Published in The Philadelphia Inquirer on August 17, 2008
By Anne Supsic
For The Inquirer
French baked goods rank high on my list of favorite things in life, so for only 6 euros (less than $10), I jumped at the chance to take a behind-the-scenes tour of a boulangerie in Paris.
It was one of the Meeting the French tours (www.meetingthefrench.com), which offer rare glimpses of Parisians at work, such as chocolate makers, herbalists, bookbinders and musical-instrument makers.
Our English-speaking guide, Florence, meets us outside the Au Grand Richelieu in the 1st arrondissement, not far from the Louvre. Established in 1810, Au Grand Richelieu is the oldest bakery in Paris - a fact that is proudly announced in five languages on a chalkboard in the front window.
Florence takes us through the small bakery shop, and we duck into the back room, where we meet Claude Esnault, the baker. After 38 years of baking, Esnault is retired, and his daughter runs the bakery, but he still comes to work nearly every day.
Our host does not speak English, but he is very welcoming, and Florence is an adept interpreter. Esnault leads us into the working part of the boulangerie, a different world from the bakery shop. The 10 of us barely squeeze into the windowless baking rooms where, from midnight to 7 a.m. daily, two bakers produce 400 baguettes, 250 croissants, and 200 pains au chocolat.
When does a baker sleep? "Sleeping is a waste of time," Esnault replies.
In the cavelike baguette baking room, we learn that 3 tons of flour are stored in the room above us. A nifty system of pipes delivers the flour directly to the dough mixer, a vintage floor model with a 2-foot-wide bowl.
The baguette recipe is simple: flour, water, yeast and salt. But the method is precise, requiring particular temperatures and a closely regulated "rest time" for the dough to rise. The size and weight of a baguette are strictly enforced by the government - 2 feet long, 3 to 4 inches wide - and Monsieur Esnault shows off his baguette-rolling machine, designed to create perfectly sized baguettes.
Esnault lets us slash the tops of some baguettes to release the gas, using his double-sided razor blade. Our baguettes are easy to spot, looking overly deflated compared to his. Then he rolls racks of the baguettes into a special oven, which sprays the baguettes with water to create that familiar golden crust.
While the baguettes bake, we descend by ladder to the croissant baker's cramped work area. Apparently, baking is not a profession for the claustrophobic.
Interestingly, croissants and pains au chocolat follow the same basic recipe used for the baguettes, with sugar added and butter blended in to create the flaky layers. A non-melting chocolate is tucked into the center of the pain au chocolat.
We each get to roll a croissant and sample the chocolate before returning to the baguette room to taste our handiwork straight from the oven.
This is my favorite moment: Esnault deftly rolls the large baguette-filled rack out of the walk-in oven. The intoxicating smell of fresh-baked bread fills the small room as the baguettes hiss and crackle from the heat. The baker smiles and says, "Listen. The bread is singing!"
By Anne Supsic
For The Inquirer
French baked goods rank high on my list of favorite things in life, so for only 6 euros (less than $10), I jumped at the chance to take a behind-the-scenes tour of a boulangerie in Paris.
It was one of the Meeting the French tours (www.meetingthefrench.com), which offer rare glimpses of Parisians at work, such as chocolate makers, herbalists, bookbinders and musical-instrument makers.
Our English-speaking guide, Florence, meets us outside the Au Grand Richelieu in the 1st arrondissement, not far from the Louvre. Established in 1810, Au Grand Richelieu is the oldest bakery in Paris - a fact that is proudly announced in five languages on a chalkboard in the front window.
Florence takes us through the small bakery shop, and we duck into the back room, where we meet Claude Esnault, the baker. After 38 years of baking, Esnault is retired, and his daughter runs the bakery, but he still comes to work nearly every day.
Our host does not speak English, but he is very welcoming, and Florence is an adept interpreter. Esnault leads us into the working part of the boulangerie, a different world from the bakery shop. The 10 of us barely squeeze into the windowless baking rooms where, from midnight to 7 a.m. daily, two bakers produce 400 baguettes, 250 croissants, and 200 pains au chocolat.
When does a baker sleep? "Sleeping is a waste of time," Esnault replies.
In the cavelike baguette baking room, we learn that 3 tons of flour are stored in the room above us. A nifty system of pipes delivers the flour directly to the dough mixer, a vintage floor model with a 2-foot-wide bowl.
The baguette recipe is simple: flour, water, yeast and salt. But the method is precise, requiring particular temperatures and a closely regulated "rest time" for the dough to rise. The size and weight of a baguette are strictly enforced by the government - 2 feet long, 3 to 4 inches wide - and Monsieur Esnault shows off his baguette-rolling machine, designed to create perfectly sized baguettes.
Esnault lets us slash the tops of some baguettes to release the gas, using his double-sided razor blade. Our baguettes are easy to spot, looking overly deflated compared to his. Then he rolls racks of the baguettes into a special oven, which sprays the baguettes with water to create that familiar golden crust.
While the baguettes bake, we descend by ladder to the croissant baker's cramped work area. Apparently, baking is not a profession for the claustrophobic.
Interestingly, croissants and pains au chocolat follow the same basic recipe used for the baguettes, with sugar added and butter blended in to create the flaky layers. A non-melting chocolate is tucked into the center of the pain au chocolat.
We each get to roll a croissant and sample the chocolate before returning to the baguette room to taste our handiwork straight from the oven.
This is my favorite moment: Esnault deftly rolls the large baguette-filled rack out of the walk-in oven. The intoxicating smell of fresh-baked bread fills the small room as the baguettes hiss and crackle from the heat. The baker smiles and says, "Listen. The bread is singing!"
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