One Mod (semester) down and four more to go! Thanks to all of your support combined with hard work, I'm currently holding a 4.0 average! Our class size has dropped from 25 when we started down to 14 and possibly twelve before the end of the week! I personally look at it as the "thinning of the herd". (I was avoiding the typical "If you can't take the heat....").
Baking 2 is cause for my rejoicing! Why may you ask am I so excited? Two Words - CHOCOLATE ECLAIRS! Yes my dear friends, my days of buying a store bought eclair have ended as I can now make my own! At first there was great fear of working with Pate A Choux,otherwise known as "Eclair Dough". This dough is made on the stove top then finished in the standing mixer. My thought was, if this dough is hot, then needs to be handled with my hot hands, I might as well throw in my rolling pin! Much to my surprise, this dough is fogiving. It turns out, the dough needs to stay warm! MY HANDS ACTUALLY HELP!!!! Warm day?! No problem! Cold in the kitchen? Got it covered!!!! So, to make it more fun... this dough gets scooped into a pastry bag for use and I DON'T HAVE TO TOUCH IT WITH MY BARE HANDS! Pate A Choux is my new friend - the Gucci of doughs!
So, the pastry bag... if you've never used one, here's my advice... Fold the bag down by atleast HALF before filling and DO NOT over fill it. Once your filling is in and you roll up the bottom of the bag, you need to twist it to force the dough to the end of the bag where your pastry tip should be waiting. If you over fill it it comes out both ends! (No comment required) Next, cut a small hole at the end of the bag and watch it go! Truth be told, it looks like a pastry poop the way it comes out. (More embarrasingly, the first time I squeezed my "Pate a Choux" my inside voice called it "Pate A Poo" and thought it was hysterical. I ended up squeezing a huge amount out which made a poo noise which made me laugh out loud which I then had to explain to the Chef. Not as funny to him.. Moving on.)
So, squeeze the bag with the hand closest to the top and guide it with the hand closer to the tip. A nice plump line the length of your middle finger renders an almost perfect mini eclair! (I'm not sure why the middle finger, but that's what we were told... if you see an attractive male baker boasting mini eclairs the size of a yard stick, get his number). ANYHOO... the eclair dough goes in the oven and the steam causes it to poof up! Almost double in size. Take em' out and let them cool. Now, there are two steps left... the first is fun and naughty... you have to open up a hole and stuff it with your creme.. eh hem.. you want to use your pastry bag for this and not over stuff it or it will explode. (This is also fun but a waste of pastry creme.) Once you have sufficiently stuffed your eclairs, it's time for the best part... THE CHOCOLATE! In this case, we're talking Ganache... simply scald some milk/heavy cream and add about a pound of chocolate and let is sit.... My friends, it truly is that simple to make this absolutely delicious and sensuous treat. Once the Ganache has cooled and gotten to the consistency of icing, you can either dip the whole eclair in, pipe it on or just spread it with your fingers. Now, all that's left is to fine a nice little spot to relax in, lock the kids in the garage or broom closet, (the same should be done if your spouse is worse than your child) and just enjoy. Trust me, once you make your own eclair you will NEVER buy them again.
Check back tomorrow to read about my fun with the deep fryer!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
Who Knew I Was A Leg Man?
I have never been a huge fan of chicken unless it's fried. That or roasted with crunchy skin. However, in meat fabrication class Thursday night, I not only learned a new technical skill, I learned a delicious recipe using the chicken leg and thigh.
First of all, I'm obsessed with the whole de-boning a chicken thing. When the Chef told us we'd be deboning a chicken leg/thigh and then STUFFING IT... well, I was all ears and drooling with anticipation. First was the demo. The Chef sets up his station, calls us over and proceeds to demonstrate how to take all the bones out of the leg quarter. OH MY FRIGGIN' GOD. It took under three minutes. With a Nick Nack Paddy Whack he pulled out the chicken's bones!! I couldn't wait to get to my station to try this out. I grabbed my leg with renewed interest and prepared to start boning! I ran my knife around the bone of the drumstick section of the leg and severed the tendons. Then severed the bone up in the thigh it was connected to and VOILA! One pull, the leg bone came right out. I giggled and did a small happy dance careful not to kill myself or anyone else with the boning knife in my hand! Now, when removing the hip/thigh bone, the Chef had done it by scraping the top of the thigh bone first and then made a slight incision to expose the bone and then scrape around it in order to completely remove it. I started by clearing away by the thigh bone and it started to roll down exposing the bone. I figured I'd keep this up until I had to make the slit to expose the rest of the bone. More scraping, more scraping and it happened! I had succeeded in pretty much turning the leg quarter inside out! No bones! WAHOOOO! Major happy dance for me - with my knife on the cutting board.
Now, comes the yummy part. We made a stuffing of sauteed green onions, diced prosciutto, mushrooms, leeks, a little heavy cream and a few tablespoons of bread crumbs. This get's tucked into the boneless leg quarter, tied up then ROASTED! Out of the oven, tender and juicy it gets sliced into little rolls and topped with a supreme sauce. I am definitely making this for my next dinner party!!!!!!!!! I now officially, am a leg man.
First of all, I'm obsessed with the whole de-boning a chicken thing. When the Chef told us we'd be deboning a chicken leg/thigh and then STUFFING IT... well, I was all ears and drooling with anticipation. First was the demo. The Chef sets up his station, calls us over and proceeds to demonstrate how to take all the bones out of the leg quarter. OH MY FRIGGIN' GOD. It took under three minutes. With a Nick Nack Paddy Whack he pulled out the chicken's bones!! I couldn't wait to get to my station to try this out. I grabbed my leg with renewed interest and prepared to start boning! I ran my knife around the bone of the drumstick section of the leg and severed the tendons. Then severed the bone up in the thigh it was connected to and VOILA! One pull, the leg bone came right out. I giggled and did a small happy dance careful not to kill myself or anyone else with the boning knife in my hand! Now, when removing the hip/thigh bone, the Chef had done it by scraping the top of the thigh bone first and then made a slight incision to expose the bone and then scrape around it in order to completely remove it. I started by clearing away by the thigh bone and it started to roll down exposing the bone. I figured I'd keep this up until I had to make the slit to expose the rest of the bone. More scraping, more scraping and it happened! I had succeeded in pretty much turning the leg quarter inside out! No bones! WAHOOOO! Major happy dance for me - with my knife on the cutting board.
Now, comes the yummy part. We made a stuffing of sauteed green onions, diced prosciutto, mushrooms, leeks, a little heavy cream and a few tablespoons of bread crumbs. This get's tucked into the boneless leg quarter, tied up then ROASTED! Out of the oven, tender and juicy it gets sliced into little rolls and topped with a supreme sauce. I am definitely making this for my next dinner party!!!!!!!!! I now officially, am a leg man.
Friday, June 26, 2009
It Really Is Better With Butter
For those of you who read these updates frequently, I apologize for the "slack" in this week's production schedule. The end of the first Module is near and exams are looming closer and closer!
However, last night in class, we made Chicken with a Roasted Red Pepper Sauce. Let me tell you... It Didn't Suck. (Email me for the recipe) The starting ingredient to saute the chicken... butter... for the Broccoli Almondine... butter... for the Mac and cheese... butter. The starting ingredient is always butter. Julia Child would agree that the First Commandment should be "USE BUTTER". Julia Child LIVED by butter. God I loved that woman. What is it about butter that is just, well, like "buttah"?
When I was growing up, my Mother tried to be healthy by using margarine. Our morning toast was spread with what is now known to be made from, among other things, plastic. Of course, my mother referred to it as butter. My Grandfather gave me my first taste of real butter on a bagel when I was five. (He also served me a cup of coffee to go with it. He reasoned that his having loaded it up with milk and sugar made it safe for a five year old. Reader Beware : This is the recipe to make an already annoying and talkative five year old even more annoying.) There were two life altering lessons I learned that morning; 1. Butter should be in a stick form, not a plastic tub 2. Butter is proof that God exists.
That first bite of real butter was the beginning of a love affair. A simple toasted onion bagel was now transformed into something sensuous. A piece of toasted raisin bread with butter... sinful. And really, are there correct words to describe the beauty of a well toasted English Muffin with it's nooks and crannies thoughtfully holding mini pools of melted butter. I'm "farklemt" just at the thought.
I have to eat a warm baguette with butter privately due to the face I make when chewing. Jack says it looks like I'm either going to cry, or, um, well, you get the idea. Truthfully, when it's really warm and the butter is just melting, I'm close to doing both. ;-)
Don't even get me started on clarified butter. I'm not sure who the genius was that created it, but a monument should be erected for such an achievement. When I hear clarified butter, the first thing I think of is lobster. Sweet and succulent morsels of white and red meat dipped in warm, clarified butter. Farklemt again. (I'm a bad Jew. Not only do I love the pig, but lobster dripping with butter. My dear friend Pam takes the meat from the tiny legs and places them in the clarified butter while enjoying the rest of her lobster. When she's done with the rest, there's a little pile of the most sweet, buttery bits you could ever imagine. It's amazing. However, don't try and touch hers, she'll stab you in the eye for it. Crap. Now I want lobster.)
So, when making cookies, use butter. When making eggs, use butter. When looking for something to put on the outside of a roasting turkey, use butter. (Better yet, for this use Truffle Butter) When it seems like something is missing... USE BUTTER. Julia was no fool. If you're not going to use butter, don't bother.
However, last night in class, we made Chicken with a Roasted Red Pepper Sauce. Let me tell you... It Didn't Suck. (Email me for the recipe) The starting ingredient to saute the chicken... butter... for the Broccoli Almondine... butter... for the Mac and cheese... butter. The starting ingredient is always butter. Julia Child would agree that the First Commandment should be "USE BUTTER". Julia Child LIVED by butter. God I loved that woman. What is it about butter that is just, well, like "buttah"?
When I was growing up, my Mother tried to be healthy by using margarine. Our morning toast was spread with what is now known to be made from, among other things, plastic. Of course, my mother referred to it as butter. My Grandfather gave me my first taste of real butter on a bagel when I was five. (He also served me a cup of coffee to go with it. He reasoned that his having loaded it up with milk and sugar made it safe for a five year old. Reader Beware : This is the recipe to make an already annoying and talkative five year old even more annoying.) There were two life altering lessons I learned that morning; 1. Butter should be in a stick form, not a plastic tub 2. Butter is proof that God exists.
That first bite of real butter was the beginning of a love affair. A simple toasted onion bagel was now transformed into something sensuous. A piece of toasted raisin bread with butter... sinful. And really, are there correct words to describe the beauty of a well toasted English Muffin with it's nooks and crannies thoughtfully holding mini pools of melted butter. I'm "farklemt" just at the thought.
I have to eat a warm baguette with butter privately due to the face I make when chewing. Jack says it looks like I'm either going to cry, or, um, well, you get the idea. Truthfully, when it's really warm and the butter is just melting, I'm close to doing both. ;-)
Don't even get me started on clarified butter. I'm not sure who the genius was that created it, but a monument should be erected for such an achievement. When I hear clarified butter, the first thing I think of is lobster. Sweet and succulent morsels of white and red meat dipped in warm, clarified butter. Farklemt again. (I'm a bad Jew. Not only do I love the pig, but lobster dripping with butter. My dear friend Pam takes the meat from the tiny legs and places them in the clarified butter while enjoying the rest of her lobster. When she's done with the rest, there's a little pile of the most sweet, buttery bits you could ever imagine. It's amazing. However, don't try and touch hers, she'll stab you in the eye for it. Crap. Now I want lobster.)
So, when making cookies, use butter. When making eggs, use butter. When looking for something to put on the outside of a roasting turkey, use butter. (Better yet, for this use Truffle Butter) When it seems like something is missing... USE BUTTER. Julia was no fool. If you're not going to use butter, don't bother.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Boning Your First Chicken
Last night was Culinary Skills Class. So far, this is my personal favorite. It's here that we're taught stock production, knife skills and as of last night, the proper technique used to saute and how to fabricate a chicken. Fabricating does not mean lying to the chicken: "You don't look bad without your head little chicken, I promise, nobody would even notice!". Fabricating means to cut it into smaller parts.
Like many others, I have always left the "butchering" of a chicken to the professionals, namely, the butchers at the grocery store who then nicely and neatly package it for me. In my new world, I am that professional, or I am on my way to becoming one! Our Chef Instructor for this class is my favorite. He's from Jersey (not sure what exit) and is truly hysterical. Step by step he taught us how to take a whole bird and make it several parts. I will spare you the step by step instructions we learned, though anyone interested should shoot me a comment and I'll fill you in. It was surprisingly easy.
I did discover the main reason I have avoided butchering my own bird. It's the first step - "Reach into the birds cavity and remove the giblets". First of all let's review the first half of that sentence shall we? "REACH INTO THE BIRDS CAVITY". In a word, EW. A cavity is a nice way of saying "hole". With a chicken this is not quite as disgusting but let me tell you, when Thanksgiving comes around and you're dealing with a 30lb turkey, it's a completely different situation. Year after year I always have this shameful and dirty feeling that I'm committing some horrible act of bestiality when I do this. (Don't even get me started about how I feel when adding stuffing to the bird and the recipe instructs one to "Completely fill the cavity"). And then there's the second part "Remove the giblets". I don't know where "giblets" originated from but it's pretty damn accurate. Usually, the giblets include, the heart, the gizzard, the neck and the liver of the animal. And yet, another Ew. (I feel terrible for the poor bastard who has to remove these items from the bird in the first place, package them and then stuff them back in. I mean really? Do we know that the little frozen package stuffed in there REALLY belonged to this specific bird?! And what about the birds that don't have them? Did they not have them in real life?! Or is there someone with a double dose of dirty bits now able to make double the amount of gravy?) Anyway, to get back to my point: "Reaching into the birds cavity and remove the giblets" is just a nice way of saying, "Fist your chicken and yank out it's vitals". No matter how you say it, it's gross.
However, last night, I conquered this. I didn't shudder, gag or look away. I knew there was no way I could say to the Chef "Uh, excuse me Chef, can someone please fist my bird for me?", so I did the only thing I could do: let my subconscious take over. As I began to violate my chicken's cavity, the oddest thing happened. I started to giggle. In my head, I heard the chicken talking me through it. "Go slow, gentle.. gentle... there, right there. That's the spot. yeah, thats it! Now gently, pull it out... no no.. slow... slow... and there it is". Now the voice was that of a chicken from the Muppet Show which made it absolutely hysterical. I had that same cartoon voice in my head as I went through and hacked up the rest of the bird. Suddenly, I was not only relaxed, but having a grand old time.
If I can find a funny voice of a cartoon turkey, Thanksgiving should be hoot!!!!!!
Like many others, I have always left the "butchering" of a chicken to the professionals, namely, the butchers at the grocery store who then nicely and neatly package it for me. In my new world, I am that professional, or I am on my way to becoming one! Our Chef Instructor for this class is my favorite. He's from Jersey (not sure what exit) and is truly hysterical. Step by step he taught us how to take a whole bird and make it several parts. I will spare you the step by step instructions we learned, though anyone interested should shoot me a comment and I'll fill you in. It was surprisingly easy.
I did discover the main reason I have avoided butchering my own bird. It's the first step - "Reach into the birds cavity and remove the giblets". First of all let's review the first half of that sentence shall we? "REACH INTO THE BIRDS CAVITY". In a word, EW. A cavity is a nice way of saying "hole". With a chicken this is not quite as disgusting but let me tell you, when Thanksgiving comes around and you're dealing with a 30lb turkey, it's a completely different situation. Year after year I always have this shameful and dirty feeling that I'm committing some horrible act of bestiality when I do this. (Don't even get me started about how I feel when adding stuffing to the bird and the recipe instructs one to "Completely fill the cavity"). And then there's the second part "Remove the giblets". I don't know where "giblets" originated from but it's pretty damn accurate. Usually, the giblets include, the heart, the gizzard, the neck and the liver of the animal. And yet, another Ew. (I feel terrible for the poor bastard who has to remove these items from the bird in the first place, package them and then stuff them back in. I mean really? Do we know that the little frozen package stuffed in there REALLY belonged to this specific bird?! And what about the birds that don't have them? Did they not have them in real life?! Or is there someone with a double dose of dirty bits now able to make double the amount of gravy?) Anyway, to get back to my point: "Reaching into the birds cavity and remove the giblets" is just a nice way of saying, "Fist your chicken and yank out it's vitals". No matter how you say it, it's gross.
However, last night, I conquered this. I didn't shudder, gag or look away. I knew there was no way I could say to the Chef "Uh, excuse me Chef, can someone please fist my bird for me?", so I did the only thing I could do: let my subconscious take over. As I began to violate my chicken's cavity, the oddest thing happened. I started to giggle. In my head, I heard the chicken talking me through it. "Go slow, gentle.. gentle... there, right there. That's the spot. yeah, thats it! Now gently, pull it out... no no.. slow... slow... and there it is". Now the voice was that of a chicken from the Muppet Show which made it absolutely hysterical. I had that same cartoon voice in my head as I went through and hacked up the rest of the bird. Suddenly, I was not only relaxed, but having a grand old time.
If I can find a funny voice of a cartoon turkey, Thanksgiving should be hoot!!!!!!
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Cookies
I love cookies. In fact, I think a job well done or an especially good deed merits a cookie. "OH! Good Job! You Get A Cookie!". It just fits. Have you ever said "You want a cookie" in front of a dog? If you have, then you know, that what follows is a tsunami of sheer, unbridled and uncontrollable excitement. When I was a kid, we had a poodle named Alfie. If you mentioned the word cookie or even spelled it out, this dog couldn't move fast enough to get up and race you to the kitchen. With legs to excited to actually work together, this crazy mutt would run into doors, walls, corners or slow children to get to his treat. Nothing was going to keep Alfie from what was apparently his life force. If you said cheese in front of him, he'd stretch, get up and wag his tale. It sort of reminded me of Dom DeLuise in "History of the World, Part 1" saying "Nice. Not thrilling, but nice". No, it was only the word cookie that elicited true excitement.
Now, I may be a slut for bacon, but let it be known that I will come running through a kitchen at top speed, braving a freshly washed/waxed floor surrounded by counter tops with sharp edges the minute I know there is a promise of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. I do not know what it is about a warm fresh cookie that makes me so happy. Not only that... it makes a person crave milk! What other food actually makes you crave another food?! Sure, some food goes together. Peanut butter and jelly. Bacon and eggs. Pork Chops and Applesauce. I have never in my life eaten a piece of bacon and thought "Hmmm, an egg would be so good with this". Even the most lactose intolerant person I know will endure hours of cramping and potty time for the opportunity to dip a warm cookie into a glass of cold milk. People I know who hate milk and cringe even at the thought of it say "A glass of milk would go really well with this" when they have a Tollhouse in hand.
After reflecting on this, I've realized something about myself. If I had to pick a last meal knowing that I couldn't get my first choice (a perfectly cooked rare N.Y. Strip topped with fois gras, surrounded by fresh truffles and boursin mashed potatoes), I would die happy having had a plate of crispy bacon followed by warm cookies and ice cold milk.
Tonight, our class in culinary skills walks away from the stock pot and makes friend with a saute pan. Chicken with basil and garlic. I'm sure there will be something to report!
Now, I may be a slut for bacon, but let it be known that I will come running through a kitchen at top speed, braving a freshly washed/waxed floor surrounded by counter tops with sharp edges the minute I know there is a promise of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. I do not know what it is about a warm fresh cookie that makes me so happy. Not only that... it makes a person crave milk! What other food actually makes you crave another food?! Sure, some food goes together. Peanut butter and jelly. Bacon and eggs. Pork Chops and Applesauce. I have never in my life eaten a piece of bacon and thought "Hmmm, an egg would be so good with this". Even the most lactose intolerant person I know will endure hours of cramping and potty time for the opportunity to dip a warm cookie into a glass of cold milk. People I know who hate milk and cringe even at the thought of it say "A glass of milk would go really well with this" when they have a Tollhouse in hand.
After reflecting on this, I've realized something about myself. If I had to pick a last meal knowing that I couldn't get my first choice (a perfectly cooked rare N.Y. Strip topped with fois gras, surrounded by fresh truffles and boursin mashed potatoes), I would die happy having had a plate of crispy bacon followed by warm cookies and ice cold milk.
Tonight, our class in culinary skills walks away from the stock pot and makes friend with a saute pan. Chicken with basil and garlic. I'm sure there will be something to report!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Papa Loves Pig
Monday night at school, we were fortunate enough to partake in the yummy offerings of the 3rd Semester Student's Hawaiian Luau. The menu was lovely, however, one item jumped right out at me and I almost cried... Kahlua Pig. I know, I know. I'm not even sure if there was Kahlua in it, it didn't matter. It was pig. What is it about this curly tailed porcine that makes me want to renounce my Jewish faith, all of my material possessions and devote the rest of my life to the worship of bacon?!?!?
Mmmmm, bacon. I love bacon. I really, really, love bacon. I like it on a cheeseburger, with macaroni and cheese, on a BLT, in quiche, on a turkey club, crumbled in pasta, wrapped around a hunk of cow, paired with eggs or simply by itself, fried to a nice crispy brown. There are few aromas that make my mouth water. And even fewer that just the memory of can make me drool like a rabid dog. Bacon, is that food for me. If it shows up somewhere unexpected on a menu, I screech like five year old, do the hokey pokey and turn myself around. Now, if a menu says thick slab bacon, I'm pretty much the equivalent of a well paid tramp on my back for the evening. Not pretty I know, but there it is. If you need a favor from me, tempt me with bacon. Promise me endless supplies of smoked, fresh bacon and I will be your devoted slave for eternity.
It isn't limited to just bacon. In our house, a well crisped portion of pork cracklin' has been known to cause riots. And teasing someone with this tasty treat can result in permanent damage with little to no regret and absolutely without any sympathy. About a year ago we bought a porketta for my Mother-In-Law, we roasted it in her convection oven and then, Jack, his parents and I circled it for hours like vultures around roadkill. There was no need for a plate, we merely ripped pieces of pig off and ate it standing. STANDING. We had already eaten our meal! We were more than full! BUT THERE WAS PIG! Then, as though the four of us were all one living being, we went together peacefully into a gluttonous pork coma. Now, while there were moments of guilt, quick glances containing shame as grease was wiped from our chins and lips, a bond was forged. We were tied together by crispy yet juicy pig. This succulent piece of pork flesh had solidified the bond of our family.
There is one cut of pig that doesn't get as much love with our family... the dreaded spiral ham. Some of you are sure to protest this as you recall your favorite Easter dinner. However, an experience this Easter with a "boneless spiral ham" which more resembled a grey-ish mini loaf of Canadian bacon has ended any chance of ham ending up on our holiday table ever again.
However, if the grey mass offered at Easter had been sprinkled with bacon, it may very well have ended up a success!
Mmmmm, bacon. I love bacon. I really, really, love bacon. I like it on a cheeseburger, with macaroni and cheese, on a BLT, in quiche, on a turkey club, crumbled in pasta, wrapped around a hunk of cow, paired with eggs or simply by itself, fried to a nice crispy brown. There are few aromas that make my mouth water. And even fewer that just the memory of can make me drool like a rabid dog. Bacon, is that food for me. If it shows up somewhere unexpected on a menu, I screech like five year old, do the hokey pokey and turn myself around. Now, if a menu says thick slab bacon, I'm pretty much the equivalent of a well paid tramp on my back for the evening. Not pretty I know, but there it is. If you need a favor from me, tempt me with bacon. Promise me endless supplies of smoked, fresh bacon and I will be your devoted slave for eternity.
It isn't limited to just bacon. In our house, a well crisped portion of pork cracklin' has been known to cause riots. And teasing someone with this tasty treat can result in permanent damage with little to no regret and absolutely without any sympathy. About a year ago we bought a porketta for my Mother-In-Law, we roasted it in her convection oven and then, Jack, his parents and I circled it for hours like vultures around roadkill. There was no need for a plate, we merely ripped pieces of pig off and ate it standing. STANDING. We had already eaten our meal! We were more than full! BUT THERE WAS PIG! Then, as though the four of us were all one living being, we went together peacefully into a gluttonous pork coma. Now, while there were moments of guilt, quick glances containing shame as grease was wiped from our chins and lips, a bond was forged. We were tied together by crispy yet juicy pig. This succulent piece of pork flesh had solidified the bond of our family.
There is one cut of pig that doesn't get as much love with our family... the dreaded spiral ham. Some of you are sure to protest this as you recall your favorite Easter dinner. However, an experience this Easter with a "boneless spiral ham" which more resembled a grey-ish mini loaf of Canadian bacon has ended any chance of ham ending up on our holiday table ever again.
However, if the grey mass offered at Easter had been sprinkled with bacon, it may very well have ended up a success!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Chiffon Pie - Why Not Taffeta?
So, this week brought two very interesting culinary experiences to me, the first was Strawberry Chiffon Pie. Now, I recently made a strawberry rhubarb pie that while not a pleasant looking success, it was delish. Chiffon pie, unlike a cream pie, is made with gelatin and egg whites. It's fluffy, with volume and structure which can look very impressive. The pictures of these pies are gorgeous which were inspiring me to look for ways to incorporate them into future menu's. And then it happened. During the demo we were provided by our Chef, all pleasant thoughts of Chiffon went out the window. When the gelatin is added to cold water, it coagulates. Not my favorite word, but, in this case, very apporpriate. We watched the glop start to form. I'm hesitant to admit that I found this part kind of fun. Anyway, once it starts to coagulate, you then need to stir it to disolve it over warm water for the proper texture which you can then add directly to your filling base. Once added and incorporated, the filling is left to sit. This is where I lost the love. The Chef warned us, that if left unattended, the texture will turn "SNOT" like. I can barely use the word SNOT and not throw up in my mouth a little bit. The very thought of a food resembling that disgusting substance to me is, without question, unacceptable. Back to the demo - after several minutes of controlled gagging followed by regaining my composure, I told my baking partner that she was more than welcome to the pie she and I would be making that evening. It is safe to say that I will not be serving a Chiffon pie in the near future.
The second culinary treasure I got to make was during our practical exam. (It's here we are tested on actually producing a product we've learned about so far in our studies). We have been studying stock and soup production. So, our Chef for this class allowed us to pick our product out of a hat and I drew Cheddar Leek Soup. Not a difficult recipe. I like cheddar cheese, I like leeks and I like soup. I did not however like how it looked when the cheese melted within the soup. There is something very, very wrong about the way the fat of the cheese looks when it melts into the soup. More disturbing is that the choice of liquid used to enhance the creaminess of the soup is half-and-half. If I closed my eyes and listened carefully, I could hear the tiny voices of my arteries screaming in protest!! Once I drained the soup, I had to taste it for seasoning. It was surprisingly thin once strained. Which I found disturbing. There was a cheesey taste and an onion taste, and yet it was thin. I plated my soup in a warm bowl and garnished it with freshly made garlic croutons and chopped parsley, then served it to the Chef. The flavor was apparently right and I was warned that I may have taken too long in the straining process which could cause a grainy consistency. Ewww. Grainy, cheesey soup. Howeve, the Chef indicated I did well so I'm expecting high marks. Regardless of the grade I've received, I learned something incredibly valuable to me... cheese stays on my burger or on a cheese board. It doesn't belong in my soup!
The second culinary treasure I got to make was during our practical exam. (It's here we are tested on actually producing a product we've learned about so far in our studies). We have been studying stock and soup production. So, our Chef for this class allowed us to pick our product out of a hat and I drew Cheddar Leek Soup. Not a difficult recipe. I like cheddar cheese, I like leeks and I like soup. I did not however like how it looked when the cheese melted within the soup. There is something very, very wrong about the way the fat of the cheese looks when it melts into the soup. More disturbing is that the choice of liquid used to enhance the creaminess of the soup is half-and-half. If I closed my eyes and listened carefully, I could hear the tiny voices of my arteries screaming in protest!! Once I drained the soup, I had to taste it for seasoning. It was surprisingly thin once strained. Which I found disturbing. There was a cheesey taste and an onion taste, and yet it was thin. I plated my soup in a warm bowl and garnished it with freshly made garlic croutons and chopped parsley, then served it to the Chef. The flavor was apparently right and I was warned that I may have taken too long in the straining process which could cause a grainy consistency. Ewww. Grainy, cheesey soup. Howeve, the Chef indicated I did well so I'm expecting high marks. Regardless of the grade I've received, I learned something incredibly valuable to me... cheese stays on my burger or on a cheese board. It doesn't belong in my soup!
Monday, June 1, 2009
Beware of the Kitchen Gremlin
The Kitchen Gremlin is a mostly invisible and silent creature who's responsible for, in my opinion, 98% of all kitchen disasters. (The other 2% I believe is caused by alcohol, but that is a subject for another time). This creature, when having successfully demolished an important meal, is known to emit a small, high pitched snarky giggle that the dismayed cook swears they hear but then think it's a sound only in their head. I hate the Kitchen Gremlin.
While making pie this weekend during my quest for the perfect pie crust, the Gremlin screwed with my stove while my rhubarb filling was cooking. I was already struggling with my pie crust and not amused. (Home Chef's beware, the Gremlin lives on the energy from our "frustration" and can immediately sense when peak levels are reached.) My crust was yet another disaster looking exactly like it had in class last week which caused me swear quite creatively. It was the use of a four letter word that sounds like "duck" that must have brought the Gremlin in. For within minutes, I heard a bubbling sound coming from what had previously been a quiet sauce pan! My rhubarb filling was now on a medium flame which brought the liquid to a boil causing the rhubarb to almost fully break down. The room was now filled with several "Ducks" and another four letter word sounding like "Punts" (I had escalated in swearing creativity) as I tried to find ways to continue with my filling. (Special Note: Earlier I had to travel to four different markets to find fresh rhubarb. I bought all that they had which ended up being just enough for my pie. I had frustration around me already which the Gremlin had a field day with!) With careful seasoning and use of cornstarch, it seemed my filling was saved. It was now time to roll out the bottom crust.
I unwrapped my chilled dough, pressed it down from a ball to a disc, and armed with my rolling pin, prepared to make crust. I floured my counter and my pin and proceeded to smear play dough all over the friggin' place. Several more "Ducking Punts" were now in the kitchen. More giggling from the damn Gremlin. Determined to win in this battle, I tried adding water to the play dough which seemed to help. By hell or high water I was going to have a crust for my pie. And I did. I baked this shell and prayed for the best. I was semi rewarded with a golden crust that held it's shape and didn't fall apart during baking. So, I let the crust cool and I filled with the rhubarb filling and whisked it to the fridge to set. Overall, I had a somewhat loose pie, but the flavor was good. I however was determined to find out why I was crust challenged!!
I set out to make a new batch of crust, only this time, evaluating every possible factor that could contribute to my demise. Flour was weighed and sifted - nothing I could screw up here. Next step was my shortening. As I wiped my furrowed brow with the back of my hand I couldn't help but notice my hand was warm and thought, huh, I should open a window. DING DONG! Warm hands can melt butter!!!! For those of you who know me well, you know that I am ALWAYS WARM! My hands are always extremely warm and in the winter I'm wearing shorts around the house because I sweat like a meatloaf! That had to be it!! I needed much colder shortening and needed to have less hand/finger contact for cutting the butter into the flour. As I prepared to start cutting in the butter, I look for anything the Gremlin could use against me and saw I was safe. Oh it was so on. Working quickly, I alternated cutting in the shortening with my fingers then a pastry cutter. Success was in reach. If my calculations were right, I would be inches from a tasty crust AND turning the Gremlin out to the street! The dough obtained what appeared to be a picture perfect color and texture. I divided my crust into four portions and set it to chill in the fridge. I spent the next fifteen minutes searching for the Gremlin's hiding place. I wanted to hear the little bastard cry. I unwrapped a dough ball, floured my counter and rolling pin and was rewarded with a lovely crust, aching to be placed in a pie tin. And in it went, right into the oven. Fifteen minutes until victory was to be mine! I cleaned the kitchen happily, giddy with my impending success. The oven sounded that it was time reveal my treasure. And a golden treasure it was. I had made a yummy crust that looked, well, like crust.
The Gremlin, being a better sport than expected, allowed me to hear a slight cry of defeat as it left my kitchen. With the Ducks and the Punts quietly perched in the dark recesses of my kitchen, I proceeded to turn out a butterscotch pie, a sour cream and peach pie and a pecan pie. Tuesday night, I'm heading into double crust pies and making a pear and Gruyere pie, Apple pie and a lemon pie! The next time the Gremlin comes to visit, and I know he will, I'm sure he'll be prepared and seek revenge. But it won't happen when I'm making pie.
While making pie this weekend during my quest for the perfect pie crust, the Gremlin screwed with my stove while my rhubarb filling was cooking. I was already struggling with my pie crust and not amused. (Home Chef's beware, the Gremlin lives on the energy from our "frustration" and can immediately sense when peak levels are reached.) My crust was yet another disaster looking exactly like it had in class last week which caused me swear quite creatively. It was the use of a four letter word that sounds like "duck" that must have brought the Gremlin in. For within minutes, I heard a bubbling sound coming from what had previously been a quiet sauce pan! My rhubarb filling was now on a medium flame which brought the liquid to a boil causing the rhubarb to almost fully break down. The room was now filled with several "Ducks" and another four letter word sounding like "Punts" (I had escalated in swearing creativity) as I tried to find ways to continue with my filling. (Special Note: Earlier I had to travel to four different markets to find fresh rhubarb. I bought all that they had which ended up being just enough for my pie. I had frustration around me already which the Gremlin had a field day with!) With careful seasoning and use of cornstarch, it seemed my filling was saved. It was now time to roll out the bottom crust.
I unwrapped my chilled dough, pressed it down from a ball to a disc, and armed with my rolling pin, prepared to make crust. I floured my counter and my pin and proceeded to smear play dough all over the friggin' place. Several more "Ducking Punts" were now in the kitchen. More giggling from the damn Gremlin. Determined to win in this battle, I tried adding water to the play dough which seemed to help. By hell or high water I was going to have a crust for my pie. And I did. I baked this shell and prayed for the best. I was semi rewarded with a golden crust that held it's shape and didn't fall apart during baking. So, I let the crust cool and I filled with the rhubarb filling and whisked it to the fridge to set. Overall, I had a somewhat loose pie, but the flavor was good. I however was determined to find out why I was crust challenged!!
I set out to make a new batch of crust, only this time, evaluating every possible factor that could contribute to my demise. Flour was weighed and sifted - nothing I could screw up here. Next step was my shortening. As I wiped my furrowed brow with the back of my hand I couldn't help but notice my hand was warm and thought, huh, I should open a window. DING DONG! Warm hands can melt butter!!!! For those of you who know me well, you know that I am ALWAYS WARM! My hands are always extremely warm and in the winter I'm wearing shorts around the house because I sweat like a meatloaf! That had to be it!! I needed much colder shortening and needed to have less hand/finger contact for cutting the butter into the flour. As I prepared to start cutting in the butter, I look for anything the Gremlin could use against me and saw I was safe. Oh it was so on. Working quickly, I alternated cutting in the shortening with my fingers then a pastry cutter. Success was in reach. If my calculations were right, I would be inches from a tasty crust AND turning the Gremlin out to the street! The dough obtained what appeared to be a picture perfect color and texture. I divided my crust into four portions and set it to chill in the fridge. I spent the next fifteen minutes searching for the Gremlin's hiding place. I wanted to hear the little bastard cry. I unwrapped a dough ball, floured my counter and rolling pin and was rewarded with a lovely crust, aching to be placed in a pie tin. And in it went, right into the oven. Fifteen minutes until victory was to be mine! I cleaned the kitchen happily, giddy with my impending success. The oven sounded that it was time reveal my treasure. And a golden treasure it was. I had made a yummy crust that looked, well, like crust.
The Gremlin, being a better sport than expected, allowed me to hear a slight cry of defeat as it left my kitchen. With the Ducks and the Punts quietly perched in the dark recesses of my kitchen, I proceeded to turn out a butterscotch pie, a sour cream and peach pie and a pecan pie. Tuesday night, I'm heading into double crust pies and making a pear and Gruyere pie, Apple pie and a lemon pie! The next time the Gremlin comes to visit, and I know he will, I'm sure he'll be prepared and seek revenge. But it won't happen when I'm making pie.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
There's a Hair in my Pie
Baking class last night consisted of us learning all about pie and then baking one. I started baking pies this past Thanksgiving and had great success in making a pear pie with a Gruyere crust which I must say was quite tasty. (It had a lattice crust. I had a pretty pie. I think pie should be pretty.) Anyway, we learned an interesting fact that most customers, when offered the choice of a slice of pudding pie or a dish of pudding, will choose the pie. The pie is more expensive, offers less pudding than the dish and most people will chuck the crust, but they still order the pie.
The first component of the pie we discussed was the crust. There are two types of crust: Mealy and Flaky. Now, those of you partial to pie, I ask you, would you want someone to say that your pie was mealy? Flaky maybe but, mealy? What are the differences you ask? A flaky crust is mostly used for the top crust, for prebaked pies or say a chilled pie and will not hold well with moisture. And the mealy crust? Well, a mealy crust is much stronger and can hold your wet filling to prevent you from having a soggy bottom that leaks. (These descriptions are from my textbook, I swear!) Another interesting tidbit - while not used much in this day and age, LARD is said to make a superior pie crust. So, to recap on what I learned so far: To ensure you don't have a leaky soggy bottom due to wet or moist filling it's best to make a mealy crust from lard. Makes you want a slice of apple pie right now doesn't it? I think that's enough about crust.
Fillings were next, which got much less discussion. We discussed the types of pies we were going to make; apple, cherry and blueberry. We were broken into teams of two and told each group would make an apple pie and either a blueberry or cherry. We got cherry. So, first things first, we were now to rolling out our crust. My teammate was making the flaky crust for the top and it was up to me to roll out a mealy crust for the bottom. As we were having wet filling in our pie, I felt quite focused on preventing a soggy bottom. I'm not sure how I did it, but I weighed out my shortening incorrectly. This dough was filled with shortening!!!! I added more flour before adding water in hopes of saving it. The Chef came over to inspect my crust, (when you're a Master Chef you get to inspect everyone's crust) and I think I looked like I was going to pee myself. I said "I think I need to chuck this and then start over". He started at my lump of buttery mess and said, "Let's see how it works out. Sometimes our biggest mistakes are our best teachers". Great. I was to be an example of "What Not To Do".
Onto the filling. I peeled and chopped the apples for our apple pie and was then told I'd be making the cherry pie filling for the entire class. Great. I just screwed the pooch with my crust and now I was responsible for EVERYONE'S cherry filling?! Resigned with the fact that I'd most likely prepare a filling sure to create multiple soggy bottoms, I waddled over to collect my cherries. They were in a huge can. And the can was dented. I quickly scanned for a can opener and couldn't find one. I asked the Chef where I might one and he brought me to the back store room where there was table that had a large handle on it. He lifted the handle which revealed a little nubbin with an apparently very sharp tip. We placed my dented can on it's flattest surface on the table, aligned it carefully with the raised tip and then WHAM!!! He popped my can of cherries. And let me tell you - it was exciting and disturbing! The handle, once in, folded over and worked like a crank. He cranked my cherries over and over again trying to fully open them. However, it was obvious that due to prior mishandling, my cherries weren't going to give in easily. After repenetrating the cherries three of four more times in different spots, he gave up. He told me I should be able to drain off the juice for the recipe and then pry back the can to release the cherries. Hmmm, sharp jagged edges and me without leather gloves. I really didn't think I was going to change my mind about cherry pie at this point. I gathered my wits, drained my cherries and proceeded, with help to pry back the damaged lid and free the cherries. Not one digit was injured. Although you wouldn't know it by my uniform. Splashing cherry juice leaves a lot of stains. Into the pan went my ingredients and within a few minutes, voila! I had, cherry filling.
We were next to fill our pies with the cooled fruit fillings. We were told we'd each get to keep one pie. Since I knew my crust sucked, I offered my teammate first choice. He wanted the cherry pie. (At hearing this, the recently screwed pooch wagged his tail in amusement.) I filled my apple pie and rolled out a sheet of flaky crust and covered my apple pie. The Chef said that in order to distinguish our pie from someone else's we should make the vent on the top crust into a unique design. I did a traditional design which looked like a sort of flower or a sun with a little J underneath it. The pies were all put into the oven and cleaned the kitchen.
DING PIES ARE DONE! Out they came. Everyone scampered to look at their baked goods. I spied mine and nearly died laughing. My little design got all mangled during the pie's cooking and looked like a bad perm. Even funnier - my J swelled up and looked like a wedge of pie. Without intent, I had made a hair pie.
Tonight we're learning about cuts of meat and making soup!!!
The first component of the pie we discussed was the crust. There are two types of crust: Mealy and Flaky. Now, those of you partial to pie, I ask you, would you want someone to say that your pie was mealy? Flaky maybe but, mealy? What are the differences you ask? A flaky crust is mostly used for the top crust, for prebaked pies or say a chilled pie and will not hold well with moisture. And the mealy crust? Well, a mealy crust is much stronger and can hold your wet filling to prevent you from having a soggy bottom that leaks. (These descriptions are from my textbook, I swear!) Another interesting tidbit - while not used much in this day and age, LARD is said to make a superior pie crust. So, to recap on what I learned so far: To ensure you don't have a leaky soggy bottom due to wet or moist filling it's best to make a mealy crust from lard. Makes you want a slice of apple pie right now doesn't it? I think that's enough about crust.
Fillings were next, which got much less discussion. We discussed the types of pies we were going to make; apple, cherry and blueberry. We were broken into teams of two and told each group would make an apple pie and either a blueberry or cherry. We got cherry. So, first things first, we were now to rolling out our crust. My teammate was making the flaky crust for the top and it was up to me to roll out a mealy crust for the bottom. As we were having wet filling in our pie, I felt quite focused on preventing a soggy bottom. I'm not sure how I did it, but I weighed out my shortening incorrectly. This dough was filled with shortening!!!! I added more flour before adding water in hopes of saving it. The Chef came over to inspect my crust, (when you're a Master Chef you get to inspect everyone's crust) and I think I looked like I was going to pee myself. I said "I think I need to chuck this and then start over". He started at my lump of buttery mess and said, "Let's see how it works out. Sometimes our biggest mistakes are our best teachers". Great. I was to be an example of "What Not To Do".
Onto the filling. I peeled and chopped the apples for our apple pie and was then told I'd be making the cherry pie filling for the entire class. Great. I just screwed the pooch with my crust and now I was responsible for EVERYONE'S cherry filling?! Resigned with the fact that I'd most likely prepare a filling sure to create multiple soggy bottoms, I waddled over to collect my cherries. They were in a huge can. And the can was dented. I quickly scanned for a can opener and couldn't find one. I asked the Chef where I might one and he brought me to the back store room where there was table that had a large handle on it. He lifted the handle which revealed a little nubbin with an apparently very sharp tip. We placed my dented can on it's flattest surface on the table, aligned it carefully with the raised tip and then WHAM!!! He popped my can of cherries. And let me tell you - it was exciting and disturbing! The handle, once in, folded over and worked like a crank. He cranked my cherries over and over again trying to fully open them. However, it was obvious that due to prior mishandling, my cherries weren't going to give in easily. After repenetrating the cherries three of four more times in different spots, he gave up. He told me I should be able to drain off the juice for the recipe and then pry back the can to release the cherries. Hmmm, sharp jagged edges and me without leather gloves. I really didn't think I was going to change my mind about cherry pie at this point. I gathered my wits, drained my cherries and proceeded, with help to pry back the damaged lid and free the cherries. Not one digit was injured. Although you wouldn't know it by my uniform. Splashing cherry juice leaves a lot of stains. Into the pan went my ingredients and within a few minutes, voila! I had, cherry filling.
We were next to fill our pies with the cooled fruit fillings. We were told we'd each get to keep one pie. Since I knew my crust sucked, I offered my teammate first choice. He wanted the cherry pie. (At hearing this, the recently screwed pooch wagged his tail in amusement.) I filled my apple pie and rolled out a sheet of flaky crust and covered my apple pie. The Chef said that in order to distinguish our pie from someone else's we should make the vent on the top crust into a unique design. I did a traditional design which looked like a sort of flower or a sun with a little J underneath it. The pies were all put into the oven and cleaned the kitchen.
DING PIES ARE DONE! Out they came. Everyone scampered to look at their baked goods. I spied mine and nearly died laughing. My little design got all mangled during the pie's cooking and looked like a bad perm. Even funnier - my J swelled up and looked like a wedge of pie. Without intent, I had made a hair pie.
Tonight we're learning about cuts of meat and making soup!!!
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Gettin' It Up With a Convention Oven or Rise My Pretty - Rise
Tonight is my first practical exam for culinary school in addition to having our first quiz. Both are in baking and specifically on quick breads. Basically, these are baked goods that are, well, quick and don't need yeast.
So far we have made Muffins, Scones, Date Bread and Biscuits and utilized the Muffin Method, The Creaming Method (hee hee, I know, it makes me laugh too) and the Biscuit Method. Basically, all these methods can deliver tasty little morsels of baked deliciousness.
For our test, we will be presented the challenge of making any of the recipes we've made so far in any of the variations that our text book mentions... muffins could be poppy, almond, blueberry or corn; scones of cranberry or chocolate chip and bicuits with cheddar or buttermilk. Any of the three methods could be called upon for this test. So, being the over achieving gerbil I am, I made several treats last night to practice.
For those of you who know me, you are well aware that baking has never been my forte. I'm slowly but surely earning my right to wield a rolling pin! I approached my kitchen with confidence. I pretended as though I were being tested - that the adjudicating Chef was watching my every move! I decided to start with Cheddar Biscuits. (This was wise as Jack wasn't home yet and the biscuits would go well with the brown sugar cured boneless pork ribs I was making for dinner) I set up my "mis en place", every ingredient was measured to the exact ounce. With a clean station and a mixing bowl and spatula at the ready, I began. Dry goods sifted, cheddar mixed in and then my wet goods added. This is when I forgot I was pretending to being tested and giggled over putting my hands into the gooey and stickey batter. Suddenly I was 5 years old and making a mud pie in the yard. The sticky batter was on my fingers, inbetween my fingers and all squishey!! Truthfully, it was a lot of fun... then one of the cats let out a veritable lion's whine which scared the crap out of me and returned me to my test. The dough was just mixed and I turned it out onto a clean work surface. I kneaded the dough for 30 seconds (six to ten times) and then cut them into 9 uniformed bits and popped them into the oven. While they were doing the heat dance, I, the ever efficient and clean baking professional, cleaned my station, did the dishes and then threw water at the cat that decided to whine at me.
With the last dish put away, the oven sounded and I opened up it's lovely black door to find 9 perfectly golden and fluffy cheesy biscuits!!! (At this point Jack has come home and I've relegated him to the grilling of the pig). I knew by the delighted look on his face that he too was excited that my baking had improved! (God bless him, he eats anything I throw at him.) So, while the biscuits cooled, I sliced the pig and made him a plate with a lovely arrangement of farfalle with fresh pesto and a biscuit with butter melting on it. It was now onto the judging - this was only the first element and yet it would set the tone for the following events - the judge bit into the flaky steaming biscuit and declared a full success!!!!
With the confidence of a prize fighter having leveled his/her opponent in the first round, I then fought the muffin man with ease; decimated the date nut bread and turned out two gorgeous nutty loaves (not a phrase I'm likely to usually use again) and ended with three dozen sugary chocolate chip scones. All of this was completed by ten pm with the kitchen cleaned!!!!! I'm hoping I can accomplish the same results tonight, wish me luck!
So far we have made Muffins, Scones, Date Bread and Biscuits and utilized the Muffin Method, The Creaming Method (hee hee, I know, it makes me laugh too) and the Biscuit Method. Basically, all these methods can deliver tasty little morsels of baked deliciousness.
For our test, we will be presented the challenge of making any of the recipes we've made so far in any of the variations that our text book mentions... muffins could be poppy, almond, blueberry or corn; scones of cranberry or chocolate chip and bicuits with cheddar or buttermilk. Any of the three methods could be called upon for this test. So, being the over achieving gerbil I am, I made several treats last night to practice.
For those of you who know me, you are well aware that baking has never been my forte. I'm slowly but surely earning my right to wield a rolling pin! I approached my kitchen with confidence. I pretended as though I were being tested - that the adjudicating Chef was watching my every move! I decided to start with Cheddar Biscuits. (This was wise as Jack wasn't home yet and the biscuits would go well with the brown sugar cured boneless pork ribs I was making for dinner) I set up my "mis en place", every ingredient was measured to the exact ounce. With a clean station and a mixing bowl and spatula at the ready, I began. Dry goods sifted, cheddar mixed in and then my wet goods added. This is when I forgot I was pretending to being tested and giggled over putting my hands into the gooey and stickey batter. Suddenly I was 5 years old and making a mud pie in the yard. The sticky batter was on my fingers, inbetween my fingers and all squishey!! Truthfully, it was a lot of fun... then one of the cats let out a veritable lion's whine which scared the crap out of me and returned me to my test. The dough was just mixed and I turned it out onto a clean work surface. I kneaded the dough for 30 seconds (six to ten times) and then cut them into 9 uniformed bits and popped them into the oven. While they were doing the heat dance, I, the ever efficient and clean baking professional, cleaned my station, did the dishes and then threw water at the cat that decided to whine at me.
With the last dish put away, the oven sounded and I opened up it's lovely black door to find 9 perfectly golden and fluffy cheesy biscuits!!! (At this point Jack has come home and I've relegated him to the grilling of the pig). I knew by the delighted look on his face that he too was excited that my baking had improved! (God bless him, he eats anything I throw at him.) So, while the biscuits cooled, I sliced the pig and made him a plate with a lovely arrangement of farfalle with fresh pesto and a biscuit with butter melting on it. It was now onto the judging - this was only the first element and yet it would set the tone for the following events - the judge bit into the flaky steaming biscuit and declared a full success!!!!
With the confidence of a prize fighter having leveled his/her opponent in the first round, I then fought the muffin man with ease; decimated the date nut bread and turned out two gorgeous nutty loaves (not a phrase I'm likely to usually use again) and ended with three dozen sugary chocolate chip scones. All of this was completed by ten pm with the kitchen cleaned!!!!! I'm hoping I can accomplish the same results tonight, wish me luck!
Friday, May 15, 2009
Fish Fumet or...It's a Snap with Snapper
Culinary Skills Class last night found us making a version of a fish stock used as a poaching liquid called fish fumet. Making fish stock is pretty much the same thing as making any other stock with the exception of it taking less time and it uses fish. To describe the experience briefly, it's like spending a good hour in sweltering heat on the Jersey Shore at low tide. It's not pretty.
We were put into groups of three or four with one of us designated as the group's Sous Chef who'd be dealing with the Chef during the lesson. I was placed with two other people and designated our Sous chef. Our first activity was to watch the Chef demo how to clean a leek. When the Chef announced this, several of my classmates looked horrified....they apparently only knew of one type of leek and it wasn't a vegetable. I must have looked like I was trying to control a seizure while trying to keep from laughing when I saw the relief on their faces as they slowly realized cleaning a leek didn't require a trip to the potty. We also learned how to make sachet bags, bouquet garni and the proper technique to clean a mushroom. Armed with new culinary tricks, we went back to our groups to prepare our stocks. (Some were fortunate to have been tasked with vegetable stock as opposed to fish).
I delegated out our ingredients or "mis en place" which left me getting the five pounds of fish bones. (OK, not to get off on a tangent but, whenever I hear the word bones in class the song about "Dem Bones, Dem Bones, Gonna...Walk Around" comes into my head and won't leave. Anyway...)So, off I go in search of dead fishy goodness when the chef emerges from the walk-in fridge with a tray of cleaned fish. It's sort of funny looking to see a fish with it's head in tact, body cleaned of 99% of it's meat and a full tale. I was reminded of a poodle groomed for a dog show. BIG HEAD - little body - BIG TAIL. So, my task was five pounds of these little stink-pots. The only fish still recognizable to me was the red snapper. (OK, I'm not the Naughty Chef for nothing... the word snapper makes me giggle. When I go to a restaurant and snapper is on the menu, I have to ask the waiter or waitress if their Snapper is fresh. Admit it, you laughed.) So, I pick my least offensive snapper(s) and head back to my scale. Two were not enough, so, I went back to pick another freshly cleaned snapper. Five pounds exactly. However, as though the spirit of the dead snapper were still in the room and sensing my extreme amusement of their name, they retaliated in the only way possible. The top fins of a red snapper fan up and have sharp points at the end. Thinking I was being smart keeping my hands and fingers away from the mouth with the sharp teeth, I grabbed my snapper with what I thought was a safe grip. The little bastard punctured my thumb and made me bleed. Now it was on. One of my teammates asked if I needed help to which I said "NO! This is between ME...and my SNAPPER! With my thumb now covered in a blue band aid, I threw his scaly ass into a hot pot with the onions, butter and herbs!
As they began to cook, I can tell you, the low brow humor inside my classmates was quietly beginning. It stank. The various looks being shot from one another as they seemed to forget it was the fish causing the stench was pretty darn funny. All in all, from the confusion over the leek, hearing people being asked about the status of their "snapper" and my dirty mind, I thoroughly enjoyed class.
We were put into groups of three or four with one of us designated as the group's Sous Chef who'd be dealing with the Chef during the lesson. I was placed with two other people and designated our Sous chef. Our first activity was to watch the Chef demo how to clean a leek. When the Chef announced this, several of my classmates looked horrified....they apparently only knew of one type of leek and it wasn't a vegetable. I must have looked like I was trying to control a seizure while trying to keep from laughing when I saw the relief on their faces as they slowly realized cleaning a leek didn't require a trip to the potty. We also learned how to make sachet bags, bouquet garni and the proper technique to clean a mushroom. Armed with new culinary tricks, we went back to our groups to prepare our stocks. (Some were fortunate to have been tasked with vegetable stock as opposed to fish).
I delegated out our ingredients or "mis en place" which left me getting the five pounds of fish bones. (OK, not to get off on a tangent but, whenever I hear the word bones in class the song about "Dem Bones, Dem Bones, Gonna...Walk Around" comes into my head and won't leave. Anyway...)So, off I go in search of dead fishy goodness when the chef emerges from the walk-in fridge with a tray of cleaned fish. It's sort of funny looking to see a fish with it's head in tact, body cleaned of 99% of it's meat and a full tale. I was reminded of a poodle groomed for a dog show. BIG HEAD - little body - BIG TAIL. So, my task was five pounds of these little stink-pots. The only fish still recognizable to me was the red snapper. (OK, I'm not the Naughty Chef for nothing... the word snapper makes me giggle. When I go to a restaurant and snapper is on the menu, I have to ask the waiter or waitress if their Snapper is fresh. Admit it, you laughed.) So, I pick my least offensive snapper(s) and head back to my scale. Two were not enough, so, I went back to pick another freshly cleaned snapper. Five pounds exactly. However, as though the spirit of the dead snapper were still in the room and sensing my extreme amusement of their name, they retaliated in the only way possible. The top fins of a red snapper fan up and have sharp points at the end. Thinking I was being smart keeping my hands and fingers away from the mouth with the sharp teeth, I grabbed my snapper with what I thought was a safe grip. The little bastard punctured my thumb and made me bleed. Now it was on. One of my teammates asked if I needed help to which I said "NO! This is between ME...and my SNAPPER! With my thumb now covered in a blue band aid, I threw his scaly ass into a hot pot with the onions, butter and herbs!
As they began to cook, I can tell you, the low brow humor inside my classmates was quietly beginning. It stank. The various looks being shot from one another as they seemed to forget it was the fish causing the stench was pretty darn funny. All in all, from the confusion over the leek, hearing people being asked about the status of their "snapper" and my dirty mind, I thoroughly enjoyed class.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
The Muffin Man Is My Slave
Oh yeah, I know the Muffin Man. I made that booger kneel to me and squeal like a little piggy.
Saturday Morning. With the sun hiding behind a cloud, I entered my kitchen with fierce determination. As I prepared my morning coffee, I mentally prepared for the upcomming battle. As the robust smell of coffee began to permeate the air, I heard the snickering little laughter of that confectionary creep! Oh it was on. I may have run from the schoolyard bully, but, there was no way I was going to let this snarky confection get the better of me.
And so it began.
Armed with my trusty measuring scale, liquid measuring cups and a long big hard wooden spoon, I measured out my ingredients. Every item was weighed and measured to the exact requirement. I melted my butter, washed my blueberries and then laughed maniacally as I greased my muffin tin. With my batter stirred just long enough to wet the flour, I scooped it into the prepared pan. Then with a flair of style all my own, I slid the soon to be glorious treasures into the oven.
I began to wash the dishes while my muffins started to cook. In minutes, the smell of my plump, delectable blueberry muffin's filled the room. I began to smirk victoriously over my sink filled with bubbles. Even our cats could sense the ass kicking that was about to happen and sat in either doorway of the kitchen to watch! And then, the timer sounded. It was time. He was going down. I would make him my bitch and declare that I, Jeffrey Sherman Thompson, was King of the Muffin World.
I walked to the oven door, opened it up and saw them. THE DAMN THINGS WERE STILL NOT BIG ENOUGH! (And yes, size matters in muffins.) The little bastard got me again!!! WHY WHY WHY?! What is it that I did wrong?! Was I being mocked for mocking the Muffin Man?! I put my rise-challenged muffins on the cooling rack and retraced my steps. It hit me. I measured the butter melted and not the solid. That had to be it. I may have been knocked down, but I was not out. One round to the Muffin Man but the title would be mine.
I re-assembled my ingredients with one change. This time, I took my cold chilly butter and measured it BEFORE melting. Careful not to over stir my batter, I gently folded the wet ingredients into the dry. Then into a very well greased muffin tin and finally, to the oven.
I began doing the dishes for a second time and thought, now I've got him. I began to daydream about what I would find when the oven door opened. As I put the last bowl on the drying rack, the timer sounded. The wind stopped. The cats froze. I walked to the oven door, grabbed my oven mitt and prepared myself for whatever it was I might find. I opened the oven door and there they were. The perfect Muffins. Slightly golden tops, risen and pretty. I placed my muffins on the cooling rack and I will not lie... I danced around the kitchen like an idiot. I didn't care! The Muffin Man began to weep and I pointed at him and laughed!!!! IN YOUR FACE MUFFIN MAN!!!!!!
There was however, one more test. I needed to cut the muffin in half, check it for texture and of course, taste. Once they had cooled, I easily popped my muffins out of their hole. Spongy and still warm, I split one down the middle. It was beautiful. The Muffin Man cried harder. I took a bite. I teared up a bit. Then, after lovingly sharing a bite of my muffin with Jack, I beat the living crap out of the Muffin Man and told him to go find Betty Crocker!!!!
Saturday Morning. With the sun hiding behind a cloud, I entered my kitchen with fierce determination. As I prepared my morning coffee, I mentally prepared for the upcomming battle. As the robust smell of coffee began to permeate the air, I heard the snickering little laughter of that confectionary creep! Oh it was on. I may have run from the schoolyard bully, but, there was no way I was going to let this snarky confection get the better of me.
And so it began.
Armed with my trusty measuring scale, liquid measuring cups and a long big hard wooden spoon, I measured out my ingredients. Every item was weighed and measured to the exact requirement. I melted my butter, washed my blueberries and then laughed maniacally as I greased my muffin tin. With my batter stirred just long enough to wet the flour, I scooped it into the prepared pan. Then with a flair of style all my own, I slid the soon to be glorious treasures into the oven.
I began to wash the dishes while my muffins started to cook. In minutes, the smell of my plump, delectable blueberry muffin's filled the room. I began to smirk victoriously over my sink filled with bubbles. Even our cats could sense the ass kicking that was about to happen and sat in either doorway of the kitchen to watch! And then, the timer sounded. It was time. He was going down. I would make him my bitch and declare that I, Jeffrey Sherman Thompson, was King of the Muffin World.
I walked to the oven door, opened it up and saw them. THE DAMN THINGS WERE STILL NOT BIG ENOUGH! (And yes, size matters in muffins.) The little bastard got me again!!! WHY WHY WHY?! What is it that I did wrong?! Was I being mocked for mocking the Muffin Man?! I put my rise-challenged muffins on the cooling rack and retraced my steps. It hit me. I measured the butter melted and not the solid. That had to be it. I may have been knocked down, but I was not out. One round to the Muffin Man but the title would be mine.
I re-assembled my ingredients with one change. This time, I took my cold chilly butter and measured it BEFORE melting. Careful not to over stir my batter, I gently folded the wet ingredients into the dry. Then into a very well greased muffin tin and finally, to the oven.
I began doing the dishes for a second time and thought, now I've got him. I began to daydream about what I would find when the oven door opened. As I put the last bowl on the drying rack, the timer sounded. The wind stopped. The cats froze. I walked to the oven door, grabbed my oven mitt and prepared myself for whatever it was I might find. I opened the oven door and there they were. The perfect Muffins. Slightly golden tops, risen and pretty. I placed my muffins on the cooling rack and I will not lie... I danced around the kitchen like an idiot. I didn't care! The Muffin Man began to weep and I pointed at him and laughed!!!! IN YOUR FACE MUFFIN MAN!!!!!!
There was however, one more test. I needed to cut the muffin in half, check it for texture and of course, taste. Once they had cooled, I easily popped my muffins out of their hole. Spongy and still warm, I split one down the middle. It was beautiful. The Muffin Man cried harder. I took a bite. I teared up a bit. Then, after lovingly sharing a bite of my muffin with Jack, I beat the living crap out of the Muffin Man and told him to go find Betty Crocker!!!!
Monday, May 11, 2009
I Am Hermoine Granger....
Thursday night was Culinary Skills class. I was nervous because I had read the majority of the assigned reading but still had a few pages left that were covering sauce production. I soon found out that I had nothing to worry about. I seemed to have been the only person who had read as much as I did. I was answering questions left and right with my textbook closed, while others were answering based on the info in the books opened before them! I was beginning to think that I may want to consider playing it cool and maybe not raising my hand for EVERY question the Chef was asking. Then it happened. The moment that made me wish I could whip out a magic wand and go back in time and have my arm broken so I couldn't put it in the air! The Chef asked another question and like a rocket, my hand shot up knowing that I knew the answer. It was as though I believed I would win ten points for Gryffindor with this correct answer. Chef looked at me and said "Jeffrey, I know you know this. I've taken more correct answers from you than anyone else in the class combined. You all have to do the reading. I can't do the reading for you and Jeffrey can't be the only one answering questions". Gulp. The following thoughts ran into my head like bludgers in a Quiddich match "Nerd" , "Geek", "Brown Noser", "Loser", "Know-It-All". I was suddently a child again, proud to have known the answer and at the same time dying of embarassment for not being a "cool kid". Then suddenly, my innervoice seemed to have popped open a can of whoop-ass and approached these nasty thoughts and said "Why should you care what any of these people think?! They aren't paying your tuition?! It's not your fault they're lazy and didn't do the work! You're here for an education, not friends". I must say, my inner voice sometimes makes me very excited. It was with this inspiration that I willed my face to change from tomato red back to it's normal pale and blotchy color. Well, inspriration and it was now time to move into the kitchen. My seatmate then asked me if we could study together this week. So, I learned that while I was like Hermoine who could be viewed by some as a know-it-all, I was also a bit like her that I also had friends!
Thursday, May 7, 2009
I Do Not Know The Muffin Man
Last night was Baking Class. Muffin's were our assignment (that is after we learned about the composition of wheat. Interesting to a point, then it becomes similar to watching paint dry.)
I like baking, and recently thought I was getting better at it. In the past, my biscuits were so hard they could be used as door stops or hockey pucks. However, over last six months I made a gorgeous chocolate ganache cake that looked and tasted awesome, red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting that I still get requests for and I've even made scones that looked and tasted like, well, scones. Then, last night, my career as a baking genius came to a screeching halt. My muffins, sadly, were limp and desperately in need of Viagra. Well, to be fair, my plain muffins were fine and the texture was good, but, my corn muffins, filled with cheese and a roasted yellow pepper were as flat as a board. I'm curious as to whether it was due to over working the batter or possibly ingredients being incorrectly measured. There were two of us to a team so it got a bit confusing.
And, to make matters worse, I can now add myself to the list of my classmates who have cut themselves. Yep, I cut myself... in baking class. After chopping up the roasted yellow pepper for the corn muffins with speed and flair, I became Jerry Lewis and had a slight spaz and whipped the tip of my knife up and tagged myself on the palm, just under the pinkie. A nice neat little slice. I barely felt it. What irked me more was the shame I felt telling the Chef I cut myself and needed a band-aid. Thankfully, Chef took pity on me and told me about a cut he gave himself which was equally embarrassing. He told me cuts like this are gonna happen and at least it was tiny and I didn't bleed on the pepper.
All in all, not my best evening. However, I will not be discouraged. I'm going to master the Muffin Man and make him my bitch! He will rise on command and be springy and moist! He will not stick to the tin! He will pop out fresh and ready to be eaten! This means, I will be practicing muffins all weekend. What's your favorite flavor?! Stop by for a fresh muffin and to hear the Muffin Man cry!
Tonight is Knife Skills - stop laughing, I refuse to cut myself two nights in a row!
I like baking, and recently thought I was getting better at it. In the past, my biscuits were so hard they could be used as door stops or hockey pucks. However, over last six months I made a gorgeous chocolate ganache cake that looked and tasted awesome, red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting that I still get requests for and I've even made scones that looked and tasted like, well, scones. Then, last night, my career as a baking genius came to a screeching halt. My muffins, sadly, were limp and desperately in need of Viagra. Well, to be fair, my plain muffins were fine and the texture was good, but, my corn muffins, filled with cheese and a roasted yellow pepper were as flat as a board. I'm curious as to whether it was due to over working the batter or possibly ingredients being incorrectly measured. There were two of us to a team so it got a bit confusing.
And, to make matters worse, I can now add myself to the list of my classmates who have cut themselves. Yep, I cut myself... in baking class. After chopping up the roasted yellow pepper for the corn muffins with speed and flair, I became Jerry Lewis and had a slight spaz and whipped the tip of my knife up and tagged myself on the palm, just under the pinkie. A nice neat little slice. I barely felt it. What irked me more was the shame I felt telling the Chef I cut myself and needed a band-aid. Thankfully, Chef took pity on me and told me about a cut he gave himself which was equally embarrassing. He told me cuts like this are gonna happen and at least it was tiny and I didn't bleed on the pepper.
All in all, not my best evening. However, I will not be discouraged. I'm going to master the Muffin Man and make him my bitch! He will rise on command and be springy and moist! He will not stick to the tin! He will pop out fresh and ready to be eaten! This means, I will be practicing muffins all weekend. What's your favorite flavor?! Stop by for a fresh muffin and to hear the Muffin Man cry!
Tonight is Knife Skills - stop laughing, I refuse to cut myself two nights in a row!
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
The Swine Flu or Quite Possibly, When Pigs Fly?
Monday night's focus at school was on Safe Serve. In this course, we learn how NOT to make people vomit after eating the food we've prepared. The pictures in our textbook show only the foods that could be infected and NOT the infected food. Even more thankfully, there are no pictures of people that have been infected. It does however talk about the diseases and what they are capable of doing to you if you get them. While this information is vital, interesting and disturbing, it has another very helpful trait - - IT IS A GREAT DIET TOOL! Upon learning about just how sick one little mistake can make you, it becomes VERY easy to resist eating anything that was made by somebody else. Herbert, (That's what I've named my belly) may need to find a new home soon, as I will have this course for 12 weeks and it's only going to get more informative.
Now, I'm not going to go into any further detail on what we learned. I also promise, that when I'm told where someone recently ate, that will not say "EWW! You Ate There?!?!?!" and then suck air through my teeth and look wide eyed. BUT, I will share one safe food tip. At your next picnic, don't worry about leaving the mayo out for a burger. Contrary to what we all have heard, store bought mayo is not going to hurt you when kept out. I know, I know, we were all taught it was the killer. Truth be told, Mayo, by itself, is so acidic that bacteria can't grow in it. Once you add cooked potatoes, pasta or chicken however, you have only a few hours before you've got a science experiment.
So, while we were discussing just how sick we might get and which disease was likely to be the culprit, the subject of the Swine Flu was brought up. The opinions expressed by the class were very interesting. Some were petrified and wondererd if we should be wearing masks while others thought that it was over hyped and not such a big deal. My first thought... OOOH! Bacon! MMMMM, crispy, yummy, cooked piggy. Yep. You better believe it. What ticked me off was that it wasn't the end of the class when this discussion came up, so, I was now craving bacon for the rest of the night.
Now, before you think me completely nutty, tell me right now you aren't envisioning bacon? I bet you are. Either with eggs or on a burger. There is something so awesome about bacon, hell, about all pig. (Unless you don't eat meat in which case this is probably no fun for you). In fact, we all know how loaded with fat the pig can be. It doesn't stop us from eating it. Here's a great example... at our Oscar Party earlier this year, one of the nibblets we prepared was Tempura Bacon. Yep, just like it sounds. Deep Fried Battered Piggy Goodness. Now, I imagine you have a look of horror on your face. Most of our guests did when they heard it was on the menu. Then they smelled it. Then they saw it. Then they ate it. They'd try to pass and then say "Okay! One piece". God said to Moses "If you make it, they will come". Well, I say, "If you make bacon, they will run".
VIVA LA PORK!
Tonight is baking class and we are scheduled to make muffins! I promise to update you tomorrow!
Now, I'm not going to go into any further detail on what we learned. I also promise, that when I'm told where someone recently ate, that will not say "EWW! You Ate There?!?!?!" and then suck air through my teeth and look wide eyed. BUT, I will share one safe food tip. At your next picnic, don't worry about leaving the mayo out for a burger. Contrary to what we all have heard, store bought mayo is not going to hurt you when kept out. I know, I know, we were all taught it was the killer. Truth be told, Mayo, by itself, is so acidic that bacteria can't grow in it. Once you add cooked potatoes, pasta or chicken however, you have only a few hours before you've got a science experiment.
So, while we were discussing just how sick we might get and which disease was likely to be the culprit, the subject of the Swine Flu was brought up. The opinions expressed by the class were very interesting. Some were petrified and wondererd if we should be wearing masks while others thought that it was over hyped and not such a big deal. My first thought... OOOH! Bacon! MMMMM, crispy, yummy, cooked piggy. Yep. You better believe it. What ticked me off was that it wasn't the end of the class when this discussion came up, so, I was now craving bacon for the rest of the night.
Now, before you think me completely nutty, tell me right now you aren't envisioning bacon? I bet you are. Either with eggs or on a burger. There is something so awesome about bacon, hell, about all pig. (Unless you don't eat meat in which case this is probably no fun for you). In fact, we all know how loaded with fat the pig can be. It doesn't stop us from eating it. Here's a great example... at our Oscar Party earlier this year, one of the nibblets we prepared was Tempura Bacon. Yep, just like it sounds. Deep Fried Battered Piggy Goodness. Now, I imagine you have a look of horror on your face. Most of our guests did when they heard it was on the menu. Then they smelled it. Then they saw it. Then they ate it. They'd try to pass and then say "Okay! One piece". God said to Moses "If you make it, they will come". Well, I say, "If you make bacon, they will run".
VIVA LA PORK!
Tonight is baking class and we are scheduled to make muffins! I promise to update you tomorrow!
Monday, May 4, 2009
A Wandering Mind and Daydreams Should Never Friend A Knife
Saturday afternoon, after Jack and I ran our multiple errands and had lunch, we returned home so I could resume studying and he could watch old movies.
I studied my assigned reading in baking, safe food service and stock production! My mind was now a veritable cornucopia of thoughts ranging from baking conversions and making a brown stock to the prime temperatures needed to ensure that the microorganisms in food have a full blown hootenanny. (I must confess that I've always wanted to use veritable cornucopia in a written passage, but never did I think I'd get to use it in the same sentence with Hootenanny ! Monday is starting out much better than anticipated!)
Once the studying was complete, it was time to get the cocktail hour of our evening underway. The nibbles planned for this evening included a classic shrimp cocktail and some sort of cheese and crackers.
When the cooked and frozen shrimp were mostly defrosted, I noticed that there were some odd white markings on the little critters which I couldn't identify. At first, Jack and I thought that it was due to the shrimp being overcooked prior to freezing. While staring at the thawing crustaceans sitting in the colander in the sink, my mind went back to my safe serve homework. Which disease was it that could make you sick regardless of whether the ocean tidbit in question was cooked and then frozen and then reheated? Even more troublesome was remembering what the symptoms were if you were infected? Was it merely fever and chills we'd have to endure or was it the very disturbing and painfully upsetting stomach issues?!?!
After throwing the mostly thawed shrimp into the garbage, we decided to abandon our cocktail hour and I started chopping carrots to go with our soon to be grilled steaks.
I'd chosen carrots as a side dish because I thought I'd be a responsible culinary student and practice my knife skills. Jack was happy because, well, he likes carrots. So, I started peeling a pound or two of carrots and begin practicing. All was going well and I began to feel as though I'd not only retained all the recently learned skills, I had now mastered them.
If you've never spent a significant amount of time cutting one vegetable, I will tell you that it is no different than any other tedious and time consuming task such as filing or rolling up a jar of pennies. It's not terribly difficult and after one file is filed, one role of pennies is rolled or one carrot is chopped, you set yourself up to do it all over again. And again. And again. To make this time go faster, your mind goes on a trip if you don't have music playing or someone to talk to which keeps your mind it in it's place, namely, on the task at hand. It's here at this point that I started thinking of the diseases conjured up by the white markings on the shrimp. Which then made me wonder if the same markings would appear on cooked lobsters or crab. The crabs made me think of a recent episode of The Deadliest Catch I watched where these crab fisherman were out in these awful seas with seventy foot waves all so that I could make crab cakes. Mmmmm, crab cakes, when did I have them last? That made me think of what the filming of that show must really be like and did these rugged men worry about how they looked on camera? That led my flibbertigibbet of a mind to shaving and razor blades because I remembered one guy on the boat was clean shaven and then the others we're all scruffy which made me then wonder how in the hell you shave on a boat being hit by 70 foot waves with out cutting your face up, AND, if you did cut your face up, would you then put toilet paper scarps on all those cuts and risk being ridiculed by the other fisherman or would you man-up and show how burly and manly you were while the salt water spray burned and potentially scarred your face?!?! I was now no longer in my kitchen cutting carrots, but, on a boat in the middle of the treacherous sea off the coast of Alaska searching for the answer to this life altering question. Once I solved this most dire equation, I would share this highly prized information to my new fisherman friends, thus saving many a nicked face, countless roles of toilet paper and then be showered with an endless supply of Dungeness Crab.
I took a triumphant breath and realized I was back in my kitchen. I THANKFULLY stopped what it was I was doing so that I could look and see what it was I was REALLY doing. The very sharp and shiny blade of my new knife was in place to slice not only my carrot but a sizable piece of a finger. I put my shiny new knife down, looked in the living room to see if Jack was awake (he was passed out napping)and stepped away from the cutting board and went on to our front porch where there was no chance of my taking off a finger. It was here that I sat, looking at my finger and being very thankful that it was still in one piece. My mind then prepared for departure on it's next voyage to the thoughts of what would have happened if I had chopped my finger off just moments ago! Would I have screamed like a five year old? Would I pass out from the sight of my finger laying among the carrots? What would I tell Jack? Would I be able to play the piano again? Oh I really should dust the piano after dinner. And then SMACK! My inner voice, very in touch with reality and tired of being led on daydreams and random thoughts by it's flakey neighbor, bitch-slapped my wandering mind and screamed at it to sit down, shut up and let me finish the friggin' carrots and get the steaks on the grill for dinner.
I studied my assigned reading in baking, safe food service and stock production! My mind was now a veritable cornucopia of thoughts ranging from baking conversions and making a brown stock to the prime temperatures needed to ensure that the microorganisms in food have a full blown hootenanny. (I must confess that I've always wanted to use veritable cornucopia in a written passage, but never did I think I'd get to use it in the same sentence with Hootenanny ! Monday is starting out much better than anticipated!)
Once the studying was complete, it was time to get the cocktail hour of our evening underway. The nibbles planned for this evening included a classic shrimp cocktail and some sort of cheese and crackers.
When the cooked and frozen shrimp were mostly defrosted, I noticed that there were some odd white markings on the little critters which I couldn't identify. At first, Jack and I thought that it was due to the shrimp being overcooked prior to freezing. While staring at the thawing crustaceans sitting in the colander in the sink, my mind went back to my safe serve homework. Which disease was it that could make you sick regardless of whether the ocean tidbit in question was cooked and then frozen and then reheated? Even more troublesome was remembering what the symptoms were if you were infected? Was it merely fever and chills we'd have to endure or was it the very disturbing and painfully upsetting stomach issues?!?!
After throwing the mostly thawed shrimp into the garbage, we decided to abandon our cocktail hour and I started chopping carrots to go with our soon to be grilled steaks.
I'd chosen carrots as a side dish because I thought I'd be a responsible culinary student and practice my knife skills. Jack was happy because, well, he likes carrots. So, I started peeling a pound or two of carrots and begin practicing. All was going well and I began to feel as though I'd not only retained all the recently learned skills, I had now mastered them.
If you've never spent a significant amount of time cutting one vegetable, I will tell you that it is no different than any other tedious and time consuming task such as filing or rolling up a jar of pennies. It's not terribly difficult and after one file is filed, one role of pennies is rolled or one carrot is chopped, you set yourself up to do it all over again. And again. And again. To make this time go faster, your mind goes on a trip if you don't have music playing or someone to talk to which keeps your mind it in it's place, namely, on the task at hand. It's here at this point that I started thinking of the diseases conjured up by the white markings on the shrimp. Which then made me wonder if the same markings would appear on cooked lobsters or crab. The crabs made me think of a recent episode of The Deadliest Catch I watched where these crab fisherman were out in these awful seas with seventy foot waves all so that I could make crab cakes. Mmmmm, crab cakes, when did I have them last? That made me think of what the filming of that show must really be like and did these rugged men worry about how they looked on camera? That led my flibbertigibbet of a mind to shaving and razor blades because I remembered one guy on the boat was clean shaven and then the others we're all scruffy which made me then wonder how in the hell you shave on a boat being hit by 70 foot waves with out cutting your face up, AND, if you did cut your face up, would you then put toilet paper scarps on all those cuts and risk being ridiculed by the other fisherman or would you man-up and show how burly and manly you were while the salt water spray burned and potentially scarred your face?!?! I was now no longer in my kitchen cutting carrots, but, on a boat in the middle of the treacherous sea off the coast of Alaska searching for the answer to this life altering question. Once I solved this most dire equation, I would share this highly prized information to my new fisherman friends, thus saving many a nicked face, countless roles of toilet paper and then be showered with an endless supply of Dungeness Crab.
I took a triumphant breath and realized I was back in my kitchen. I THANKFULLY stopped what it was I was doing so that I could look and see what it was I was REALLY doing. The very sharp and shiny blade of my new knife was in place to slice not only my carrot but a sizable piece of a finger. I put my shiny new knife down, looked in the living room to see if Jack was awake (he was passed out napping)and stepped away from the cutting board and went on to our front porch where there was no chance of my taking off a finger. It was here that I sat, looking at my finger and being very thankful that it was still in one piece. My mind then prepared for departure on it's next voyage to the thoughts of what would have happened if I had chopped my finger off just moments ago! Would I have screamed like a five year old? Would I pass out from the sight of my finger laying among the carrots? What would I tell Jack? Would I be able to play the piano again? Oh I really should dust the piano after dinner. And then SMACK! My inner voice, very in touch with reality and tired of being led on daydreams and random thoughts by it's flakey neighbor, bitch-slapped my wandering mind and screamed at it to sit down, shut up and let me finish the friggin' carrots and get the steaks on the grill for dinner.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Kibbles and Bits and Sliced Finger Tips
KNIFE CLASS....ROCKED!!!!! I love sharp pointy things!!!
We met the other Chef teaching us in this Module or "Mod" as they refer to them and he was a straight shooting New Yorker who clearly was not going to be putting up with any crap. He came right out with what he expected of us, what we were NOT to do and how we were going to be able to succeed. He sort of reminded me of Denis Leary - same voice and attitude. He was awesome. He was also fair and approachable.
After a brief classroom session where we were instructed on the propper way to carry a knife when walking (held with point facing down, parallel to your leg) and to be sure yell the word "KNIFE" when coming anywhere near someone while carrying it. As well as using the word "BEHIND" if you were walking, well, behind someone. This, it turns out was to provide a HUGE use for us later in the evening.
Then he demo'd the cuts we were to practice using a carrot. First a Julienne then that to be cut into a Brunoise - this looked like little carrot specs... itty bitty - sort of like the bits in Kibbles and Bits). The next carrot was to be cut into a Batonnet (A larger julienne and then into a small dice. This looked roughly the size of the Kibble in Kibble and Bits).
With that he sent us to our individual cutting boards and we were off to start using our Point Sharp Objects! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
(This next section maybe a touch graphic - for those with a weak stomach, you have been warned.)
So, with my new the new 8 inch chef knife, I set to work on my cuts. As I was three quarters done with my first carrot, I heard "I'M CUT CHEF". One of my classmates forgot to curl his finger holding the carrot and apparently sliced off the tip of his finger - and left it on the knife. First casualty. With his station cleaned and him safely swept away for medical care we resumed cutting.
I had now finished both carrots. We were then given another demo of more cuts including the diagonal cut. Back to our boards and more cutting. It took less than three minutes for "I'M CUT CHEF" to come again. I think this time another classmate focused on how she was holding the knife and not so much on where the blade was going. A little slice into the finger... she was given first aid, station cleaned and she resumed. Two minutes after that a little feminine "EEEEK" followed by a knife hitting the ground. (Oh yeah, the other safety rule learned "A Falling Knife Has No Handle". If you drop a knife DO NOT TRY AND CATCH IT). Apparently this classmate had fogotten to cut her nails as instructed... I am glad to report there was no blood nor on her station and after further inspection by the Chef there were no nail trimmings in the carrot pile.
All these veggies were being chopped for a stock we were making for future use. Chef then pointed out that the cleaning list was up and apparently, I remained as one of the Sous Chefs. (The rotation may last a month) So, I started asking people if they would mind starting with their designated tasks as soon as they were finished with their current assignment and got started. If you closed your eyes and listened you really only heard "KNIFE" "BEHIND" or "BEHIND" "KNIFE"... soon it sounded like "KNIFE IN YOUR BEHIND"... With the 20 people shouting "KNIFE" it was reminiscent of a Tarantino movie.
By 9:50pm that kitchen was spotless and I have to say, as a team we kicked butt! The Chef and I walked the kitchen reviewing the list and he then turned to me, pulled me aside said we were done in here and it was my responsibility to get everyone into the classroom. So, off to the class we went. Chef followed and said we had done an awesome job. He also said that he was impressed with how we worked together and how well we cleaned and then he singled me out. Apparently, I'd done my role as Sous Chef exactly as I was supposed to without being told. He said because of that and our team work we were getting out early. Then he said they could all blame me going forward as everyone will be taking a turn as Sous Chef and that I'd set the bar high.
All in all, it was a great night! I have a ton of reading and a report to do on the Chef of my choice. I've chosen Antonin Careme who was considered back in the late 1700's to be the first Celebrity Chef.
We met the other Chef teaching us in this Module or "Mod" as they refer to them and he was a straight shooting New Yorker who clearly was not going to be putting up with any crap. He came right out with what he expected of us, what we were NOT to do and how we were going to be able to succeed. He sort of reminded me of Denis Leary - same voice and attitude. He was awesome. He was also fair and approachable.
After a brief classroom session where we were instructed on the propper way to carry a knife when walking (held with point facing down, parallel to your leg) and to be sure yell the word "KNIFE" when coming anywhere near someone while carrying it. As well as using the word "BEHIND" if you were walking, well, behind someone. This, it turns out was to provide a HUGE use for us later in the evening.
Then he demo'd the cuts we were to practice using a carrot. First a Julienne then that to be cut into a Brunoise - this looked like little carrot specs... itty bitty - sort of like the bits in Kibbles and Bits). The next carrot was to be cut into a Batonnet (A larger julienne and then into a small dice. This looked roughly the size of the Kibble in Kibble and Bits).
With that he sent us to our individual cutting boards and we were off to start using our Point Sharp Objects! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
(This next section maybe a touch graphic - for those with a weak stomach, you have been warned.)
So, with my new the new 8 inch chef knife, I set to work on my cuts. As I was three quarters done with my first carrot, I heard "I'M CUT CHEF". One of my classmates forgot to curl his finger holding the carrot and apparently sliced off the tip of his finger - and left it on the knife. First casualty. With his station cleaned and him safely swept away for medical care we resumed cutting.
I had now finished both carrots. We were then given another demo of more cuts including the diagonal cut. Back to our boards and more cutting. It took less than three minutes for "I'M CUT CHEF" to come again. I think this time another classmate focused on how she was holding the knife and not so much on where the blade was going. A little slice into the finger... she was given first aid, station cleaned and she resumed. Two minutes after that a little feminine "EEEEK" followed by a knife hitting the ground. (Oh yeah, the other safety rule learned "A Falling Knife Has No Handle". If you drop a knife DO NOT TRY AND CATCH IT). Apparently this classmate had fogotten to cut her nails as instructed... I am glad to report there was no blood nor on her station and after further inspection by the Chef there were no nail trimmings in the carrot pile.
All these veggies were being chopped for a stock we were making for future use. Chef then pointed out that the cleaning list was up and apparently, I remained as one of the Sous Chefs. (The rotation may last a month) So, I started asking people if they would mind starting with their designated tasks as soon as they were finished with their current assignment and got started. If you closed your eyes and listened you really only heard "KNIFE" "BEHIND" or "BEHIND" "KNIFE"... soon it sounded like "KNIFE IN YOUR BEHIND"... With the 20 people shouting "KNIFE" it was reminiscent of a Tarantino movie.
By 9:50pm that kitchen was spotless and I have to say, as a team we kicked butt! The Chef and I walked the kitchen reviewing the list and he then turned to me, pulled me aside said we were done in here and it was my responsibility to get everyone into the classroom. So, off to the class we went. Chef followed and said we had done an awesome job. He also said that he was impressed with how we worked together and how well we cleaned and then he singled me out. Apparently, I'd done my role as Sous Chef exactly as I was supposed to without being told. He said because of that and our team work we were getting out early. Then he said they could all blame me going forward as everyone will be taking a turn as Sous Chef and that I'd set the bar high.
All in all, it was a great night! I have a ton of reading and a report to do on the Chef of my choice. I've chosen Antonin Careme who was considered back in the late 1700's to be the first Celebrity Chef.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
A Bevy of Buttery Biscuits
Last night was our first night in the kitchen. I'm in love. No doubt about it. I'd say we were taking it slow, but, the kitchen and I are smitten. I think we were obvious about it too. People will talk.
We had a brief classroom session and then into the kitchen to get to work on biscuits! The chef started with a demo on using the counter weight to scale out(measure) our ingredients. Not having worked in a professional bakery, we were taught that in this setting, measurements are not in cups or tablespoons but rather in pounds and ounces. I kid you not when I tell you that there was nothing funnier than the look of frustration on all of our faces trying to figure out how to measure small ingredients on these scales. Being that the code of conduct in this kitchen includes no swearing, it definitely added to the hilarity. I will tell you, if there had been a lip reader in the kitchen they would have had a field day with the creative expletives being muttered oh so quietly under our breath. 75% of the evening was used for our ten teams to measure out under ten ingredients. The kitchens have big glass windows around them so anyone passing by can look in or when preparing dishes for family and friends they can watch. Judging by the look of the upper class men laughing at us while we were doing this, I can only assume that this was a right of passage.
Once we were all measured, the Chef demonstrated the proper technique for mixing, kneading, cutting and placing on the lined baking sheets. We followed suit in our teams of two and then popped them into the oven. Once they were done, we had to taste and critique our biscuits. Overall, a success. I brought two home and gave them to Jack. He had them for breakfast and I believe they were a mild success!
The Chef explained that cleaning the kitchen after every class was our responsibility as it would be in any professional kitchen. Therefore, he was to put up a list with our individual responsibilities. Once we were done cooking, the list wasn't up, and we all just started cleaning. Midway through, the list went up. On top of the list are the Sous Chef's for the day. These two people are responsible for being the ones to help the Chef supervise and be sure all is being done. I had the daunting task of being one of these two people for our first class. So, I sucked it up, tried my best to keep everyone positive and am happy to report that we aced our cleaning and we're let out early for good behaviour! All in all - A GREAT NIGHT!
Tonight is going to be even better - I GET TO PLAY WITH POINTY THINGS! Our first knife class! Look the update tomorrow morning!
Happy Cooking!!!!!
We had a brief classroom session and then into the kitchen to get to work on biscuits! The chef started with a demo on using the counter weight to scale out(measure) our ingredients. Not having worked in a professional bakery, we were taught that in this setting, measurements are not in cups or tablespoons but rather in pounds and ounces. I kid you not when I tell you that there was nothing funnier than the look of frustration on all of our faces trying to figure out how to measure small ingredients on these scales. Being that the code of conduct in this kitchen includes no swearing, it definitely added to the hilarity. I will tell you, if there had been a lip reader in the kitchen they would have had a field day with the creative expletives being muttered oh so quietly under our breath. 75% of the evening was used for our ten teams to measure out under ten ingredients. The kitchens have big glass windows around them so anyone passing by can look in or when preparing dishes for family and friends they can watch. Judging by the look of the upper class men laughing at us while we were doing this, I can only assume that this was a right of passage.
Once we were all measured, the Chef demonstrated the proper technique for mixing, kneading, cutting and placing on the lined baking sheets. We followed suit in our teams of two and then popped them into the oven. Once they were done, we had to taste and critique our biscuits. Overall, a success. I brought two home and gave them to Jack. He had them for breakfast and I believe they were a mild success!
The Chef explained that cleaning the kitchen after every class was our responsibility as it would be in any professional kitchen. Therefore, he was to put up a list with our individual responsibilities. Once we were done cooking, the list wasn't up, and we all just started cleaning. Midway through, the list went up. On top of the list are the Sous Chef's for the day. These two people are responsible for being the ones to help the Chef supervise and be sure all is being done. I had the daunting task of being one of these two people for our first class. So, I sucked it up, tried my best to keep everyone positive and am happy to report that we aced our cleaning and we're let out early for good behaviour! All in all - A GREAT NIGHT!
Tonight is going to be even better - I GET TO PLAY WITH POINTY THINGS! Our first knife class! Look the update tomorrow morning!
Happy Cooking!!!!!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Food Safety, Intro to Culinary and a Knife Kit
Hi Everyone,
First night of culinary class and all is well! I am happy to report my new hours at work seemed to succeed in allowing me to get to school on time, even in I-95 Traffic!
Shockingly, our first night of class had already "weeded" some people out. We had between 27-30 that were signed up for the night classes at orientation and yet on our first night we were down to 20. However, looking at the schedule and syllabus, it's not a program to be taken lightly!
After getting a refresher on acceptable/required behaviour, attitude and needed mind set to survive the program we were given our knife kit. ME LIKEY! It's the sexiest inannimate thing I've ever been given by a stranger! It's a three layered soft kit that is filled with so many treasures I had to shove my fist in my mouth to keep from squealing like a stuck pig. I'll be sure to get some pic's of the kit on the blog soon!
After we all finished cleaning up the drool pools caused by the knife kit, we foraged into the world of food safety. I have barely dipped my toe into this section and already see that it's going to require a strong constitution. The Chef leading the class warned that we will never look at food service establishments the same way again. He's right. From the little we started with there's already a touch of the oogies going on in my stomach. I'm thinking this must be what nurses and doctors go through when studying diseases. No matter where you look, it's hard to shake the feeling that there's some cranky bit of bacteria waiting to screw your day. So, that being said, I promis NOT to elaborate on what we're learning but I will say this: WASH YOUR HANDS AS OFTEN AS YOU CAN!
So, all in all, it was a very interesting and informative class. We did get some homework assignments which, being the over achieving brat that I am, I just about finished during our breaks last night. Instead of going for a walk or out for air, I stayed in class and got about 80-90% completed. Next class is Wednesday night and it's all about baking. Apparently, BISCUITS are on the menu!
Tonight, Jack and I are having grilled cow and sweet potatoes after we go to the gym.
HAVE A GREAT DAY & HAPPY COOKING!
First night of culinary class and all is well! I am happy to report my new hours at work seemed to succeed in allowing me to get to school on time, even in I-95 Traffic!
Shockingly, our first night of class had already "weeded" some people out. We had between 27-30 that were signed up for the night classes at orientation and yet on our first night we were down to 20. However, looking at the schedule and syllabus, it's not a program to be taken lightly!
After getting a refresher on acceptable/required behaviour, attitude and needed mind set to survive the program we were given our knife kit. ME LIKEY! It's the sexiest inannimate thing I've ever been given by a stranger! It's a three layered soft kit that is filled with so many treasures I had to shove my fist in my mouth to keep from squealing like a stuck pig. I'll be sure to get some pic's of the kit on the blog soon!
After we all finished cleaning up the drool pools caused by the knife kit, we foraged into the world of food safety. I have barely dipped my toe into this section and already see that it's going to require a strong constitution. The Chef leading the class warned that we will never look at food service establishments the same way again. He's right. From the little we started with there's already a touch of the oogies going on in my stomach. I'm thinking this must be what nurses and doctors go through when studying diseases. No matter where you look, it's hard to shake the feeling that there's some cranky bit of bacteria waiting to screw your day. So, that being said, I promis NOT to elaborate on what we're learning but I will say this: WASH YOUR HANDS AS OFTEN AS YOU CAN!
So, all in all, it was a very interesting and informative class. We did get some homework assignments which, being the over achieving brat that I am, I just about finished during our breaks last night. Instead of going for a walk or out for air, I stayed in class and got about 80-90% completed. Next class is Wednesday night and it's all about baking. Apparently, BISCUITS are on the menu!
Tonight, Jack and I are having grilled cow and sweet potatoes after we go to the gym.
HAVE A GREAT DAY & HAPPY COOKING!
Monday, April 27, 2009
First Day Of Culinary School
Tonight is my first class at culinary school and I'm pretty excited! Orientation was last week and they are pretty strict about the way things are run. Just as it was in high school, if you're late 2-3x to class it counts as an absence. A certain amount of absences and you receive an incomplete. Although in this case, one incomplete means EVERY subject in the semester has to be taken over again regardless of your grade. Oh, and if you fail a class, you have to redo the ENTIRE semester all over again, including the classes you passed. So, let's just say I'm going to be working my butt off.
It was recommended that we get "wheeley" briefcases for books and knife kits. Apparently we get a fair amount of books with considerable weight a piece and the knife kit is apparently not light as a feather, so, Jack and I went out and found an appropriate wheeley cart to save my shoulders. I'm interested to see how many books I'll get. Truth be told, I'll probably be up all night playing with the knife kit!!!
So, there will be an update later tonight after class and then updates after every class and once or twice on the weekend!
If you have any questions, shoot 'em on over!!!
Cook Away!
It was recommended that we get "wheeley" briefcases for books and knife kits. Apparently we get a fair amount of books with considerable weight a piece and the knife kit is apparently not light as a feather, so, Jack and I went out and found an appropriate wheeley cart to save my shoulders. I'm interested to see how many books I'll get. Truth be told, I'll probably be up all night playing with the knife kit!!!
So, there will be an update later tonight after class and then updates after every class and once or twice on the weekend!
If you have any questions, shoot 'em on over!!!
Cook Away!
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