What you see here is harder than it looks, the result of two days of practical exams in which many hurdles had to be vaulted. On the first day of finals for the Introduction to Patisserie and Baking, we made pastry cream, which had to stretch across 6 tarts and 6 eclairs for presentation to Chef. Also made pate sucree for the tart shells and choux paste for the eclairs. The clock is on, and you do have to drag ingredients out of other students' slippery hands.
The rules of presentation to Chef are exact and finite: You give no more and no less than the Chef instructs. The reason is, giving more than is asked for is an example of throwing money away in the real world of restaurant service. Giving less than what the Chef asks for means that you are cheating the customer of what he or she is expecting. So if 6 is the number requested, you present 6 and no more, no less.
It is unforgivable to argue with a Chef during presentation. You speak when spoken to and show deference. I clasp my hands behind my back, so I can lock them and squeeze them as he's tasting and calculating his findings. You thank the Chef for the direction or criticism given, and then you go. It is very formal.
So in the photos above, you see the 6 eclairs, minus the full due of their cream. I knew before I started filling the tarts that I would not have enough pastry cream to meet my needs. Decision Time: Should I fill the eclairs first, all the way, or fill the tarts? The tarts were already at a huge disadvantage, having been toasted and roasted during the first part of the exam when I lost track of them in the top oven, where I couldn't see them.
I had to puzzle through how I would go forward with a burned batch. It seemed the best bet would be to cover them with fruit to diminish the appearance of the shells. But in order to cover them, there would need to be plenty of cream for the fruit to sit on.
So the tarts got most of the cream on hand. The eclairs got leftovers.
When my pastry partner and I went to pick up our tart shell rings, we found that other students had taken all of the available stock. There were none left (people take extras to make backups in case of failure). Chef departed to find us some rings, but we each got only 6 apiece, the exact number needed, so there was no way to do a backup plan. Merde almighty.
Nor did we realize that our rings were slightly larger than the other students', so my carefully calculated plan of fruit division across the 6 did not work out. I had to use so many blueberries to cover holes in the strawberries, which looked unsightly (both the holes and all those blueberry dots). My kiwi was undersized, so the beautiful green accent I planned to use could not happen.
Still, I finished on time, and got through the Strassburger cookies, too. I made the cream sort of stretch, and I waited for the judgment. I was called up last. The final presenter. I had to clean the kitchen cage and all its contents, waiting through all the students who went before me. You wash down 20 bottles of food coloring with dye all over your hands and see how you feel about it.
Sometimes, the breaks are bad, and sometimes they fall your way. I had a plan to use my own plates for presentation so the tarts wouldn't look so dark against white parchment paper on an aluminum sheet pan. When Chef said told the class that all the product must be presented on the sheet pans, I didn't argue, just put the plates back under the tabletop - and I think that's why he allowed me to use them after all. He gave a nod that it would be acceptable. He graciously gave me a break. To my own surprise, those roasted shells didn't look near as bad as they did unfilled and unloved. I just might live through this, maybe.
Remember I said that I had the chance to interview a major Food Network personality on the final day of exams? This funny and wise individual told me: There's always a solution. You can cut off the bottom of a burned brownie, crumble it up and make it a chocolate trifle. You just have to discover the solution and make it work, get to it. Believe in the possible.
That same day, I found out that an orange plate can really soak up the color of a brown tart. Sure, the Chef cut into an eclair and was startled to find a big hole where the cream should have filled in. Yes, he saw the spots where I had not exactly covered the tart in all the apricot glaze it was due - but he was more than fair and absolutely generous in his findings.
I found out that maybe, just maybe, I can live to do this another day.
I have nicknamed myself "The Brave Little Toaster."
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