Jacques Pépin: Adoration & Nausea

I’ve had many chef crushes, and they are largely French. French chefs impress me as elegant and genteel. And cleanly professional. At least the ones I’ve encountered. But I guess human nature is wonderful and awful no matter where it’s from. I prefer to stay in my deluded bubble for now.

I’ve read and watched much on Daniel Boulud. The man isn’t a rock star, nor will he ever be. But his manner, cuisine and restaurants quietly speak for themselves.

I could say the same about Eric Ripert. I was finally able to catch some Top Chef on DVD, and Ripert’s subtly sweet nature was a fresh flavor in the boiling pot of an ego-driven reality show.

But the king of them all is Jacques Pépin. I discovered him on Top Chef too. Well, not discovered. I’ve read about him with faint interest in the past. Top Chef’s drama highlighted his crush-worthiness also.

My mother then started renting Julia and Jacques Cooking at Home from Netflix. Jacques is the perfect foil for Julia’s no-nonsense manner. They are absolutely adorable together. Watch the video above.

We also watched Jacques Pépin: Fast Food My Way, and I was a total goner.

I just finished his autobiography The Apprentice. It’s a delightful book, detailing his cooking experiences as a kid helping out at his mother’s restaurant to working for Charles de Gaulle to turning down JFK, instead working for Howard Johnson’s. That last bit of info bowled me over. This man could’ve taken the prestigious path, but he chose to go down other avenues, living and learning life in a broader manner. His food style, while classic, embraces everything.

In the video, Jacques and Julia start out making soufflé, which daunts me. A wee bit. When I came upon a simpler recipe in his book, I jumped at it. He writes that it’s his mother’s recipe. Her husband loved cheese soufflé, and she had no idea how to cook, so she did it her way.

I made the roux.

And cracked the eggs.

Folded in shredded gruyère and minced chives.

And shoved it in the oven. It came out lovely, though not nearly as puffy as a usual soufflé. He already noted this, so my ego wasn’t deflated when it came out. Haha.

I had never eaten soufflé in my life and dug in. What ensued was nausea. As in oh-my-god-I-want-to-throw-up nausea. I took an ibuprofen and ran to the bathroom. It went away after 10 minutes.

So much for that. I don’t think I can look at another cheese soufflé for a while, never mind eating one. Sorry, Jacques.