Train-the-Trainer · Bread Showpiece & Artisan Baking Masterclass · 8–9 October 2026

After the class, I looked through the photographs of the breads. There was one I particularly liked, with the tiger design and three colours on the crust.

The breads came out nicely. And what made me happy was knowing that they had been made by the participants themselves.

I controlled the fermentation, but they worked the dough with their own hands. Looking at the finished table, I was pleased to see what they had made.

This was a train-the-trainer class, attended by bread and pastry chefs who teach at their respective schools. They already work in kitchens and classrooms. Each has their own experience, and their own way of helping students understand.

For these two days, I wanted to share how I work and let them work through it themselves.

When I shape a piece of dough, some movements happen quite naturally now. My hands know where to press and where to leave it alone. But when I have to explain those movements, I find myself thinking about them again.

Why do I hold it this way? What am I feeling for? At what point do I decide it needs more time?

Something can feel obvious simply because I have done it many times. Putting it into words makes me look more closely at my own habits.

For the class, I used French flour from Minoterie Bourseau, working with T170, T80 and T65 across the bread selection. We made rye loaves and crowns, Tourte de Meule, walnut breads, épis and seeded baguettes. Each dough gave us something different to observe and work with.

Respectus Panis was an important part of the programme. A short mix by hand, very little yeast and levain, and a long fermentation. There are few ingredients and relatively little mixing, but you still need to follow the dough carefully.

During the class, I controlled the fermentation. By the time the dough was ready for shaping, a lot had already happened. Its condition would affect how it responded to their hands, and how the shapes would develop in the oven.

Then each person’s handling left its own mark.

We worked through the Couronne Bordelaise, floral crowns, and the Ambassadeur, Malaysia and Rafflesia forms. I enjoy this part of bread making. You begin with the same dough, change a few movements, and something quite different appears after baking.

The Malaysian details are personal to me. The Rafflesia, the tiger, the word Malaysia. Alongside the techniques I have learned, I want something of where I come from to be present in the work.

We also covered laminated doughs and inverted puff pastry, from croissants and chocolate variations to chaussons aux pommes. Here, the attention shifts again. You watch the dough and butter, judge their condition, and decide when to continue and when to let them rest.

There is a method to follow, but you still have to look at what is in front of you.

The artistic piece was prepared by Zety, my Mondial du Pain assistant coach, together with my commis. Seeing it among the breads brought that part of our work into the class too.

Its theme was twenty years of Ambassadeurs du Pain. The books, the globe, the flame and the Malaysian details brought me back to our Mondial du Pain journey, and to the time we spent developing the piece together.

When everything was arranged at the end, there was a lot on the table. Breads, pastries, different shapes and textures, with the completed artistic piece standing among them.

Looking at the photographs now, I think about the hands that made those breads, and where the learning might go next.

These chefs will return to their schools and teach in their own ways. Perhaps they will use a technique from the class, adapt a shape, or find a different way to explain fermentation to a student.

I hope what we worked through together gives them something useful to carry back.

For me, that is a good feeling. To share something I have spent time learning, see it take shape in someone else’s hands, and know that they can pass it on again.