GoWendyGo

You’ll Never Know What You’ll Discover

I was recently asked to write an article about my experience at Le Cordon Bleu for a new magazine called Peninsula Life. I was quite surprised when they asked me and I even replied, “But I’m not a writer.” Apparently the owners of the magazine had read my blog and really enjoyed it. They seem to think that I’m a Writer with a capital W. Hmm. Interesting. Me? A “writer”? Writers are people that wear glasses, sit at a desk facing the window, drink lots of coffee, wear khakis, type 500 words per minute and are Jeopardy-style smart. News flash…that’s not me. Well, except for drinking lots of coffee and I own some khakis, but they’re capris, so that doesn’t count.

When I first decided to attend Le Cordon Bleu, I thought it would be good to journal my experiences. My Aunt Annie has kept a personal journal for years and I thought it was time for me to do the same. I never planned on telling anyone about the blog I created, but when I was leaving for Paris everyone was asking, “Are you going to post on Facebook? How can I follow your experiences in school?” Okay fine, here’s my blog: www.gowendygo.com. And from there, a “Writer” was born.

Although I’ve had a lot of people compliment me on my blog and my writing style, I still don’t consider myself an actual Writer. I’m just a blogger really. I just write how I would speak to someone and I don’t even speak that gooder. People say that’s what they enjoy about it. I’ll admit though that I have thoroughly enjoyed writing. Who’d a thunk it? I can remember sitting in my apartment in Paris at night with the windows open, listening to the loud Parisians on the streets, drinking a glass of yummy French wine and typing about my experience in school that day. It was total bliss. Even though I had slaved in school all day and I was fatigued, I didn’t care. Writing everyday was an accomplishment to me. It’s like when you workout and you can say, “Hey! I worked out today!” “Hey! I wrote a blog post today!”

My point to all of this is that you’ll never know what you’ll discover along the way. If I hadn’t decided to make the leap to attend patisserie school in Paris, I would’ve never started www.gowendygo.com and therefore, I would’ve never found my love for writing. It’s groovy how life will give you more opportunities and reveal more talents when you are willing to step outside of your comfort zone and try new things. And new things mean ANYTHING. Sign up for a class (even if you’re not sure you’ll like it), join a book club, sign up for a marathon (or maybe a half-marathon!), start a blog, buy concert tickets and dress up like a rock star, etc., etc. I’m doing all of the above and then some! Life is fun if you let it be. Just try something different. Add some variety in your life and you’ll never know what you’ll discover along the way.

I had planned on just following this blog post with my article from the magazine, but maybe I’ll separate them. And then I can say, “Hey! I wrote TWO blog posts today!”

My First Magazine Article!

Well, here it is. This is the article I wrote for The Peninsula Life magazine. I hope you enjoy it. :-)

Follow Your Dreams

“Welcome everyone! My name is Wendy and today we are making chocolate brownies. First, combine the flour and sugar in a large bowl.” That was the speech I gave to my audience 30 years ago. Unfortunately, the only “people” in the audience were my cat, Morris, and my dog, Bronze. Back then I made brownies from a box and now I’m making 9-layer French Opera cakes. Let me tell you the story of how I went from Betty Crocker to Julia Childs.

I believe that as children we truly know our purpose in life. Our talents, skills and interests are revealed by the activities we engage in and the dreams we express to others. I have three children of my own and I can clearly see each of their individual God-given strengths and abilities. It amazes me how schools will try to “guide” the students into choosing a career by showing how much money you can expect to earn in an occupation. Naturally, a child will choose the one that has the highest earnings, like an attorney or a physician. I can remember sitting with my counselor in high school and pointing at the sheet of occupations and saying, “Yes, I’d like to be a doctor.” I have absolutely NO interest in becoming a doctor, nor did I back then either. I had already lost sight of what I enjoy doing and what I was intended to do in my lifetime. I got caught up in what society deemed to be important and successful. There’s a quote by Confucius, “Choose a job you love and you will never have to work a day in your life.” How true is that?

Well, I am grateful that I didn’t head down the pathway of becoming a doctor. I also didn’t choose the pathway that contained my true calling either. Most of my time was spent as a single mom trying to just put food on the table. I worked all sorts of jobs from a customer service representative at American Airlines to waitressing at Morton’s Steakhouse and sometimes two jobs at one time. My only goal was to earn enough money to pay the bills. When I would lie in bed at night, exhausted and smelling of steak and potatoes, I would dream of “another life”; a life that was satisfying and rewarding and one that gave me a sense of purpose in the world. I knew I was meant for more, but I was so caught up in the stresses and duties of everyday life and I wasn’t sure how to get to the other side.

Fast forward a few years and I began a medical billing business out of my house as a means to be at home with my kids and still earn a living. I did very well and I seemed to have a knack at being an entrepreneur. I was no longer waiting tables and I was making decent money, but I wasn’t satisfied with what I was doing. In the process of building my business, I went out looking for new clients at several doctor’s offices. Not only did I find a new client, but I also found a new husband. I think I won him over by bringing him my famous Red Velvet Cake.

I ended up selling my medical billing business when we married and began working full-time managing my husband’s practice. I did the medical billing, accounting, payroll, etc., and I was very good at it. No matter what I do, I put my heart and soul into it and give it all I got. From the outside, it probably seemed as though I was content with what I was doing on a daily basis. Deep down, I was quite miserable sitting in front of that computer everyday. I did it though, because I knew that it helped my husband and my family and that’s all that mattered. Again, I was caught up in the demands of life instead of doing what I was created to do. I would have my moments to shine when I would entertain friends and family with dinner parties and giving pastries as gifts. There was a lot of preparation that went into planning all my events, from shopping to cooking and decorating. I paid attention to every single detail and it was always so much work, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. It felt so rewarding to hear someone say, “You did this all by yourself!?! This is amazing!”

In 2010, both of my in-laws unexpectedly passed away within 90 days of each other and it really affected me. They were only in their sixties and they had so much life left to live. When I returned home from the second funeral, I went up to my office to get caught up on my work, the same work I had been doing for the past 13 years. Like a robot, I began to type. I started to think about my in-laws passing away and realizing how brief life can be. I wondered what they were thinking before they took their last breath. Did they wonder if they fulfilled their purpose in life? Did they use all the talents and gifts that God gave to them and in turn, give them back to the world? Did they have regrets? My entire body froze and I began to cry like I never cried before. Tears were dropping onto my keyboard and I felt as if I had died. In a sense, I had. I truly didn’t know who I was anymore and from that moment on, I decided that I didn’t want to live with any regrets. I wanted to be who I was meant to be.

I immediately searched online for “Pastry Schools”. Unfortunately, there weren’t any schools close to Williamsburg, VA. Most of the schools were in New York and the course took almost two years to complete. It wasn’t possible for me to leave my family for that long. I almost gave up and went back to my work, but I kept searching. Finally, I found an Intensive course taught at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. The entire program is broken up into 3 separate courses: Basic, Intermediate and Superior and each one is only 5 weeks long. You can attend each course at any time. Due to the fact that it’s Intensive, you have to attend 6 days per week and sometimes 12-hour days. I shook my head and actually said out loud, “This is silly.” I went back to my work, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. I picked up the phone and called my husband. “I know this is crazy, but I found this 5 week course at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris and I was just wondering if…”. He interrupted me and said, “You should do it. Go.” My husband knew I wasn’t happy sitting in front of a computer all day and as the saying goes, “A happy wife = a happy life”.

I spent the next few months training someone to take over my job and preparing the household for my departure. I had never been overseas and I had never even been on a trip by myself before. Up until the time I was boarding the plane, I was having doubts that I was doing the right thing. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if I liked French pastries or what I was planning on doing with all this education once I received it. Thankfully, my husband continued to encourage me to follow my dreams, not worry about the outcome and most importantly, not to worry about the kids, the house and the practice. “We’ll be fine. Just go.”

As the plane approached Paris, the sun was coming up and it was quite a sight to see. My heart was beating so fast, anxious of the unknown, but excited for the adventure. When I stepped off the plane and took notice of all the signs written in French, I thought…Oh gosh! I don’t remember any of the French I took back in high school. Can I survive here?! I said my first “Bonjour!” to my driver and felt so proud of myself.

He drove me to my apartment, which is located just a mile from Le Cordon Bleu. The drive alone was an adventure in its self. Phewee! I felt like I was on a roller coaster ride at Busch Gardens. I made it there safely and met my landlord. Thankfully she spoke a little English and was very kind and helpful. I’m sure if we were filmed having a conversation, we would look like we were playing a game of Charades. We got through it though and I picked up a few new French words. After watching House Hunters International and seeing these tiny apartments in Paris that are the size of my coat closet, I was a little nervous of what mine would look like. I was relieved that it was roomy and comfortable and even came with a balcony overlooking the gardens. I lucked out. So far, so good.

My Aunt Annie actually accompanied me on the first 2 weeks of my trip, which was great to have someone there with me to tour the city. We did everything from Moulin Rouge to our crazy day trip to London. It took me awhile to get into the groove of the city with the subways, the language barrier, the people and the pace. I discovered that Paris has it’s own special pace. If you’re walking on the street or in the Subway stations then you better walk fast and be prepared to get out of the way, because they won’t move for nothin’! But if you’re dining or having coffee then the pace slows down dramatically. It’s not like going to Chili’s and ordering appetizers, dinner and dessert and you’re out in 45 minutes or less. Be prepared to camp out for a few hours. It annoyed me at first, but I soon got used to lounging at the cafes, enjoying the atmosphere and the amazing Parisian food.

My sightseeing days were over and it was time for the first day of school. I had already walked my route to school three times to make sure that I knew how to get there and I wouldn’t be late. I’ll admit, I was so nervous on the first day of school. I was worried that no one could speak English and I would be standing there all alone trying to translate my words using some type of sign language. I walked into the school and the place was buzzing with excitement. The school administrator greeted me with a friendly, “Good morning! Welcome to Le Cordon Bleu!” Oh Thank God! Someone speaks English!

All thirty-five students filed into the main classroom. We went around the room and introduced ourselves, stating our name, our country and the reason why we are here. There were people from all over the world, like Japan, India, Israel, Mexico, Germany and just a handful from the USA. Everyone spoke English and just a few spoke French. My introduction was, “Bonjour! My name is Wendy and I am from the USA. It has been my dream to attend pastry school and I will probably cry when I put on my Le Cordon Bleu uniform.” Everyone laughed and the main chef said in broken English, “I cry everyday when I have to put this on.” Okay, I’ll probably get tired of wearing it after awhile, but it is definitely an honor. After our orientation, we were assigned lockers and given our uniforms, cooking supplies and a hefty set of knives. Knives?! Why do I need knives to make pastries? Well, I soon found out that knives are used quite a bit.

The locker room is located in the basement of the school and to give you an idea of the conditions of the soon-to-be-named “dungeon”, there is no air-conditioning, no space to move and lots of European women without deodorant. To top it off, the first day of school was the hottest day in Paris in nineteen years at a whopping 100 degrees! Okay, as I was shoving my knives, bowls and clothes in the miniature locker and putting on my uniform, I think I DID cry, but the sweat dripping off my face soon washed my tears away. I soon figured out a system of how to get in and out of the locker room very quickly.

Our first class was a Demonstration, which is in a stadium-styled classroom. All the students are given the recipes, but the techniques are what you learn from the chef. The chefs do not speak English, but there is a translator that interprets everything for us. I was rather impressed with how the material is presented and despite the time taken for translation, it was very smooth. Besides, it gave me more time to take notes! Lots of them!

Following every Demonstration is a Practical where each student makes the pastry or pastries that were demonstrated in class. This is where your skills or lack thereof are made known. I honestly wasn’t sure if I even had what it took to make these complex French pastries. I looked around the room at the other students’ work and in comparison, I felt like I was doing very well. You could definitely tell which students had previous experience and which students just plain didn’t have the talent.

The next few weeks became more and more challenging and towards the end of the course, I was definitely running out of steam. When they said it was an Intensive course, they meant it. Who would have ever thought that attending pastry school would be this hard? After two grueling exams and several exhausting 12-hour days, graduation day finally arrived. Unfortunately, the chefs don’t give you any idea of how you’re doing in the course and even if you’ll pass. Yes, there are students that fail the course. GASP! What if that’s me?!? To my surprise, not only did I graduate, but I was also ranked the top third student in the class! I cried when they called my name. You would’ve thought that I won a Grammy and I guess in my world, it was that large of an achievement.

As much as I enjoyed Paris for the last six weeks, it was time to get back home to my family. Being without them for so long made me realize how much they mean to me. Paris is great, but nothing is better than home. I enjoyed telling them stories of my journey to Paris and I could tell that they were happy, because I was happy. I only had about 12 weeks before I had to be back in Paris for my second course.
I flew back to Paris in November, taking my Mom with me this time. If anything, I’ve gotten to take two great vacations with two of my favorite people. We, too, did tons of sightseeing and I felt much more comfortable in the city the second time around. The Intermediate Course was ten times harder than the Basic Course, but through all the experience, I could tell that I was becoming less of a student and more of a chef. I didn’t rank in the top of the class, but I did pass! It will be an entire year until I go back for my final Superior Pastry Course and I can’t wait!

Since I have been back home, I have been perfecting my craft by making cakes and French pastries for friends and family. I am currently working on opening a gourmet pastry shop in Williamsburg, VA. You can follow my progress and past adventures on my blog at www.gowendygo.com. It feels awesome to be doing what I love and loving what I do. It’s amazing that when you are in line with your purpose in life that doors will magically open and inspiration comes so naturally. I know I’m in the right place in my life.

Don’t ever think that you’re too old, too busy, too poor, or too whatever-excuse-you- come-up-with, to fulfill your dreams. Dreams are not intended to stay in your mind, but are meant to be achieved, bringing happiness to you and the people around you. As Napoleon Hill said, “Don’t wait. The time will never be just right.” In other words, JUST DO IT!

Good Mourning and Goodbye

Over the last few months that I have been ill, I have this wonderful friend that has been sending me text messages and emails and calling me trying to make me feel better and provide me with hope. When I was at my all-time low, she said something so profound to me. My friend is a recovering alcoholic and one of the most amazing people I have ever met. I am grateful to have this new friend in my life. She said to me, “Ya’ know, when I came to the realization that I could never drink again, I knew that my whole life would change. I felt like I was losing a part of myself and I had to grieve over losing the old me. Maybe you just need to take some time to mourn.”

Wow. That was what I needed to hear. Not only did I realize that I needed to mourn over what was currently happening to my health, but I needed to mourn over A LOT of things that have occurred in my life. I truly do believe that sickness and dis-ease can develop in the body as a result of sickness and dis-ease in the mind. There are tons of experiences, people and emotions that I have not given a final farewell, and therefore, I am still carrying them around. For as long as I remain bitter, angry, upset, and hurt about the past then my present and future will manifest more of the same. It is time for me to have a Good Mourning, say my Goodbyes and say Hello to a new me and a new life. I’m warning you. I’m about to get pretty naked here. Not physically, but emotionally. I’d need to do a few more sit-ups before I got naked-naked.

Goodbye to the Celiac Disease and Bio-toxins that have taken over my body. I no longer allow you to reside in me. Hello to a vibrant, healthy and strong body.

Goodbye to the house that caused so much physical, emotional and financial ruin in my family’s life. I know that we will persevere and come out better than we were before. Somehow and someway you have served a purpose in my life and others. Hello to the positive that has come out of that traumatic experience in our lives.

Goodbye to the bitterness that I have felt towards the people that knew of our tragedy and didn’t bother to lift a finger to help us. From their wrongdoing, I have been more giving towards those in need and for that, I am grateful. Hello to making a difference in the world no matter how small the gesture.

Goodbye to my father-in-law and mother-in-law who left this world waaaay too early. Goodbye to my guilty feelings that I could’ve done something to save you. Hello to all the wonderful experiences and love that we shared that I will hold close to my heart forever.

Goodbye to all the people that took advantage of my in-laws while they were here on earth and even after they left this world. I know that people are doing the best that they can with what they have been taught. Hello to forgiving people for they know not what they do.

Goodbye to my 19-year-old son who just moved to New York City. I never realized that you moving away would impact me as much as it has. Goodbye to my worries that I haven’t done enough for you. Hello to being so proud of what you have become and knowing that you are going to be a strong, amazing man.

Goodbye to my English teacher in high school that criticized me when I did a book report in front of the class. Goodbye to the belief that I am not a good speaker. Hello to being a confident and eloquent speaker.

Goodbye to my ex whom is always reminding me that I am a crappy mother and a horrible person. Goodbye to the last 25 years of pain that I endured during our relationship. Goodbye to the hope that you will someday thank me for raising our son and giving him a good home and good family. Goodbye to the belief that I was never good enough…either for you or the rest of the world. Hello to knowing that I raised a beautiful child and I’m an outstanding mother. Hello to not needing your approval and the new belief that I’m ALWAYS good enough.

Goodbye to my ex-husband who died at such a young age. Yes, I have two ex’s. Although the first one wouldn’t marry me, because…remember…I wasn’t good enough. ☺ Goodbye to the guilt of marrying too soon and for all the wrong reasons. Goodbye to our last conversation being a silly fight that I wish I could take back. Hello to people coming and going in my lifetime and appreciating what they give to me and what I give to them…the good, the bad and the ugly.

Goodbye to the relationship that I have been yearning to have with my brother. Goodbye to feeling worthless and unappreciated. Goodbye to worrying about his wellbeing. Hello to accepting the things I cannot change.

Goodbye to all the doctors that wouldn’t allow my children to receive a school physical or to be seen in their office, because they are not vaccinated. Goodbye to the parents that wouldn’t allow my children to play with their children, because they weren’t vaccinated. Hello to the good feeling that I get when I look at my kids knowing that they are healthy and not pumped full of chemicals.

Goodbye to no longer worrying about money. Goodbye to the mound of debt that we now have as a result of The Mold House. Hello to making a crap-load of money, climbing out of the hole and enjoying life to the fullest.

Goodbye to all the negative beliefs about myself that I have accumulated over the years. Hello to a brave, strong, healthy, confident, funny, creative, positive, smart, witty, sexy (yep!), energetic, kind, balanced, calm, giving, spontaneous, compassionate, forgiving, talented, and beautiful human being. Might I add that I’d like to be a badass French Chef.

Bonjour to the new moi!

Wherrrrre’s Wendy?!?

I’m here. I’ve been without my chef hat, coat and whisk for awhile, but I’m here…thankfully. Well, have I got a story to tell. I’ll try to make it brief, but I’ve never been good at that.

If you had been following my blog while I was in school this past winter, you would’ve remembered that I wrote about being very ill. There’s even a post about me schlepping all the way to the “American” hospital in Paris. I had been sick for quite sometime, but couldn’t figure out why. Some of the tests that I had done prior to leaving the U.S. revealed that I had a major bacteria infection. Unfortunately, I had to take an antibiotic to get rid of this infection. I say “unfortunately”, because I HATE medicine! I’m not like most Americans that take medicine like it’s candy. I’ll take it maybe…MAYBE… if I’m at near death, and it this point, I literally felt that I was there. Anyway, I finished the round of antibiotics that the state-of-the-art “American” hospital (that’s a joke) gave to me and I still felt like crap. Looking back, I seriously don’t know how I survived pastry school at Le Cordon Bleu. I was sick everyday that I was in school. My joints and muscles ached all over my body. My stomach was an absolute wreck and I was so fatigued that I could’ve collapsed at any moment. I prayed everyday when I woke up in my little apartment in Paris that I was able to get through all my classes. I couldn’t wait to go home.

By the time I returned home, it was Christmas and I struggled to get through the usual holiday activities. I was jet-lagged and sick, but still trying to put on a jolly, happy face for the Christmas season. Each day that went by, I got sicker and sicker.

So, let me back up just a little bit. Well, kind of a lot. And I’ll try to make this part brief, because it’s a whole other story in itself. In 2005, my family and I moved from Phoenix, AZ to Williamsburg, VA. We bought a brand new, beautiful, Colonial-style house. Within weeks of living in the house, the entire family began getting very strange symptoms i.e. recurring colds, vomiting, stomach pains, nausea, nose bleeds, pneumonia, chest pains, difficulty breathing, skin rashes, shortness of breath, joint pain, dizziness, etc., etc., etc.! Prior to living in the home, we were absolutely, perfectly healthy. Really. My children were not vaccinated, we never took medicine and we ate extremely well. We are thought of as “crazy” by most American’s standards. And I’m okay with that. The point is that it was quite odd that all 5 of us were getting sick (including the pets, so 7 of us) at the same time when we never had any issues before. Two long, dreadful years go by until we discover the problem. The house we were living in had a serious black mold infestation. You wouldn’t have known it just by looking at it. The mold was behind the walls, underneath the house and ultimately filling the air inside that we breathed into our lungs all day and night. I won’t even go into ALL the details following the discovery of the mold, but let me just sum it up. We moved our family into a hotel during the remediation, we had to replace all of our furniture, towels, rugs, clothes, etc. that had been contaminated, we had to do a major detox to rid our bodies of the mold pores and to top it off, the insurance company nor the builder contributed one penny. We lost all of our money trying to rebuild the house and our health and in the end…guess what? The mold came back. By this time it had been over 5 years dealing with this @*%#&$ house. We were still sick and just plain exhausted. My husband and I were over trying to save our pretty little credit score and decided that it was time to save our family. We walked away from that POS house and it was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. I’ll elaborate on those feelings in a future post. Yippee.

Okay, so there’s a reason I told you all of that. Let’s go back to me returning from Paris and still feeling like dog doo-doo. Because I had been previously sick from the toxic mold and knowing that it takes a long time to recover, I automatically thought that all these symptoms that I was currently experiencing were still related to the mold exposure. I wish. So get out your violin and start playing it, because my sob story gets worse.

I had some additional tests done and the results showed that I had Celiac Disease. If you are not familiar with Celiac Disease then here is a description from the Celiac.org website:

Celiac Disease (CD) is unique in that a specific food component, gluten, has been identified as the trigger. When individuals with CD eat gluten, the villi (tiny hair-like projections in the small intestine that absorb nutrients from food) are damaged. This is due to an autoimmune reaction to gluten. Damaged villi do not effectively absorb basic nutrients – proteins, carbohydrates, fats, vitamins, minerals and, in some cases, water and bile salts. If CD is left untreated, damage to the small bowel can be chronic and life threatening, causing an increased risk of associated disorders – both nutritional and immune related. Celiac Disease is not a food allergy - it is an autoimmune disease. Food allergies, including wheat allergy, are conditions that people can sometimes grow out of. This is not the case with Celiac Disease.

In addition, read this article about “FrankenWheat”…another reason this country is so unhealthy…

Today’s golden wheat fields differ from those cultivated by our ancestors. In the Huffington Post, Dr. Mark Hyman calls the modern grain “FrankenWheat,” a crop scientifically engineered over the past 50 years to contain what Hyman labels a Super Starch, a Super Gluten and a Super Drug.
Super Starch

Genetic manipulation and hybridization have led to the creation of “dwarf wheat,” Hyman explains. Designed to curb world hunger, these shorter, stubbier and higher yielding wheat plants are loaded with starch and gluten. The man who engineered the crop even won a Nobel Prize. But the invention was a double-edged sword. While it put food in the mouths of millions starving around the world, it also triggered obesity and a host of other diseases.
Now, eating two slices of whole wheat bread will spike your blood sugar more than two tablespoons of sugar, Hyman says.
One reason: dwarf wheat contains excessive levels of the super starch amylopectin A. “This is how we get big fluffy Wonder Bread and Cinnabons,” Hyman writes.
Whole wheat and white flour are now health-wise equivalents. “The biggest scam perpetrated on the unsuspecting public is the inclusion of ‘whole grains’ in many processed foods full of sugar and wheat, giving the food a virtuous glow.”
Eating this sugar-heavy wheat causes inflammation and the storage of belly fat—health risks for obesity, pre-diabetes and diabetes, Hyman warns.
The Super Gluten
Dwarf wheat also contains super gluten—a chemical likely to set off body-wide inflammation. Eating too much can also lead to obesity and diabetes. (And eating too many wheat-based products is easy to do—read on about the addictive Super Drug.)
Is there any rationale behind the gluten-free movement for those who do not suffer from the autoimmune disorder celiac disease (an intolerance to gluten)? According to Hyman there is.
Gluten, he says, is the “sticky protein in wheat that holds bread together and makes it rise.” With double the chromosomes (28) of pre-genetically modified wheat, it is increasingly likely to trigger inflammation and celiac disease, which incites insulin resistance. Thus, it can cause weight gain and diabetes, in addition to more than 55 conditions including autoimmune diseases, irritable bowel syndrome, reflux, cancer, depression, osteoporosis and more.

All righty then…back to moi!

So now you know all about mold and gluten and celiac and FrankenWheat! I’m just a world of knowledge today. Do you still have your violin out? Start playing a really sad song. When I first learned that I had Celiac and that was the reason for all my ailments, I was thinking, “Okay Wendy. No big deal. I don’t eat that much gluten anyway. I pretty much stick to a fish/chicken/veggie/whole foods diet. This isn’t that bad.” Ohhhhh geez, but then I realized, “I’m a frickin’ frackin’ French Pastry chef that can’t eat gluten. I won’t even be able to taste-test my creations. My dreams are shattered!” Oh my gorsh you guys…I went downhill and FAST. I was soooo miserable. I was already miserable from being sick, but add in the realization that I would have to make a career change after I spent all that time and money going to school in Paris and HOLY MOLY…I was so depressed. And then I got depressed, because I was depressed. I’m NEVER depressed! I know that maybe it sounds silly that something as minor as a wheat plant could turn my world upside-down, but it did. I’ll admit that I was a little upset with God. I had a few words with him and they weren’t nice. Here was my monologue to God, leaving out the cuss words (tis be true):

“What the heck!? Are you serious? I am 39 years old and all I’ve done is deal with one battle after another! I struggled with bad relationships, being a single mom, the death of my ex-husband, an awful court case, a house filled with black mold, a sick family, the death of my in-laws, near bankruptcy, and now this??? Is this some kind of sick joke? I FINALLY get a chance to make something of myself and you took it away from me!!! Why? Why? Why?” That was all followed by bucket-loads of tears.

Well, I suppose that no one ever has a MONOlogue with God. He may not respond right away, but He will eventually answer. That night I was taking a nice hot bath and I thought I’d listen to a new CD that I got from Joel Osteen. I’m not a religious person in anyway whatsoever, but spiritual…yes. I’ve always liked Joel Osteen and I thought that maybe it would help me out of my depression. One of his first opening lines were, “We sometimes get upset with God and we are waiting on Him to make a change in our lives to make it better. Well, maybe God is waiting on you.”

Crap. He was talking to me. Dang it. I know! I know! I know! Me, myself and I have got to make some changes for things to turn around. It all starts with ME!!! I don’t know why this has all happened to me and the WHY just doesn’t matter. Life gave me dog turds and I need to figure out how to make lemonade. If anyone can do it, it’s moi.

There was lots of emotional cleansing following that moment of awakening, but I will save that for the next post. Aren’t you psyched? You get to read more of my drama! You can put away the violin, because I am so over feeling sorry for myself.

MACAROON MARATHON!

I decided to commit these next couple of weeks to finding the perfect foolproof recipe for the French Macaroon. I have 5 different recipes from some of the best Macarooners and I am going to try all of them to see which one is the winner. There’s something about the French Macaroon that I find so intriguing and well…sexy. Yes, I am attracted to Macaroons. They are smooth and colorful and mysterious. You can look at a chocolate chip cookie and pretty much figure out what it will taste like, but you never know the taste of a Macaroon by its appearance. There are so many different options for flavors, fillings and colors, which make the Macaroon so exciting. And they are Gluten-Free! That’s good news for all the Gluten-Free Freaks out there, including myself!

One night in Paris, my friend Laura and I were out to dinner talking “pastry shop” and she asked me, “Well, what is Wendy Renée going to be known for?” Without thinking, I blurted out, “The Macaroon!” Huh? Where did that come from? Who said that? I’ve thought about it more and more over the last few weeks and I am officially obsessed with the Macaroon. I WILL master the Macaroon! Besides, I am so over the Cupcake Craze that is going on here in the U.S. and I plan on taking over with my Sexy Macaroons!

It’s funny that the Macaroon is so difficult to make, considering it ONLY has 4 main ingredients. That’s it! Powdered Sugar, Almond Flour, Egg Whites and Sugar. What could possibly go wrong? I remember the chef in school telling us that if our Macaroons turn out right the first time then, “Zat is just LUCK!!!” You have to make Macaroons several times to get the mixing, the oven temperature and the piping just right. They are so simple, but so complex. I’m up for the challenge!

The first recipe in my Macaroon Marathon is by Chef Thomas Keller, whom is the owner of the French Laundry (been there, done that and I’d like to do it again) in Napa Valley and now Bouchon located next door. By the way, his cookbook, Bouchon, rocks! It weighs 200 pounds and you may need help lifting it, but the pictures and recipes are amazing. This is Thomas Keller’s recipe for Vanilla Macaroons:

5 Cups Almond Flour
5 ¾ cups Powdered Sugar
1 ¼ cups Egg Whites
2 tablespoons + 1 teaspoon Granulated Sugar

He also adds a pinch of Cream of Tartar and Vanilla for the flavoring. I was quite shocked out how little Granulated Sugar is in his recipe. The Almond Flour and Powdered Sugar are ground in the food processor for a few seconds and then set aside until the Egg Whites and Granulated Sugar are whipped until stiff. You then fold the dry ingredients into the egg white mixture. The batter was sooo thick it was hard to blend. It’s not like any other Macaroon that I’ve made before. Most Macaroon batter is usually smooth and shiny. It was difficult to pipe onto the baking sheet, because it was so chunky and thick. He recommends piping them 2 inches wide. I prefer smaller ones, but I wanted to follow the recipe exactly how it was written. He says to let them sit at room temperature for 1-2 hours before placing them in the oven. Okay fine, I guess I’ll take that time to clean my kitchen and take a nap.

I was expecting the Macaroons to smooth out a bit more during that time. You could still see the peak left from the piping bag. Oh well. In the oven they go at 325 degrees Fahrenheit. They expanded quite a bit in the oven, more than I thought they would. They were certainly bigger than 2 inches now. They were very cake-like and the tops weren’t very smooth. The edge was nice though. They peeled off of the parchment rather easily, too.

I made a Buttercream filling and piped them in the middle of the Macaroon shells. When I sandwiched them together, they looked more like a Whoopie Pie than a Macaroon. Now for the taste testing…it was chewy and gooey, but not to where it stuck to the insides of your mouth. I don’t like that. I liked the taste of it, but it just didn’t resemble a French Macaroon. I’m over the Whoopie Pie Craze, too. We need a new pastry to hit the market and that’s the Macaroon! I’m determined to make it happen. I’ll probably make this recipe again, just to make sure I didn’t do something wrong. My husband says I never do anything wrong. :-) Chef Keller’s Macaroon tasted good though; it just wasn’t what I had in mind.

And the next runner in the race is…Ladurée! They have been around since 1862, so I’m thinking they should know something.