This site uses only a few technical cookies necessary for its operation. By continuing to browse, you accept their use.
To find out more...
To find out more...
The mock CAP baker's certificate exam
The next instalment in my life as an apprentice baker at the French INBP professional school. I’m now halfway through training and it’s still as exciting as ever, and exhausting – but maybe I’m just getting old, or both… Anyway, a few days ago we had to go through the mock CAP exam. A sort of trial run for the assault-course of the real thing that’ll we’ll be facing at the end of May.
21 K 4.4/5 (20 reviews)
Keywords for this post:BakerBakeryCapTestWhiteInbpLast modified on: May 1st 2018
The mock CAP baker's certificate exam
For weeks we had been revising the basics, but we already knew we’d be given a list of required items to make (bread, speciality breads and viennoiseries) and this lived up to expectations. We’d have to be in place by 6 am, raring to go, for half a day that would seem much longer.
It began with 30 minutes gathered round for the briefing, where we were given our “order” of what to produce: what types and how many of each. We then had to make all our calculations and, most importantly, organise a work schedule with timings and use of equipment. We all reached for our calculators and recipe files then set to work…
The order:
Traditional French bread:
- 9 x 550g slashed loaves
- 8 x 350g baguettes, including 4 zig-zag split loaves
- 12 x 80g rolls in 3 different shapes of own choice (I chose "tobacco pouch", "pistol" and "volcano")
- 4 x 400g large loaves, 2 round with own choice of slashed top, 2 long with 2 slashes
Wholemeal bread:
- 4 x 350g wholemeal loaves in 2 different shapes, round and long
Viennoiseries 1: Raised dough (milk dough this time)
- 6 x 80g "shuttles"
- 6 x 80g plaits (single line)
- 3 plaits (double line) "with remaining dough"
Viennoiseries 2: Raised flaky dough
- 12 pains au chocolat
- 12 croissants
- 12 pains au raisins
We needed to calculate weights, how long everything would take, dough proving time, kneading, weighing out and shaping. As well as all that, and most importantly, we had to organise ourselves to avoid having too much to do at some moments (the biggest challenge) or twiddling our thumbs at others.
Then it was time to take possession of our “tour” (the workstation with its wooden worktop that resembles a kind of baker’s workbench, as shown in the photo lower down). We installed ourselves in the “fournil” (oven area), got out all our tools and everything else we needed: scales, baking sheets, trays, cooling racks, etc. Each of us had our own kneading bowl, dough mixer and an allocated shelf in the oven – so no bottlenecks, which was very useful. One touching detail: the taller people had been allocated the higher shelves in the oven. No need to tell you which my shelf was out of the 4 levels…
At 7 am sharp, there was an announcement: “At one o’clock all your items must be cooked, turned out and presented artistically on your workstation”, and we were off.
It was all systems go and a total hush descended on the “fournil”. We were all hard at it, with no time for joking, in an atmosphere of intense concentration. There were no great anxieties either; these were baked goods we knew and we had our recipes. It was more a matter of avoiding cock-ups (like forgetting the salt or yeast, weighing something out wrong, etc.). The two examiners walked around, not offering any advice nor replying to questions, but giving our batter a poke here, weighing a lump of dough there, measuring the temperature of another. They did all this, as you’d expect, with poker faces – they gave nothing away, not letting slip the merest look, smile, encouraging nod, pursed lips or furrowed brow, in spite of all our frequent searching looks. We were marked on everything: dress, hygiene, behaviour, how we turned out the dough, how we put everything in the oven, how we managed (or didn’t) the chaos on our workstations… and much else besides.
It all went fairly smoothly for me; no mistakes with weighing, my items were more or less uniform (I’ve not yet totally mastered this, my big flaw) and I only made one cock-up: just as I was putting my baguettes in the oven, I realised I’d forgotten to slash 4 for the zig-zag version. Remembering this when putting the loaves onto the baking tray left me completely distracted (but that’s me for you). Well, not too disastrous; time for Plan B: I slashed open 4 of the baguettes on the tray with the cutter. Not very elegant, but at least the “split” effect would be there.
Everything was looking good, when the equipment let me down: when I went to put my viennoiseries in the oven, I found the proving cabinet (visualise this as like a large fridge kept at 30° C and 98% humidity), was only at 20° C and down to 44% humidity so, of course, everything was dried out and crusted over. My first though was that I was sunk… Both examiners came over and took stock of the damage and my crestfallen air. The cabinet must have broken down mid-morning. Not to worry, they told me, you just won’t be marked on the volume of your viennoiseries. I took this on board, but my morale went into a nosedive. We transferred my items to another cabinet and, at the same time, I glazed them with a mixture of egg glaze and water to rehydrate them. As a result, I now had another hour and a half ahead of me, and when I thought I’d nearly finished. And how were they going to rise with this delay? I hung around in sullen mood, waiting for them to swell up again, if they would be so kind… And they obliged, so I cooked one tray after another, and they turned out pretty well in the end. Phew!
As required, everyone displayed the finished items on their “tour”. The examiner came over to see us and began a long and rigorous debriefing: he counted all the items, checked how well they were cooked, the flavour and colour. He cut one of each through the middle to check the crumb quality for texture, flavour and holes. All the good and bad points were indicated and noted. The result: a fairly good score for my wholemeal, rolls and viennoiseries (just shows how important it is never to despair), average score for my loaves (just a touch overcooked), and a poor score for my plaits (I’m useless at this, sad to say).
This is what it all looked like:
In the photo you can see my colleague from the second wave still hard at it, top left the cursed proving cabinet (!) and lower right the knife with which I was tempted to slit my wrists. :-)
As the photo doesn’t show the full end result very well, here’s a very short (9sec) panoramic video.
Next step, the real test on May 29th…
It began with 30 minutes gathered round for the briefing, where we were given our “order” of what to produce: what types and how many of each. We then had to make all our calculations and, most importantly, organise a work schedule with timings and use of equipment. We all reached for our calculators and recipe files then set to work…
The order:
Traditional French bread:
- 9 x 550g slashed loaves
- 8 x 350g baguettes, including 4 zig-zag split loaves
- 12 x 80g rolls in 3 different shapes of own choice (I chose "tobacco pouch", "pistol" and "volcano")
- 4 x 400g large loaves, 2 round with own choice of slashed top, 2 long with 2 slashes
Wholemeal bread:
- 4 x 350g wholemeal loaves in 2 different shapes, round and long
Viennoiseries 1: Raised dough (milk dough this time)
- 6 x 80g "shuttles"
- 6 x 80g plaits (single line)
- 3 plaits (double line) "with remaining dough"
Viennoiseries 2: Raised flaky dough
- 12 pains au chocolat
- 12 croissants
- 12 pains au raisins
We needed to calculate weights, how long everything would take, dough proving time, kneading, weighing out and shaping. As well as all that, and most importantly, we had to organise ourselves to avoid having too much to do at some moments (the biggest challenge) or twiddling our thumbs at others.
Then it was time to take possession of our “tour” (the workstation with its wooden worktop that resembles a kind of baker’s workbench, as shown in the photo lower down). We installed ourselves in the “fournil” (oven area), got out all our tools and everything else we needed: scales, baking sheets, trays, cooling racks, etc. Each of us had our own kneading bowl, dough mixer and an allocated shelf in the oven – so no bottlenecks, which was very useful. One touching detail: the taller people had been allocated the higher shelves in the oven. No need to tell you which my shelf was out of the 4 levels…
At 7 am sharp, there was an announcement: “At one o’clock all your items must be cooked, turned out and presented artistically on your workstation”, and we were off.
It was all systems go and a total hush descended on the “fournil”. We were all hard at it, with no time for joking, in an atmosphere of intense concentration. There were no great anxieties either; these were baked goods we knew and we had our recipes. It was more a matter of avoiding cock-ups (like forgetting the salt or yeast, weighing something out wrong, etc.). The two examiners walked around, not offering any advice nor replying to questions, but giving our batter a poke here, weighing a lump of dough there, measuring the temperature of another. They did all this, as you’d expect, with poker faces – they gave nothing away, not letting slip the merest look, smile, encouraging nod, pursed lips or furrowed brow, in spite of all our frequent searching looks. We were marked on everything: dress, hygiene, behaviour, how we turned out the dough, how we put everything in the oven, how we managed (or didn’t) the chaos on our workstations… and much else besides.
It all went fairly smoothly for me; no mistakes with weighing, my items were more or less uniform (I’ve not yet totally mastered this, my big flaw) and I only made one cock-up: just as I was putting my baguettes in the oven, I realised I’d forgotten to slash 4 for the zig-zag version. Remembering this when putting the loaves onto the baking tray left me completely distracted (but that’s me for you). Well, not too disastrous; time for Plan B: I slashed open 4 of the baguettes on the tray with the cutter. Not very elegant, but at least the “split” effect would be there.
Everything was looking good, when the equipment let me down: when I went to put my viennoiseries in the oven, I found the proving cabinet (visualise this as like a large fridge kept at 30° C and 98% humidity), was only at 20° C and down to 44% humidity so, of course, everything was dried out and crusted over. My first though was that I was sunk… Both examiners came over and took stock of the damage and my crestfallen air. The cabinet must have broken down mid-morning. Not to worry, they told me, you just won’t be marked on the volume of your viennoiseries. I took this on board, but my morale went into a nosedive. We transferred my items to another cabinet and, at the same time, I glazed them with a mixture of egg glaze and water to rehydrate them. As a result, I now had another hour and a half ahead of me, and when I thought I’d nearly finished. And how were they going to rise with this delay? I hung around in sullen mood, waiting for them to swell up again, if they would be so kind… And they obliged, so I cooked one tray after another, and they turned out pretty well in the end. Phew!
As required, everyone displayed the finished items on their “tour”. The examiner came over to see us and began a long and rigorous debriefing: he counted all the items, checked how well they were cooked, the flavour and colour. He cut one of each through the middle to check the crumb quality for texture, flavour and holes. All the good and bad points were indicated and noted. The result: a fairly good score for my wholemeal, rolls and viennoiseries (just shows how important it is never to despair), average score for my loaves (just a touch overcooked), and a poor score for my plaits (I’m useless at this, sad to say).
This is what it all looked like:
In the photo you can see my colleague from the second wave still hard at it, top left the cursed proving cabinet (!) and lower right the knife with which I was tempted to slit my wrists. :-)
As the photo doesn’t show the full end result very well, here’s a very short (9sec) panoramic video.
Next step, the real test on May 29th…
Lasts posts
Butter vs. grease
We often read in a recipe where a pastry is put into a mould that, just before pouring, the mould should be buttered or greased. But what's the difference between these 2 terms?December 1st 20254915
Getting out of the fridge early
Very often when you're cooking, you need to take food or preparations out of the fridge, to use them in the recipe in progress. There's nothing tricky about this: you just take them out of the fridge and use them, usually immediately, in the recipe. But is this really a good method?November 24th 20258995
Who's making the croissants?
When you look at a bakery from the outside, you naturally think that in the bakery, the bakers make the bread, and in the laboratory, the pastry chefs make the cakes. It's very often like that, with each of these professions having quite different ways of working, but sometimes there's also one...November 23th 2025798
Oven height
When we put a dish or cake in the oven, we naturally tend to put it on the middle shelf, and that's what we usually do. But in some cases, this position and height can be a little tricky, so let's find out why.October 8th 20252,3785
The importance of sieving
In recipes that use a fine powder (flour, powdered sugar, etc.), you'll often see the advice to sift before using it. To sift is to pass the powder in question through a sieve (a very fine strainer) before incorporating it into your recipe. It's often advice, but is it really useful?September 3rd 20257,3053
Other pages you may also like
Making the most of seeds: Dry roasting
In cooking, and particularly in baking, there are a lot of seeds we can use, such as linseed, sesame, poppy, etc. Usually, recipes simply say to add them just as they are to the mixture or dough. To make a seeded loaf, for example, prepare a plain bread dough as usual, then, towards the end of...January 30th 201562 K4.0
The golden-brown finish on puff pastry
Let's take a look at the tricky matter of producing puff pastry with an attractive, golden-brown finish. French pastry chefs call this "dorure" (literally, "gilding"). Behind this quirky term there lurks a real problem (and the solution): when using puff pastry (pâte feuilletée) for a pie, or...February 8th 201847 K 24.6
Rosemary in recipes
Rosemary, as I’m sure you know, is a culinary herb, one of the famous French "herbes de Provence", and is very effective in bringing a real taste of the Mediterranean to any dish. The classic way to use it in a recipe is to add a sprig or two and leave it in during cooking as a way of...April 18th 201824 K4.7
85 grams of eggs?
Some time ago, I already spoke to you about the difference between baking and pastry-making, I emphasized, among other things, the precision of pastry-making which requires grams, cm, degrees and minutes. That's why, on the one hand, you have baking and cooking, where a certain tolerance is...November 26th 201856 K4.6
Drawing a pattern in pastry
Often in the kitchen, in pastry-making, or in baking, we need to trace a pattern on a pastry. It's just a question of aesthetics but it has its effect after baking on a galette, pithiviers, pâté en croute (terrine in a pie crust), etc.May 23th 201935 K4.1
Post a comment or question
Follow this page (as 7 people already do)
If you are interested in this page, you can "follow" it, by entering your email address here. You will then receive a notification immediately each time the page is modified or a new comment is added. Please note that you will need to confirm this following.
Note: We'll never share your e-mail address with anyone else.
Alternatively: you can subscribe to the mailing list of cooling-ez.com , you will receive a e-mail for each new recipe published on the site.