TDG: Food. France. Now.

[Bux]

She's single, isn't she. 

So maybe one of the flirtatious Frenchmen will be to her liking, after all?

Yes, she is. And maybe so.

I was wondering if the Frenchmen your sister was fending off were being flirtatious with you or with her and if either of you might regret the fending off.

[Louisa Chu]

I was wondering if the Frenchmen your sister was fending off were being flirtatious with you or with her and if either of you might regret the fending off.

Primarily they're flirting with her. If you saw her you'd know why. Being adorable is her trial in life. I spend too much time sweating in the kitchens wearing a funny little hat. And she's only fending them off so she can address them one at a time. The latest one is one of our butchers. Tall, dark, handsome, with icy blue eyes. I'm hoping that they hit it off so I can get some great butchering tips.

[Bux]

Being adorable is her trial in life.

I can empathize with that.

[Louisa Chu]

Being adorable is her trial in life.

I can empathize with that.

So I've heard from reliable sources.

[herbacidal]

Being adorable is her trial in life.

I can empathize with that.

i can empathize with that as well.

wait, hold on a minute....

that was in my dreams.

no one would think a six foot one asian guy adorable.

[Louisa Chu]

no one would think a six foot one asian guy adorable.

Are you kidding? My six foot plus cousins are irresistable.

Edited April 28, 2003 by loufood (log)

[herbacidal]

no one would think a six foot one asian guy adorable.  

Are you kidding? My six foot plus cousins are irresistable.

man, i gotta hang with different people.

[Fat Guy]

The latest from Louisa.

+++

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[catherinepantsios]

It’s great that your chef finds your work exceptional and Dorie Greenspan thinks your chocolates are brilliant; that you always stay later than anyone else, never complain and can silence the big bad boy chefs with the perfection of your plating. These are wonderful qualities in an aspiring chef and I don’t doubt that you possess them. Another trait worth acquiring is humility. Great chefs work with and for others. Without generosity of spirit all the truffles in the world are dust and ashes on the plate. Don’t mean to harsh your mellow; hopefully time or a wise mentor will teach you this.

[Holly Moore]

I envy your experience, Louisa. It is a wonderful opportunity and you are indeed making the most of it.

I disagree with catherinepantsios. I wouldn't worry all that much about humility. It takes humility to learn. And you have learned and are learning quite well. But I also don't place humility very high on the list of characteristics found in a successful chef.

I have known a few chefs and have interviewed many. The traits I've noticed most are a drive for perfection; confidence in their knowledge and the creativity and curiosity to explore and develop beyond that knowledge; and a low tolerance for those who don't share their focus, their passion.

I also suspect some and perhaps many accomplished chefs would see overt humility to be counterproductive - more a weakness than an asset.

[Suzanne F]

Louisa, ditto what Holly said. From what I've "seen" of you, I believe that you definitely have your head on straight. And if you can't share your joy at being recognized for your hard work with your friends here, we would be a much poorer site.

[Louisa Chu]

catherinepantsios, welcome to eGullet. I'm honoured to be the subject of your first post. I feel that I've failed with you as a writer if I haven't expressed my humility. That Chef Terrien found my work exceptional was a shock to me - he's never indicated as such and I never expected to hear that directly from him. Quite frankly I'd been bracing myself to hear him say "Um, no, I really don't think you have a chance working in those kitchens. Let's find a place more suitable to you." And what I meant about Dorie finding my chocolates brilliant was that they were so in shininess - something you want in well tempered chocolate. I stay late because I take as much time as I'm allowed in the kitchens - sometimes more - to practice. That silence was short-lived - and I'm sure followed by derision out of my earshot. There was no perfection of plating - my heart races every time because it's the moment of truth and there's always the fear that what I envisioned will flop. And Chef Bruno is one of my favourite chefs precisely because he seems so completely and quietly and generously confident in his work. And if you stick with me on this journey, I'm sure that the chefs in my stages will do all they can to further enhance my humility. I really thank you for your careful read and frank comments. I truly welcome more of them.

Holly, thanks so much. The traits you mentioned are - for better or worse - the traits I share. And yes, it's a fine line to walk between confidence and humility in the kitchen. French chefs especially like to eat the weak but also strike down anyone to high on themselves.

Suzanne, thank you, yes, it's been - and is and will continue to be - very hard work. And I can only hope there will be more glimmers of joy to share. Thanks again.

[Bux]

Humility is good, so is pride, but honesty is what I'd want most of all in this piece. This is the third in a series and we know that Lou has been a working journalist before she entered the Cordon Bleu. Members who have read Lou's contributions to the messages boards would also know of her generosity and willingness to share her knowledge as well as her feelings. I admire her ability to tell us her story and let us share her pride as a fact. I think it must be difficult to report directly about oneself honestly and professionally.

If I've played a little part in Lou's education by asking her to say hello to Dorie for me, I'm pleased and rewarded by this series of reports. I also have no fear that anyone can get through a porfessional cooking school in France with old school chef without being capable of showing humility. A couple of stages in a top kitchen will be yet other boot camps. My bet's on Lou and her dedication. There were lots of quicker and easier paths to culinary journalism than the one she chose. There are also a lot of second rate journalists out there writing about food.

[Pan]

I want to congratulate you, Louise. You are obviously doing well! Pay attention to your teachers when they tell you to trust your work. Reading about your nerves in front of the Masters really reminds me of my own experiences as a musician - but even more so, current experiences of students at year-end juries I hear. The week before the juries, I talked to students in my Music Theory I class about dealing with nerves. I reminded them that what they are doing isn't dangerous or life-threatening, and to think about the fact that surgeons, for example, injure or kill people many times when they make mistakes, yet loads of people owe their lives to the fact that surgeons are _WILLING_ to risk killing people and deal with that outcome of their imperfection. I was telling them:

"What's the worst thing that can happen in a jury? You make a mistake. So what? The sun will still rise tomorrow, and no-one will be injured or killed."

One of the students interrupted me:

"But...It's terrible to make a mistake!"

"Why? What terrible thing will happen to you because you made a mistake?"

"But it's...it's a mistake! Mistakes are bad! I'll feel terrible if I make a mistake because that will mean that I'm a failure!"

I told her that last summer, I was slotted to perform a piece I'd already performed _and recorded commercially to acclaim_ at 9 A.M. at the National Flute Assn. convention in DC. I just _could not_ fall asleep at a reasonable hour the night before, and the next morning, somehow nothing went right onstage. The results? I got numerous compliments from fellow flutists, many of whom expressed interest in acquiring the piece, and the composer - who was in the audience and obviously knew what notes I played right and wrong - was not only not upset but said he'd like to work with me again, perhaps writing a concerto for me this time. So I screwed up (trust me, I really did, without exaggeration). Was I a failure? Did anything terrible happen? It was uncomfortable, but I wasn't a failure and nothing terrible happened. Good lesson for me, and perhaps for them (maybe even for you).

I and the Director of the school have had several conversations about how overly self-critical many of our students are, such that they punish themselves for every imperfection and are so terrified they can't enjoy performing.

Don't make that you. Enjoy doing what you want to do and obviously have great talent for. Enjoy the performance, enjoy the process.

I'll give you another pep talk:

For some 11 years, I studied with Samuel Baron, a wonderful musician and teacher who was one of the founders of the New York Woodwind Quintet, played for many years in the Bach Aria Group, was a recitalist, toured all around the world, was one of the most famous and greatest flute teachers in the U.S., etc. His first full-time professional job after graduating from Juilliard was Principal Flute in Minneapolis. Mr. Baron was impressed with the veteran musicians in the orchestra, especially when they had a recording session. His fellow musicians would play extremely difficult passages for take after take without seeming to break a sweat and then just had coffee. Mr. Baron was dissatisfied with his own playing, so he made a vow that if he made a mistake in the next concert, he would pack up his flute and go home. Needless to say, his next performance was imperfect, but he was having too much fun to go home, so he needed a new rationalization. He figured:

"The concert is on Saturday. What if I make a mistake on Monday? Well, it's better not to, but it's the first rehearsal and everyone will forgive me. What about Wednesday? That's worse but that's still a rehearsal (etc.). What about the dress rehearsal on Friday? Well, it's honestly pretty bad to make a mistake then, but it still is, after all, a rehearsal. So what about making a mistake in the concert itself? Well, how many concerts will I play during my career? So the truth of the matter is that each concert is a rehearsal for the next concert."

Perfect logic? No. But it's a pretty good way to live.

Striving for perfection is good, but always expect to fall short, accept your humanity, and have pleasure in the striving itself. God knows I know about that, having been in the fascinating and sometimes satisfying, often grueling search for perfect command over my tone for almost 29 years of flute-playing!

Gosh, sorry for getting on the soapbox or whatever, and I don't know how this "sounds" in teletype format, but from one artist/performer to another, I hope it can help you.

Keep up the good work.

All the best from a former stagiaire de la flute traversiere in Nice,

Michael

[Louisa Chu]

Bux, thank you so much. I'm just so grateful that I have any knowledge to share that perhaps it comes across too prideful. Yet another of the deadly sins of which I'm guilty - gluttony most commonly of the others. I do hope you will help keep me in check.

Pan, thank you. I'm speechless. I am so completely in awe of musicians - an art form which I appreciate deeply but sadly have no ear - that you would speak to me as a fellow artist/performer leaves me protesting that I am unworthy. You will help me in thosedark moments that I hesitate. You have spoken in the words of a true master. Thank you again. And did you go to Fennochio when you were in Nice? One of my favourite places in the world.

[catherinepantsios]

I’m not sure when humility came to be considered an undesirable trait and inconducive to mastery and creativity, but it’s not surprising, I guess, in this age of PR and the commodification of virtually any talent however slight. To become a chef is to embrace a craft, engage in a métier that requires the building of a solid technical foundation upon which one may, some day, create something that startles, soothes or delights. Like all crafts, the skills to be mastered involve materials, tools and processes; in addition a professional kitchen requires one to learn to work with a team and to engage in an active relationship with one’s customers. Learning this discipline requires us to become humble enough to set aside our own will and our own needs so that we can hear what the produce, the pot, the flame and the guest want to teach us.

To learn from the materials is the chef’s study, to follow the direction of the vegetable, not to force it to conform to our preconceived notions. We must have the humility to ask, How does the onion want to be cut? How is this onion different from the onion I cooked yesterday? How can I bring out the nature of the fennel? If I slice the fennel paper-thin and desiccate it, does that enhance its nature or detract from it? Mastery of tools and techniques requires constant awareness and analysis until it becomes second nature. Have I humbled myself before the elemental tool, heat, and let it teach me what it is capable of? Do I understand how to cut effortlessly and cleanly with the oldest, dullest knife in the drawer as well as the sharpest one? To work with a team and to become the good teacher a chef must be require a great deal of patience and understanding of human nature, as well as the maintenance of the highest standards of work and discipline. How do I bring out the best in my team right now and help them realize their future goals? How do I break old patterns of abuse and arrogance that I may have learned from my own teachers? To move in harmony with the guest should be our highest goal. What does the weather tell me about how the diner will approach her meal today, how well can I gauge her mood, her rhythms? How can I accommodate that without compromising my standards?

Most chefs, by the nature of their work, taste much more than they eat. It’s useful to consider sometimes if the menu format and the plating really enhance the diner’s appreciation of the cooking or if we are creating an experience that overwhelms and exhausts. It’s easy to forget that people dine out for reasons that often have little to do with enhancing the chef’s ego and much more to do with basic human needs for connection and communication. Some of the best chefs are the least known--they don’t travel, entertain or expand their empires; they stay in one spot and dig deep. Their scope may seem limited in a culture that worships novelty and accepts all influences indiscriminately, but their mastery is complete and their goal is to increase the happiness of their guests, not to receive their adulation.

[Lesley C]

Catherine thank you. Welcome to eGullet. That was inspiring.

I agree with you completely. Humility is a rare quality in chefs these days, but it's there in spades with many of the greats.

I hope many members will read your post.

[Holly Moore]

I'm sorry Catherine, but I can't help thinking of David Caradine as Grasshopper studying for his 7th degree toque at the Shaolin Culinary Institute.

More seriously, you put a lot of thought into what you wrote. It is what you believe. Some of what your say probably is intuitive to anyone who pursues the kitchen as a career. And if a chef can successfully embrace such a gentle philosphy of food preparation, more power to him or her. But I don't see such zen-like contemplation surviving the day-to-day rigors and pressures of a top-flight restaurant kitchen.

I never said humility was bad. Humility is essential to learning. I suspect that the greatest chefs are always learning.

A humble person can fare quite nicely in a restaurant kitchen. But distinguishing one's self from the pack, rising to the top, takes drive, confidence, pride and pursuit of excellence - traits not usually associated with humility.

The pejorative opposite of humility is arrogance, not pride or self-confidence.

Edited May 9, 2003 by Holly Moore (log)

[Pan]

Pan, thank you. I'm speechless. I am so completely in awe of musicians - an art form which I appreciate deeply but sadly have no ear - that you would speak to me as a fellow artist/performer leaves me protesting that I am unworthy. You will help me in thosedark  moments that I hesitate. You have spoken in the words of a true master. Thank you again. And did you go to Fennochio when you were in Nice? One of my favourite places in the world.

Thou dost protest too much. Cooking at the high level you are doing it is certainly an art, just as performing a musical instrument can be an art, but both cooking and performing a musical instrument can be mere crafts in the hands of people who are relatively lacking in imagination, creativity, and inspiration and just go through the motions efficiently.

No, I don't remember going to Fennochio, though I might have. I was in Nice in the summers of 1992 and 1993 on a student's budget. I don't know if Fennochio was there then (Vieux Nice?), nor how much it would have charged. I typically paid no more than some 75-80 FF - maybe 90 - for pricier meals in Nice. I can't remember what my per diem for food was on my grant ($30?), but I basically lived within it fairly effortlessly by having boulangerie food for breakfast, a plate of pasta for 40 FF or so for lunch and, if I were really hungry, a menu at Cafe de la Fontaine in the Place Ste. Reparata for 69 FF. My classy splurge/date dinner place in summer '92 served cuisine a la Reunion and cost me about 70-90-something FF, I think. I paid more for food in Paris.

Edited May 9, 2003 by Pan (log)

[Fat Guy]

Some of the best chefs are the least known

Give me a list. I'm always looking for a good story!

[Bux]

Catherine, I agree with you and Holly. Humility is a great trait. Arrongance is obnoxious. Pride can go either way, depending on how and where it is displayed. We may disagree on what we've seen or read into Lou's article, but it appears we share many of the same standards and question many of the same concepts. I appreciate your follow up and look forward to reading more of your posts.

[Louisa Chu]

Catherine, I'm not sure that humility is or ever will be considered undesirable or inconducive to true mastery and creativity - so if it was it would surprise me. One of my initial disappointments at Cordon Bleu was we were not allowed to work in teams - except in some specific Intermediate and Superior Patisserie practicals. Our chefs explained that practicals are designed so that we each perfect our own skills. They expect students to learn to work in teams during their stages. Your insightful ideas about following the direction of the materials directly contradicts much of what classical French cuisine teaches. The onion will be cut and cooked fondante as it must. The fennel will be blanched and pureed because it must. Why is the oldest knife in the drawer the dullest? My oldest and sharpest knife is a cleaver selected for me by my mother. The oldest knives my chefs use are barely recognizable as knives, so frequently sharpened over decades of use but guarded with tender care. Doesn't what overwhelm and exhaust one diner potentially startle, soothe or delight another? I don't currently live in a culture that worships novelty or accepts all influences - I live in France. Thank you again for another thought-provoking post.

Lesley, I agree with you completely.

Holly, interesting that you use the martial arts metaphor. I often use that mental discipline in the kitchen as well. One of the goals is to present yourself so that one never needs to engage in confrontation. Not obnoxiously but quietly confidently so. Especially interesting remembering how many of my ancient great-uncles could have knocked over me or any of my cousins with a move we'd have never seen coming!

Pan, thank you. But as Chef Pascal warns us "There are more Salvadors than Dalis." And Fennochio, it's the incredible ice cream place, right in Place Rosetti, across from Cathedrale Sainte Reparate. My favourite flavours wavered between melon and lavender. Maybe it's blasphemous to say but I think they're so much better than Berthillon.

Fat Guy, I'd love to read that story.

Bux, I truly do too and if I haven't said it sincerely enough then you in your more civilized manner have.

[Pan]

Yes, Louisa, I got ice cream from that place often, though it was kind of pricey. Sure it's better than Berthillon: It's really Italian gelato. Never forget that whether we call it Nice or Nizza, it's really culturally in many ways more Italian than French. It's interesting to visit the graveyard in the Carthusian monastery in Cimiez and look at the last names on the headstones. Until some time in the 19th century, they were largely Italian, IIRC. My deduction is that those same families Frenchified the names when that area of the Costa Azzura was given to France in exchange for French recognition of Italian control over Rome minus the Vatican. But the whole Provencale area, anyway, has a cuisine which is to a large extent based on the normal Italian grouping of onions, garlic, tomatoes, extra virgin olive oil and red wine. I think their language is more similar to Italian than French, too, and I've heard that it's essentially the same as Ligurian (though I couldn't say anything about that from personal experience).

[Louisa Chu]

Pan, you bring up an interesting point about perspectives on prices. At first I thought, wow, you thought Fennochio was expensive? I thought it was the best deal in town - a couple of bucks for a huge scoop on a cone, rich, perfumed - gelato - cafe seating. But then I remembered you lived lived there on a student budget. Which is my perspective now on Berthillon - but their servings are tiny! Where's the heart these days? North or South? I'm looking forward to my first summer in Paris but the South calls to me.

[Jonathan Day]

Fenocchio is good, and has some interesting herbal flavours (thyme, basil and tomato, etc.). Unfortunately as of a month ago they had stopped offering tastes -- one of the former pleasures of the place was tasting a number of flavours and then composing a cone of two or three of them. "A new policy" said the guy behind the counter.

If you are in the area, try Vilfeu in Cannes (19 rue des Etats Unis, near the Gray Albion hotel). Slightly narrower range than Fenocchio, but the flavours are cleaner and better.