French Cup: A Neighborhood Story

Chapter 13: -Kazuya- A Little Booze With Your Mousse Makes the Day Start

Out in the front end of the shop, the loud music of ABBA was blaring as Nikki was brewing up rich coffees. The music was seeping into my kitchen, the tones of "Fernando" was making my hips swivel around as I spun to grab a tray of mousse cups from the refrigerator. 

It was coming along beautifully. I'd planned to come in an hour early to make them, because it took four hours for them to set. There were three kinds, to give our customers variety: a dark, bittersweet chocolate that would have a light and very sweet tasting whipped cream on top, the flavors mixing together to give just that right kind of sweetness, but still an adult flavor. Another variety was a very sweet white chocolate mousse with a fruity strawberry jelly on top. You'd need a good sweet tooth for it, but I could think of a few of our regulars who'd love it. The third was a coffee flavored mousse that would compliment what our customers were drinking as well. The smell of it reminded me of fresh coffee grounds, and it would have a very strong taste. I was trying to avoid it tasting like coffee ice cream, and I'd triumphed. There'd be a light tasting coffee jelly on top, to compliment it and the colors would look fantastic in the tall cup. Each mousse, regardless of flavor, would have a bit of gold flaking leaf on top to tie them all together as a set. 

Mousse takes so long to make, but it would be worth it. I hadn't made a mousse variety in a while, and our customers always got excited to see them. They were indulgent and rich treat, something you couldn't eat every day. So, seeing them every so often gave them just that little bit more of excitement. 

There were trays of croissants cooling on tall racks behind me, as well as sweet breads like pain au chocolat and pain aux raisins. These were standard for us, and I set them out every day. There were some cakes also, but I'd made some normal flavors today. Mont blancs were something our customers were used to seeing, and were always a good seller. Strawberry shortcakes were also always our most popular, though I tried to put my own twist on them. They weren't the standard slice you'd see in bakery windows. All of my cakes were tall and circular, cut out and stacked artfully. Our strawberry shortcakes were decorated with strawberry slices on the outside of the cakes, and a star-like design of them on the inside layer, covered in cream. On top was another layer of cream and a whole strawberry. It was a feast for the eyes, as well as for the inner child. Baba au rhums were also a favorite of mine. They were a bit boozy, another kind of adult taste. I didn't make them every day, but at least once per week. 

The trick was making something familiar for everyone, so they'd trust what they were buying, and making the taste nostalgic so they'd come back, but putting my own twist so that it was different enough to be interesting. I also wanted to stay away from things that were more suitable for children. I knew our customers, and a lot of them were older. They'd seen a lot of things and had been around. They also didn't like things that were too sweet due to their age, which is tricky for a baker. So, I had to be creative and come up with other tastes to suit their picky palates. 

Sometimes, four hours just wasn't enough to make what I wanted to. I was too ambitious, and some things didn't work. I had to learn to train myself to be on time, and this meant being a champion multi-tasker. Did I have five minutes' time in between tasks? Start another. 

I was plopping whipped cream into the chocolate mousse cups when Nikki came through my kitchen door, sipping his usual latte. He made loud sipping noises, so I knew it was too hot. That meant it was fresh, though. He was wearing his bright blue rimmed glasses today, probably too lazy to put in contact lenses. He watched me apply the whipped cream with interest, and then his sneaky hand went to the racks and he grabbed a mini baba au rhum. 

"No bare hands," I tsked at him, not looking up for even a second. If he was done brewing coffee and setting up the front, then I knew I didn't have a lot of time before opening. More than likely, a couple of our regulars were already milling about outside reading the newspapers in the cold, waiting for eight o'clock to arrive.