My Night at Le Cordon Bleu

Because we all need a daily serving of Python in our lives…

Seeing as how it was only three entries ago that I conducted a minor assault on food-centric weblogs, I think it is only fitting that I now deluge you with commentary on that very thing. I’ve been doing a lot of reading on the subject of irony these days, so maybe this opposite tack is a bit premeditated on some subconscious level. In any case, I think it will be an worthwhile deviation.
This evening I attended a cooking demonstration at Le Cordon Bleu here in Paris. During the weeks that I have spent marinating in this outstanding city, it had never dawned on me to try and visit Le Cordon Bleu. Not, that is, until the recommendation was brought up by a good (and obviously much sharper) friend of mine. A few clicks on LCB’s website, and I was soon signed up for a few one-off demos that included tonight’s subject: Food and Wine Pairing.
As is my normal routine, I spent the entire afternoon holed up in a café- today learning about the genesis of the African Union–  before hopping two metro lines that would bring me to Rue Léon Delhomme:
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Wait, that’s not Rue Léon Delhomme, that’s a photo of Parc Monceau. This piggy-backed poultry sculpture (the top guy is unhooking the moon) is decidedly not what you will find at a culinary institute. But I still love it.

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Here we go. Behold, the world famous Cordon Bleu culinary school that is Mecca for many a middle class midlife crisis working woman. I’ve got a two hour short-attention span engagement lined up here, and I’m really looking forward to joining in on the cliché. Really.

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The demonstration has about 25 people signed up- and many of us are anglophones. We are handed a folder and free pen (!) that will be used for us to take copious notes on tonight’s menu (or we can all just say that we spent 45€ to get a free pen). Waiting for everyone to show up, we make ourselves comfortable in this very tackily tastefully painted salle d’attente.

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Soon enough we’re off to a cooking classroom, complete with chairs that have flip-up desk edges. I feel a vague flashback to my 8th grade Home Economics class with Mrs. Sweeney. I remember that class for two reasons: First, Home Ec meant making “recipes” like Pillsbury Cresents with Milky Way minis wrapped inside. Second, in 8th grade I got a straight A report card with one exception…yep, I got a B in Home Ec.  I probably am not suited to be the best homemaker, but to this day I remain a little salty about that damn B grade.

A few years later I once again got all A’s in high school…this time with the exception of a B in Basic Badminton. The gym teacher told me it was because I sucked. I couldn’t really argue with that.


But now I’m getting off-topic…

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Back to cooking class! Here’s tonight’s menu. I have snagged a chair in the front row- which was kind of a no-brainer for me. Still, upon entering the room, everyone reflexively took cover in the mid to back rows before realizing that they were paying to be here and should instead get a seat up front. Old habits die hard.


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Here we have Chef Marc Thivet and sommelier Jean-Michel Deluc. We also have a wickedly funny translator whose name I forget. All I know is that his British upbringing made for some fantastic understated sarcasm. Sitting here, I feel a bit like I’m on a small-scale cooking show.


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I’d also be remiss if I didn’t point out the chef’s assistant here on the right- who is doubtless a slave student here at Le Cordon Bleu. She was the person running around doing most of the heavy lifting, and I am sure that she did most of the prep work. Respect.

The Chef explains the construction of our entrée (entrée in France, of course, means “appetizer”, plus ou moins and not “main course”). It is composed of a beet carpaccio topped with a crisp salad of daikon, smoked haddock, potatoes, celery, apple and chives.



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Before we even taste our salad, our sommelier walks us through his logic behind the wine that is paired with the dish (a 2010 Val de pays de Loire Gamay). He teaches clueless 30-somethings like me how one observes, smells and finally tastes a wine. (Note: just because a person has lived in France and speaks French with some talent does not mean that she knows anything about wine. At all.) We take our first taste, and then move on to the salad before going back for more wine. On second dégustation, the initial acidity of the wine seems to have lost this property once the vinegar in the salad dressing washes over our palate.

This is all rocket science to me- I’m really enjoying this verson of Home Ec.

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Next we have round two: roast duck with a dry spice rub (coriander, anise, cinnamon, cardomom, szechuan pepper), served with a celery purée of apricots and tender daikon.

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The wine that will go with the duck is a 2007 Saint-Joseph selection that was really fantastic. I was excited as the sommelier taught us about this selection because I was actually in these vineyards back in June. Yes, feel free to roll your eyes at this happy coincidence…

I actually got two pours of the Saint-Joseph, and with little food in my stomach from the afternoon, the atmosphere in our classroom was getting pretty convivial. Even our teachers were loosening up and cracking jokes- not all of which were translated into English (like: “You should serve champagne to celebrate happy occasions: weddings, christenings, divorce…but do so at breakfast next to your glass of orange juice).

Did you know that you should never serve champagne with dessert? It’s true. And speaking of dessert…

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Figs may be one of those perfect foods that really need no alteration. Still, it is fig season here in France and a roasted fig tart was selected as our last course. Here, the chef discusses the process of putting together the tart- blind backing the crust and then adding a layer of almond cream and pistachio paste before placing sliced figs on top. Bake. The pâte sucrée (crust) has crushed hazelnuts and vanilla extract in it, and I’m having trouble paying attention as the wine is starting to go to my head.

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Finally, the wine pairing with dessert. Jean-Michel tells us that you have to have sweet wine with sweet food (just like with the acidity of the first wine matched up with the acidity of the salad’s vinaigrette). Maybe you all knew this, but I found this “inside tip” both logical and revelatory. The wine poured here is a Maydie Vignobles Laplace Tannat. At least that’s what my take home sheet calls it. I’m such a neophyte.

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Behold the fig tart. It is, of course, délicieuse…I mean, we should expect nothing less from Le Cordon Bleu. Neither the wine nor the dessert is too sweet- and if they are, each is canceled out by the similar properties.

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Seeing as how this experience at Le Cordon Blue was a demonstration only, I didn’t go in to the evening having super high expectations. Having cleaned my plate, however,  I can honestly say that coming here would make for a great activity for visitors coming to Paris for a week of sightseeing. Skip the evil Louvre- here you get food, humorous commentary and kindess (which can be a rarity in Paris)- all in a historic setting that has you walking out the door with a pretty decent buzz. And a blue Cordon Bleu pen.

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As I walked down the steps to depart, they had some neat stuff on the walls- one which is of course have a tribute to (I so wanna say Dan Aykroyd here) Julia Child. Did you know that she worked for the OSS? She was a wicked cool lady.

So that’s it. I’m looking forward to returning to Le Cordon Bleu for further cultural enrichment in the near future. Until then, I’ll leave you with one final food shot before seeking out blog-worthy subject matter that paints me as more of the contrarian-type Yank who haunts this part of the world.

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 (Psst: It’s free to go to the park and check out the chicken art!)