As I envisioned myself baking up a storm in Paris, I'll admit that I had lofty images of rolling out lovely little gazelle horn pastries, trying my hand at brioche, and lovingly glazing a ginger fig cake. I imagined using the decadent French milk and butter to create little walnut-size balls of chouquette dough, watching them rise slowly in the oven, and then eating them while they're still warm and flaky. And I had images of doing this with sun streaming through my windows while I listened to French radio shows and drank a glass of wine. Perfect, n'est pas?
But I have realized that, while I am an excellent baker back in the United States, I haven't the foggiest what I am doing now that I'm transplanted in la belle France. For starters, the flour is different from ours. They are graded by number (45, 55, 65, etc.). Some include yeast or baking soda already. And some grocery stores don't even carry it. Couple this with the lack of baking powder, baking soda, brown sugar, and what I consider to be other key ingredients, and I have been a bit stuck. And for a city so filled with pastries, bread, and all kinds of delicious baked treats, there's not even a word in French for "to bake." Astounding.Oh, the meretriciousness of dreams.
The other day, I tried to make the aforementioned chouquettes, and instead of coming out like this:
they (or I should say it, since, after creating a rather runny dough, I decided to try to turn it into one giant Dutch-Baby-like piece of pastry) came out something like this (minus the rabbit, larger, and with more butter):
It tasted delicious, but let's just say that it wouldn't have won a beauty competition.
But I'm not easily thwarted, and I was still determined to pursue the art of baking. After searching high and low for baking soda (which I read somewhere was available in grocery stores here, but I am still uncertain as to which grocery stores this writer was referring, seeing as how I've visited no less than seven looking for it), I decided to visit a store highly recommended by a few pro bakers/ food bloggers whose blogs I read. The place is called G. Detou (a pun on the phrase, "j'ai de tout," or "I have everything"), and it's a place of marvels for all pro bakers. However, for this non-pro baker, who still doesn't quite know how to say all baking-related terms in French, the store proved to be a challenge. The prickly woman behind the counter stared me up and down unrelentingly as I eyed her wares (lovely Sicilian pistachios, 5-pound bars of chocolate, lovely jars of candied violets), and finally, I boosted my nerve to ask if they had any baking soda. Knowing this this was a store for pros, I assumed that they would sell it mostly in bulk, but by my reckoning, I would be more than happy to take a pound of the stuff since I was having such a hard time finding it elsewhere.
She eyed me, as always, warily. "Yes, by the kilo," she intoned, and before I can reply, she swooshes away to a back room, not very happily. I'll spare you (and myself) any continued tales of the awkwardness that ensued, but let's just say that thanks to nerves, the lack of baking goods in grocery stores, and this woman's prickly initiative, I have enough baking soda to bake a horse-sized cake or keep the fridge smelling fresh for the next 6 years.
I am now the proud owner of 2.2 pounds of sodium bicarbonate.
I didn't even attempt to ask about baking powder. I can make my own if I mix cream of tartar with my baking soda, but surprise, surprise, that's also not readily available here. I've read that one can ask for it at a pharmacy, which strikes me as odd, but I have not yet mustered my moxie to go asking for it. French pharmacies, thanks to a few strange experiences last summer, are another French locale that I find heart-stoppingly bristly, and I can't quite imagine what will happen when I go in asking for TartarCream (crème de tartre).
In better food-related news, I've made friends (to use the term loosely) with a few produce vendors at our market, a local Halal butcher, and an Indian grocer who sold me an armful of cheap spices, so all is not lost. I just haven't yet fulfilled my dream of sunshiney, wine-happy, apron-prancy baking. At least there's no shortage of butter here.
1 comment:
Carolyn, I'm loving these blog posts. Especially the picture of the rabbit. I think if we took pictures of all food on top of rabbits, it would look better.
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