A real fight broke out today. It was between two of my favorite characters, Little Accountant Man and Numero Uno Dummy ("The Dummy"). The Dummy has been nettling us all; in short, he is arrogant. Arrogance is a particularly frustrating flaw when the offender so obviously lacks intelligence. Harsh words, I know, but I've had it up to here with The Dummy.
The dispute began brewing immediately after The Dummy and Little Accountant Man were partnered up; a Raspberry Roulade started it all. I must admit, the daily desserts and pastries we produce are the source of anger for many of us. People complain that had we wanted to learn how to make cakes and cookies, we would have enrolled in the Pastry, not the Culinary program. I don't mind the desserts, and perhaps that is evidence of my past life as an engineer. Just FYI, they say a textbook Pastry Chef is precise, numerical and high strung while a Culinary Chef is artistic, erratic and more often than not, intoxicated.
The Dummy especially despises desserts. To avoid confrontation, many of his previous partners, including myself, happily accepted the dessert task of the day and let him hack up chicken or flambe fruit - far more appropriate activities for a male chauvinist. The Little Accountant Man, however, didn't feel like making the Raspberry Roulade, either. So back and forth, back and forth like preschoolers screaming, "That is my play-dough!" "I don't want to take a nap!" and "You clean up the legos!" two grown men bickered over who was going make what. The antics continued throughout our entire production and culminated during cleanup.
I was on mop duty (again!) and watched the bickering turn into anger.
"Okay buddy, if you have such a problem with the way I wipe down tables, why don't you come over here and say it to my face!"
"I'd be happy to my man, in fact, I'd be happy to come over and do more to your face than talk to it!"
As the two bolted toward each other, grabbing for each others neckerchiefs, I watched in horror thinking, 'Somebody take their knives away!'
Then, like a superhero, Mama swooped in. This woman is incredible. Her language barrier is utterly deceiving as she is one of the most perspicacious people I know. She had quietly been following the altercation all day and was waiting in the wings (the dish corridor) for this very moment.
With her arms outstretched between the two children, she hollered, "You haa to luh each othur!" LOVE, she preaches! She followed the warm statement with, "I take lot of point from your grayed today!" I guess tough love is a more accurate description of her mantra.
Roulade is a versatile cake that can be flavored, filled and formed in to many desserts. One of the most impressive is a Charlotte Royale, which is a dome shaped cake, filled with Bavarin cream. Let's take this puppy step by step, as we did in class. Try making the Roulade first, and we'll turn it into Charlotte Royale at a later date.
Raspberry Roulade
Ingredients
6 egg whites
6 egg yolks
6 oz. sugar
4 oz. cake flour
Pinch of salt
Pinch of baking powder
1 T. melted butter (Clarified works best)
Methods
-Separate the egg whites from the egg yolks
-In a mixer fitted with a whisk attachment, whisk together the egg yolks and 3 oz. of the sugar. Mix on high speed until "ribbon stage" or the mixture is pale yellow and has increased in volume. Set this mixture aside.
-In a mixer fitter with a whisk attachment, make a French meringue. To do this, begin with the egg whites only and mix on high speed until the volume starts to increase (no more than 1 minute). Switch the speed to LOW and begin adding the remaining 3 oz. of sugar. Add the 3 oz. of sugar to the egg whites in 8-10 small pours, waiting about 1 minute between each addition. After all of the sugar is incorporated, mix on low speed until stiff peaks form. Stiff peaks are when you pull the whisk out of the egg whites and a peak forms and remains.
-Sift together the flour, salt and baking powder - set aside.
-Now, you're going to combine the meringue with the yolk mixture. Before incorporating, give the yolk mixture a quick whisk to revive it as was probably resting for awhile while you made the meringue.
-With a silicone spatula, incorporate about 1 c. of the meringue into the yolk mixture.
-Fold the remaining meringue into the yolk mixture in three parts.
-Fold the sifted flour mixture into the egg mixture. Do not overwork.
-Pour the cooled, melter butter into the batter and incorporate.
-Dump the roulade mixture into a sheet pan (jelly roll pan) lined with parchment paper. It is best to put Crisco on the pan, under the parchment, to get the parchment to stay in place.
-Gently spread the batter all over the pan to make an even, smooth cake - do not overwork or you'll deflate the meringue.
-Stick your thumb into the corner of the pan, all the way down so it touches the bottom of the pan. Drag your thumb along the sides of the pan, touching the bottom, to clean the sides.
-Bake at 350 degrees for 10-15 minutes or until light, light brown and the cake springs back when you touch it.
-Immediately upon removing from the oven, run a pairing knife along the sides of the pan to release the roulade. Sprinkle sugar all over the top of the roulade (this will prevent sticking when you turn the roulade out of the pan).
-Cover the sugar coated top with another sheet of parchment paper, and turn the pan over, flipping out the roulade. Peel away the parchment that was in the oven, and replace it with a new sheet of parchment.
-Long ways, roll the cake into a log, being careful to keep the parchment papers on the top and bottom sides of the cake. Let the warm roulade cool in this rolled position for 15-20 minutes.
-Unroll the roulade and discard the top piece of parchment. Brush the cake with simple syrup to add moisture to the cake. Spread a THIN layer of raspberry jam over the simple syrup.
-Roll the roulade back up as though it were a sushi roll, using the bottom piece of parchment like a sushi mat.
-Dust the cake with powered sugar or frost with whipped cream.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Days Twenty Nine to Thirty One
They blindsided us with escargot and calf's liver, all in the same week. "Whut ease zhe ahntrhay toodhay?" The Head of Everything inquired. "Le Foie De Veau A L'Echalotte," Chef replied. I've never seen the Head of Everything so hungry. "Oh yhes!" he replied, as I do when I see a margarita. "Hav zhem surve me twho."
Liver is a love it or hate it piece of meat. Everyone has someone in their family who loves it. Liverwurst, by the way, does not count since it is only 20% liver at most. Have you ever seen a whole calf liver? Its huge. Bigger than a whole chicken. Intimidating in a floppy, sinewy, organy kind of way.
It didn't taste nearly as bad as it looked. After chef's morning demo, we cornichon usually spring out of our seats, tasting spoons in hand, and skip up to the chef's table to get our breakfast. We are required to taste EVERYTHING. We were visablly unenthused about tasting the liver. As I expected, it was just okay. The texture is too smooth and the aftertaste is too prominent for me.
The escargot were surprisingly good. We served those little guys doused in compound butter (a butter flavored with fresh herbs and garlic), over a small circle of freshly baked puff pastry. How do you buy fresh escargot? You don't. You buy canned. They even used canned in Paris.
The liver recipe is below. The Head of Everything believes, "Evrheeone shood knowe ow to mhake guud lhivur." It is a cheap meat that feeds half of the world.
Also included is useful information about deglazing pans, a wonderful technique.
LE FOIE DE VEAU A L'ECHALOTTE (Veal or Calf Liver with Shallot)
Ingredients
Calf Liver - sliced 1/4" to 1/2" thick
Flour
Salt
Pepper
Clarified Butter or Oil
Shallots
1/2 c. Red Wine Vinegar
1/2 c. white wine
Methods
Begin heating a pan over high heat. Slice liver 1/4" to 1/2" thick and coat with flour, seasoned with salt and pepper. Put clairified butter in the pan (or oil) and heat until bubbles begin to form. Drop in the liver. Sear it for no more than 1 minute and flip. Sear the other side until just cooked. Calf liver should be cooked through, but have a slight tint of pink in the middle. Remove it from the pan, cover it with foil and let the meat rest.
Now comes the deglazing part. Deglazing is a must in French cooking - it is the only way to make a rich, flavorful sauce. Its also a good way to clean a crusty pan. When the pan is hot, pour white wine (water, stock, or whatever) into the pan and scrape the crusty stuff off the bottom and sides with a wooden spoon. If the crusty stuff was burnt, discard the deglazing liquid or your sauce will be bitter. If the crusty stuff was brown, you can reduce the deglazing liquid until the pan is almost dry and it will be a tremendous base for a sauce.
While the liver is resting, deglaze the pan with white wine. When pan "au sec," (or the white wine has cooked away and pan is nearly dry), add the sliced shallots to the pan. Sweat the shallots until soft and add the red wine vinegar, salt and pepper. Reduce the sauce until it thickens and finish the sauce with 1 Tbsp. of butter before serving over the liver.
Liver is a love it or hate it piece of meat. Everyone has someone in their family who loves it. Liverwurst, by the way, does not count since it is only 20% liver at most. Have you ever seen a whole calf liver? Its huge. Bigger than a whole chicken. Intimidating in a floppy, sinewy, organy kind of way.
It didn't taste nearly as bad as it looked. After chef's morning demo, we cornichon usually spring out of our seats, tasting spoons in hand, and skip up to the chef's table to get our breakfast. We are required to taste EVERYTHING. We were visablly unenthused about tasting the liver. As I expected, it was just okay. The texture is too smooth and the aftertaste is too prominent for me.
The escargot were surprisingly good. We served those little guys doused in compound butter (a butter flavored with fresh herbs and garlic), over a small circle of freshly baked puff pastry. How do you buy fresh escargot? You don't. You buy canned. They even used canned in Paris.
The liver recipe is below. The Head of Everything believes, "Evrheeone shood knowe ow to mhake guud lhivur." It is a cheap meat that feeds half of the world.
Also included is useful information about deglazing pans, a wonderful technique.
LE FOIE DE VEAU A L'ECHALOTTE (Veal or Calf Liver with Shallot)
Ingredients
Calf Liver - sliced 1/4" to 1/2" thick
Flour
Salt
Pepper
Clarified Butter or Oil
Shallots
1/2 c. Red Wine Vinegar
1/2 c. white wine
Methods
Begin heating a pan over high heat. Slice liver 1/4" to 1/2" thick and coat with flour, seasoned with salt and pepper. Put clairified butter in the pan (or oil) and heat until bubbles begin to form. Drop in the liver. Sear it for no more than 1 minute and flip. Sear the other side until just cooked. Calf liver should be cooked through, but have a slight tint of pink in the middle. Remove it from the pan, cover it with foil and let the meat rest.
Now comes the deglazing part. Deglazing is a must in French cooking - it is the only way to make a rich, flavorful sauce. Its also a good way to clean a crusty pan. When the pan is hot, pour white wine (water, stock, or whatever) into the pan and scrape the crusty stuff off the bottom and sides with a wooden spoon. If the crusty stuff was burnt, discard the deglazing liquid or your sauce will be bitter. If the crusty stuff was brown, you can reduce the deglazing liquid until the pan is almost dry and it will be a tremendous base for a sauce.
While the liver is resting, deglaze the pan with white wine. When pan "au sec," (or the white wine has cooked away and pan is nearly dry), add the sliced shallots to the pan. Sweat the shallots until soft and add the red wine vinegar, salt and pepper. Reduce the sauce until it thickens and finish the sauce with 1 Tbsp. of butter before serving over the liver.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Field Trip to The Farm
We drove out to the middle of nowhere to tour a sustainable, organic and humane farm which specializes in raising rare and endangered breeds of livestock. The middle of nowhere, by the way, is beautiful. Rolling green hills, clean air, no cell phone service - it was a nice break from the hustle and bustle of urban life.
I pulled up to the Manor House on this 880 acre farm and my jaw dropped. I've never seen such a magnificent home. And the kitchen in the home - unbelievable. We started our livestock tour at the barn. I've never seen such a magnificent barn, either. Admittedly, I haven't spent much time on farms, but if they all look like this one, then I've got a new aspiration. The interior reminded me of a Ralph Lauren store. The barn houses the Shire horses - no joke, I've never seen such magnificent horses. They are the tallest of the heavy horse breed (larger than clydsdales), and have a kind disposition. This farm manages 30 Shires, plus a one week old foal, named Jane. It is a large number of Shires considering only 4,000 remain worldwide. I had a little crush on the Shire stallion, Edward. I couldn't help but snap a picture of him.
The calves were adorable. Most of the veal in the United States is not humanely raised - here, they are allowed to run, play, and eat real food, opposed to only milk. Highland cattle (the furry one pictured) and Ancient White Park cattle are raised along with Shorthorn cattle. The farm's veal is wildly popular in the area and has been picked up by many local restaurants - at a pretty penny. The farm's veal runs about $18 per pound - wholesale. The steep price tag has a lot to do with the Certified Humane slaughter techniques employed by the farm. Animals which are inhumanely slaughtered are usually frightened and the presence of adrenaline and state of the animal's muscles (tense and tight) at the time of slaughter will greatly affect the taste and quality of the meat.
My favorite stop of the day was the pig pen. We watched a giant Gloucestershire Old Spot sow give birth to piglets. These too are a rare breed with about 1,000 purebreds in the world and only 6 breeding boars. This farm owns one of the boars, and geez does he have the life. He's allowed to roam the farm's wooded areas freely and every other day, the farmer's drop four or five sows in his woods. They pick the girls up a few days later, and 90% of the time, they're all pregnant. The sows are good for 5-10 litters, until they get too big and accidentally start squishing (and killing) the piglets when they lay down. The dirty girl in the picture below is one such sow - she had her 10th litter about a week ago and squished all but one piglet. They'll let her hang in the mud for a few weeks (primarily to allow her hormone levels to drop) and then send her to slaughter.
We were treated to a fabulous lunch on the Manor House terrace. The farm's chef prepared turkey, roast beef and barbeque pork sandwiches (the turkey, beef and pork was raised, slaughtered and cooked on site, the cheese was aged in caves on site using milk from the farm's own cows, and the micro greens were picked fresh from the farm's produce beds that morning). Talk about fresh.
As a parting gift, we were given on of the farm's famous chickens (not live, but ready to pop in the oven). These chickens are raised from day old chicks and allowed to roam free. They are humanely slaughtered on-site (every Wednesday) and brined for six hours prior to packaging. Walking through the slaughterhouse and touring the killing room was a bit unsettleing, but a certain peace of mind is achieved when you know exactly where your dinnner came from. Hooray for all the organic, sustanable, certified humane farms in the world. These places are tremendously difficult to run successfully - it takes owners who are dedicated to certain practices for the right reasons, staff who share the owner's passion and consumers who are willing to support the products these farms produce.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Week Nine (Days Twenty Eight to Thirty Two)
We had two interesting visitors this week.
The first was Walter Scheib, the former executive chef at the White House. He was at the school assisting the Head of Everything with a charity event and decided dine with our class for lunch. We served him scallop quenelles with sorrel cream sauce, lamb and lentil stew, and molten chocolate cake - this was one of our more sophisticated lunch preparations. Good thing he didn't join us two days earlier; we would have sheepishly dished up scrambled eggs and pont neuf potatoes (steak fries). He cleaned his plate and therefore Chef, Mama and The Chef were happy with us.
Scheib was hired by Hillary and served through W.'s two terms. Prior to working at the White House, he was the executive chef at the Greenbrier, a hoity-toity resort in West Virginia, known as the romping grounds for senators and representatives before these Lobbyist's are Evil days. His wife read a notice in the Times declaring the White House chef had resigned and before Scheib knew it, she had written him a cover letter and dusted off his resume.
Out of four thousand applicants, he was a top twenty finalists and was tasked with serving dinner to Hillary and nine of her buddies. "I knew I had a good shot when I walked into the room and it sounded good - happy diners sound a certain way. Silverware should clank against plates, ice should shake in empty cocktail glasses - talking and laughter, especially laughter, are all signs of a healthy restaurant." He looked at Hillary and knew he was in the top three - at least; she was gnawing on a rib bone from the rack of lamb. She asked him for a thirty second 'why I should hire you speech' and he nailed that too. He talked about what it means to be an American chef, blah blah blah, and finished by making the key point that he prepared a delicious meal not only appropriate for small, intimate gatherings, but a meal which could easily be served at a 500 person state dinner.
White House Executive Chef sure sounds like a cool job. When you work in the residence, your clearance level is Top Secret Presidential Proximity. That means you are allowed to be alone with The President - no secret service in sight. Cabinet members are not granted that kind of clearance. Scheib had wonderful stories of Hillary in hair rollers, Bill requesting Big Macs and the Bush's obsession with Tex-Mex.
Our second visitor was Michel Richard. Yes! MICHEL RICHARD. Some of us nearly began jumping up and down, while others simply stared in disbelief when he waddled into our kitchen. He looks like Santa Claus, but more rotund. He mumbled something to us in a thick French accent, and although none of us understood, we replied, "Yes Chef!" in perfect unison. Unfortunately, he wasn't there for us beginners. The advanced students were each preparing six course tasting menus to be judged by Michel Richard. Seriously, that is a holy shit opportunity for any culinary student.
The network of old-school French chefs is proving to be a tremendous asset to my education. Viva la France.
The first was Walter Scheib, the former executive chef at the White House. He was at the school assisting the Head of Everything with a charity event and decided dine with our class for lunch. We served him scallop quenelles with sorrel cream sauce, lamb and lentil stew, and molten chocolate cake - this was one of our more sophisticated lunch preparations. Good thing he didn't join us two days earlier; we would have sheepishly dished up scrambled eggs and pont neuf potatoes (steak fries). He cleaned his plate and therefore Chef, Mama and The Chef were happy with us.
Scheib was hired by Hillary and served through W.'s two terms. Prior to working at the White House, he was the executive chef at the Greenbrier, a hoity-toity resort in West Virginia, known as the romping grounds for senators and representatives before these Lobbyist's are Evil days. His wife read a notice in the Times declaring the White House chef had resigned and before Scheib knew it, she had written him a cover letter and dusted off his resume.
Out of four thousand applicants, he was a top twenty finalists and was tasked with serving dinner to Hillary and nine of her buddies. "I knew I had a good shot when I walked into the room and it sounded good - happy diners sound a certain way. Silverware should clank against plates, ice should shake in empty cocktail glasses - talking and laughter, especially laughter, are all signs of a healthy restaurant." He looked at Hillary and knew he was in the top three - at least; she was gnawing on a rib bone from the rack of lamb. She asked him for a thirty second 'why I should hire you speech' and he nailed that too. He talked about what it means to be an American chef, blah blah blah, and finished by making the key point that he prepared a delicious meal not only appropriate for small, intimate gatherings, but a meal which could easily be served at a 500 person state dinner.
White House Executive Chef sure sounds like a cool job. When you work in the residence, your clearance level is Top Secret Presidential Proximity. That means you are allowed to be alone with The President - no secret service in sight. Cabinet members are not granted that kind of clearance. Scheib had wonderful stories of Hillary in hair rollers, Bill requesting Big Macs and the Bush's obsession with Tex-Mex.
Our second visitor was Michel Richard. Yes! MICHEL RICHARD. Some of us nearly began jumping up and down, while others simply stared in disbelief when he waddled into our kitchen. He looks like Santa Claus, but more rotund. He mumbled something to us in a thick French accent, and although none of us understood, we replied, "Yes Chef!" in perfect unison. Unfortunately, he wasn't there for us beginners. The advanced students were each preparing six course tasting menus to be judged by Michel Richard. Seriously, that is a holy shit opportunity for any culinary student.
The network of old-school French chefs is proving to be a tremendous asset to my education. Viva la France.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Days Twenty Four to Twenty Seven
Every few days, The Chef manages to sneak over to our "beginner" kitchen and provides us with a good verbal beating. We always hear him before we see him. His tirade usually begins near the “advanced” kitchen, located on the opposite end of the long, pot washer’s corridor. “Zhey ahre ideeuts, huh?! Ow menee timez we hav to tel zhem?” His words get louder and clearer as he marches past the dish sinks, usually carrying evidence of our rule breaking. “Ohkaye peepul, I zwhere eef you ghet into mhy kitchun and lheeve zheese muhch sawce en zhee pot ahnd geeve it to zhe dishwashur yhou will nhot gradoohate, huh?!” He held up a stainless steel pot containing no more than a tablespoon of Veloute, stuck to the sides. We are supposed to scrape and save all sauce residue, for a rainy day I suppose. Our most common offenses include: 1) tossing leftovers into the community fridge without labeling the container correctly (misspelling French words drives him nuts) and 2) leaving masking tape on pots and pans that bear our name – we discovered that labeling our pots and pans was the only sure way to prevent the Sauce Swiper from striking.
The women of our class developed a brilliant idea during locker room time. We thought it would be smart to assume identities of the advanced students and write their names on our masking tape labels in lieu of ours. It turned out there was one less student in their section than in ours, so I humbly accepted the alias of guess who....The Chef.
What fun it is to play practical jokes. We gleefully labeled our pots and pans using an alias. When it came time to take the dirty vessels to dish, we all made sure to leave the labels stuck as they were. After hearing The Chef holler and scold the advanced students for two whole days, some began to feel bad (wimps I say!).
“Maybe we should tell them it was us,” one Cornichon proclaimed.
“Yeah, I didn’t think it would be such a big deal,” another chimed.
“Are you out of your mind?” I replied. “Our plan is brilliant, and fun. I refuse to back down.” A few brave little pickles agreed with my enthusiasm, therefore we continued cooking with mislabeled equipment and listening to The Chef roar at our advanced colleagues for the rest of the week. One afternoon, we noticed the yelling stopped. Uh oh. Sure enough, he appeared in our kitchen, holding a large sauce pot (mine) over his head, labeled with a piece of masking tape bearing his name. “Ohkay peepul, I zee. Ewe ahre szmhartur szhan I szhought.” He smiled, spun around, and walked away.
I despise the following recipe, only because I screwed it up on our second practical exam. Other than that, it is quite delicious and a great lunch on a hot summer day.
LA VICHYSSOISE
Ingredients
1 Russet Potato, cut into large chunks
3 Leeks (white part only), roughly chopped
Butter
½ onion, roughly chopped
4 c. Chicken Stock
1 small bunch Parsley
1 Bay Leaf
2 sprigs Thyme
¾ c. Heavy Cream
Salt and Pepper
Heat butter in a saucepan and add the leeks and onion. Sweat the leeks and onion until translucent, being very careful to keep them from taking any color. Once translucent, add the chicken stock, potato, parsley, bay leaf and thyme. Let simmer until the potato is tender.
Remove the potato from the soup and set aside. Remove the bay leaf, thyme and parsley and discard. Blend the soup in a blender until smooth. Add potato, a little at a time, until the soup is the consistency of heavy cream – do not add too much potato (this is what I screwed up!) or you will end up with paste! Season the blended soup with salt and pepper and chill until cold. Before serving, add heavy cream as desired. If desired, garnish with finely chopped chives or chervil.
The women of our class developed a brilliant idea during locker room time. We thought it would be smart to assume identities of the advanced students and write their names on our masking tape labels in lieu of ours. It turned out there was one less student in their section than in ours, so I humbly accepted the alias of guess who....The Chef.
What fun it is to play practical jokes. We gleefully labeled our pots and pans using an alias. When it came time to take the dirty vessels to dish, we all made sure to leave the labels stuck as they were. After hearing The Chef holler and scold the advanced students for two whole days, some began to feel bad (wimps I say!).
“Maybe we should tell them it was us,” one Cornichon proclaimed.
“Yeah, I didn’t think it would be such a big deal,” another chimed.
“Are you out of your mind?” I replied. “Our plan is brilliant, and fun. I refuse to back down.” A few brave little pickles agreed with my enthusiasm, therefore we continued cooking with mislabeled equipment and listening to The Chef roar at our advanced colleagues for the rest of the week. One afternoon, we noticed the yelling stopped. Uh oh. Sure enough, he appeared in our kitchen, holding a large sauce pot (mine) over his head, labeled with a piece of masking tape bearing his name. “Ohkay peepul, I zee. Ewe ahre szmhartur szhan I szhought.” He smiled, spun around, and walked away.
I despise the following recipe, only because I screwed it up on our second practical exam. Other than that, it is quite delicious and a great lunch on a hot summer day.
LA VICHYSSOISE
Ingredients
1 Russet Potato, cut into large chunks
3 Leeks (white part only), roughly chopped
Butter
½ onion, roughly chopped
4 c. Chicken Stock
1 small bunch Parsley
1 Bay Leaf
2 sprigs Thyme
¾ c. Heavy Cream
Salt and Pepper
Heat butter in a saucepan and add the leeks and onion. Sweat the leeks and onion until translucent, being very careful to keep them from taking any color. Once translucent, add the chicken stock, potato, parsley, bay leaf and thyme. Let simmer until the potato is tender.
Remove the potato from the soup and set aside. Remove the bay leaf, thyme and parsley and discard. Blend the soup in a blender until smooth. Add potato, a little at a time, until the soup is the consistency of heavy cream – do not add too much potato (this is what I screwed up!) or you will end up with paste! Season the blended soup with salt and pepper and chill until cold. Before serving, add heavy cream as desired. If desired, garnish with finely chopped chives or chervil.
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