For my birthday this year, she bought two spots for us in a Saturday morning cooking class at Cafe de Paris, a Birmingham restaurant that features French cuisine. (When I tell you her gifting is legit, I do not lie!)
She and I arrived this morning to fresh-baked croissants, hot bacon, orange juice and coffee, and an eclectic bunch of classmates.
In particular, when I overheard one of them speaking in French to the chef, I immediately identified her as the teacher's pet and decided to keep her at a safe distance.
After a leisurely brunch, Chef Serge showed us to our preparation table, and I suited up with a spunky red apron and my game face.
Chef Serge was a delight, encouraging us in his heavy French accent to talk to our food, and preaching that anyone can make magic in the kitchen. I loved the way his passion for food sort of bubbled out of him so effortlessly.
His big life truth came through a wine tasting, which I found a little bit humorous. He explained that while we were all tasting the same wine, we'd each experience something different, because after all, we are each unique, and made with different palates.
Palates aside, I was just thankful in that moment to be quite different from Teacher's Pet. Upon our first chopping exercise, she was quick to share that she had been a sous chef in Chapel Hill some thirty years ago.
That might have been interesting, except her head was close to exploding, her ego was so out of control.
We pressed on, though, and Chef Serge guided us through recipes for a tomato and zucchini quiche, and an almond pear tart, both of which involved from-scratch dough, which never really goes well with me in the kitchen.
That could have been cause for serious trepidation, but in the end Lori and I were pleased with our crust, and with the finished products.
Speaking of crusts, I overheard Teacher's Pet commenting that someone's crust was "overworked" and "not flaky, like it's made here in the South." I felt sorry for Chef Serge then, since she apparently is a regular at his restaurant.
Later when she pressed him, asking multiple times if he was sure the pear tart recipe didn't call for butter, I wanted to punch her in the face.
On a brighter note, one of my favorite things about today was that we didn't have to clean up our delicious mess that we left behind.
Although Teacher's Pet was a grace-stretcher, she absolutely did not steal my joy. I indulged in every bite of every last comforting carbohydrate.
It was a happy way to start my day off, and I plan to go back and visit Chef Serge and his sous chef.
The real sous chef, that is. Not Teacher's Pet.
No comments:
Post a Comment