I’ve been a bit obsessed.
I’ve found a new project to keep me occupied during this unemployment lull. It’s been frustrating, and you wouldnt believe the unnecessary amount of bureaucratic nonsense I have to try and decipher, even if I just wanted to stage at a place. The French never make anything easy, and everything takes more time than it has to.
I have my heart set on a particular patisserie, but the leading man is on vacation, and I’ll have to wait another couple of weeks.
My days are spent mostly chasing eclairs, tarts and petite gateaux through my usual Paris pastry circuit, but my afternoons have been spent nursing bubbling pots of sugar.
I’ve been up to my ears in cream and butter, trying to make the perfect caramels.
I never liked caramels before. Maybe its because the best examples of caramels I’ve had are those little squares wrapped in tight plastic you’d find at the bottom of a child’s trick-or-treat bag on Halloween.
They’re overly sweet, waxy, and not to mention, ridiculously annoying to open.
That was before I had Jacques Genin’s caramels.
I used to spend a ton of money on them (he charges 110€/kg. yes, one hundred and ten euros).
Then, when I worked there, I ate about 20 pieces a day, because they were that good..and because I could.
They were the perfect caramel: buttery, flavourful, and when you bite down on them, they cut cleanly and never stuck to your teeth.
During my time at Genin’s, I packaged hundreds of them a day, to be sent out to all the top restaurants and hotels in Paris. I’d release them from their frames after being poured, and meticulously cut them into perfect rectangles. We didn’t use guitar cutters for them. After, there’d be a whole process where a team of us would proceed to package the lil darlings.
Someone would lay down squares of clear wrappers on the marble. Another person would go around and place the caramels perfectly on the edge of the square, and roll it twice up. A third person would go around and with two hands, roll another 3 times to finish the caramel, while simultaneously bringing the caramels together in a line to merge them. They would then scoop up the lines with a spatula and place it on a tray. That cleared space would be quickly lined with paper again, and the process continues. When the trays are full of caramels just rolled in clear paper, it’d go into the fridge to be twisted shut after.
This process of lining the marble counters with paper, depositing the caramels, rolling them, transfering them to the trays, we would do this for, on average, 9 trays of caramels everyday. It took anywhere from 2- 3 hours.
It’s a stressful few hours, as you’re trying to keep everything moving- whether you’re the paper depositor, caramel placer, or roller-upper. “Papier, papier, PAPIER!” I used to get yelled at by an older Bosnian woman when I was a little slow on separating the wrappers from the pile and straining my eye to place them in a perfect row on the marble.
When all that was done, we would pull out again, the trays of caramels from the fridge, by now a bit firmer and easier to twist shut. It would be another solid hour of twisting the ends together to make that perfect bowtie.
By the end of December, my thumb and index finger were raw.
Still, I didn’t know the secret to his caramels. No one did, other than his two trusted boys in patisserie. They were the only ones allowed to make the caramels, and all of his other confections, it seemed.
One night back in December, everyone other than the two guys, had finished at 10pm. It had been a long day of packaging, as always. I asked Genin if I could stay back and just watch the caramels being made.
He was hesitant, but said I could stay.
I was asked just to weigh out the butter. When I finished, I saw that everything else had been scaled out. I watched as the caramel was being stirred, and as the ingredients were being added in.
I casually inquired about the temperature everything was taken to. He simply laughed and shook his head.
At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. I was just happy I was allowed to stay.
Of course they werent going to divulge their secrets to a foreigner.
Luckily for me, I’ve eaten more than my fair share of his caramels during my time there.
I know what perfection should taste like.
It’s just a matter of experimentation. A lot of it. Different recipes. The quantities of liquid, fat, sugar. What kind of liquid? What kind of fat? Just white sugar? How much? Which invert sugar is best? What temperature works best with what proportions of ingredients? The method of stirring.
The kitchen’s been sticky mess, and about 5L of cream, a heck of a lot of butter and sugar later, I have 5 batches to show for it.
The first batch was pretty good, but still a bit too chewy, and wasn’t very full in flavour. I accidentally overcooked the second batch and made toffee. The third was awesome and buttery…but melted into a pile of goop when it wasn’t refrigerated. The forth batch was not as brittle as the second batch, but still much more firm than the first batch. The fifth, was excellent.
It was silky, but not sticky. Firm, but not hard. Flavourful, but a touch on the salty side.
I’m getting there.
avec chantilly 