Yeah, I'm back-dating my posts. What are you going to do about it?

Here’s a riddle for you: when is the Chef not the Chef?

Answer: Never.

Tonight was my last service ever as a stagiere. Alleluia. Anyway, my chef was all, “But you never made any American food for us!” Yeah right, I am pretty sure that it is illegal in France to fry chicken in a Guy Savoy kitchen. So I whipped up a batch of chocolate chip cookie dough and brought it in to bake off for the staff meal as a goodbye present and as a way of saying thank you for putting up with my incompetent ass. The cookies were good, a little more puffy than normal because baking soda doesn’t exist in France and I had to use baking powder instead. As I took them out of the over and set them aside to cool, the chef came over and said, “Something is not right. What did you bake them at? 180? Drop the oven to 150. Where’s the dough?” and she ran off with it. She came back five minutes later and re-did a sheet. Her cookies were noticeably flatter and now had white chocolate mixed in. She had re-worked the dough with another 200g (!) of butter and some white chocolate. Then she was happy with the cookies.