Ok to start with today’s post, I will be discussing my baguette class! My class was scheduled for 10 am and was nowhere near where I live, so I knew I was going to have to take the metro. And as much as I love the metro and feel that I have a handle on it, sometimes I still don’t correctly estimate the amount of time the metro will take (especially with transfers). So of course I’m literally sprinting to the cooking school. Once I walk in the door, they lead me downstairs to the 7 other students and the teacher. Oh hey everybody, yes I’m sweating a bit and yes I always look this good, do you mind if I squeeze right in here between you? We begin our class and I’m stationed on the corner. I’m next to a guy probably around my age, he’s there with his mother. And I can already tell he’s going to be the rule abider, meaning he’s going to follow the directions to a T. To the left of me is this sweet older lady who apparently bakes all the time and half the time lives in Maui and the other half lives in Washington. Besides the guy next to me with his mother, I’m the youngest one there (surprised? not really). First we make dough for our baguettes that we will create later. Then we have to pair up to the person next to us and make a fougasse. I am inevitably paired up with the guy next to me, who seriously measures each of our ingredients SO SLOWLY. Come on bud, we need 250g of flour, I think you can pour in more than a pinch of flour each time.
I had forgotten what it was like to spend time around American people (specifically those who are in Paris on vacation, not the students who are here). I just love the questions they were asking my teacher, as if because she is French she would know everything French related and everything bread related. Example, “one time I made dough and put it in the fridge and it rose really high. I followed the recipe, so I know I didn’t do anything different. What went wrong?” Um, it’s called baking, no baking experience is ever exactly the same. Next wonderful question, “So I read once that bakers who didn’t bake bread the correct way for soldiers were baked in an oven and killed. Is this true?” Woah there Sally, not sure if you understand that this baking class is not about death by baking.
I successfully made four little baguettes (one cut in a cool pattern and one with poppy seeds) and two mini fougasses (kind of like mini pizzas I suppose?). It was funny to take all of my freshly baked goods on the metro to get back home, as I got several looks as the strong smell was wafting through the box and bags I had.
My baguettes pre-baking
my fougasses pre-baking
My fougasses, or mini pizzas.
I would like to share a little story from yesterday as well because I find it rather entertaining and it dawned on me that having a blog is much like having a captive audience. And since I’m not in the States, I can pretend that all of you are laughing at my jokes and be blissfully unaware of the truth.
It’s only natural that when you travel, especially to other countries, you miss/crave your creature comforts. Which for me means creature comfort food items. One of the (many) things I crave while I’m here is almond butter. I didn’t say my cravings were logical, it’s what I crave and that’s that. I had found a store that sells some, it’s literally on the corner of where I live. And I had bought a jar before (and possibly gone through it A LOT QUICKER than I thought I would). So I went in yesterday to buy another jar. But while I would love to buy shit tons of food, I still watch the price of things and try not to splurge on food items unless it’s a dire circumstance (which my belly would argue is 24/7). I noticed that the almond butter was a tad bit on the pricier side, so I started to look at the other nut butters they had. One of the cheaper jars was a big jar of what I believed was cashew nut butter, so I decided to go against my gut and get that jar. Now smart little Kelsey chose to not look at the visual picture on the label (which you would assume anyone who isn’t fluent in the language the label is in would). So I neglected to notice that it was a jar of peanut butter. Which I did NOT want. Once I figured it out last night, I started to get a bit annoyed with myself and tried to figure out what to do. Mostly I was annoyed that I still didn’t have MY ALMOND BUTTER.
So I decided to recoup my losses. What did I do? Well I tried to sell it. There is a facebook group where all the students who are in the Paris Fall Abroad program right now are in it and people post fun things to do, look for people for trips (I shall address this in another paragraph), and just write whatever they feel like. I would describe it as a cross between Craigslist and Match.com. I ran my idea past Diana, who I think encouraged me just to see if anyone would reply or if I would be excommunicated from the group. Last night I posted basically “I have a jar of peanut butter, does anyone want to buy it off me for supa cheap?” Thankfully three people replied and I will be selling my peanut butter asap. And now I feel like I’m selling peanut butter on the black market in Paris. Giving the Americans what they really want!
Ok back to the Facebook group. What I find really interesting is that people seriously look for travel companions on the site. People will write, “Who wants to go to London?????” and then 30 people will write on it that they want to go. So now there are all these huge groups traveling together. Which for me is my worst nightmare. Who wants to herd cats (see explanation from earlier post) in multiple countries? It’s just too overwhelming in my opinion, I’m down to travel with just a few people. But for the past couple of days I have really been considering posting on there a joke post just to see if people will see that I’m joking. I really want to post “Hey everyone! I think I’m going to head to Hawaii for a quick weekend trip, who wants to go?!” But I’m already the “peanut butter drug dealer,” so there’s really no need to lose that title right now.