• LJS

Let the Pastry Chef-ing begin!

Updated: Apr 23

Its official, I’m an expat, living in Paris and attending culinary school to become a pastry chef. It’s so official, I can show you my school.

Sadly, this was a picture before school had started for everyone and therefore the hordes of teenagers outside smoking and being super cool aren’t there. My school is for professionals who are looking to change their careers, or gain more experience in cuisine, but it’s also a vocational school for Parisian teenagers. My general love of teenagers aside, my favorite part of the day is when I get to walk through our courtyard or into the caf and see all these impeccably dressed, coiffed, and put together babies and I’m in this:

Those poor suckers don’t have pants that go up past their belly buttons and shoes that are the direct result of wooden clogs and Crocs mating… Oh, don’t get me wrong, the days of wearing suits and heels were fun dress-up times, but the Excel spreadsheets that went along with the outfit, not to mention the ironing and general planning aren’t missed. I now get to roll out of bed, put on my skinny jeans, chuck taylors and black shirt (Side note: apparently in Paris, I’m a hipster most of the time. I never knew. I figured I would come to Paris and suddenly become incredibly fashionable, just oozing fantastic style. Well, that hasn’t exactly happened – yet. I’m still hoping.), and head to school.

In my fancy Chef picture, you can see our kitchen we are in everyday. As I put up more, you’ll see more of it, but basically you have the huge freezers on the right (the quick freeze is called a Koma and it’s probably the most incredible freezer you never knew you needed), with the oven behind me and our 2 big granite countertops on top of our 20 refrigerators on the left. Pretty sweet set up.

Moving right along on our tour, here’s my locker in our tiny locker room.

Yes, my locker is PURPLE. It was a sign. You can see our chatelets in this picture hanging on the left, or how I loving refer to them, “fancy hairnets”. They are the one piece of my new Paris fashion that I’m not so into, but mostly because my hair is heavy in that little sucker.

A close up of another official piece of proof that I am, indeed, becoming a chef. Our names are supposed to be embroidered on there, which I figure might get done one of these days.

And just because they need their own special moment, again with these pupdogs.

In theory, they are super comfy. But they are about a size to a size in a half too big, so slopping around in them for about 5-7 hours every day makes my feet hurt. Don’t fret, I have my eye on a lovely pair of steel tipped beauties, but I think I’ll hold out for a little while before adding to my Paris wardrobe. Can’t rush these fashionable purchases.

So, it happened! I moved, I’ve began school, and I’m on my way to truly doing something I love. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe, but anytime I need to ascertain my life in Paris, I can always go check this out. My last piece of proof of my new life:

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