Proof!

First day back in London. Rainy and wet but there are signs of a spring soon to come.



Today we began with an easy introductory to the second semester of pastry. Just when I thought I had finally gotten over the exam embarrassment of my wet pate a choux and burnt pastry cream, what is our first recipe? Gateau St Honore (a cake composed of non other than pate a choux and puff pastry). I hoping this was not done in my honor, or should I say in my memory…

We’ll see how it turns out tomorrow.

Despite a two hour torturous reminder of the past, I received a sweet reward that made it all worth it:



Pain is Beauty





Darcy Jones

The Licks of Love

It's been a week of celebration here in London.

Valentine's Day is upon us, and in my own world this week also marks one year since my now husband and I got engaged. It's hard to believe that that afternoon was just one year ago, as sitting here this Sunday, about the same time as I was last February, I am again unpacking boxes. Last year it was unwrapping the first of my things from my old apartment, and this year it's undoing the last of our essentials to make the transatlantic journey.

Whether I take the notion 'with each year, a new adventure' all too literally, or I'm just fated to a nomadic existence, I'm not sure. But I do know that choosing to leap and not look back has always been the right decision. Sounds rather impulsive? Maybe for some, but when you find courage in your convictions that old fork in the road seems to fade into one long straightaway and you find yourself trying to control a led foot.

But today I am clearly just pussyfooting around:

Beaming from our breakfast in bed



and enraptured by my red velvet roses,


I decided that in honor of the day of decadence I would keep up this Sunday of sweets. My gift to you, The Gateau Alhambra:





Named after a similar cake produced at the famous Alhambra Palace Hotel in granada this cake is filled with nothing but dense chocolate (and yes, the marzipan rose is a personal milestone).



And to finish off the evening my Plush Passion Fruit Palmiers:



I like to think of them as the palate cleanser no?



Here's to a life worth loving.



Darcy Jones

My Fair Mayfair

I am most certain that a Nightingale did not sing in Berkeley Square this morning. At 3 bellow Celsius, London seemed reluctant to awake: even at half past 8, the evening street lamps still shone, as I took my first of many brisk walks down Marylebone Lane.



Morning in Mayfair is surprisingly similar to the early hours on Manhattan’s Upper East Side: a fleet of dark overcoats sail down busy narrow streets, all luffing in the face of a whipping winter wind. Navigating these waters first thing can be both cruel and comforting for a transplant like myself. For at least this morning, I felt a bit closer to home. And so it is fitting that my home-away-from-home for the next 9 months can be reached in an utter New York minute.

Tucked away in a quiet corner in Maryleborne lies a rather unassuming stone façade. As humble as the British and as traditional as the French, it is quite fitting that the culinary school of the ages calls this it’s London home. But by 9am this seemingly sleepy mews is rudely awakened. Screaming ovens and hissing pans sound through the bright blue shutters, as the alleyway bellow fills with echoes of whisked stainless steel. It is vinaigrette, it is mayonnaise, it is crème Chantilly… it is just another morning at Le Cordon Bleu.

Day one in the kitchen began with a bang (or siren that is): fire alarm in the boulangerie. A surge of steam, smoke, and students followed, all billowing onto the sidewalk. All of us in our iron pressed uniforms formed a rather remarkable sea of crisp white naiveté. I do not think I have ever felt so small, so inexperienced, and so out of my element. But as I stood shivering in this sea of frightened and frozen faces, the first snowflakes of the new year began to fall, and I realized that my story is just one of many on this day of new beginnings.


Darcy Jones

Bon Voyage

The holidays are here and life is nothing short of hectic in my current hemisphere. I'm 23, newly married, and preparing to move my entire life to London for the coming year to attend cooking school...Is this a recipe for disaster? Truth be told, the jury is still out, but one thing's for certain: this is a recipe that requires my full attention.

So while everyone else is wrapping boxes, I'm packing them. While others are dreaming of getaways, I am facing the reality of going away. This Christmas, my suitcase is filled with soft soled shoes, spatulas, and starch, not sun hats and ski suits.

And since my heartbeat has begun to sound vaguely like the tick-tock of an alarm clock (dare I say a ticking time bomb) I am officially declaring a countdown here and now: 20 days till kickoff. Here's to new beginnings across the board.

STAY TUNED...

The licks of life in London begin January 11th!


Darcy Jones