Flavors of My Travel: Sugar, Trains, and Chocolate Croissants
A collection of recipes and memories inspired by my time in France, simple moments, refined techniques, and the flavors that stayed with me.
A week in France learning sugar artAfter finishing school, my family moved to Italy for a few months. While I was there, I took the opportunity to travel within Europe. A friend suggested something unexpected—learning sugar sculpture in France and even booked the class for me.So I went.I took a train from Paris to a small town to attend a sugar art class with Stéphane Klein. The school was just across from the train station. As soon as I stepped out, I could see it. My hotel was only a few blocks away small, clean, and perfect for a student.Each morning, on my way to class, I stopped at a boulangerie. My breakfast was always the same: a chocolate croissant. Warm, flaky, and simple, but somehow exactly what I needed before a long day.Class started at 7 a.m. and went until 11 p.m.The days were long and demanding. We worked with hot sugar—pulling, shaping, blowing, and sculpting it into flowers and figures. The sugar had to be handled at the right temperature, at the right moment. Too early or too late, and it wouldn’t work.The teacher was incredibly skilled. We all admired his work. During class, he played classical music, and it filled the room while we worked. Even though I was the only one who didn’t speak French, I still understood what to do. The techniques spoke for themselves.We were given lunch and dessert, then went straight back to work until late at night.For seven days, this became my routine:walk to class, work with sugar, return to my room, sleep, and start again the next morning with another chocolate croissant.At the end of the course, everyone completed a sugar sculpture to take home.But I was traveling by train.I couldn’t bring mine with me.So I left it behind.
A Lesson That Stayed
That piece of sugar didn’t come home with me, but the experience did.Working with sugar taught me patience, timing, and precision. It showed me how delicate something can be—and how much control it takes to make it look effortless.Even now, when I bake or decorate, I still carry those lessons with me. The way I handle dough, the way I think about texture and detail it, all comes from moments like that week.Some things don’t last.But what you learn from them does.
