MY ADVENTURE IN PARIS
Ania Janaszak of Ania’s Catering
Last month you may have noticed that my article was missing. Well - on the spur of the moment
I decided to live out one of my dreams and I enrolled in some courses at the Cordon Bleu in
Paris! The dream started when I watched the first version of the movie, Sabrina, and it grew as I pursued French culinary arts at Dubrulle and met chefs from around the world who all spoke of the Cordon Bleu in mystic terms as if attending there was some sort of holy pilgrimage required to complete our creative souls.
My ex-husband’s brother lives in Paris and had asked me many times to come and spend some time with him in La Grande Ville. I awoke one morning and said I need to do this so . . .off I went! It is a very large city but once you get used to the metro system moving through the city is easy. Antoine lives near his dance studio on Rue Pantin which is about a 20 minute ride on the
Metro to the Riviere Seine and the City core. The Cordon Bleu was another 20 minute ride beyond the river to the South so getting to class and back was quite an adventure - particularly during my late afternoon class when I would get home after 10pm. There are some “interesting” characters using the metro at night.
I went to classes in breadbaking, Patisserie, and “Chefs Secrets”. The academy is not much to look at from the street - it looks just like all the other quaint 19 th
century apartment buildings packed side by side on Rue Leon Delhomme - yet inside the doors lies a chef’s fantasy world of dazzling stainless steel equipment, white uniforms, cookbooks on display and efficient friendly staff who treat you with genuine respect. Mind you classes are not inexpensive so they realize that you are there for serious study. The first part of the day is spent in the demonstration theatre. For 3 hours the Chef and his or her assistant prepare dishes and answers questions through a translator who manages to roll with the presentation and yet takes nothing away from the almost musical flair of the Chef. Students come from every country imaginable so English is used as a common language.
Above the preparation areas are mirrors and remote cameras which broadcast to large overhead monitors so even those in the back seats feel like they are very much part of the process. The chef was always professional yet lightly humorous and never at the sake of any of his students.
After the demonstration, we were arranged in groups of five and given recipes without instructions. That had to come from your notes of the earlier demonstration. This might take another 3 hours with the Chef moving from group to group providing light commentary but never interceding. Then we would take our creations back to the demonstration theatre and enjoy with wine and cheese and critique! Many of the students are enrolled in longer programs but most classes are open to those who want to drop in for days or weeks at a time depending on the length of their stay in Paris.
It was an amazing feeling of comradeship to share notes and techniques with a Chef from
Bulgaria one minute and with one from California the next. As soon as they heard I was from
Vancouver Island they did their best to get my “wild” salmon and game recipes as if it was still common to bag one from the back porch!
The school has its own boutique with top notch equipment and cookbooks. I bought a uniform for 270 Francs and look forward to having my name embroidered in an arch over the Cordon
Bleu emblem - maybe a flower or too for style would be nice.

Of course, I also did all of the usual tourist things - walked the Champs Elysees, took the elevators up the windy Tour Eiffel, wandered the corridors of the Notre Dame and Sacre Coeur, and spent a lot of time in the Museum D’Orsay looking at original VanGogh, Monet, Renoir,
Picasso and so on. This museum was once a major railway station and everything is on an absolutely huge scale. Culture was everywhere and I couldn’t get enough.
But of course my favorite area of Paris was the old Latin quarter where restaurants from around the world fill every available nook and cranny. There is an amazing variety. From those we are familiar with through to African, Chilean, Egyptian, and every European cuisine imaginable it was fantasy land of colour, vivid displays and sound - the sound of owners before lunch and dinner standing in front of their restaurants extolling the virtues of their cuisine to every passer by with style and a charm that did not seem to intrude into my space at all. Displays were often incredibly well done with samples of prepared meals and the fresh ingredients arranged as art - drawing the eye through the display glass and the body through the front door. In my case that often meant an excursion from the table to the kitchen to chat up the chef! Of course.
My other favorite area was Montmartre which is below Sacre Coeur . This area is filled with boutiques and artists who will draw you and provide a massage if you wish! Cafes and Brassiers with outdoor patios and the sound of laughter and music ...yes even in the midst of winter. One day my brother-in-law’s partner and I went for a promenade - which in Paris is all you need to say to explain a day’s absence without even raising an eyebrow. Our legs had reached that stage and we ended up in a tiny bar tucked between ancient buildings. Like most, the worn wood floor was littered with cigarette butts and bits of paper but somehow it seemed okay there. The jolly mustached owner was greeting everyone with the usual hand shake and four kisses to the cheek.
This took some getting used to! There was steady flow of patrons who walked in and out - a quick beer or a few glasses of wine and off they went to work or from work to home or for break in the midst of it all. It was like the visit was part of their day - like having breakfast or that first coffee at work. It was all very bright and bubbly and felt very different from the atmosphere of bars here. Suddenly, a woman walked in off the street with an accordion, went through the pre-requisite kissed greetings and settled down to play - and sing. In seconds, patrons were dancing and singing French songs as if they were all part of one big family. And then in came
Marcel, the butcher from the shop a few stores down. With his butcher’s hat and his white smock generously flecked in scarlet. He ordered what must have been his daily vin rouge and then approached the waitress who willingly entered his large arms to whirl around the tiny dance floor in loud laughter and song. And minutes later he was off to attend his shop - after all it was only
4:00pm! We stayed awhile and the few minutes rolled into hours. The lady with the accordion started to play Russian songs and my companion of that distant descent and a professional dancer jumped to his feet to dance the Cossack off! What started on the floor ended up on the bar and the clapping and laughter swelled. There was a sense of living to the fullest for the moment- there were no strangers in that little bar. Needless to say I plan on returning to Paris and the
Cordon Bleu (and welcome any donations). I will provide some of my favorite Cordon Bleu recipes in my next article but I seemed to have run out of room!