"And I tell you to just shut up."

This was our first week with Chef back. And it didn't take him long to establish he was BACK. And it was his way or the highway. It snapped us back into focus which was good. Substitute teachers always make you lazy.

Monday was our first day coming home empty handed. Even our first day of school we had something to show for ourselves. Btt then Tuesday came, and we remembered what we had spent all of Monday doing: preparing for Tuesday. This entire week has been puff pastry application. Puff Pastry is the same technique, and a similar product, to a croissant dough, except it is unyeasted. Our day with puff pastry application was largely unsuccessful, which can be hard to stomach when you spend as much time is required for puff pastry and then you burn the shit out of everything.

Any French-speaking person would writhe uncontrollably if they had heard our French pronunciations. I think pithivier (pronounced 'pith-iv-ee-ay) was bastardized beyond recognition, everything from 'piddy-ay' to 'the pimmy guy' used in its stead. Palmiers (pronounced 'palm-years') became 'pommys' or 'the twisty sugar things'.

The Pithivier is filled with frangipane, which is an almond paste pastry cream filling. I will not lie, I ate it off my fingers at least once.

Palmiers are named after palm leaves, which they are supposed to resemble. They are also called Elephant Ears, which if you close your eyes they also resemble. We burned the shit out of ours. So.

Vol au Vent is a hollow, case-like pastry (according to Wikipedia). Our first batch came out looking like a portrait. Gorgeous, full rise and more importantly EVEN rising. One method that is utilized when baking puff pastry, and specifically vol au vent, is to lay a silpat or another baking pan on top of the vol au vent. (despite your best instincts that tell you that will CRUSH your vol au vent, try it. You may get results you like.) You only bake it with the weight on top for the first few minutes when the initial rise is going on to control the rate of the rise the entire way around the circle of the vol au vent. Our first we made and baked without a weight or pan on top. The layering, or mille feuille, was perfect. Chef came by and told us that they looked really good. When they turn out looking good it demystifies puff pastry a little bit. But then, in my opinion (because I was present for the internal monologue that told me I was a superstar) we made some larger ones.

This is really what they are supposed to look like. Just so you have a frame of reference.

So we nailed it basically. When you cut out the discs, half of the discs you cut out the middle and layer the two, which is what lends the 'bowl-like' rise. Our genius idea for the second batch involved baking the tiny round cut out, that would have previously been waste. And those are the ones in the front row that look roughly like dog poop. As for the vol au vent, some described them as "Seuss-y", like something from The Lorax or MCelligot's Pool. Something about them being herded around the dog poop made them look like a cross section of an intestine.  My partner, Lex, in between gasps for breath as she died from laughter just shook her head at the Dr. Seuss rationale. We made everyone look at it, really just as a sobering exercise as to what can happen if you take puff pastry lightly. You will make an abomination.
Filled vol au vent look so awesome when they are filled with something yummy. But the vol au vent have to look good in the first place.

Luckily we got a minor reprieve from the puff pastry with some quality time spent with pate sucree. Under the 'pastry' banner, you have numerous different doughs that are used as tart liners, pie crusts, petit four bases and quiches. Pate sucree is one such crust, along with pate a foncer, pate brisee, pate sablee and pate sablee Breton.

Today was gratifying. We made tarts with a pate sucree crust, which is more of a brittle, cookie-like crust as opposed to the flaky pie crust. We were supposed to make a lemon tart today but we had a bit of an issue with our crust and shrinkage. Shrinkage man. (I could make a joke right now but I won't. It's better if I don't.) Shrinkage in pastry dough occurs when you over mix your dough. You lose quite a bit of definition in the pie crust again after that happens and then, as in our case, your liquid filling is kind of a no go.

We also made a chocolate ganache tart, that is FABULOUS. But reading the recipe reminded me a lot of the chocolate sauce that my dad used to make to go on ice cream. Said sauce consisted mostly of melted chocolate, sugar and butter. Soooo good, am I right? But definitely wouldn't have been my reflex as a go-to pie filling. Not gonna lie, this pie is disappearing in incrementally small slices, at approximately one per hour (or minute).

Lastly we did an Almond and Pear Tart, which is an oddly recurrent flavour combination. Pears really do not factor into my framework when it comes to desserts. Apples are classic. Cherries are classic. Berries of really any denomination. But it has only been since I got into pastry school that I realized that pears are kind of the Kate Winslet of pastries. When you want different but you want a little class too. Apples are just too Reese Witherspoon sometimes. I guess. Anyway, the frangipane is wonderful, as it always is. A beautiful, subtle sweetness to it. Kind of a grainy, whipped texture.

This shortbread performed as it should which was nice. A great crunch without being injury inducing. (It's a fine line I kid you not.)

Lastly we worked on our Napoleons, or Mille Feuille which translates to 'thousand layers'. The name derives from the layers in the puff pastry. The pastry is folded three times at each of four intervals.
4 x 4 = 16
16 x 4 = 64
64 x 4 = 256
256 x 4 = 1,024
So there actually is a thousand layers. Jokes abounded about the height of the pastry in comparison to the Emperor Napoleon. (We have a lot of people in our class who are educated far beyond what is required of pastry school.) One girls button popped off her jacket and thus the Napoleon thing thrived.

It doesn't look awesome but once you've eaten an entire slice in almost one bite, in the kitchen by yourself with the lights off, you kind of lose all perspective on the counter appeal of something. Pastry school has done degrading things to me.

Tomorrow is pate a choux and pavlova!

Find something with pastry cream. Eat. Write a poem. Repeat.