Day 4

We started making brown stock today. Roasted bones, added veg (mirepoix) and tomato paste.

Very exciting. Not really but I did like the smell. Here is a close up, don't wet yourself.

So after this little party was toasty we drained off some of the fat for safety before moving the sheet pan. Please note that the draining part what with the sheet pan BENDING did not feel safe at all. But I lived. I was pretty sure that the man who stands next to me and was helping me carry it was going to send me to the ER but he did not end up disfiguring me. Yes, I am grateful too. So we then just let it cool down and chilled it til tomorrow. Big beef brown stock day. TGI bbbsday. Then we made soup. Broccoli soup, actually.


See my cute little bouquet garni in the corner? Its so cute and little and tidy. Okay the string is a little sloppy. I'll do better tomorrow. I started my soup with pommace oil and a sweat of white mirepoix (leek, onion, celery). I then added broccoli, bouquet garni, and chicken stock. It simmered, and before it was done I added a touch of cream. I pureed that shit up in a vita mix and then simmered again and added roux for thickening. I chinoised (I'm sure that's a word) and reseasoned. It was boring. Great texture, good flavor but boring. The ones I liked best thickened at the beginning with flour or potato and then discarded extra liquid when pureeing to adjust thickness. Damn. I was grumpy about it for a solid hour or so. I did enjoy taking it to go, though.


Then we started working on fancy cuts again. This time on potato. So same routine as yesterday but on a much softer vegetable. Much easier. Next on to segmenting citrus. I have done this before and I have to say that the first time I did it I was amazed at the beautiful little shiny juicy pockets. Today I still enjoyed it but it wasn't like the first time. Is it ever?

Up tomorrow: I will murder a lobster to make a delicious bisque. Dessert, anyone?

Day 3

That my friends is a roux.

So we had very little lecture today. Almost all WORK! YEA! This is what I really enjoy. My classmates and I set up and began our first roux. Well, our first roux at school with a pro french man watching over our shoulder. I wish I could tell you that it was advanced and very professional. But not so much. Just 1 to 1 fat and flour. Heat fat. Add flour. Stir and simmer at least 3 min. Take off heat when desired color is reached. Meh. Now fish stock (fumet)- Thats way more exciting. Especially the part where you hack up the skeleton of an 80 pound halibut with a cleaver bigger than your head. I loved it. Felt real primitive like. So, after the hacking you just set up your mirepoix and then begin sweating the bones. Ratio of bones to mirepoix is 2/3 to 1/3. Let bones sweat and then add mirepoix. Sweat and then deglaze with white wine. Add water and bouquet garni and simmer for about 45 min. You must skim and degrease all the while. Chef said you have to treat the stock like you are making love to it. Would that be tender and sweet or rough and sweaty? My guess is the former. After the lovefest we worked very seriously on fancy cuts. These were done on a carrot. Have you tried cutting carrots into booger sized pieces? It fucking sucks. At first. My first carrots were mangled and awful and I was really concerned as I thought I was okay with knives. It was rough. By the end my bicep was tired and I was seeing double orange booger cubes. They were dancing around and laughing at me. Okay no but it was classic when I was stuck as to how to make one of the cuts and I look up at the girl in front of me and she was just staring at the carrot as well, waiting for it to tell her what to do next. She looked up and we just laughed at ourselves. Duuuuhhhhhhh.

I am assigned trash duty this week so I schlepped the bags and boxes out and that was day 3.

So my embarrasing moment of the day was at lunch. I brought my lunch and ate it with everyone else and used one of the forks from the school. I was finished and placed my tupperware back in my bag absentmindedly with the school fork. Chef asked me if I had brought that fork with me to school? I was immediately flustered and was like "no, I just didn't think". He sort of laughed? and then I was like, great he thinks I want old forks. I really can't do that again.

Tomorrow? A broccoli soup.

Day 2

We had another day of mostly lecture. Chef led us through spices, peppercorns, salts (I had never heard of curing salt-with nitrites added to it), cooking fats, and produce. I get REAL excited about produce so I was very chatty during that part of our class. I then felt insecure and annoying and was sure I might just be asked to never talk again during lecture. Its paranoid. I know. I'm trying to get over it. So then chef lectured about mirepoix and its variations, roux, and how to clarify butter (low heat, skim, ladle off pure butter, discard solids). He then moved on to stocks and the many variations of brown, chicken, veg and fish stocks. He explained demi glace and sauce espagnole. Then we got to move. The energy in the room picked up as we set up our stations for the first time. We laid out our knives and waited at the ready for our first hands on lesson. Then chef proceeded to chop an onion into pieces smaller than I have ever seen. They were like onion mist I tell you. I'm not kidding. Mine finished smaller than I started so I guess that is progress. I will need to practice cutting so fine. I like the french word he used for mincing: cisele. After our short knife lesson we clarified butter. Simple task that smelled nice. I always wondered how much butter you got after you removed the solids. We lost about 40 percent of the weight. Our last task was to make a quick slurry of cornstarch and water to the consistency of heavy cream. It was strange. The mixture went from seized and stiff to watery. I had to adjust it a good deal to work out the texture. By the time I finished I had a slurry big enough for the world's largest pot of soup. Meh. I can't wait to do more actual work, though. I am of course scared and intimidated too (what if I have no creativity and make paste everyday?). "What if" is a terrible game to play in one's head and I know better. I assume its just going to take time to adjust to a very regular routine and find a groove in it. I did make a kick ass green veg curry and Thai chicken thighs tonight for dinner. The chicken takes a short marinade in chile powder, brown sugar, fish sauce, garlic, and cilantro. Sounds real random but once sauteed tastes fantastic.

Due up tomorrow: Roux, Fish Fumet (stock), and more knife skills

FIRST DAY!!!!!

The first day of school came so quick. What with a weekend in vegas to get me focused. Nothing like vegas to balance you out. Real sober-like. But not to worry. I was ready and not hungover this morning in my freshly ironed uniform. My husband sweetly made me a fried egg for breakfast and a cup of tea. I didn't expect fireworks today at school and we there weren't any. We had lecture all day on topics of safety and sanitation, conversions and kitchens. It wasn't boring but it was a little tedious by the end of our day. I will be thankful to chop onions tomorrow.
My classmates' personalities are unfolding and I have been watching people with interest. Only 2 of our class are there for enjoyment, the rest are there to shift careers. I was suprised by how many were taking that leap and at their varied ages and previous job experience; military, marketing, sales, and psychology to mention a few.
So its time to talk about the 2 times I was embarrased enough to get bright red cheeks and feel tongue tied. First it was when my notebook slid off the shelf and slid onto the floor. I know it sounds real simple and not important but I really don't like to make any sort of scene on like the first day of school/work/relationship/date. You get it. So then a few minutes later my shitty pen lid fell off and slid onto the same place on the floor and the chef said "Jennifer is dropping things all over the place". Great. I am the girl who drops stuff. The next moment was when he was talking about our suppliers for the school who deliver our varied produce, meats, and supplies. I asked if the meat supplier also provided offal. He looks at me like I might just be speaking an extinct dialect. He says "What? I have never heard of that word before. What is it?" I looked around the class and repeated myself "Offal?" Several of the class nodded and repeated. That was sort of a relief. He then said "I have not heard of this word". I am not sure how I feel about the fact that he had not known this word. Did other students not talk or inquire about it? Is it not a strong culinary trend? Maybe he just didn't understand me (He is French) (and has an accent). I did feel stupid, though. So in short, I hope I didn't come across as weird and clumsy. One or the other is forgivable, but both...yeesh. This could be a daily feature: what embarrassing moment did I have today?
Oh, and I did find out that chef has sort of bad breath.

Back to School...

So I have to submit an essay of 1 to 2 pages to my chef before I start school on Monday. It is supposed to be about me and where I'm coming from. I've been procrastinating for a month. Its real long I think. But I like it. I might go back and change stuff before I send it this weekend. Hope he likes to read. Here it is:

I, Jennifer, was born and raised here in Orange County. It was an imaginative and outdoor upbringing filled with sunshine, laughter, and exploration. I certainly leaned towards the arts as a young girl, baking pies for the fair in lieu of kicking soccer balls (or getting them kicked at me). Some of my favorite things to do were to raise and show rabbits, go to summer camp, and dance with my friends. I begged my parents to take me to actual dance lessons until finally they caved, allowing an inflexible 12 year old to jump headfirst into what would be a torrid love affair spanning the next 15 years.
I danced at all times possible. Class and movement and music and training were the most important things. I attended an all-girl catholic high school where I had to put in serious hours as well, leaving little time to get in trouble. This was a good thing. I followed my love to UCI and began there to understand what foundation really meant. I had passion, joy, and style, but soft foundation. With an intense and rigorous schedule juggling rehearsals, academics, dance technique classes, and teaching my own classes I felt alive and competent. I was learning and teaching, giving and taking. I finished school early, ahead of my peers, and backpacked through Europe for my last semester. It was there that I seriously fell in love with food. I incredulously asked “All of this bread gets made BY HAND?” and “People like cheese THIS STINKY?” Wine pairings, serious seasonality, and cult food obsessions were not part of my daily life. These things were new and fascinating. I loved them all and the artisans who made them. It would be some time before I came back to think about these questions again. But happily, I did. I left for New York City the morning after I graduated UCI.
New York ages you faster than you expect. Possibly dog years fast. I was there for about 2 years and might as well just have lived for 14 anywhere else. I danced, auditioned, waited tables and learned how to layer clothes for cold weather (the last one is more important than one might think if you are from southern California and your idea of warm shoes are closed toe). I found myself looking to connect with friends over meals and outings and ended up spending time with my fellow restaurant staff friends more than I expected as the dancer friends didn’t eat. We would spend a few weeks searching out the “best of” any number of foods including pizza, steak, and margaritas (if you eat chips with margaritas it is considered a food group). A few of us decided to make thanksgiving dinner together. We used memory for recipes and an ironing board for counter space. Bob Marley played and we improvised. It was creative and wonderful. One of the best times I had ever had in the kitchen, even though we had no roasting rack and jacked up our bird on piles of silverware. All of these wonderful tastes and even my desire to take cooking classes were not enough for me to leave my leotards and work in a kitchen. I didn’t know you could change paths that way. I did know that you could move to San Francisco, closer to family, and still dance.
I don’t know if it is because of the cloud of culinary smug that sits over San Francisco or not, but those outdoor markets just suck you in. Next thing I knew I was sourcing ingredients all over the bay area in between ballet and my modern dance class. It was green and lush and full of food energy. My new lover, food, was moving in to my studio apartment with great gusto. I googled recipes and watched the food network. It was magical courtship. I ate at House of Nanking and Chez Panisse in the same weekend. Napa Valley was only an hour away. My head was spinning with this new found fascination and I was tiring of teaching at the dance studio there for little pay. I was offered a job here in so cal by the studio that I first danced at. I moved the next month.
It took me five years to build the training company that I just left. If I could have been in culinary school while doing so, I don’t know that I would have. Maybe the two lovers would not have gotten along. Maybe they would not have minded sharing my time. But I am loyal and devoted and even felt dance being edged out by food and cooking in these past few years. I felt frustrated that I had to prepare choreography and design costumes instead of poach salmon or dissect chickens. My favorite project was Le Cordon Bleu at Home, a cookbook I am still determined to cook every recipe from. I kept a journal of these endeavors and love to look back at the ambitious menus that can take a few days from start to finish. I didn’t mind the wait or work so I went to work for a natural foods grocery store in my spare time. I said I wanted to learn how to cook and then was hired as part of the marketing team. I would help with catering projects, perform cooking demonstrations, create recipes to feature new products and serve special diet needs, and then of course all of the other things you have to do in marketing that I wasn’t as interested in. I was so lucky to have those 2 years to learn about ingredients and producers. It put me in touch with environmental issues and food chain dynamics. It was like a mini food/earth school.
After leaving the foods store, (they wanted my time to be theirs, and I did not want to leave teaching yet), I slowly began researching schools. I did not consider this school first as I had never really heard of it. The more looking I did the more I found out about my own food foundations. I never gave notice to the small seasonal changes that I did grow up with in my home in Orange County; the abundance of zucchini in summer, as well as tomatoes, herbs and plums. Tangerines, first strawberries, and year round lemons, both eureka and meyer. Some of my first memorable restaurant meals including swordfish at Chez Panisse at about 10 years old (“Does the fish REALLY have a sword?”) and sizzling rice soup at a local Chinese place. Magical things happen in those kitchens, I was sure of it. Food had been with me before I had realized I was in love. Like some sort of romantic comedy with the silent best friend. A few months in Europe at 22 just blew my mind open to it. I am ready to dive headfirst into this continuing adventure. I can’t wait to be a student again and I am so grateful that I am able to attend school. I hope to bring my passion, joy, and style to the kitchen.

Mild Anxiety

So starting culinary school is similar to starting regular schools in that you need a few supplies. Like notebooks and sharpies. However, at my school they give you some of the supplies. Like the biggest cookbook I have ever held. And some really sharp looking knives in a super smug case. I will officially piss off all friends and family by showing up at parties and such with said knife case. They also give you uniforms. I haven't picked mine up yet but I might today. I will not be altering it. Unless I lose like 20 pounds. Which you never know might happen out of nowhere maybe...not. School does give you a list of recommended reading. I have read many of the titles including the best food writing, and michael ruhlman, and the french laundry and heat. But I have not read Kitchen Spanish: A Quick Phrase Guide of Kitchen and Culinary. I find that funny. Not that spanish is unnecessary (as here in socal I use it everyday) but that the school recommends it as reading. I imagine like a high school textbook dialogue but in kitchen settings.
"Hola, me llamo Paco"
"Hola Paco, por favor dame el cuchara"
I have a feeling it won't be so entertaining. So in between reading up and gathering the few supplies I am left to clean up my house and have mild anxiety. I have no idea where this will lead and I am really tired of hearing myself say that to people. The anxiety will pass, I am sure. I hope it takes with it my mild obsessings on where I will end up when its all done. In between musings I spent the weekend camping and cooking food outdoors with just fire and some basics. I whipped up some random yet tasty potato pancakes that I recommend to any camper or thrifty cook. I used leftover baked potatoes and mashed them up with eggs, greek yogurt, sauteed onion, raw green onion, grill seasoning, and salt. I pan fried them in a small amount of olive oil and butter and topped them with more greek yogurt. My husband, the smug eagle scout, said that I would have earned my cooking badge at scout camp. I was really excited about that.

Just another day

If you don't have a job and haven't started school yet then a three day weekend is just your average day. It really takes the juice out of a holiday. Especially one that involves laying around, swimming, eating and drinking. Meh. I did manage to do all of those things well and cook a few solid meals. We watched the usc game with friends and made Ina Garten's chicken ceasar sandwiches and heirloom tomato salad with blue cheese dressing. Tomatoes from farmer dave in placentia cannot be beat. Sorry mom. They are gorgeous and grown without chemicals. Love him. So sandwiches were great. Salad was outrageously summery good. If you haven't cooked any of her (barefoot contessa) recipes you need to. They are solid, easy, and generally delicious. I love how they translate to entertaining. Easy to present and make ahead. The sandwich is roast chicken breast, sundried tomatoes, arugula, ceasar spread (like a dressing), parmesan cheese, and toasted ciabatta. Tomatoes are simply sliced and drizzled with blue cheese dressing. Her recipe obviously includes cheese, mayo and heavy cream. The cream is just to make sure it's good. And it was. You could half the dressing recipe though for sure.

If you are sitting around your house trying to find things to occupy you other than cleaning you could try making pickles. I have not yet figured it out. I keep making different takes on the kind that don't require the canning process as I don't have canning salt or special lids. Today I am making a daikon, carrot, cucumber pickle with ginger. I like the colors, I like ginger. By late afternoon we will see how this all comes together.

I also made shortbread this weekend. I used the ina garten recipe since it seemed simplest and I didn't feel like chopping and toasting nuts between laying around, playing wii, and drinking beers. Shortbread is so easy. I think I would like a ginger shortbread variation. Or a pinenut rosemary one. I need that recipe for the one at Pizzeria Mozza. That shit is tight. Mine were larger than I liked. I would make them way smaller next time. The thickness made them seem more cakey less cookiey. They were a lovely white sand color with pretty fluted edges though. I plan on eating one with tea later.