The Little Paris Patisserie

by Julie Caplin

  ‘Don’t let me spoil the party,’ said Sebastian.

  ‘Would you like a coffee?’ asked Nina, realising that her heart had picked up its pace and was galloping away, threatening to take her sanity with it. What on earth was he doing here? Why today of all days?

  ‘That would be nice. Aren’t you going to offer me one of these delicious looking éclairs?’

  Aware that her hand was shaking a little, she scooped up one of the éclairs and handed it to him.

  ‘So what brings you here, today?’ asked Nina.

  ‘Any reason why I shouldn’t call in to my own premises?’

  ‘No, no, but well … you know.’

  ‘I don’t as a matter of fact.’

  Everyone had started talking busily asking questions that didn’t need asking. It was all rather excruciating and Nina was almost on the verge of confessing to the makeover of ‘his own premises’, when Sebastian groaned.

  ‘Wow!’

  Everyone turned to look at him. He held out the éclair in front of him, a slightly blissed out expression on his face. ‘These are delicious.’

  Nina froze in delighted surprise.

  ‘Who made these? Has Marcel got a new supplier?’

  ‘Nina did,’ said Maddie, coming to flank her, almost pushing her forward like a reluctant child being forced to the front of the class.

  He gave her a slow appraising stare and took another bite, chewing slowly, his eyes scrunched up. ‘It’s … incredible. You really made this?’

  She nodded.

  He gave her a sudden brilliant and totally unexpected smile.

  ‘Nina, these are seriously impressive. So that’s why you’re here? Practising.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nina eagerly. ‘And I invited the others to come and try them. I wanted their verdict.’

  ‘And they brought lunch,’ he observed.

  ‘We were just leaving actually,’ said Maddie, as she and Jane started packing up the food and stuffing it into Doris.

  There was a flurry of activity and within ten minutes it was as if the picnic party had never happened save a few crumbs left here and there on the floor.

  ‘I’ll just see you out, shall I?’ said Nina, her back to Sebastian, her eyes wide with the question: What do we now?

  She followed Bill out into the shop, the others lagging behind.

  ‘What shall we do?’ she hissed.

  ‘Don’t worry pet. You keep him occupied in the kitchen and we’ll crack on.’

  ‘But what if he comes out?’ She glanced over her shoulder as Maddie and Marguerite emerged from the kitchen.

  ‘Marcel can be lookout,’ said Marguerite. ‘And if he gets this far, I’m sure Marcel can halt him.’

  ‘Yes.’ She bit her lip. ‘But then he’ll see the walls. He’ll see that we’ve taken off the panels. Oh God, you don’t think he’s heard something from someone, do you?’

  Maddie’s eyes widened. ‘He’d have said something, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Marguerite firmly. ‘They deserve to be seen.’

  ‘Don’t worry pet. We’ll move all the work gear away to the left, then it’ll be out of sight of the window to one side, he might not even notice,’ said Bill.

  Nina thought that was somewhat wishful thinking. The masking tape all around the windows was somewhat of a giveaway.

  ‘I can stay here with Marcel and keep him occupied if need be,’ said Marguerite, patting Nina’s hand.

  ‘You do realise he’s going to find out eventually,’ said Peter, practical as ever.

  Jane nudged him.

  ‘I know but … if it’s at the end of the course, well, we won’t be around and the work will be about to start and he might not notice.’ Nina lifted her shoulders. Maddie snorted. Jane hid her smile behind her hand and Peter rolled his eyes.

  ‘I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?’

  ‘Yes, love,’ said Bill patting her on the back. ‘And he might be grateful, it’s looking so much smarter already.’

  ‘He might be,’ said Nina in a small voice.

  ‘Don’t worry, he probably won’t come out of the kitchen. He hasn’t to date.’

  But he was getting far more mobile on his crutches.

  ‘In fact, he’s more likely to follow you out now.’

  ‘You’re right. I’d better get back in there. I’ll come and help as soon as I’ve got rid of him.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Nina tried to make her voice sound upbeat and casual so it didn’t convey what she was really thinking, which was what the hell are you doing here, today of all days!

  ‘Fed up with my own company and … well, you got me thinking the other day when you complained my macarons were boring,’

  She raised a teasing eyebrow, her heartrate starting to slow down.

  ‘I realised that maybe I am a bit rusty. I haven’t even started on the bistro menu, so I thought I could do some recipe development for the dessert menu.’

  ‘I think I might be having an out of body experience. You’re not admitting that I was right, are you?’

  Sebastian laughed. ‘You never give me an inch, do you?’

  ‘No. Should I?’

  He laughed again. ‘No chance of me getting too big for my boots with you around.’

  ‘Hmph. I’m not so sure about that.’

  ‘Are you ever going to forgive me for being so grumpy when you arrived?’

  ‘The jury is still out,’ she said with a smirk. ‘You need to be on your best behaviour for the next couple of weeks.’

  ‘Have we really got so little time?’ He shook his head. ‘What are you going to do when you go back?’

  Nina scrunched up her mouth and pulled a face. ‘I haven’t got the foggiest.’

  ‘If you’re serious about being a pastry chef, you could train.’

  ‘I could.’ She looked away, leaning forward and nudging one of the éclairs back into the centre of the plate.

  ‘Or maybe you’re not that serious.’

  ‘Would you like a hand?’ asked Nina, looking pointedly at his leg. ‘You should probably still keep that elevated as much as possible.’

  Sebastian gave her a sharp look but wearily conceded and sat down on the stool. ‘I’m heartily sick of this bloody cast, so yes some help would be welcome. I’m also rather impressed with the filling of this éclair. What made you think of that? It’s an inspired choice.’ He put his elbow on the table and leaned forward picking up another of her éclairs and taking a bite.

  ‘I was just thinking of favourite dessert combinations, like chocolate dipped strawberries and I…’ She gave him a rueful grin. ‘Do you want the truth?’

  He nodded, the sudden warmth of his smile transforming his face as his dark eyes focused on her.

  She felt her heart lurch sideways, a ping of sensation in her chest that set off alarm bells. She’d mistaken that intense way he had of looking at her in the past, but now he was doing it again and stupidly it seemed to have even more impact on her. It would be so easy to lean forward, stare into his eyes and kiss him … stop, stop, stop Nina. What the hell was wrong with her? Been there, got the T-shirt and look how that ended.

  You’d have thought she’d have learned by now. The whole reason for being here – for the first time since she’d arrived, she acknowledged the truth – was about proving that she was completely over him. Proving to him that she was a different person.

  ‘To be perfectly honest…’ She struggled to push away the thoughts but it was hard when he was still smiling at her. Smiling like he used to, smiling in that all encompassing way that made her feel like she was the only person in the room. ‘My macarons … they were a disaster. I thought I’d experiment with flavours and fillings. I had all these wonderful ideas but I fell at the first hurdle. Like you said, I didn’t stick at it.’

  ‘Or maybe you didn’t have a very good teacher,’ said Sebastian, still bloody smiling at her.

  ‘You think?’

  ‘T
ell me what was wrong with them.’

  ‘What was right with them? Despite copious quantities of food colouring, instead of being red, they were a puce colour.’

  ‘Ah,’ he nodded. ‘Did you use liquid food colouring?’

  She nodded.

  ‘The amount you need to get that richness of colour can ruin the texture of the mixture.’

  ‘Well, they didn’t rise and they were so sticky we … I couldn’t get them off the baking sheet. Maddie came to help,’ she finished with a rush. The half-truths were starting to stack up and suddenly she didn’t feel quite so good about not being honest with him.

  ‘They are tricky to get right,’ he said sympathetically. ‘And I’m not sure, if I’m completely honest, they’re worth the effort. Not my favourite thing. Although I’m going to knock up a few up today for an idea I’ve got.’

  ‘But they look so lovely. I wanted to sell … celebrate, make them for a celebration, for celebrations. You know birthdays, presents, little gifts.’ Oh heck, she was babbling as she hoped he hadn’t noticed her slip up.

  ‘Well, you’ve nailed the choux, if that’s any consolation. This is good. Can I pinch the idea?’

  ‘You want to pinch my idea?’ Nina almost spluttered.

  ‘Only if you don’t mind.’ He gave her another one of those teasing, warm smiles which did stupid things to the pit of her stomach.

  ‘Of course not. I think I might be slightly flattered.’ And ever so slightly shocked.

  Sebastian had come armed with a list, of course, of ideas, flavour combinations that he wanted to try. And given what was going on outside, she was all for encouraging him. Luckily he was so intent on his work, setting to work by mixing up an initial batch of Italian-style buttercream, that he seemed to have put the odd shenanigans with the others in the kitchen completely out of his mind.

  He chatted as he worked and after the first ten minutes, Nina felt her shoulders begin to settle back into their normal position. Providing Sebastian stayed put in the kitchen, they would be fine and given previous experience, he’d shown no interest in moving beyond the steps. All she had to do was keep him focused on the job in hand.

  ‘I’m looking to create and combine some really subtle flavours. People are always amenable to having a tea or a coffee after dinner but less so these days to a dessert, so I’m thinking about offering a tea and macaron selection that people can choose instead of a dessert.’ He paused and nodded his head as if reassuring himself. ‘And there’s a good profit margin. So I was thinking about some light floral and tea-flavoured fillings like jasmine, Earl Grey and green tea combined with lavender, hibiscus and rose.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Nina doing her best to look impassive. They didn’t sound like proper fillings to her. Patisserie, whether biscuits, cakes, meringues, éclairs whatever you wanted to call them should be enticing, interesting and make you want to wrap your lips around in a delicious mouth smacking kiss.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘You have that look on your face.’

  ‘No, I don’t … I worked hard so there wouldn’t be a look.’ She sighed and relented. ‘You’re asking the wrong person. I like my desserts with big full flavours…’ She nodded at her éclairs. ‘Your macaron combinations sound very subtle and sophisticated and all that bollocks.’ She decided to go for broke. ‘But to be honest they sound boring and … well a bit dull … sort of cowardly, apologetic sort of flavours. A bit grown up but clueless.’

  ‘Thanks for your incisive comments,’ said Sebastian with a scowl.

  ‘I wasn’t deliberately being rude … just honest. As a potential customer.’

  Sebastian frowned and looked at the éclairs again, a worried expression creeping into his eyes. ‘Hmm.’

  ‘But I’m probably not your target audience. I consider myself cheated if I’ve not had a dessert when I go out to dinner. I want chocolate. I want rich. The people in your restaurants are probably dead sophisticated and have a much posher palate than me.’

  Sebastian was lost in thought for a minute or two. With a frustrated gesture, he pushed his hand through his hair. ‘I’m still not sure I’ve got the concept for the bistro here right. And now the contractors won’t be available for another two months. The designs still aren’t right and I haven’t got a handle on the food at all. It’s frustrating especially as the ones in the Marais and Canal Saint-Martin came together so easily. The vision was there. The interior designer nailed it after my first brief. This one—’ he shook the hair that had now flopped forward on to his face and Nina realised he needed a haircut ‘—has been a problem from day one.’

  ‘Can’t you use the same concepts and ideas?’

  ‘No, the shape of the building is all wrong and the location isn’t right. This place was never meant to be part of my plans.’

  ‘Your plans for world domination?’ quipped Nina. ‘Isn’t this where you do the evil he-he-he and rub your hands together in a villainous, evil genius sort of way?’

  ‘You are so like your brother.’ There was a flash of warmth in his eyes, despite the disparaging tone. ‘Same stupid sense of humour.’

  ‘Runs in the genes, I’m afraid.’

  ‘At least you’re much better looking.’ Sebastian froze, looking as if he’d swallowed something he shouldn’t and suddenly went puce.

  There was a horribly pregnant pause where they just looked at each other, but it was impossible for Nina not to dive in and rescue him, knowing that he didn’t mean it the way she would dearly love him to.

  ‘Of course I am, I’m younger, a lot less hairy and I smell a darn sight more fragrant.’

  ‘There is that,’ said Sebastian. His gratitude was almost palpable. ‘Now back to my plans for restaurant domination. I got stuck with this place because the only way I could get the leases on the two restaurants I wanted was to take this one on as part of the deal. Hence being saddled with Marcel and the patisserie course.’

  Nina waited for a second or two, wondering whether she should say anything or not and finally grabbed courage with metaphysical hands and said, ‘You do know that this was once a renowned patisserie. Both Marcel and Marguerite remember it in its heyday.’

  ‘You told me that the other day.’

  ‘Yes, because it really was special. It would be a shame to lose it. So maybe you could keep it as a patisserie.’

  ‘No.’ Sebastian turned his back on her and started arranging the bowls and reading his recipe sheets.

  ‘No? You’re not even prepared to consider it.’

  ‘No.’ He turned over a sheet of paper.

  ‘Not at all?’

  He didn’t even look up and now looked completely absorbed, muttering under his breath. ‘Earl Grey and Lavender. That would be one. Jasmine and … perhaps rose, would that be too floral?’

  ‘That’s a no, then,’ said Nina.

  ‘What do you think about rose and lavender?’

  ‘Not bad,’ she said, it wouldn’t entice her. He was absorbed in his recipe sheets again. She stared at the back of his head. Stubborn idiot.

  Maybe she should take him to Ladurée, visit some of the iconic patisserie places in Paris. Not even considering a patisserie was cutting his nose off to spite his face. Perhaps if he could see that it was potentially a good business model, he might change his mind. What did she have to lose?

  She kept pondering this as she helped him make up a batch of macarons, which of course came out looking like bite-sized fairy perfection. How did he do it? She could have sworn she’d followed exactly the same process and steps as him.

  ‘Are you alright?’

  ‘Yes.’ She snapped the word at him, finding his proximity annoying or maybe she just objected to him breathing.

  ‘You’re pulling faces.’

  ‘I’m just trying to figure out how I got it so horribly wrong and you’ve managed to produce the most perfect pink macarons.

  ‘Oh. Practice. Remember I worked at that hotel in Well
s, and they did afternoon teas. They were a feature of the menu. Now, please can you help me decide on the fillings?’ The macarons he’d made were delicately rose-flavoured and he’d managed to get them a blush pink colour. They looked pretty and feminine and she knew as she looked at them that she couldn’t achieve the same result in a million years … and that she probably wouldn’t want to.

  No, she wouldn’t want to. This wasn’t what she wanted to cook.

  It was a thunderbolt revelation. Cooking was about feeding people, delivering the punch of taste and flavour. Pleasing them. Appealing to that raw desire of hunger and pleasure. Bringing people together. The delicate flavour and insubstantial bite of a wispy, barely-there macaron wasn’t her idea of a treat.

  She spent the next hour helping make up batches of buttercream, but all the time her head was full of the cakes and patisseries she really wanted to make. Big, bold flavours, tried and tested combinations but upgraded with more innovative presentation. The millionaire’s shortbread had been a huge hit. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to get started making mini patisserie versions of British favourites. She could make posh jammy dodgers, fine shortbread biscuits sandwiched with Chantilly and fruit coulis, miniature Victoria sponges with a strawberry glaze top and fresh fruit filling, a jam tart version of a mille-feuille.

  Her head whirled with ideas as she watched Sebastian dividing up the batches of buttercream into a series of bowls, which he lined up before he started adding the flavourings using everything from the steeped water from a couple of Earl Grey teabags, to rosewater and dried powdered jasmine flowers. Interesting as it was to see how he achieved those delicate flavours, the painstaking, almost scientific laboratorial approach didn’t inspire or enthuse her.

  ‘Nina?’

  ‘Yes?’ She started, realising Sebastian was looking at her.

  ‘Are you alright? You’re pulling faces again. Really weird ones this time.’

  ‘Sorry, just thinking.’ She smiled, unable to help some of her excitement leaking out, and grabbed a bowl, taking it over to the sink to wash up.

  He glanced back at her with decided suspicion.

  Balancing on one crutch, he mixed and tasted and added, completely focused on the job in hand. Despite her epiphany, she still found it fascinating to watch him. He’d always been like this, with a drive and focus that she’d never seen in anyone else before. She wondered if it made him lonely, set apart from his peers. When he was younger, she, along with Nick and the boys, had always managed to tease him out of that total absorption. Drag him away from the kitchen with light-hearted banter and challenge.