Chapter 37
Summer
E is waiting for me when I finish work at Finn on Tuesday. We have our first class tonight with the pastry chef in downtown Charleston. “Ready?” E asks.
“Just followed a celebrity around downtown all day, carrying her shopping bags,” he tells me.
“Ouch, that doesn’t seem like much fun, E.”
“No, but the pay was pretty high. She’ll be in town until Friday evening, so I hope she finds something else to do besides shopping all week,” he smiles.
We chat about the MMA tournament coming up this weekend.
This year it’s in Columbia, which makes it easier for us all to attend, and Alex booked a hotel room for us near the venue for the weekend.
I’ll be staying the entire weekend, but Seb and Bay can’t join us until Saturday afternoon because they're working in the morning.
Alex has a social event Saturday night, too.
E parks behind an old warehouse and leads me around to the front of the building.
We’re in an old industrial area that's being converted into businesses and condos. We step into a bakery with cast iron bistro tables scattered across dark wood floors. There are large display cases under a wooden counter at the back, with more cases lining the wall behind. To my right appears to be an indoor farmers’ market with fresh produce and flowers, as well as handcrafted items. “What is this place, E?” I ask.
“It started as a small bakery, but now it’s much more.
The store area on your right has fresh produce and flowers delivered three times a week from the local area.
The bakery is obviously still operational, but what you can’t see is that they're the biggest supplier of baked goods in the city. Many of the catering companies and restaurants buy wholesale from here.”
“Wow,” I reply.
“Come on. Follow me,” he smiles. We enter the back area through a swinging door, and I’m shocked at how large it is.
It’s the biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen.
Rows of gleaming stainless steel tables extend to the back of the building, their smooth surfaces reflecting the overhead lights, and shelves filled with colorful bags of flour, sugar, and chocolate line the wall.
To our left, massive industrial machines sit silent while cold ovens line the left wall.
E takes my hand and pulls me toward the back of the open area.
The long table at the back holds workstations, baking supplies, and mixers.
There are several chefs already waiting behind their chosen areas.
E greets a few of them and hands me a chef's jacket, then dons his own as an older man steps forward.
“Bonjour. I am Chef Francois. Welcome to pastry class,” he smiles through his large mustache, many laugh lines surrounding his eyes. “Today we will prepare pate feuilletée, madeleine dough, and the beginnings of macaron batter. Let us begin.”
Since E is the expert here, I follow his lead as we work side by side, following Chef Francois’s instructions.
He's a very engaging instructor, and although his accent is sometimes difficult to understand, E helps with translation. The class is small, so he can help each of us perfect the steps to create our pastries. I have a lot of fun laminating my puff pastry and, since I run cold, I’m able to work longer than the other chefs, whose bigger hands warm up the dough too much.
According to Chef Francois, the dough must remain cold, or it won’t get flaky.
The class ends up being about 2 and a half hours long, including cleanup.
E is smiling ear to ear as we leave the building. “You’re glowing,” I smile at him.
“Yeah. It’s always fun to learn from an expert. Chef Francois is world renowned for his pastries. Getting into one of his classes is the only way to get a hold of his recipes. Did you notice he didn’t give us written instructions?”
“Come to think of it, I did.”
“He writes nothing down. It’s all stored in his head. If you remember all the measurements and steps, you can recreate them,” he smiles. E could rival Seb in his enthusiasm right now.
“I’ll keep track then.” Taking out my phone, I make notes of what we did today with E’s help.
Wednesday after work, E and I head back to Charleston for our second class.
Today we are making croissants from the puff pastry dough we started yesterday.
I decide on chocolate while E makes almond.
The dough has to remain cold, just like yesterday, which is easy since my fingers are always cold, but E and several others have to refrigerate their dough as they prep.
Chef Francois has a unique way of rolling croissants that requires practice.
My first few look terrible, but Chef just laughs, telling me those are the ones I get to eat.
Thursday morning, we share our croissants with Nick, Seb, Zander, and Troy at work.
Everyone enjoys them, and I sneak an extra for Nick, since he loves chocolate so much.
That gets me a genuine smile from him. During class that evening, we complete our madeleines and macarons.
Macarons, I quickly find, aren’t easy. I’m struggling to achieve the right consistency.
Chef tries to help me, but they still fail to rise properly.
Too many adjustments, according to the expert.
At least they still taste delicious. We're each handed a certificate upon completion of the course, which has E beaming from ear to ear.
“Thanks for coming with me, Summer,” he says.
“Thanks for inviting me. I had fun, E,” I smile in return. He chats with a few of the other chefs as we clean up. Chef Francois congratulates all of us before ushering us out so he can lock up.