A Frustrated Frenchman

Having never worked in a formal pastry kitchen before, my "wow" threshold is quite low. To me, the pastry program at Chapter One is exactly what you would want for maintaining a single Michelin star. It is straightforward but precise and enjoyable. There are four house-made breads – all quite yummy. Dessert concepts are simple – panna cotta, fruit fondant, mousse, etc. – each armed with a flavorful house-made ice cream and memorable tuille. The cheeses on the cheese plate are local and lovely. We even make whisky truffles, salted caramels, nougats and macaroons to conclude every diner's evening. I left my first shift in the station quite impressed.

But on day two of my pastry stint, I was working alongside, Hugo, the recently hired French Pastry Chef. Hugo is a bit, shall we say, over-qualified for his job. When he is not there, having breads ready for service, tarts in the oven, garnishes exact and plates executed with precision seems like a stretch and involves a flurry of activity. I feel like my support is essential and I wonder what was happening before there was a stage. When Hugo is there, these same tasks are executed almost effortlessly. I become Hugo's personal assistant and instead of providing essential support, I am helping execute a million little side projects – caramel soufflés, transparent tuiles, rum sauces and the list goes on. Hugo is on a mission to draw Chef into a more contemporary era of pastry and the ideas are unrelenting!

You might think that this would create chaos in our little pastry kitchen, but Hugo is able to crank out the business of our pastry program practically from his pinky. Sometimes I am honestly caught with a half open mouth, staring motionless while Hugo waves his hands around a plate creating little dots of condensed milk surrounding a chocolate macaroon supporting five petals of chocolate mousse, bits of pistachio brittle, a hooped tuile and a quenelle of pistachio ice cream. Picture gorgeous globes of brown, tan and green piled on a wide, round white plate. And then, just as suddenly, Hugo shouts, "Service!" a waiter snatches up the magic and I am back zesting limes.

When Hugo is not whirling up a dessert plate or crouched over some new concept, he is usually pacing the short block of the pastry line waving his hands muttering profanities and complaints…in French. In school you learn the basics of baking and pastry science – the applications of heat and the importance of precision. In many restaurants you learn why breads and desserts are often brought in from the outside – it takes devoted time and space to make things in-house. In a good pastry kitchen you constructively fabricate all the parts of a lovely dessert plate – learning the systems and strategy for execution. But Hugo's frustration revealed to me that there is a level beyond good --a devotion to artistry and experimentation that is mostly about personal passion.