On December 17, 2010 we gathered in Ottawa's National Arts Centre as one, student body.  We were fewer than when we began three months ago - wiser for the experience and slightly thicker around the middle. 

As valedictorian Ashely Ndamvo put it (in one of the most eloquently delivered speeches I have heard in a very long time): 

"...pre Cordon Bleu weight and post Cordon Bleu weight..."

On this day we shared a common goal; to walk across that stage and collect those tokens that mark this right of passage.  To say:  "I am ready for what lies ahead."

For those receiving their final parchment, graduating from Superior, this marks the beginning of a new voyage.  Stepping outside the Halls of Butter they will find their own way as Cordon Bleu Alumni.  I wish you a safe, joyful journey and encourage you to stay in touch... share that path with us.

For those who remain, entering Intermediate and Superior both Cuisine and Pastry - there remains much to learn. 

Graduation Day was not without sadness for me.  I am so very grateful for those that gathered... the cheer that made me blink back happy tears from new friends, new confidants, new "family", new peers...  but I could not help but feel a sense of loss for those faces I would have liked to have shared in that moment. 

It is a sadness I let pass.  That I have this moment to share is a sign of growth and movement in my life and soul.  On so many occasions I could have walked away, I could have been broken and lost but instead I am so very found. 

Found in community and a sense of belonging so deep that it moves me - greatly. 

On those days when I have no will to believe in myself, I have you. 

(... and butter.)

In this moment of cosmic in-breath, this long night of darkness as we move towards winter solstice - this time of reprieve as we move from one year into another - it is cause to reflect on a journey well-lived in one of the most powerfully uplifting years of my life.   

The year I let everything go and let what was new... find me. 

My "Life from Scratch Tour" an adventure of 20, 000 miles (and counting).  In Mexico I was found by - Rest.  In Belize, Recreation.  In New York there was - Reunion.  In Cuba I met  - Resolution.  In Honduras I was hit hard by - Revelation.  Retuning to western Canada my heart sored in - Reconnection. 

But Ottawa, has been the most magical of them all, it is in this place that I found... REINVENTION.   Or rather, it found me. 

I like this new life... I made it from scratch.  (I used lots of butter... and salt.) 

This was as far as I planned... Basic Cuisine at Le Cordon Bleu's Ottawa campus.  Complete.  This next thing is all new. 

The new term at Le Cordon Bleu Ottawa begins January 7th, 2011 and I will be joining my classmates as an Intermediate Cuisine student.   Doors swing open, there is so much MORE to share, to enjoy and to tell.  We will see where that takes us.  I do not know the way from here.

Before we knew the earth was round explorers would use maps of the 'known world' and on the edges there was a notation: "Here there be Dragons."

I have entered the land of Dragons.  (That`s OK... I am one!)

So be still my Gypsy feet, beat well my Gypsy heart, unleash my Gypsy soul.  I may steal your horse and your heart... you might get one back but not the other.

Let loose the Dragons... I am... home.

Ottawa. Enchanted by the lights of "home".

The "A" Team... laughing, as usual... (Photo Credit - Juan Carlos Araya Salazar)

Forgive my (uncharacteristic) brevity. 

Had a horrid weekend as I cram for finals for Basic Cuisine, plagued with self doubt, when a friend reminded me - 

"Gypsy, it's just cooking!  Hell, you've done that DRUNK!" 

So true... so true.   In fact, I've turned out some extraordinary meals half in the bag.  Do you think they'd mind if I tucked back a few before the final?!

Probably.

Instead.  Practice.  I intend to conquer vegetables.  I have (perfectly) turned a l'anglaise potatoes on the stove and after turning them perfectly... I'm cooking them... perfectly.  (Take that Chef Smarty-Pants.) 

This week I find myself, muttering ingredients... holding my breath.  Have to stop and BREATHE and be present.  Stay focused. 

I am about to cook dishes I cannot pronounce.  Close is for horseshoes... and French.

As a result, taking short cuts this week on Food Gypsy as my studies have my full attention.  Final exams on Monday.  Two more classes... and... then what? 

A few vague ideas come to mind.  In a festive mood... but first we have a test to pass.  Twelve recipes to memorize (22 if you're Juan Carlos!) and then it's time to cook.

These are my people, 'Basic Cuisine, Group A'.  For the last ten weeks we've been in very close quarters... we are a group that likes to laugh.  Thought you should see them all if you haven't been to our Facebook page. 

From left to right... Chef Gilles, Brenda, Susan, Nicole, Amanda, Danica & Gypsy.  Behind... Ali, Jordon and Jonathan.  Up front... Juan Carlos. 

We are a class schooled by many Chefs... Chef Gilles, Chef Claude, Chef Phillipe, Chef Jean Marc, Chef Christopher and Chef Benoit; all building our skills and our foundation.  How solid is that foundation?  Strong enough to build on?  Time will tell.

It's time to pass the test kids... good luck to all the students in the halls of butter.  Wish us luck y'all!   (Send happy thoughts... )

Love, Gypsy

Let's rock the kitchen! (Photo Credit - Juan Carlos Araya Salazar)

 There is a certain calm that comes with the smoothing of wrinkles.   A quiet that is afforded the freshly pressed.

I remember the day, three months ago, when I slipped into the white jacket with blue piping and embroidered crest of Le Cordon Bleu, Ottawa for the first time.   It was a day that was two years in the making.

It said to me that I was now a member of a private club; the fellowship of butter.

In that first moment as I saw myself in it for the first time I saw in my reflection a life not yet fully dreamed.  A life of opportunities yet to be discovered and doors yet to be opened.

Each time I iron that crest I am reminded of those who have walked these halls before me and those who will come after...  living their dream.

Each day I slip into that jacket’s cool crispness I am reminded how far I've come in just one year.

Then I turn up my sleeves, tie my apron around my waist and walk into the shining stainless steel kitchen with very sharp knives.

Pressing on.   We have less than two weeks until our final exam.  These last nine have flown by in record speed.  Opprontily knocks and doors swing open.  Where will these Gypsy feet take me now?

Something tells me... it’s time to get that Ontario driver’s licence... I’m going to be here for a while.   Just a few details yet to iron out.

I love an open door and a "welcome" mat.

Living dreams not yet dreamed.

Students Susan Dougals & Nicole Diotte flexing their senses...

“If you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen.” Harry S. Truman

No question that enrolling in Le Cordon Bleu is among the most challenging and rewarding things I’ve ever done. Past the halfway point there is no turning back, you either rise to the occasion or you give up, throw your paper hat in the trash and call it a day.

We are a class of twenty-one, divided into Group A and Group B for our practical (there is only so much room in the kitchen).  We began as a class of twenty-five.  Three from our brigade left in the first three weeks of the program. Everyone has their own reasons, language challenges, too many obligations... too much stress.

We all come with our own objectives; most to pursue a career in the culinary field, a desire to cook in some of the finest kitchens in the world... or perhaps to have one of their own. I came looking to strengthen skills and establish a deeper knowledge, to support my writing and creative ventures.  But some... come purely out of interest and a deep love of food.

Classmates Susan Douglas and Nicole Diotte are retired. They have no desire to be on the line but they do have a desire to learn.

Friends since retiring three years ago; Susan and Nicole met as part of a wider circle of friends at the YMCA. On Fridays, following early morning workouts, they would all breakfast together and gab.  This soon morphed into outings (grape picking in Niagara), adventures (building houses in Guatemala), courses (art, wine) and most notably... potluck dinner parties!

There is a spirit of friendly competition that prevails in their potlucks... who can bring the best dish and who pairs it with the best wine.

Looking for adventure, they enrolled in Basic Cuisine at le Cordon Bleu.

“We thought it would be fun and interesting.” comments Susan.

“We’re still waiting for the FUN!” jokes Nicole.

No matter who you are - this is a course that will challenge. It is designed to push, to break you down and build you back up.  In that respect it can be compared to the military.  When you leave these halls you will know what you are made of and... you will know what you have been taught.

Lesson 1; Susan, Andre & Nicole... and then there were two.

Susan and Nicole were joined in this adventure by their friend, Andre. Recently retired from a highly stressful job, Andre found the ‘push’ to be too much and left the program within days. I wondered at that point if Susan & Nicole might follow suit, but something in their demeanour said to me...'you ain't seen nothin’ yet.'

I love feisty women!  Feisty holds passion.  The more I know them, the more I respect the journey and perseverance of these two amazing ladies.

There is no ‘typical’ student at Le Cordon Bleu; we come from around the world, speaking every language imaginable.  Some arrive straight from high school; others are shifting careers in their 20’s, 30’s or 40’s. Some have been in the industry and want the parchment that gives them instant recognition on their curriculum vitae.

And some... are feisty women!  Active.  Retired.  Joyful.  Funny.  Engaging.  Susan & Nicole are still standing and smiling in the heat.

This week we have our midterm exams.  Hunkered down over books, reading and re-reading our techniques and terminology. This is what we came for - to know what we did not know.

Here’s to passing with flying colours and learning from each other... may we all be as feisty!

... side benefits of being feisty! A kiss for the cook...

Looks pretty good - right? Nope. Meat - under cooked, starch - over cooked and too salty, in a rush to make time-lines I forgot the Papillotte (paper hat for the meat) AND the butter.  Stop RUSHING Gypsy! You can do better than "average".

The daily walk to school through the city's core - over the Rideau Canal, past the campus of Ottawa U to the big yellow mansion that is Le Cordon Bleu - is my solace.

I focus on the classes ahead and leave behind any unfinished business that is anything other than my culinary studies and dive headlong into the plan of the day.

Lately, even that has failed to soothe.  A series of confidence shaking days in the kitchen has caused me to have doubt about my direction... my ability... even my sanity (which proves that I'm sane because truly crazy people think they're sane... according to my shrink).

Days so bad even wine couldn't help.  Nothing but tears and sleep could bring me comfort.

Then I remember that this is an adventure; one of many that has carried me along in this lifetime.

On this adventure, the impetus is on me.  I colour my own experience.  I get to choose.

Will I allow myself to fail or will I give myself permission to succeed? Will I dig deeper or will I slide by and say that it was too much for me?  I am... halfway.  Coming soon, written exams.

What's it gonna' be?!

I choose to study.  I choose to practice.
I choose to engage.

I choose to know all that I came here to learn, all that I hunger for, all that I spent nights yearning for, years hoping for.   It's all here... now.  This is not a time to quit.  This is a time to dig deeper and say...

"Go ahead, turn up the heat.  Crank it up to 350* and I'll bake something!"

I have not been happy with my plates.  I have not been happy with my performance. I have not been... happy... and that is about to change.

I prefer happy.  It's kind of my religion!  So... letting go of perfection... just aim for "HAPPY".  That I can do.   Just be happy.  A few things are just going to have to take care of themselves...

I have a course to finish, with a smile on my face.

"Your plate is too busy" says Chef Armando, Cordon Bleu Instructor. "Good. That's what I was going for!" says Gypsy.

“Tell me how it tastes... is it salty or sweet?  Is it bitter or is it bland?  Did you even... taste it?”

When was the last time you slowly licked the bowl?  When was the last time you indulged in ice cream straight from the container?  Drank milk from the carton?  Broke the rules?  Laughed until your sides hurt?  Cried until there were no more tears?      

When was the last time you went to the movies and said “BUTTER.  LOTS OF BUTTER!”       

When was the last time you ordered dessert?       

For too long I lived in a box.  It was a lovely box... a big box... but still, a box with a lid.  Expectations were killing me.  Mine mostly.  How sweet the taste for freedom when you allow yourself a little indulgence.       

It is a slippery slope... first a little sip... then next thing you know you are hip deep in chocolate sauce and whipped cream and a smile a mile wide.       

I choose the sweet life.  I am learning to live with easy... which is much harder than it sounds.       

In throwing off the lid I found new tastes, sensations and favours.  Some I like.  Some I choose not to taste again.  I’m not a big fan of bitter... but I love the taste of lemon.         

After the bitter, the sweet is... sweeter.       

Life without salt is bland and lacking.  Why lack when there is so much to love?!      

On this journey of discovery I am joined by those as crazed as me.  Some itch for newness, some for comfort, others for those things they have yet to experience.      

"Your plate is too busy" says chef Armando.  GOOD!  Look at those gorgeous candied oranges, I made those!  I'm showing them off and the 'ciggarettes au amandes' cookies that rolled so perfectly.  Yup, made those too.  I'm not setteling for 'less' anymore.      

Less is not more... more is more!  Less is for pain and loneliness.  Less is for toothaches and debt.  I'm in the mood for MORE.  Load it up... give me cream and sugar and if  my plate is too full, I'll just grab another! I can cope with more.       

My father’s watchwords of “hard work” and “toil” just don’t seem to work for me now... that works is just the opposite... path of least resistance has replaced the rocky road.       

Rocky Road... is for ice cream!      

(mmmmm... ice cream...)          

Live your sweet life!

"Souffle glace a l'orange" is French for "Tastes like a creamsicle!" Sometimes spoons just aren't enough...

Gypsy note:  I know,  you've never seen so much of me... (or my crazy classmates, Nicole, Susan & Danica...) but there you are.   Get ready for a TON of new posts on Ottawa and the amazing FLAVOUR ADVENTURE... thus far.  MORE!!!!

Welcome...

From the expanse of a 5,000 square foot country inn to the tight confines of a 600 square feet one bedroom apartment... there’s no place like home. Not surprisingly, one must manage one’s personal belongings very differently in these two spaces.   

It was a very rapid move... that took five months. First there was the move - out.  A period of rest and much napping, some sun and the doing of lots of... absolutely nothing!   

Followed by recreation and adventure; learning to leap, to float, to paddle, to breathe under the water.  And last but not least... a time to reconnect... to those you love who love you right back.   

I know from past experience, this is how I re-create. It’s not my first rodeo. But this time, it’s a much BIGGER thing I’m creating. MY WHOLE LIFE. Did a little life shopping... I may do more. Changed... EVERYTHING.   

Location. Vocation. Relation.   

There is nothing that remains... except what I choose to bring with me as I start... from scratch.   

New city. Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. Never lived in Ontario before. First impression? It’s big. Flatter than I’m used to and highways seem to go in several directions at the same juncture. North, East and... West. This may be a trick.  What a lovely drive that was halfway to Montreal!   

Gypsy confession: been extraordinarily hard on myself as I’ve been “off my blog” and off my game.  Stalled creatively, unable to settle – or so I thought until I looked around and saw the wonderful space I’ve created and I realize that I’ve been very, very creative indeed.   

From boxed chaos to complete pandemonium it took some time to find the calm, serene quirkiness, the quite elegance, the sensual beauty and organized chaos... that became... “Chez Gypsy”.      

Don't laugh... it's not funny! (hahahahaha...Oh my GOD!)

Surrounded by my favourite things, it’s a very ‘storied’ atmosphere...      

Rode a camel for two days to get that rug. The brass bells off that very camel live on the window sill.The   bronze Thai Buddha (lovingly called “Super Buddha” a tribute to his thighs and his cape) now comes with luggage, the worn, travelled steamer trunk, that doubles as a coffee table. A surprise acquisition in this move that just screamed “Gypsy” to me.             

The kitchen is jammed to the rafters with tools and toys, so much so that there’s no room for food. Italian plates, Chinese tea pots, Japanese noodle bowls, a vase that holds chopsticks. The kitchen Aid mixer that I call “Gorgeous” the new Espresso maker, dubbed “Bruce”, fawned over every morning.      

The beautiful salad bowl dragged back from Belize, another beautiful salad bowl now making its way back from Honduras to join it. Mexican pottery in the corner. The cake stand on the top shelf, liberated from my mother’s kitchen. Cards and notes from friends on the fridge, along with a beloved (and belated) 'un-birthday' present from this year’s 'un-birthday'.      

And my bike... tucked under the counter.      

It's a mishmash of everything personal and wonderful.  A place to work and play.   A place to rest and re-create. Filled it to the brim with love.  In these walls I feel completely safe and decidedly brave.  I feel... the desire to COOK again, to feed and nurture. In it there is a kind of ‘magic’.      

You'll be seeing MUCH more of this kitchen.  Get ready to RUMBEL!      

So here’s to life, to joyful new beginnings... to... letting all the good stuff in.       

Welcome to home Gypsy.

See you soon!

... my precious...

From the heart of Canada’s western fruit belt, the beautiful Okanagan, there came a sudden change in plan.

I’d set my heart on further gallivanting, visiting and general merriment when there sprang to light the reality of living the dream.  While summer dances on, autumn draws near and for this Gypsy that means it’s time to go “back to school” but this time instead of packing a lunch, I’ll be making one.

Not quite sure how I got my dates muddled but I could have sworn I had more time. Never mind, a mad dash across the country brought me to our nation’s capital; Ottawa, Ontario where I did the unthinkable... I committed to things. Things that take MONTHS... things that involve showing up on time, being accountable and taking tests.

In exchange I received a very nice peice of paper reading (in part) “We would like to take this opportunity to welcome you to Le Cordon Bleu, Ottawa Culinary Arts Institute. Basic Cuisine. Start date: October 4th, 2010”

OhMyGod!

“Let’s fit you for your uniform” says Peter, the man who has answered every query and taken my every call for two years as I made the well informed decision as to the next steps in my culinary education.

“Woo hoo!” says I, as I bound off to change.

The white jacket, finishing at top of the thigh, double-breasted (buttoning from both the left and the right, so you can switch if you get dirty. Ummm... IF?), the mandarin collar with blue piping, French sleeves that roll back and the blue school crest on the left breast.

I am enamoured with my reflection, suddenly feeling very ‘official’.

The pants are expandable at the waist (what exactly do you mean by that?!) and long enough to make a second pair. I roll them up.

“No, no” tuts Peter “don’t cuff them, food will fall in there.”

Dude, seriously... I only did that so I would not kill myself parading about the lobby like a beauty queen. (Someone pl-lease bring me my tiara!) “I’ll have them hemmed.”

I like the checked pant (with the, ahem, 'buffet' waist) they’ll hide the (ugly) steel-toed, lace-up, non-slip shoes they make you wear. What? No clogs? I begin my “If orange Crocks and shorts are good enough for Mario Batali...” rant only to be stopped. “Yeah, yeah, yeah... safety first.” (Rolling eyes, behaving like 14 year old) “WhatEVER!”

Long pause, catching my reflection again in the gift shop window. 

“Do I get to take this with me?!” I ask, slowly turning, smoothing my white, CLEAN, new jacket.

He shakes his head. “No” he says. It’s a firm no.

“What about the pants?” (Worth a shot, right?)

“Not yet.”

“HAT!” I say holding out greedy hands, cursing myself for not bring a camera.

“No, not right now.” He smiles at me.

WHAT? I’m standing in Le Cordon Bleu, shelling out thousands of dollars for the privilege of chopping onions and being yelled at for the next few months and I get nothing?!  Then I spy it... the Cordon Bleu pen in his hand.

“Gimme your pen!”--- I swear to God I stomped my foot.

He laughs and hands me his pen.

Lustily I grip it... examine it... weigh it carefully. Mine. ALL MINE. It’s... very... blue.

Turning the page to the next chapter... the chopping, the mincing, the dicing, the slicing and julienning... then if I’m really lucky... they’ll let me boil water! (OH BOY!)

Apologies Dear Readers (all six of you) between family and social commitments and the matter of moving... my life... I've fallen woefully off the blog. Jumping right back on, so much to share.  If I promise to bake a cake in my new downtown, deco apartment as atonement, will you forgive me?  There'll be butter frosting... :)  Love, Gypsy