Modest but sure of his abilities and natural instincts, he whirls in his kitchen with precise energy, coordinating a dozen tasks without a sous chef, a timer or measuring utensils. The ice cream maker rattles, churning a berry sorbet. The food processor grates greens. Water runs in the sink to cool a barrel of blanched potatoes. Stock bubbles in a pot.
Meat sizzles in a skillet.
The TV mounted overhead follows a taped European rugby match. Guichard chops vegetables. The aromas are fragmented but rich, the noise is a uniform thunder. Somehow, between chopping and food processing, between keeping one eye on the stove and the other on the rugby match, Guichard keeps up a steady, animated conversation with me. He works ten-hour shifts, spending six hours to prep for four dinner hours.