First stop in the big smoke was my home for the next 3 months - zee Cordon Bleu. After barely surviving the last course in Paris - I had a ceremonial burning of all my kit as I vowed nothing would ever induce me to cross that particular threshold again. Four years later all is forgiven and I'm plunging back into the fray. One apron, a stupid hat, 2 coats and a pair of check trousers later I am now ready to wrestle with the lemons, the string and most importantly THE butter.
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