest person to hang out with, and we always end up doing silly dancing and singing; and perhaps more importantly, speaking French with a Canadian accent.

Aïda asked for a fraisier. A génoise, drenched in light syrup. A fragrant crème mousseline, flavoured with vanilla seeds. A handful of berries.
However, the farmer I bought the fruits from didn’t have enough strawberries to make a fraisier. But he certainly had plenty of tiny raspberries.

‘Bon je ferai un framboisier alors. Ca te va?’, I asked her with my guilty smile on.
‘Pfff, josé [pronounced the Spanish way; that's how we call each others, weird, I know], bien sûr’, she replied.

In the end, the framboisier might not be as pretty as a regular fraisier, my sister – and family – loved it; which, quite obviously was worth an earth-load of strawberries.

Bon anniversaire mon petit gnome. xxx

Framboisier
Compared to most entremets, this one can’t be frozen and is definitely best on the day it is made. However, it’s very easy to save time by making the different components separately.

I started by making the génoise, which does not suffer from a little stay on the freezer. You can also make both the syrup and pâte d’amandes well in advance.

On the day before, the crème pâtissière is made and chilled, so that on the actual day, you only have to:
1) slice the génoise in two disks, drench them with syrup
2) combine the crème pâtissière with butter to make the mousseline
3) assemble to different parts and top with a pâte d’amandes disk

A couple of weeks ago, I made it back home with the secret aim to find a place to be an apprentice at next year.
I got to spend a day in a dreamy laboratoire, being shown around by the young chef, decorating tarts and making beautiful loaf cakes; all with a view on the gorgeous black-walled chocolaterie room.

The next day I headed towards La Trinité, a small town, north of Nice, where the renown pâtisserie Lac has its laboratoire. The place is huge, probably ten times bigger – I mean, walk-in freezers! – that Pierre Hermé’s.
Pascal Lac, the chef, decided to make the move from the busy city back-shop laboratoire to this large open one for reasons that are quite understandable.

After the short interview, I asked my dad – who held the position of pastry-chef-in-the-being (=me) driver for the week end – to drive me to the city centre, so I could have a look and taste of Lac’s pastries.

Just as the pâtisserie from the day before, pâtisserie Lac had that gorgeous sleek look. Very chic. But as I entered, I had that overwhelming feeling that conducted me to choose Lac over any other pâtisseries I had applied to. Don’t laugh, but I totally felt connected with the various entremets, cakes and macarons. Those had my touch in them.

So well, here it comes. I HAVE AN INTERNSHIP FOR NEXT YEAR!
And I’m damn happy.

While we’re talking about internships, it fills me with joy when you guys let me know that you’re planning on become a pastry chef – and thus interning at a French pâtisserie.

However, I must admit that I’m getting bored of those many ‘how did you secure an internship at Pierre Hermé’ emails, as if I was the sesame to Pierre Hermé’s very own private paradise pâtisserie. I am not.

But because I do my best at being a lovely person, here is the answer.
I am passionate about pâtisserie, and I guess that if you do mean it when you tell me about how much you love pastry, then you might actually be passionate too. And this is just terrific. Passion is the key; the so-wanted sesame.
Thanks to my passion, I strive to make my dreams come true. It might take days or years, I don’t mind. All I want is to be satisfied about myself; and so should you.

What about this whole how-to-get-an-internship thingy then? Well, people, just get on it; be proactive; make your best to get what you want. If that means emailing Fanny about her Pierre Hermé internship, then do it. But do you really think that’ll fulfil you? Don’t you want to struggle for it? Or more accurately, are you even ready to struggle for it?

What you want will never come onto a silver plate, which is especially true in the fine food industry.

You want something. Then make it happen.

I understand that some of you might need a little more guidance – I mean, even I, living in France and speaking fluent French, find it difficult sometimes; or actually, all the time. I struggle; making phone calls back and forth; emailing restlessly.
You want an internship in France; then follow this quick step-by-step.

1. Learn the basic principles of French grammar and orthography. You needn’t be an advanced French speaker and writer, but definitely have to be able to understand when people talk to you, formulate a coherent answer, and express your feelings and motivations in a cover letter.

2. Put together a resume in French. By all means, if you don’t have the knowledge to make it look pretty, just keep it simple.
In France, resumes must contain:
- a picture of you
- the basic info about you<
- your telephone number and email address
Plus, all of the usual stuff: education and work experience.
Never worked at a pâtisserie before? I hadn’t. But I managed to highlight how I included my passion into the different projects I conducted.

3. List the places where you want to apply. Use google maps, or les pages jaunes; for contact info. Do make an actual – written on paper – list! Write down the name of the pâtisserie, name of the pâtissier, phone number and email.

4. Write a two-hundred-word cover letter- if you’re not fluent, make it clear at the beginning, but say you’re definite about improving your French; in this case, keep it short and simple.
Basically, just try to convey your passion and enthusiasm through your words. Briefly expose a project you worked on and during which you managed to place pastry into the limelight.

5. Take a morning off (not Mondays, since most of the shops are closed), and call each of the listed place. Make the effort to speak French. Don’t try and speak too fast if you’re not confident; I much rather someone that talks slowly than someone I can barely understand.
Ask for the chef pâtissier. And don’t hesitate to make people repeat if you don’t get something.

When you’ve finally been put through the chef, make it brief. Say you want to apply for a stage [stah-ge]. Ask whether they accept stagiaires [stah-gi-air] or not. If they do, give your availabilities; then politely ask for an email where you could reach him for further communication.

Be warned, they will most likely ask for a stage conventionné, for which you need a convention – a sort of insurance contract – issued by your school or university. So if you’re not currently a student, I suggest you get some info elsewhere.

6. Cross the pâtisserie name off the list. And immediately send an email.
Thank them for the earlier conversation. Repeat what you called them for: stage, availabilities. Attach both your resume and cover letter, but still mention them in the email body.

7. Wait for seven days, then either call or email, asking about the processing of your application.
Don’t hesitate to call again and say you’re very motivated. Tell them you’re highly interested in meeting them for an interview. Actually make it to the interview, even for just one day.

Congrats. You are [insert your country's name] next pastry chef.

Croissants aux amandes for breakfast. Rhubarb tart for lunch. Gianduja brioche for quatre-heures. Fruit cake for dinner.
This is probably what you think as my daily fare; and I won’t blame you. I mean, I bake cake, whip up entremets, assemble tarts, cut cookies out, proof bread doughs, make chocolate truffles, fill macarons, and put cupcakes together.

However, when it comes to my everyday life, I would most definitely choose a piece of warm crusty bread dipped in homemade guacamole, over a slice of the most decadent chocolate cake.
See, breakfast means for me: a cup of green tea with a dash of soy milk. Lunch is certainly composed of vegetables, eaten raw. Quatre-heures might include a piece of cheese and some kind of fruits. And dinner. Oh dinner! Legumes and cooked greens, and yes, something sweet.

Where do all the pastries end then? I think I owe you a couple of explanations.
Firstly, I rarely make full recipes, but instead, divide the proportions so they yield to a single tiny cake/tart/entremet. Those totally feed my post-dinner sweet cravings.
Secondly, I make my neighbours and co-workers (hmm, if you guys happen to read this, I promise I’ll bring something over soon) happy.

This only applies to the special pastries though. Not to the totally easy-to-make-and-healthy desserts I make for myself when I am in that indulge mood I love so much.
Whenever I feel like having something sweet, yet wholesome, I usually throw together a couple of natural and healthful ingredients, and the result is always eaten quickly, without the least guilt.

That last part – yes, the one about eating quickly – is the reason why I almost never share with you my much treasured recipes. That; and the fact I mostly make them at night, when it’s too dark outside to take decent pictures.

Today, however, I’m going to tell you about one of my favourite variations of the dessert I make the most: agar jelly. Chocolate agar jelly, that is.

I love agar – a seaweed galactose polymer – for many reasons. The first being its vegetal nature, which is great for people like me who try not to eat animals or animal products. The second reason is related to his high gelling properties, which make for a fast-setting jelly. And the third – and somewhat less explored – reason is its ability to form a gel that holds its shape even at high temperature (imagine jelly ribbons in a cake).

Some people argue against agar by bringing up the different mouth-feel and texture of agar jellies. While I do agree on that, I’ve made the choice not to consider agar as a replacement for gelatine, but as an ingredient of its own kind.

What I like about gelatine is how softly it melts in your mouth. With agar, a whole new array of sensations appears. The jelly has more bite and holds better. And it has that pleasing cold feeling; ‘cold’ having nothing to do with temperature, more with creaminess. The colder in mouth, the less creamy and the sleeker it feels.

* By the way, it’s totally my birthday today; so guys, I’m off to see my family for the week end. Hope you all have a lovely time around while I’m not here!

Gelée agar intense au chocolat noir, sans sucre

As said above, this chocolate sugar-free agar jelly is one of my favourites. I love how quick it is to prepare and how fast it sets into an intense chocolate glossiness.If you’re using agar for the first time, no need to be afraid, really. It’s very simple and you’re totally unlikely to mess up. Just sprinkle the agar over the tepid liquid and bring to the boil for one minute (or two if you’re feeling insecure). The resulting mixture will still be fluid and will set as it cools down.

Nonetheless, I’ve noticed that different brands of agar powder can yield to subtle differences in textures; so I strongly advise you test you agar powder. If it’s a little too firm today, reduce the amount you add the next time. I’ve found I need to use between 1.6 and 2.1 grams, depending on the brand I use.

The differences might also be explained by how difficult it is to accurately measure such small quantities. Even my kitchen scales show some troubles doing so.
Therefore, I generally use half a teaspoon (2.5ml) of loose agar powder and get great results.

And just in case you’re wondering, one serving contains less than a hundred kcal.