I wrote an article a long time ago about the memory of my internship at Jacque Génin's pastry shop. I have rewritten it in English and want to share the story.
In the French kitchen, we usually call the person in charge chef. It is the highest level in the territory. Everyone's dream is to become a 'chef.' But in Jacque Génin's kitchen, he asked us to call him 'Monsieur.' We must reply "Oui (Yes), Monsieur" loudly and clearly to his order. If we respond with 'Ouei' (like yeah), the word we use between friends, we will get scolded. That's the first thing I learned there.
Later I discovered that in Monsieur's kitchen, everything has only one standard way of doing it, no exceptions, no alternatives, no matter when we make a cream or sweep the floor. That's why his store has been among the best pastry stores in Paris for so many years.
Monsieur always wears a white shirt, sometimes a white uniform. It was neat, with no stains; it's hard to imagine a person who works with chocolate can keep the shirt so clean. Later, I often saw him ironing his shirt in the laundry room. On the second day, I wore a uniform with one little stain and got scolded when I stepped into the kitchen in the morning. I felt astonished.Then I learned that we must be very clean, including ourselves, the uniform, the tables, the floor, products and tools, and every kitchen corner.
When I worked at the Michelin three-star restaurant Le Pré Catelan, I found they were also obsessed with cleanness, but it's a little different. Before we closed the restaurant for summer break, they asked me to clean the ceiling. I stepped on the ladder, raised my head almost parallel to the floor, scraped a stain from the roof with a cloth, and complained, what the hell do they want the ceiling so clean? Then we emptied all the cabinets and cleaned them. We disinfected the tables and equipment. At last, we wrapped everything with plastic film, including the shelf, the table, and the oven. We almost make it a vacuum environment. They have a standard to ensure the kitchen's hygiene, and that's it.
But Monsieur cares about it from the bottom of his heart. During the internship, he always said, "You work better when you work cleanly." "The secret of pastry is not a recipe, nor a technique, but the hygiene." "You don't know how important hygiene is for the pastry; you will screw up without it." So I must keep this in mind all the time.
The first training I had there was washing the dish. The dishwashers are in a separate room. There is a big one for big bowls and a small one like the one we have in our home. All I need to do is to put the dishes in the dishwasher, turn them on, take out the clean dishes and dry them up with a cloth. It sounds effortless. But it was so dull. I was in the dish room the whole day alone and did not have an opportunity to learn anything or even see other people. If I dawdled, I would never have a chance to ask for another task.
Now I understand dish wash is part of learning. We must learn to be efficient, organized, and patient. Unlike other chefs, who may only move their mouths or do their favorite part, Monsieur does the dish himself too. He does everything, including wiping the plastic curtain and carrying inventories. He often holds twice as much as we do. Everything is part of the learning.
I washed the dish every day for the first two weeks. Some interns may wash dishes for two months; one younger kid did it for almost half a year. It depends on luck. When you finish cleaning the plates, Monsieur would ask you to cut the hazelnuts. Yes, cut the whole roasted hazelnuts into half. You have an entire bin of hazelnut and need to cut all by the end of the day. If you only want to finish faster and cut super fast, you may press it too hard, crash the hazelnut, and get many small useless pieces. I had to find the veins on the hazelnut and cut from there, it is straightforward to cut without any smashed ones. Then I finally got the chance to stay in the kitchen.
On the first day in the kitchen, he asked me to make the famous lemon tart. I felt flattered. He showed me the recipe, and after about 1 minute, he asked: do you remember it? I said, let me grab my pencil and paper. He said, no, you don't need a pencil. I was startled. For the next two-three minutes, I stared at the recipe and tried hard to memorize all the ingredients and their quantity. Then he put the recipe book away in the drawer and closed it heavily. So I learned to remember everything by heart from there.
Monsieur himself works 24/7. He started around 8 am and finished at midnight. He often sleeps in his office. Later I heard him say, pastry is my passion; I had never worked a single day!
Monsieur is very kind and has a good sense of humor, however, he is also a perfectionist. He can quickly fly into a tantrum. People always drive him mad every day with all kinds of things, a person rubbed a corner of his beloved ephemeral chocolate cake, a person left pastry cream in the freezer too long, and it got frozen, the floor was dirty, or something happened in the tea salon, etc. As long as he was in a bad mood, the whole kitchen was doomed. Everyone must be cautious; a small thing might fuel the flame and make him explode. It is indeed stressful working there, like always walking on thin ice.
There were happy moments. On Christmas Eve, his artist friend came to paint the chocolate balls. He installed small hooks to the ball while singing Jacque Brel. Everyone felt so happy and peaceful. That's the only time we are working while listening to music.
He is also very generous. He treats everyone with bread, cheese, and wine if it's a holiday. For staff's birthday, he lets them choose a cake from the store. Although I was an intern, I got an 8-inch Paris-Brest for my birthday as a gift. On Christmas Eve, everyone came home with a Christmas Bûche. Once, a sales girl came to him with a damaged ephemeral vanilla cake. She almost burst into tears and waited for the adjudication. Monsieur asked: who did this? She said in a tiny voice, "Me." "Eat." He said. Then her tear turned into a smile. He is not always a terrible person.
We need be a little sadistic so we can work with him. Even though working there was hard, he treated me very well overall. I admire him very much and learned lots of precious things there.
Later I discovered that in Monsieur's kitchen, everything has only one standard way of doing it, no exceptions, no alternatives, no matter when we make a cream or sweep the floor. That's why his store has been among the best pastry stores in Paris for so many years.
Monsieur always wears a white shirt, sometimes a white uniform. It was neat, with no stains; it's hard to imagine a person who works with chocolate can keep the shirt so clean. Later, I often saw him ironing his shirt in the laundry room. On the second day, I wore a uniform with one little stain and got scolded when I stepped into the kitchen in the morning. I felt astonished.Then I learned that we must be very clean, including ourselves, the uniform, the tables, the floor, products and tools, and every kitchen corner.
When I worked at the Michelin three-star restaurant Le Pré Catelan, I found they were also obsessed with cleanness, but it's a little different. Before we closed the restaurant for summer break, they asked me to clean the ceiling. I stepped on the ladder, raised my head almost parallel to the floor, scraped a stain from the roof with a cloth, and complained, what the hell do they want the ceiling so clean? Then we emptied all the cabinets and cleaned them. We disinfected the tables and equipment. At last, we wrapped everything with plastic film, including the shelf, the table, and the oven. We almost make it a vacuum environment. They have a standard to ensure the kitchen's hygiene, and that's it.
But Monsieur cares about it from the bottom of his heart. During the internship, he always said, "You work better when you work cleanly." "The secret of pastry is not a recipe, nor a technique, but the hygiene." "You don't know how important hygiene is for the pastry; you will screw up without it." So I must keep this in mind all the time.
The first training I had there was washing the dish. The dishwashers are in a separate room. There is a big one for big bowls and a small one like the one we have in our home. All I need to do is to put the dishes in the dishwasher, turn them on, take out the clean dishes and dry them up with a cloth. It sounds effortless. But it was so dull. I was in the dish room the whole day alone and did not have an opportunity to learn anything or even see other people. If I dawdled, I would never have a chance to ask for another task.
Now I understand dish wash is part of learning. We must learn to be efficient, organized, and patient. Unlike other chefs, who may only move their mouths or do their favorite part, Monsieur does the dish himself too. He does everything, including wiping the plastic curtain and carrying inventories. He often holds twice as much as we do. Everything is part of the learning.
I washed the dish every day for the first two weeks. Some interns may wash dishes for two months; one younger kid did it for almost half a year. It depends on luck. When you finish cleaning the plates, Monsieur would ask you to cut the hazelnuts. Yes, cut the whole roasted hazelnuts into half. You have an entire bin of hazelnut and need to cut all by the end of the day. If you only want to finish faster and cut super fast, you may press it too hard, crash the hazelnut, and get many small useless pieces. I had to find the veins on the hazelnut and cut from there, it is straightforward to cut without any smashed ones. Then I finally got the chance to stay in the kitchen.
On the first day in the kitchen, he asked me to make the famous lemon tart. I felt flattered. He showed me the recipe, and after about 1 minute, he asked: do you remember it? I said, let me grab my pencil and paper. He said, no, you don't need a pencil. I was startled. For the next two-three minutes, I stared at the recipe and tried hard to memorize all the ingredients and their quantity. Then he put the recipe book away in the drawer and closed it heavily. So I learned to remember everything by heart from there.
Monsieur himself works 24/7. He started around 8 am and finished at midnight. He often sleeps in his office. Later I heard him say, pastry is my passion; I had never worked a single day!
Monsieur is very kind and has a good sense of humor, however, he is also a perfectionist. He can quickly fly into a tantrum. People always drive him mad every day with all kinds of things, a person rubbed a corner of his beloved ephemeral chocolate cake, a person left pastry cream in the freezer too long, and it got frozen, the floor was dirty, or something happened in the tea salon, etc. As long as he was in a bad mood, the whole kitchen was doomed. Everyone must be cautious; a small thing might fuel the flame and make him explode. It is indeed stressful working there, like always walking on thin ice.
There were happy moments. On Christmas Eve, his artist friend came to paint the chocolate balls. He installed small hooks to the ball while singing Jacque Brel. Everyone felt so happy and peaceful. That's the only time we are working while listening to music.
He is also very generous. He treats everyone with bread, cheese, and wine if it's a holiday. For staff's birthday, he lets them choose a cake from the store. Although I was an intern, I got an 8-inch Paris-Brest for my birthday as a gift. On Christmas Eve, everyone came home with a Christmas Bûche. Once, a sales girl came to him with a damaged ephemeral vanilla cake. She almost burst into tears and waited for the adjudication. Monsieur asked: who did this? She said in a tiny voice, "Me." "Eat." He said. Then her tear turned into a smile. He is not always a terrible person.
We need be a little sadistic so we can work with him. Even though working there was hard, he treated me very well overall. I admire him very much and learned lots of precious things there.