Friday morning the alarm went off at 6 and I groggily went through the motions of what has become my new morning routine: accounting for all 6 pieces of my regulation cooking school uniform, ensuring that everything is clean and well-pressed, and then throwing it all into a bag and running out the door, bound for a non-negotiable coffee truck stop to coax me into consciousness so that by the time I’ve changed in the school locker room and arrived in the bread classroom, I might have a shot at having the mental acuity to hold my own for my team’s morning dough mixings.






Friday was almost like every other day, with the exception that it also happened to be the day of my first practical exam on the breads of France. My team was ready, armed with recipe formulas and tables and schedules for the measuring, mixing, flipping, dividing, shaping, resting, loading, baking, and unloading of six different types of breads, in addition to our responsibility to bake all of the bordelais (an amazing sourdough-style bread with a super thick, crisp crust) for the restaurant all week.

The chefs had told us that we were not allowed to ask them any questions as we moved through our tasks for this spectacularly busy day. Instead of helping us and critiquing as we went, per usual, instead they watched us with intense, piercing eyes, mentally tallying each and every mistake. I’ve often prided myself for being able to perform well under pressure, but once I felt one of the chef’s eyes on me as I was leveling the beam balance scale before measuring flour, and I freaked. This small task that I’ve done a million times without even thinking about it suddenly eluded me completely. I’m sure that chef was blown away by my incompetence as he watched me fumble and fail about ten times.





Somehow our team pulled through the day, and we finished up by examining our handiwork, which was overflowing off of the floor to ceiling cooling racks. When the chefs called our team over to debrief, I expected that I’d be shamed for the countless silly mistakes that they’d been check, check, checking all day long, but instead they made positive remarks about the shape, crumb, and score of our finished products and our ability to work as an efficient team. In cooking school no one ever says “good job”, but this is the closest I’ve come so I’ll take it and continue the futile toil to win the approval of these chefs for whom I have nothing but respect.





With two weeks down, I’m sad to say goodbye to the French unit, although we will still be baking boudelais and baguettes for the restaurant each day. After the test I went home, got off my feet, and took stock of my mental drain, my physical exhaustion, and the rainbow of colorful bruises decorating my forearms. None of these things matter to me in the slightest. I’m having the time of my life at bread school, but with two weeks down, I need to work on the balance of the other parts of my life – the ones where I do part-time marketing work, cook balanced meals, exercise, spend QT with my man, and return phone calls. The bread I am making is ridiculously good, but that is no excuse to eat it for every single meal. It’s the height of the market season, and time for me to assert some balance, or have to buy new pants (and I really don’t want it to come to that).


It’s time to get back into a more healthy meal routine and I’m starting with this delicious, crisp, beautiful, and flavorful slaw. It’s a fun way to use jicama, which I found at Whole Foods (and then later saw at the corner fruit and veg stand for so much less money), and with a nice balance of sweet, savory and crunch, it is a perfect, light and satisfying companion for grilled veggies, fish, or meat. This recipe yields a ton – easily enough to feed 6-8 people as a side, and it kept well for several days in the fridge. Don’t be like me – remember to buy the carrots when you are picking up supplies for the slaw – I suspect they will only improve something that is already very tasty.


Jicama Slaw
Adapted from Epicurious, 2004

For the dressing:

1/2 cup fresh lime juice

2 tablespoons rice vinegar

2 tablespoons ancho chile powder

2 tablespoons honey

1/2 cup mild vegetable oil, such as canola

Salt and freshly ground pepper
For the slaw:

1 (2-pound) jicama, peeled and cut into matchsticks (I used a mandolin)

1/2 head napa cabbage, cored and shredded

2 carrots, coarsely grated (I did not include carrots, simply because I forgot to buy them. I would definitely use them next time)

1/4 cup finely chopped fresh cilantro leaves