Tart nouveau

Happy Canada Day! Celebrating Canada's 141st birthday during our first and likely only heat wave of the summer, I plan to water my flowers and dust off the patio furniture today. Keeping cool is difficult in our living space, especially yesterday when the oven seemed to be on 400F the entire day. I cook large batches of lunches and dinners each Monday for consumption during the week. Yesterday, a lovely chocolate hazelnut strawberry tart was also on the menu.


I have been wanting to try Michael Laiskonis' chocolate tart dough recipe for several months now and finally stumbled upon the right opportunity when I was wondering what to do with some leftover gianduja pastry cream which had done its duty last week as my soufflé base. This time last year I was just finishing my Pan Pacific practicum and had sworn I would never make another fresh fruit tart in my life unless forced at gunpoint. No firearms were necessary, just the presence of fresh sweet strawberries and excess gianduja pastry cream reminding me that not all fruit tarts are created equal.


The tart dough is very easy to work with, containing almond powder which gives it great texture. I substituted some ground hazelnut into my almond cream recipe and piped a layer into my tart shells. Once baked and cooled, a thin layer of gianduja pastry cream was spread on top and crowned with fresh strawberries. A sprinkle of hazelnut streusel adds a little buttery crunch. Make the streusel stick by glazing the strawberries first with some melted apricot jelly, which also serves to increase the fruit's longevity.


Because of the slow start to our summer here in British Columbia, the local fruit crop has been delayed but hopefully, those gorgeous local cherries, apricots, and blueberries will soon appear at the market. I might not be succeeding on any 100 Mile Diet yet, but odds will definitely improve in the next few weeks!

Eating with your ears

Having some leftover cream in the fridge, I decided to make crème brûlée yesterday. This classic custard dessert of questionable origin is ubiquitous these days, found on almost every fine dining restaurant menu, usually as the traditional vanilla bean version or sometimes with a modern flavour twist. Because it is made with just cream, possibly some milk, sugar, and egg yolks, crème brûlée can be a blank canvas into which teas, spices, herbs, liqueurs, chocolate, fruits, nut pastes, and whatever you dare are added.


Although the custard part may change, the smooth glistening thin layer of caramelized sugar is, undoubtedly, the main reason I enjoy the crème brûlée experience, both as creator and consumer. At home, my small hand-held butane torch, which was a gift from a friend given years ago, is perfect for small-scale use. During my practicum at the Pan Pacific, I recall cradling two industrial propane torches in each arm to caramelize over 300 crème brûlées for a large function. The roar was deafening and I felt strangely powerful, not unlike some fire wielding superhero. These days, my enjoyment is from the satisfying thwack of breaking the caramel layer to enter the creamy goodness underneath.

A tale of two entremets

This week, I produced two entremets as a favour for my mom's friend who was hosting a dinner party. It was a chance to test my new KitchenAid stand mixer as well as to exercise my creativity muscle. The experience made me recognize how little space I have in my freezer and how important it is to taste everything that you make.

The first entremet was a repeat of one I created for my plated dessert assignment during my Pan Pacific practicum, except a strawberry gelée was used instead of raspberry. This gave me an opportunity to use a beautifully simple row of strawberries to garnish this entremet, with a touch of chocolate for movement.

The second entremet was composed of mango passionfruit mousse, pistachio coconut joconde sponge, some fresh mango, and coconut basil bavaroise. Having an abundance of basil currently in my patio herb garden, I was very excited about combining coconut with basil. Unfortunately, I have a tendency to underestimate the intensity of herbs and decided to add 5 grams of basil instead of 2 grams, resulting in overpowering basil flavour. The same thing happened during my pastry school final black-box exam when I underestimated the power of thyme in an apple-cranberry compote. When will I ever learn my lesson?

A long journey for all

This unusual looking, yet beautiful, fruit is the mangosteen, also known as the "queen of fruit". For those unfamiliar with this exotic nugget of deliciousness, the mangosteen originates from Southeast Asia and has a rich history involving its discovery and introduction to the Western world in the 18th and 19th centuries. With a tough deep purple rind and luscious creamy white segmented interior, the mangosteen's flavour is somewhat difficult to describe. To my tastebuds, the flavour combines strawberry with nectarine but also pineapple and perhaps even kiwifruit. You will just have to try it for yourself and luckily they are currently abundant. We saw many in Chinatown and bought some at T & T Supermarket.

Although the mangosteens which I bought did travel many miles in order to end up in my kitchen, lately I have been more conscious about where my food is grown. Eating local not only benefits the environment, but also it helps support the local agricultural economy. I have been gorging on red Okanagan cherries from the Riley Park Farmer's Market and am eagerly awaiting the start of blueberry season. Nothing beats a big bowl of fresh blueberries topped with vanilla yogurt!

Monday is my very last day at the Pan Pacific and I am happy to finally cease being a student. Thankfully, I will be returning to Ganache Pâtisserie as a part-time employee which is ideal for me because my other part-time job these days is still helping my mom rehabilitate after her leg injury. It has been a long journey in search of professional happiness and I finally feel that, despite the enormous toll on my spirit and confidence taken during my departure from Ophthalmology, the outcome is positive, hopeful, and in sight.

Nougat love

My assignment this week was nougat de Montélimar, a favourite sweet treat from childhood but more recently, from both pastry school and our trip to France. This traditional Provençal confection is full of almond and pistachio nuts, cemented together with very dense Italian meringue cooked with sugar and lavender honey. Different dried fruits or citrus peel can be added for variety. When set, the nougat can be cut into small pieces or long slabs to enjoy; to prevent drying out, it should be wrapped tightly or enrobed partially in chocolate.


My sister and I have vague recollections of how my mom would give us small silver-foil wrapped cubes of white nougat when we were young. During pastry school, my love of nougat was reawakened! As a result, our recent trip to France included a mandatory pilgrimage to Montélimar, the birthplace of nougat, where we spent a few short hours browsing the countless nougat shops before catching the train to Lyon. Interestingly, nougat de Montélimar must officially contain either 30% almond or 28% almond and 2% pistachio, and honey must be 25% of the sugar content. My recipe from pastry school produces a fairly chewy nougat, whereas in Montélimar, both "tendre" and "dur" were available.

Breaking a sweat

The first time I had table-side Crêpe Suzette was in a fine dining French restaurant within the Cleveland Clinic campus in Cleveland, Ohio during a fellowship interview lunch. Almost four years later, my accomplishments now include making over 360 crêpes in less than three hours.

I have never been keen on culinary endeavors and toiling in front of a hot stove; however, I now understand the fun and, dare I say, rush, of having multiple pans quickly flying over the flames while doing the proverbial culinary "dance". With two crêpe pans cooking side by side and no tool except for my fingers for flipping, I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed the exciting, albeit sweaty, experience in front of the stove. By carefully controlling the intensity of the flame, the speed of crêpe production is determined as both pans are used simultaneously and without interruption while being careful not to let either crêpe become too brown. Of course, the expected turnover time for about 400 crêpes by an experienced pastry cook is two hours but I was slower!

Fruits of my labour

I never thought that some of the most important lessons I would learn from my Pan Pacific practicum would be about fruit. The pastry kitchen uses case after case of fresh fruit every day, for tarts or flans, decorations on plated desserts, cakes, platters, and smoothies for example. Cutting fruit is not difficult per se; however, cutting fruit fast and properly is the goal. My knife skills have improved vastly during my practicum and Chef Ted has imparted on me a greater respect for the natural beauty of fresh fruit.

Halving and quartering strawberries with only a paring knife in my hands (without a cutting surface) is now routine and fast for me. Dismantling a pineapple is now an easy 20 second task. Considering the ultimate destination and time to consumption of the fruit is also important. For instance, if your 150 strawberry halves are destined to stand erect on a plated dessert, the green stem needs to be cut flat across; however, if your strawberry half is for a fruit kabob, it is more important to conserve as much fruit on your strawberry, so make a smaller V-cut to remove the stem. When producing fruit flans, the thickness of your melon or pineapple slices must be not too thin because they will dry out before they are glazed and served hours later. But if too thick, the flan is not as aesthetically pleasing. Even minor things like, should a cut strawberry neighbour a cube of pineapple on a bamboo skewer for a fruit kabob, must be considered. The answer is no because the pineapple will soon be stained pink.

There are numerous "pearls" of knowledge that I am lucky to have learned and will hopefully retain as I continue in my new career. Undoubtedly, there is such depth and breadth of pastry knowledge in the Pan Pacific of which I have only caught a glimpse during the past several months. I hope that the education will continue as my professional life expands beyond my practicum days.

Thin skin

Since returning to my practicum on Sunday, I have realized that although I have resolved many negative anxieties and feelings concerning my departure from ophthalmology, I still have very deep emotions attached to the huge decision which I made over two years ago. This realization occured because yet another person at the Pan Pacific asked me "why did you leave medicine, are you crazy?" and my response was a combination of irritation, defensiveness, and tears. Unfortunately, finding the right words to summarize such a massive, life-changing, and tortuous decision to a total stranger who is not in medicine is next to impossible (and unnecessary, in my opinion).

The good news is that despite such repeated assaults to my ego, I am happy to be back in the kitchen after a week of caring for my wheel-chair bound mom. During the month of May, my goal was to learn how to run the "Sauce station" which is basically responsible for all the non-cake and non-baked items, such as pastry cream, sauce Anglaise, fruit products, ganache etc. Becoming more independent was certainly a confidence booster and allowed me to experience the pressure of production. For my last month, I will switch to the "Cake station" which requires more skill and speed.



Meanwhile, Chef Ted taught me spherification techniques several weeks ago and I never managed to write a post about the experience. It was a strange flashback to a combination of part chemistry lab and part anaesthesia rotation, using sodium citrate, calcium chloride, and sodium alginate solutions and multiple syringes. Spherification was developed at the famed Spanish restaurant, elBulli, and involves using chemicals to create a thin membrane around a fluid centre. Different size drops or streams of fluid, for example mango purée, will produce a variety of shapes resembling caviar, an egg yolk, or spaghetti. I had a blast.

Pride and piping

My cake is finished and I am proud to show it off to the world! I have always wanted to make a Tiffany & Co. robin's egg blue cake and the colour contrast with the ivory details is very eye-catching.


Piping with royal icing was the most enjoyable part of my cake's creation. Honestly, I think that I could sit for hours piping royal icing and be perfectly content. The beads were purposely piped to have a "drop" effect by making my royal icing more liquid in consistency. Interestingly, the ivory fondant bows and ribbons were formed from commercially prepared rolled fondant which was hiding in the pastry kitchen and I admit that it was very easy to use with the perfect texture which did not seem to ever dry out.

Unfortunately, Pan Pacific rules prevent me from bringing home my lovely wedding cake but really, what would I do with it anyways?

Rolled fondant blues

The past week has been spent designing and creating a wedding cake. My hypothetical bride is very classic and elegant, with clean and simple taste. I was inspired by the beautiful blue and white of traditional Wedgwood Jasperware china. Hopefully, it will be completed by Monday so stay tuned!


Meanwhile, many hours of preparation and practice are needed to create flawless and structurally-sound wedding cakes. My cake is a display cake made of styrofoam rounds which were constructed by cutting out and stacking discs from leftover styrofoam salmon boxes. Each tier was then masked in Italian buttercream and then covered in rolled fondant. At home, I converted my kitchen into a small gum paste rose factory which painstakingly produced 14 ivory roses, each rose taking me at least one hour of labour in total.

This cake exercise has taught me not to rush to complete a project simply for the sake of getting it done. When my rolled fondant was too dry and cracking everywhere, I had to produce a new batch reluctantly. And when one mischievious tier just would not cooperate and kept being lumpy, I had to discard the used fondant and make an additional batch. Ultimately, it took me an entire day filled with frustration and attempted patience to cover my three tiers but it was worth it because now I know how to do it right!

Mocha anyone?

The past week has been extremely busy for me. Mother's Day Brunch was massive; the preparation on Sunday morning was controlled mayhem as the whole team assembled all the last minute items for the buffet. The highlight of the event for me was making two croquembouches by myself, one of which was at least 2 feet tall (without using a mold), and placing them onto the buffet table. I was able to admire my perfectly conical croquembouche there for 3 seconds before a guest began to rip it apart while I internally gasped in shock at its destruction.

Meanwhile, my plated dessert assignment required a considerable amount of preparation during the week and ultimately, my three creations were well received overall. The common theme to all three desserts was a mocha mousse which I used in three different ways. Chef Ted gave enormously constructive feedback with which I totally agreed. For example, in my first dessert, the mocha mousse in the espresso cup was too firm and required a different element for contrast within the cup. The cassis pâte de fruit "sugar cubes" were cut too large but my Bailey's sauce Anglaise was lovely.

My second dessert, a Concorde, was my favorite. The mocha mousse was sandwiched between layers of cocoa meringue along with a thin layer of raspberry gelée. It was accompanied by a pistachio sabayon, fresh raspberries and accented with my signature dragonfly tuile (which has made several appearances previously at school). For an even better plate, the dragonfly should have been tilted forward so it could be viewed fully from the front and placing fewer raspberries in an alternate position would have allowed the sabayon design to be visible.

My third dessert was fraught with mistakes in presentation although the flavour combinations were delicious. The mocha mousse domes were glorious before they were put on the plate, filled with an amaretto crème brûlée, crumbled nougatine, on an apricot financier base, glazed with dark chocolate ganache and a hit of copper metallic powder. Unfortunately, when I plated it, the edges were messy so I tried to hide it with flaked almonds which cheapened the look of the plate. The caramel sauce which I made in advance became too thick and dribbled unpredictably off my spoon into an unattractive blob; however the apricot sorbet was deliciously refreshing.

I recognize now that having a creative outlet is a key component to my professional happiness. The challenge will be to find employment in the local pastry industry where a happy medium balances productivity with creativity. My fear is that this does not exist, at least for an entry-level position where the focus would be on producing what you are told to produce without a hint of creative freedom. But enough of fear...simply enjoying this time to experiment and learn should be my focus!

Learning lessons from jelly

This week, my self-assigned project was to explore the world of gelées using gelatin, agar-agar, and pectin. Gelatin is a staple in the pastry kitchen and is vital in almost all mousses. I used Ganache Pâtisserie's mango-passionfruit-lychee gelée inside a coconut mousse dome. Agar-agar is derived from seaweed and I used a recipe from pastry school to create a rooibos tea jelly. Pectin is more often associated with making jams; however, a classical French confection called pâte de fruit also uses pectin and my favorite is raspberry pâte de fruit. These small sugar-coated cubes of intense fruity goodness are divine. In France, we saw huge displays of multitudes of pâtes de fruits in a rainbow assortment of flavors.

My first encouter with pâte de fruit was at pastry school but unfortunately, I never succeeded at making it correctly on my first 3 attempts. It was only during my practicum at Ganache that I learned why I had failed. The key to the perfect pâte de fruit is not to simply cook to a specific temperature, for example 105 degrees Celsius. Instead, learning to recognize the proper consistency as the endpoint, regardless of the temperature, is paramount. It taught me to not be so reliant on my digital thermometer (which was often inaccurate) and that the eye is just as powerful a tool, especially when cooking sugar. This lesson is applicable to everything in the pastry kitchen; without fully understanding why you are doing what you are doing in a recipe or what is actually happening to your ingredients, you will never be able to troubleshoot or know how to improve your product.

Meanwhile, next week's assignment is to present one product in three different ways as three separate plated desserts. For example, I could make a strawberry mousse and use it in an individual entremet, or in a clear sherry glass, or pipe it onto a meringue shell. My artistic skills have been somewhat dormant these days because I have been so focussed on production and efficiency rather than creativity. But I suppose, success in the pastry world depends on having both artistry and productivity!

Big bowls and making sacrifices

Nearing the end of my third week of my practicum, I can take a breath and reflect on my progress. It has been a sharp learning curve, especially gaining comfort with new types of equipment and techniques. For example, the largest mixer used is a Hobart which sits on the floor and is almost as tall as me. I am quite certain that I could easily take a bath in its largest mixing bowl. Learning to attach this huge bowl to the machine was a lesson unto itself.

Other new things include using trolleys to cart your ingredients around since it is inefficient to carry things yourself, having a dishwasher person to clean everything, and working in multiples of hundreds rather than tens. So far, my role in the pastry kitchen has been to assist whoever needs assistance. I have never assembled so many fresh fruit tarts nor halved so many strawberries in my life. The most interesting experience to this date has been participating in the large-scale plating of banquet desserts. All the various components are divided up (the individual entrement, the sauce, the strawberry half, the tuile), about 12 people hover around six tall stacks of plates, and 24 hands fight to put their component onto the plate as fast as possible.

Soon, I will be expected to take more initiative and begin taking on more responsibility for the production list. Learning how production flows and how information flows within the hierarchy of the pastry kitchen will be challenging, especially while I am still struggling to learn how to make these products! Meanwhile, my role as a practicum student has not been forgotten; I have weekly assignments which I choose myself and review one-on-one with Chef Ted. Last week, chocolate tempering and decorations were my topic and just when I thought I had mastered this skill, I am reminded that I have so much more to learn. His technique for tempering includes seeding, a wet towel, and a heat gun.

Perhaps, the biggest adjustment for me has been facing the reality that in the food industry, especially with hotels, regularly sacrificing your evenings, weekends, and holidays such as this upcoming Mother's Day, is expected. I am still not very accepting of this and unsure of how willing, ultimately, I will be to make this sacrifice. During my practicum, however, I realize that I need to embrace every opportunity to learn, regardless of what day or time it might be.

Edible souvenirs: financiers

I have a new favourite cookie, the financier. According to Dorie Greenspan, author of Paris Sweets: Great Desserts from the City's Best Pastry Shops, these rich almond cookies were created for 19th century Parisian stock brokers and baked to resemble bars of gold. They are so flavourful because of beurre noisette, sweet butter that is cooked until essentially burnt, deep brown and nutty. You can see those lovely dark flecks baked into the cookie.

Unlike my past shopping habits which would have focussed on shoes, and perhaps sweaters, my souvenir purchases from France consisted entirely of cookbooks, pastry supplies and a few culinary ingredients. In the neighbourhood around Les Halles, a concentration of food equipment and supply stores exists and undoubtedly, I could have spent a small fortune there. Because luggage space was at a premium, my purchases were limited to items which I knew were either hard to find or much cheaper than in Canada, such as silicone molds for financiers, madeleines, and cannelés.

My practicum is going well despite my usual anxieties regarding new surroundings. The most challenging aspect has been trying to fit in to an all-male crew which is an eclectic mix of strong personalities. Even though the girls were vastly outnumbered during my Ophthalmology residency, the gender difference in the pastry kitchen has been more pronounced and from what I have heard and read, my experience is not unique within the food industry. Luckily, with a relaxed attitude and some self-deprecating humour, I am starting to feel more grounded. I have even received a new nickname "Dr. Chocolate", a combination of my old and new professions.

Back to reality and salt

It is good to be home. Despite an enjoyable holiday filled with cultural and gastronomical adventures, I will always be a homebody at heart. Our travels took us from Nice, through Arles and to many smaller towns in Provence by car, up to Montelimar and Lyon, onto Amboise in the Loire Valley, and finally to Paris - where the vast majority of caloric intake began. The list which I assembled (on spreadsheet of course, with accompanying GoogleMap for each location) included approximately forty pâtisseries/chocolateries/boulangeries and in the 4.5 days in Paris, we managed to visit twenty-six. Visit did not always mean purchasing or eating; in fact, I discovered that Eric gets physically ill after eating too many sweets and had to resist buying more pastries in order to prevent turning him off pastry forever.

With so many choices and such great variety of sweets, it was hard to decide what to taste and which were favourites. The complexity and quality at Pierre Hermé made his creations my absolute favourite. The macarons were unbelievable, in texture, complexity of flavor and eye appeal. At almost 2€ per mini-macaron, they better be that good. For more photos of our trip, including non-gastronomical sites, some stealthily taken shots of pastry shop interiors, and many course-by-course dinner photos, please click here.

Of course, I can not forget to mention other culinary highlights of our trip including a fine lunch at a small bistro L'Epicerie in Avignon, an unbelievably good concept restaurant/wine cave Les Papilles in the 5th arrondissement, and our exciting venture into Michelin starred restaurants Le Gourmet de Sèze in Lyon and Hélène Darroze in Paris. Our VISA card is still recovering from the latter.

Returning home has also meant embarking on my Pan Pacific practicum. The environment is very different - bigger, busier, male-dominated, more hierarchical, and more personalities to learn to interact with. I knew that the inevitable question "what did you do before pastry?" would be asked by every new person I met and that every response would be a version of "are you crazy?". My answer is still very awkward as I find it very difficult to translate my feelings about ophthalmology to anyone who has not been in clinical medicine. One person, after hearing my reasons, stated that there is no such thing as the perfect job. I certainly do realize this fact; however, to remain in an unhappy situation just to please everyone but yourself is also not a healthy choice. I am just grateful that I do have the opportunity to take this time to explore a new path and undoubtedly, I would have deep regret in life if I never did.