France gets under my skin

France has started to set in and my brain feels less scrambled.
I’m relaxing, enjoying absorbing the new culture, eating, listening
to people speak and watching them work. I see at least two parallels
between France and New Orleans; the love of leisure & pleasure and
the importance of food in daily life. Lunch with girlfriends here
feels like the all day crawfish boils we have at home. It is a complete
giving of one’s self to the subtle pleasures of enjoyment.

The workweek here is different from stateside. Chefs,cooks and serving
staff’s weeks are capped at thirty-five hours. They take a three-hour
break during the day and for meals everyone sits down to eat. For me
it’s been an exercise in slowing down that at times goes against my
nature. I’m used to running around sweating, keeping my pockets full
of snacks to eat on the run and trying to make sure that the seemingly
never-ending prep list at work is completed. Being in any kitchen feels
like running to catch a train during New York City rush hour. Am I going
to make it? Is the subway running on time? Do I have all my luggage?
But it’s that constant feeling of adrenaline and the satisfaction of
making it all happen that keeps all of us in the service industry going.
This drive exists in the south of France but it feels as though everyone
is pacing themselves for a lifetime of this work.

It’s been a slow start to the season here so the kitchen has been pretty
laid back in comparison to what I'm used to. I’ve spent my days working on
various components of the Sunday Jazz brunch I’m responsible for, cutting
mirepoix, making sauces and stocks and doing lots of recipe conversions.
Its been wonderful practicing this new pace of cooking, getting back into
perfect knife cuts, picking fresh herbs from the château garden and I just
have to taste,taste, taste everything.

Integrating into the kitchen at the Chateau hasn’t been as difficult as
I had imagined. Folks are kind and patient and there are a lot of hand motions
to explain tasks and words. The kitchen staff here is small, Chef de
Cuisine Barnard, Sous Chef Arthur, Tournant Ari, Pastry Chef Milton and
two young cooks, Robin, 16, and Wilfred, 18. Despite their youth, Robin and
Wilfred are motivated and knowledgeable which is good since they’re
responsible for the majority of the prep that happens in the kitchen.
Robin has been my best translator, always laughing at my badly pronounced
French but very helpful. I am fascinated with the culture of apprenticeship
that seems commonplace in French kitchens. A lot of time and energy is put into lifting up new generations of cooks. It feels deeply rooted in French culture
to encourage young people to be chefs. There is pride in this profession here.

Sunday is when it all culminates with the grand example of pleasure:
Jazz brunch. A groaning, fifteen foot table is replete with cold salads
brimming with white and green asparagus, heaps of shrimp with various
dipping sauces,an amazing garde manger display of a whole salmon coated
with white aspic and decorated with bright vegetables.Soups, large roasted
meats, overflowing sausages, roasted potatoes and cauliflower gratin, seafood
stew,sunnyside up eggs on crab cakes and what seems to be a never ending
supply of raw oysters.
On a smaller table there is an equal overflow of handmade desserts.
The corner of the patio houses the jazz band, led by a sweet white haired
octogenarian who still plays his trumpet with vigor. The band provides a
perfect soundtrack for the leisure, pleasure and SUCCESS of brunch.