The chief is probably the tailor's best enemy. By caring for the overweight gourmets, he invariably pushes the door of the workshop with the same depressed expression and these words: "My costumes shrink!"
Asparagus soufflé, saddle of venison with cherries, mature cheeses, Belle-Hélène pear wreak havoc on the stomach. Above the market, the cooks are supported by the sommeliers and their refined bottles. The culinary victory is indisputable, the debacle of the tailors inevitable!
Like all good armies, kitchens are organized in brigades. That of the sauciers is undoubtedly the most daring and makes only a bite of the apiéceurs and culottiers! To complete this diabolical organization, an elegance of the ranks is emerging. As a good marshal, Auguste Escoffier imposed the uniform "so that everyone has the same image". "As soon as you're dressed, you behave a little differently," said Paul Jervis, director of chief studies at Westminster Kingsway College. In a society hungry for freedom, where the uniform is often experienced as a bondage, cooks and hoteliers see it as a pleasure to belong to a body. A need for elegant harmony.
If the chubby toques disappear, pay attention to the chefs' blouses, which are often creative! Straight or crossed, they are reminiscent of military dolmans and tunics, pushing pleasure to the piped finishes in color. Embroideries brighten them up and the cuffs are distinguished by their musketeer notches. The necklines are inventive, shawl here, mandarin there.
A rare aesthetic work at the time of all utility. A confluence of know-how that must be supported now more than ever!