Ferrandi Paris Diary: week 4, sugar week.

Week 4 at Ferrandi was one I approached with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity, Sugar Week. Sugar work wasn’t something I had explored in my career so far, but I was ready to burn a few fingers and learn from the best, Chef Nicolas Guerico, Executive Pastry Chef at Hotel Lutetia in Paris.

We had just three days to produce all the elements for our sculpted sugar showpieces. In that time, each of us needed to create: 2 structural components, 3 individual flower buds, what must have been close to 100 individual flower petals, and 3 moulded leaves. No pressure, right?

The structural pieces were made by cutting thick plastic sheets into custom shapes and sealing them together with sticky tape. Sticky tape. Everywhere. My scissors were basically sealed shut by the end. These moulds had to be completely airtight because we were pouring in molten isomalt, rotating it to coat every surface, then pouring it back out. If there was even a tiny leak, we were risking a sugary flood, and second-degree burns.

Rotating the isomalt mould felt like babysitting a lava lamp with trust issues. You had to keep turning it while cooling it down with a blow dryer. Stop too early, and the sugar could warp, wrinkle, or bubble.

Pro tip: even when you think it’s cool enough, it’s not. Keep going.

The flower buds were a breeze in comparison. We poured a layer of clear isomalt into Russian moulds, then filled them the rest with red dyed isomalt, and set them aside to cool. But the petals? Don’t get me started. If you’ve never worked with isomalt, let me explain, it’s like trying to sculpt glass... while it’s still lava. To get that glossy, satin finish, we had to stretch and fold the sugar to incorporate air, then shape each petal by hand with one mould each. Keep it too warm, and it goes dull. Let it cool too much, and it’s like bending a candy cane. It was a long, slow process that tested everyone’s patience.

And then came the leaves—60 of them. With one. single. mould.

We poured the hot green isomalt onto one half of a silicone mould, pressed the other half in, and waited for it to cool. Then we did it again. And again. It took nearly all three days, with everyone taking turns like we were working the night shift at a sugar factory.

Somewhere in the middle of it, my classmate Diana accidentally burned herself with molten isomalt while making a leaf. It was a nasty burn, but she powered through, and endured our constant teasing, “Give her a break! She has no fingers!” for the rest of the course.

The final decorative element was the ribbons. These were more technical, requiring speed and precision. Chef Nicolas stepped in to help us stretch and cut the ribbons before they lost their shape. Watching him work was like watching a sugar ninja, fast, clean, effortless.

The last day was all about assembling the showpieces. The lab was pure chaos. Pieces were breaking, glue was burning, people were sweating, there were sugar shards everywhere. Much like with the structural moulds, the gluing process was delicate. Use too much isomalt and your piece looks like a melted candle. Use too little, and the leaf you just attached falls off in slow-motion heartbreak. Every one of us broke at least one flower, a couple of leaves, and definitely some decorative extras.

But somehow, we pulled it off. By the end of the week, I felt incredibly proud of what I had created and everything we had achieved in the lab. I walked away with a deep appreciation for the artistry and precision behind sugar work, and a real curiosity to explore this world further.

Sugar Week nearly broke me, but I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Burnt fingers and all.

Signing off before I convince myself sugar ribbons are a personality trait.

À bientôt, Willoh.