I awoke bright an early Monday morning in time to have tea and breakfast before leaving the apartment at 5:30 AM. I pushed through the pastry shop doors right at 6:00 and was handed a key to my new locker, #17. I quickly changed and joined the three other people in the kitchen, regarding them with sleepy eyes.

My new manager, Sebastien, quickly set me to work, handing me a laminated sheet with a list of ingredients and measurements. In rapid-fire French, he explained how to make the milk chocolate passion fruit ganache, and I set about my work. I have a million questions, but Sebastien has vanished and I’m left to my own devices. Now I’ve made ganache before, but never 16 kilos (about 35 pounds) at one time. The process is quite simple really, but this being my first time, it took me an hour and a half before I was finished.

I began by weighing out the milk chocolate – Valrhona of course – and melting it over hot water. I then mixed the frozen passion fruit puree with some trimoline  (an inverted sugar) and heated it to the temperature of warm bathwater. The chocolate is mixed with the passion fruit in three doses and then the butter is added. Once the butter melts into the chocolate, I use a huge handheld mixture (that really looks like a motor for a small boat) to incorporate all the ingredients and give the ganache a silky smooth texture. The mixture is then poured out into three flat containers, covered with plastic wrap and left to cool and set.

The first four hours passed slowly while I completed the chocolate ganache, made 12 kilos of a cinnamon-infused pistachio ganache and another 14 kilos of jasmine tea ganache. Believe me when I say that I need to start working out. I have zero upper body strength, and this new job definitely requires some more muscles.

By 10 AM, more people start arriving. There are two new interns, one of whom I recognize from Cordon Bleu. Mika just graduated a couple weeks ago having studied cuisine and pastry as well. She is from Japan and speaks very little English. We try to talk in French, but I think it’s hard for both of us to understand the other.

Tomorrow is the Festival of Macarons at both Paris pastry shops. This means that both stores will only have macarons and nothing else. This also translates into a lot of work for us. I quickly discover that instead of working the eight hour shift I had anticipated, I will be here for a lot longer.

At 10:30, the macaron assembly begins in earnest. More people arrive, each one of them coming up to me, shaking my hand and saying good morning. At the time I thought they were just being nice because I was new. But that is not the case. I find out the next morning that when you arrive and leave, you must go around to each person, shake his or her hand and say hello or goodbye. What a civil idea.

Since we have seven different kinds of macarons to make, we set about our work. Once the macarons have been baked, we lay the sheets on the countertops and pick off all the misshapen ones. There are a lot and it seems a shame to throw them away. Then we flip the sheets over and pull off the paper. The macarons are then arranged on a baking rack with the tops down, 96 to a rack. For each flavor, there are anywhere between 20 to 40 racks. That translates into 2,000 to 4,000 macron halves. Once all the macrons have been placed on the racks, they are filled with ganache. The employees pipe out the ganache onto half of the macarons and the interns come along and close them by adding a second macaron on top of the ganache. If you’ve never seen a macaron, click here.

Now this may seem like easy work, but I’m here to tell you it isn’t. It requires a lot of concentration and focus. The macaron must be placed on top of the ganache in a certain way to make sure the ganache is even squished between the two macarons. And we must work quickly because there are thousands and thousands left to finish before we can go home.

But the thing that surprises me the most is how silent we are. Even though there are eight of us, not a word is said. No one talks about the weekend, or food (as is custom with people in this business), or personal lives. They are serious, dedicated people. At one point I ask Mika a couple questions about herself, and I was told, in English mind you, “Shut up.” So for the next six hours, the only sound that can be heard is the constant humming from the walk in refrigerator. It made time pass agonizingly slow.

As I worked, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I knew that people here were serious and professional. But how do you pass so much time with people and not even talk? Evidently they think that talking will prevent us from working quickly. (As a side note, I later learn that the guy I call the drill sergeant doesn’t normally work with us. He’s about as serious as they come and is the one who told me to shut up.) But I do have to mention that everyone is very polite. There’s no yelling, no name-calling, no degrading comments or sexual harassment here. It’s rather a refreshing change from the restaurant. Although I do miss the talking and joking with my friends.

At 5:30 PM, we’re allowed to leave. An hour before, we spend all our energy cleaning every possible surface. The place is absolutely spotless by the time we’re done. And everyone cleans, not just the interns. Another welcome change from the restaurant. Although I’m used to working long hours, I’m exhausted. Leaning over the counters for six hours has put a crick in my back and doesn’t want to come out. I’m covered with a fine dust of luminescent powder that’s used to decorate the macarons. My hands look like I have the Midas touch as they glow faintly from the golden powder. I later learn it’s all over my face, around my neck and down my jacket too. But I don’t mind because it’s so beautiful – not like the blood and body parts I had stuck to me at the restaurant.

As I sit on the Metro, I think about my day. To be honest, I’m not really sure what to think. On one hand, it’s nice to work in a place that is so professional where I’m not yelled at, and I immediately get to work with everything. But I miss the camaraderie that comes with working with people so closely. Perhaps that will come in time. For now, I’m following the rules because I’m in the Army now.

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