Soufflés are special…
I was on the phone with my grandparents a few days ago telling them about the last couple of weeks in school and the goings-on in Paris. I was telling my grandpa that there are very few recipes I have made at school that I will ever make again. That is, if I want to live past the age of 30! Then I told him about the Grand Marnier soufflé we just saw in demo, and he immediately said, "well, you better make that again!"
And without a doubt, there is something special about soufflés. They can be savory or sweet and come from the french verb, souffler, which means "to blow up" or "to puff up." They must be served and eaten immediately--oven to the table--or you will witness the sad deflated remnants of a former soufflé…a tragic sight!
So, in the name of things I will surely make again, here are two soufflé recipes for you to try. The first is the cheese soufflé in honor of my dear friend and first visitor from home, Anne-Marie. Lucky for me, she did a one night stop-over in Paris while she and her husband were in London. We had an amazing time catching up and it was so, so nice to see someone from home. (It was also great having her here because she speaks fluent French!) And, like a soufflé, her visit was amazing but all too short-lived. Thanks to my crazy school schedule, I had no time to cook for Anne-Marie, but next time I see her I think a cheese soufflé should be on the menu!
Cheese Soufflé pour mon amie, Anne-Marie
40 g unsalted butter
40 g flour
250 mL milk
100 g gruyere, grated (plus some to sprinkle on top)
3 egg yolks
5 egg whites, stiffly beaten
pinch of salt
nutmeg
Preheat your oven to 350-degrees and immediately put a baking sheet on the bottom rack and remove other racks to allow room for your soufflé to rise. Butter and flour a 1.5-qt. soufflé dish. Brush on the butter in vertical strokes, the same direction the soufflé will rise. Put the mold in the fridge.
Prepare your béchamel: melt the butter in a saute pan over medium heat. Do not let the butter take on any color. Remove from the heat while you whisk in the flour. Put the roux back on the heat to cook off the flour taste. When the roux no longer smells of flour, add cold milk and whisk continually until the mixture thickens into béchamel sauce. When thick, grate in some fresh nutmeg, add salt and pepper. Taste and adjust seasoning. Remove from heat and whisk in egg yolks. Cover with plastic wrap in direct contact with the sauce so it won't form a skin. Set aside, do not let get cold.
Add cold egg whites with a pinch of salt to your stand mixer and whip until stiff.
Transfer the béchamel to a mixing bowl, add cheese and whisk. Then add 1/3 of the beaten egg whites and whisk together until smooth. Gently add another 1/3 of the egg whites and fold in with a rubber spatula. (No whisk at this point!) Then add the last third, and stop when the mixture is just combined. Careful not to tap the bowl and try to deflate the egg whites as little as possible when mixing.
Gently lift out the soufflé mixture into the butter & floured dish with a ladle or a pastry scraper. Fill the dish 8/10 of the way to the top. Careful not to dribble any on the sides or rim, it will stop the soufflé from rising evenly. Sprinkle the top (in the center, not near the edges) with a bit of the grated cheese.
Place the dish on the hot baking sheet on the bottom rack of the oven and bake for about 15-20 minutes. When the top is a nice brown color, use your knife to test whether it is cooked through. Pierce the side of the soufflé, near the rim of the dish, and go all the way into the center. If the knife comes out clean, it's ready!
Serve immediately…have your trivet ready on the table!
And, now for souffle no. 2…
As soon as I saw the chef demonstrate how to make a Grand Marnier soufflé, I knew someday I would be making it for my Uncle Gary. He is a true gourmand who loves to eat and eat well. One of my earliest memories with him was eating mussels for the first time at the Cadeux Cafe, or going to old Joe Muir's with his parents, "Pops & Ginia." Ginia was a good cook and loved to laugh. Pops loved to eat and loved his wife. And the apple doesn't fall far from the tree : ) Just before I left for Paris, our family was sitting around the table playing the last supper game, and this was Gary's dessert. May it be far from your last supper, Gary, but the next supper together we will have shrimp eileen and Grand Marnier soufflé. (Well…in all fairness, I have promised your wife cream puffs, so you guys will have to duel over who's dinner is first!)
Uncle Gary's Grand Marnier Soufflé
500 mL milk
5 egg yolks, plus 3 egg yolks
150 g sugar
40 g flour
40 g cornstarch
50 mL Grand Marnier
zest of 2 oranges
100 mL orange juice
50 g candied orange peel, macerated in Cointreau (optional)
butter and sugar to line the mold
8 egg whites
70 g sugar
Preheat your oven to 350-degrees and immediately put a baking sheet on the bottom rack and remove other racks to allow room for your soufflés to rise. Butter and sugar a two 1.5-qt. soufflé dishes. Brush on the butter in vertical strokes, the same direction the soufflé will rise. Put the molds in the fridge.
To a small sauce pan, add orange juice and orange zest. Bring to a steady boil to reduce the mixture by half. Once reduced, remove from the heat and add the Grand Marnier.
Prepare pastry cream: Heat 500 mL of milk until it just comes to a boil. (By the way, 1 mL = 1 g, so you can weigh out any wet ingredients easily.) While the milk is heating, whisk together 5 egg yolks and 150 g sugar until the color lightens. Then whisk in the flour and cornstarch. When the milk just boiled, add about half of the hot milk to the bowl, whisking while you add so as not to cook the eggs. When combined, pour the mixture into the saucepan with the hot milk. Put back on heat, whisking continually. Keep moving on and off the heat until it comes back up to just a boil and thickens. Remove from heat. (Careful not to let the bottom of the pot take on any color.)
Once off the heat, continue to whisk for a minute to make sure it stays smooth. Then, add the other 3 egg yolks and whisk to combine. Now, add the Grand Marnier & oj mixture. At this point you can also add your diced candied orange peel, I don't happen to like them so I leave this part out…but whatever floats your boat.
Cover with plastic wrap in direct contact with the pastry cream so it won't form a skin. Set aside in a warm place so it doesn't get cold.
Add cold egg whites to your stand mixer and whip until stiff. When soft peaks form, add 70 g sugar and continue to beat until shiny.
Transfer the pastry cream to a mixing bowl. Then add 1/3 of the beaten egg whites and whisk together until smooth. Gently add another 1/3 of the egg whites and fold in with a rubber spatula. (No whisk at this point!) Then add the last third, and stop when the mixture is just combined. Careful not to tap the bowl and try to deflate the egg whites as little as possible when mixing.
Gently lift out the soufflé mixture into the butter & sugar-lined dishes with a ladle or a pastry scraper, dividing evenly. Fill the dishes 8/10 of the way to the top. Careful not to dribble any on the sides or rim, it will stop the soufflé from rising evenly.
Place the dish on the hot baking sheet on the bottom rack of the oven and bake for about 15-20 minutes. When the top is a nice brown color, use your knife to test whether it is cooked through. Pierce the side of the soufflé, near the rim of the dish, and go all the way into the center. If the knife comes out clean, it's ready!
Have the dishes and spoons ready and serve to your guests! I've seen this served at the Arroyo Chop House with a drizzle of Grand Marnier over the top just as it comes to the table. Yum : )
Lastly, say a prayer of thanksgiving for your Kitchen-Aid, because in school we have to do all of this whisking by hand!
<3 L
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
I Heart Valentine's Day
Ever since I was little, I have always loved Valentine's Day. Hearts, red, pink, flowers, candy, cute decorations, sweet cards, cupcakes and parties…all of my favorite things. A broken heart can ruin a lot of things, but I decided it wasn't going to ruin one of my favorite holidays. Food, friends and wine = parfait!
My thoughts had been preoccupied with my meeting with the chef who told me to "just cook," and to have a Sunday the way the French do: go to the market, cook, eat, drink, hang. (I might have added the "hang," but he would have said it if he knew that word in English.)
My friend from school, Anthony, is living here while his husband is back in the states. Since we were both sans dates for Vday, I asked him to be my valentine and he graciously accepted. (Don't worry James, only valid in the 7th arrondissement!). We talked about just cooking and having a relaxed Sunday, and Anthony suggested we start at the gorgeous outdoor market right near his apartment. My fellow Grande Diplome friend, Blanca from Madrid, joined us to help us prepare this feast.
We arrived at the market at noon. Sweet Anthony brought flowers and chocolate for Blanca and I… I mean, c'mon, girls love that stuff! Anthony asked, "so, what are we getting?" Blanca and I shrugged, none of us came with a plan (except Anthony's delicious goat cheese that I am still dreaming about!). We just walked around, picked up what looked good, got inspired...and before long we had our menu:
Roasted chicken with red skin potatoes, carrots, zucchini and mushrooms
Seared ahí tuna
Sauteed Coquille St. Jacques scallops (in season and amazing)
Mashed pumpkin with Comté cheese
Green salad with haricot vert, dried cranberries, tomato and almonds
Duck terrine
Olives, charcuterie, shrimp, cheeses, baguettes
…and a half a case of wine, of course!
Three cooks in my tiny kitchen, and I'm not even sure who did what, but at some point the table was full of food. And, as any good Cordon Bleu student must, we followed the chef's directions: we sat, we ate, we drank, we laughed. Thankfully, Gillian from Dublin and her boyfriend came over to help with the mounds of food!
It was a perfect day. And, I now know why the chef's advice was so important. When you get into the kitchen at school, it's about speed, precision, and completion. Everyone's tense because the chef is looming or yelling at someone. There are good days, but it's definitely not like cooking in your own kitchen, (whisk in one hand wine in the other). Plus, I can't tell you how much food I throw away because even the dishwashers don't want to take home veal stuffed with veal stuffed with pork in a kilo of butter.
I started to forget how much I love to cook. And then St. Valentine brought the heart back. Spending the day cooking, actually enjoying the food and sharing it with friends reminded me why I came here in the first place. That is what I love to do. I won't be number one at graduation, but hey…I'll throw the best party after : )
I heart you all. xoxo
Ever since I was little, I have always loved Valentine's Day. Hearts, red, pink, flowers, candy, cute decorations, sweet cards, cupcakes and parties…all of my favorite things. A broken heart can ruin a lot of things, but I decided it wasn't going to ruin one of my favorite holidays. Food, friends and wine = parfait!
My thoughts had been preoccupied with my meeting with the chef who told me to "just cook," and to have a Sunday the way the French do: go to the market, cook, eat, drink, hang. (I might have added the "hang," but he would have said it if he knew that word in English.)
My friend from school, Anthony, is living here while his husband is back in the states. Since we were both sans dates for Vday, I asked him to be my valentine and he graciously accepted. (Don't worry James, only valid in the 7th arrondissement!). We talked about just cooking and having a relaxed Sunday, and Anthony suggested we start at the gorgeous outdoor market right near his apartment. My fellow Grande Diplome friend, Blanca from Madrid, joined us to help us prepare this feast.
We arrived at the market at noon. Sweet Anthony brought flowers and chocolate for Blanca and I… I mean, c'mon, girls love that stuff! Anthony asked, "so, what are we getting?" Blanca and I shrugged, none of us came with a plan (except Anthony's delicious goat cheese that I am still dreaming about!). We just walked around, picked up what looked good, got inspired...and before long we had our menu:
Roasted chicken with red skin potatoes, carrots, zucchini and mushrooms
Seared ahí tuna
Sauteed Coquille St. Jacques scallops (in season and amazing)
Mashed pumpkin with Comté cheese
Green salad with haricot vert, dried cranberries, tomato and almonds
Duck terrine
Olives, charcuterie, shrimp, cheeses, baguettes
…and a half a case of wine, of course!
Three cooks in my tiny kitchen, and I'm not even sure who did what, but at some point the table was full of food. And, as any good Cordon Bleu student must, we followed the chef's directions: we sat, we ate, we drank, we laughed. Thankfully, Gillian from Dublin and her boyfriend came over to help with the mounds of food!
It was a perfect day. And, I now know why the chef's advice was so important. When you get into the kitchen at school, it's about speed, precision, and completion. Everyone's tense because the chef is looming or yelling at someone. There are good days, but it's definitely not like cooking in your own kitchen, (whisk in one hand wine in the other). Plus, I can't tell you how much food I throw away because even the dishwashers don't want to take home veal stuffed with veal stuffed with pork in a kilo of butter.
I started to forget how much I love to cook. And then St. Valentine brought the heart back. Spending the day cooking, actually enjoying the food and sharing it with friends reminded me why I came here in the first place. That is what I love to do. I won't be number one at graduation, but hey…I'll throw the best party after : )
I heart you all. xoxo
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Live to fight another day...
When Sabrina Fairchild attends Le Cordon Bleu, after learning how to boil water and crack an egg, she has to make a soufflé. The bête noire of culinary school. Her judgement moment arrives, and the chef peers over into her dish and grimaces, "much too low." The old, sweet Barron takes her aside and says, "you forgot to turn on the oven!" Poor Audrey Hepburn looks like a sad puppy when the Barron continues, "your mind has not been on zee cooking, your mind has been elsewhere…"
Well, my dear followers (all 8 of you sweethearts!), it's no secret that the last couple of weeks have not been the best of my life. In fact, they would rank high amongst the worst. Needless to say, my mind has not been on zee cooking…
Yet, nothing can focus the mind like the words "midterm grades." Which of course, we received this week…and I admit to a touch of anxiety. Not so much because of the "grade" but the fact that we are mid-term already. Holy moly moment. The upside of the whole thing is that we each have an individual meeting with a chef. For those of us doing both cuisine and pastry, we have a meeting for each.
In my cuisine meeting, I was lucky to have a chef that knows me and has seen me do a fair bit of work in practical. His feedback was interesting, he said "I haven't figured you out yet." Probably because of the puzzled look on my face, he immediately added, "it iz not in a bad way, it iz zat I am not sure all you are capable of yet." Then he asked, "how do you sink you're doing?"
I said, "well, I've had good days and bad days. Honestly, I have been a bit distracted lately."
"Yes, good days and bad days iz a good way to put it," and he puffed my ego a bit by saying, "but, your bad days are still good compared to some ozer people." He added, "I watch you, you have good organization, you're clean and do good work." Then he hesitated, and said, "just some days you don't show up. You must be 100% every day."
"Oui, chef. Désolé."
"No, no, no, not to be sorry! It iz so you can focus. Zat is why we have zis meeting. But...it iz up to you…"
"Oui, chef. I promise, I will try."
I told him that I truly appreciate his feedback. I did not come here to be number one or have the highest grade. I'm here to learn, plain and simple. I want to get everything I can out of my time here, so I asked if there's something I be doing at home to improve. I said that I've been practicing turning mushrooms and carrots…what else can I do, what is the one skill that I should truly master? Soufflé? What?
He shook his head and told me, "just cook."
Chef said that every Sunday, French people, they go to church…well some of them do. (His words, not mine!) And then they go to the market and buy a chicken or whatever looks good. They cook, and sit around the table for hours eating and drinking. He said to just keep cooking, no matter what it is. Learn about ingredients, try new things. "It's clear you love to cook, zee more you do zee better you will be."
Sweet chef. Could he see that I just needed that go get 'em pep talk?
I have to say, compared to what I've heard from my friends about their meetings, I lucked out. Some people had a chef who didn't even know who they were.
Lucky girl that I am, I also had a meeting with the pastry chef that knows me. He also gave me more specific feedback, which is nice. He said that I am doing excellent work, even remembered my apple tart, but said that I need to continue to get faster. I'm never last, but I do tend to be a perfectionist, and I have always thought, "better to be slower and perfect than rushed and a mess." Now is the point where I need to get to perfect faster. Which is a fun challenge, I guess. "Keep practicing," and "Memorize what you need to do. Don't waste time reading your recipe."
Oui, chef.
Tomorrow we are making a Mocha cake, which requires a lot of piping with a tiny fluted tip. Piping is not my favorite; mostly because all that swagging looks like a supermarket sheet cake with over-sugared pastel icing. Yuck! Nevertheless, it is the "traditional" way to decorate a Mocha cake. So, swagging here I come!
It's a long life. There will be shitty times and terrible practical classes. I'm sure I have many "très biens" and "terribles" in my future. Today was also my first injury. Minor-to-medium burn on my left hand, courtesy of boeuf bourguignonne. But, I live to fight another day.
Merci beaucoup (beaucoup!) to everyone that has sent their love the past couple of weeks : ) It helps. xoxo
When Sabrina Fairchild attends Le Cordon Bleu, after learning how to boil water and crack an egg, she has to make a soufflé. The bête noire of culinary school. Her judgement moment arrives, and the chef peers over into her dish and grimaces, "much too low." The old, sweet Barron takes her aside and says, "you forgot to turn on the oven!" Poor Audrey Hepburn looks like a sad puppy when the Barron continues, "your mind has not been on zee cooking, your mind has been elsewhere…"
Well, my dear followers (all 8 of you sweethearts!), it's no secret that the last couple of weeks have not been the best of my life. In fact, they would rank high amongst the worst. Needless to say, my mind has not been on zee cooking…
Yet, nothing can focus the mind like the words "midterm grades." Which of course, we received this week…and I admit to a touch of anxiety. Not so much because of the "grade" but the fact that we are mid-term already. Holy moly moment. The upside of the whole thing is that we each have an individual meeting with a chef. For those of us doing both cuisine and pastry, we have a meeting for each.
In my cuisine meeting, I was lucky to have a chef that knows me and has seen me do a fair bit of work in practical. His feedback was interesting, he said "I haven't figured you out yet." Probably because of the puzzled look on my face, he immediately added, "it iz not in a bad way, it iz zat I am not sure all you are capable of yet." Then he asked, "how do you sink you're doing?"
I said, "well, I've had good days and bad days. Honestly, I have been a bit distracted lately."
"Yes, good days and bad days iz a good way to put it," and he puffed my ego a bit by saying, "but, your bad days are still good compared to some ozer people." He added, "I watch you, you have good organization, you're clean and do good work." Then he hesitated, and said, "just some days you don't show up. You must be 100% every day."
"Oui, chef. Désolé."
"No, no, no, not to be sorry! It iz so you can focus. Zat is why we have zis meeting. But...it iz up to you…"
"Oui, chef. I promise, I will try."
I told him that I truly appreciate his feedback. I did not come here to be number one or have the highest grade. I'm here to learn, plain and simple. I want to get everything I can out of my time here, so I asked if there's something I be doing at home to improve. I said that I've been practicing turning mushrooms and carrots…what else can I do, what is the one skill that I should truly master? Soufflé? What?
He shook his head and told me, "just cook."
Chef said that every Sunday, French people, they go to church…well some of them do. (His words, not mine!) And then they go to the market and buy a chicken or whatever looks good. They cook, and sit around the table for hours eating and drinking. He said to just keep cooking, no matter what it is. Learn about ingredients, try new things. "It's clear you love to cook, zee more you do zee better you will be."
Sweet chef. Could he see that I just needed that go get 'em pep talk?
I have to say, compared to what I've heard from my friends about their meetings, I lucked out. Some people had a chef who didn't even know who they were.
Lucky girl that I am, I also had a meeting with the pastry chef that knows me. He also gave me more specific feedback, which is nice. He said that I am doing excellent work, even remembered my apple tart, but said that I need to continue to get faster. I'm never last, but I do tend to be a perfectionist, and I have always thought, "better to be slower and perfect than rushed and a mess." Now is the point where I need to get to perfect faster. Which is a fun challenge, I guess. "Keep practicing," and "Memorize what you need to do. Don't waste time reading your recipe."
Oui, chef.
Tomorrow we are making a Mocha cake, which requires a lot of piping with a tiny fluted tip. Piping is not my favorite; mostly because all that swagging looks like a supermarket sheet cake with over-sugared pastel icing. Yuck! Nevertheless, it is the "traditional" way to decorate a Mocha cake. So, swagging here I come!
It's a long life. There will be shitty times and terrible practical classes. I'm sure I have many "très biens" and "terribles" in my future. Today was also my first injury. Minor-to-medium burn on my left hand, courtesy of boeuf bourguignonne. But, I live to fight another day.
Merci beaucoup (beaucoup!) to everyone that has sent their love the past couple of weeks : ) It helps. xoxo
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Week trois: things I will never make!
As in most educational settings, you begin by learning easy things to build confidence, to get to know your teachers, classmates & learn general rules. Then you start to actually do stuff. LCB is no exception, and in our third week (or is it four?), we have made chocolate eclairs, are about to make veal stuffed with veal, pork and three different kinds of fat, and watched a duck terrine be prepared. All are things I will likely never make again. (Unless you really want me to make you eclairs…I could be talked into that.)
Yesterday morning, we watched the chef prepare chocolate eclairs and a few other recipes that use choux pastry. When it was our turn to make them, we were asked to prepare only seven, and I was honestly surprised at how much work those little things take! Choux pastry, no big deal. But then you pipe out your eclairs, eggwash them, score them with a fork, bake. Prepare the pastry cream, let it cool. Melt your chocolate with cocoa paste in a hot water bath, then add chocolate to pastry cream and pipe into your cooked choux pastry. Melt fondant (which is a whole other ordeal to make) into chocolate with red food coloring and top the cream-filled pastry and voila, you have an eclair. And the chef in our practical class said they have to be roughly the width of a hotdog bun. Really? To me that's too much of everything! Too big, too sweet, ick!
To add cream to the clogged artery…we watched the adorable Basque chef prepare pounded veal stuffed with, veal, three different kinds of pork, goose fat and cream. Oh-and mushrooms and shallots to get some veg in there! Then chef pulls out these huge sheets of pork fat…and hangs it across his back to demonstrate where they shave the huge slices off the pig. He cuts the sheet into one-inch strips and wraps them around the packets of veal to hold them together and add flavor in cooking. Then, braises them in veal stock (which takes about 4 hours to prepare in itself). Had I not seen how it was made, I am sure I would have enjoyed a few bites of this dish. But, I've never purchased large sheets of pork lard…and I'm happy to keep it that way, so this won't be going into me personal recipe repertoire!
Then, as the veal was braising in the oven, he began preparing the duck terrine. Basically a big loaf of duck meat, and of course wrapped in sheets of pork fat! The poor chef dutifully demonstrated how to make this antiquated delicacy with sauteed duck breast, ground duck leg meat, ground chicken & duck livers, prunes…and I'm to even sure what else (half way through I stopped taking notes). To top it all off he mixed milk with gelatin and poured a thin layer into a large silver platter. "Zis is not for eating, it is jus for presentation," he explained. Once the duck loaf is baked for four hours, and sits overnight with weights on top of it, it's unmolded, peeled of it's outer layer of pork fat and sliced. Those slices are arranged on the white milk jelly…because that makes it more appetizing?
Again I say, poor chef. He makes this dish that none of us are interested in making, and he knows it…but he does it with ease and a professional pride. He started by butchering a whole duck beautifully, and then moved through the dish relatively quickly, knowing he didn't have to be slow for us to keep up. Its like watching an artist paint, a math whiz breeze through an equation, or a virtuoso perform…it's just fun to watch someone do what they are good at. So, even on the days I don't want to taste a loaf of duck on a bed of gelatinous milk…I take comfort in the fact that I get to watch a master chef doing his craft.
As for the eclairs, I realize they are a staple in any French patisserie. They are yummy (when petite) and I am glad I have made them. It definitely made me appreciate all the little pastry shops that churn them out day after day. There's a lot of elements going on in those little guys, and it takes a lot of care to make them beautiful.
Many things take a lot of work, and I am happy to do it. But if you were hoping for a duck terrine in your future…sorry, not from my kitchen : ) I will be happy to prepare the salmon we made earlier this week. As chef said, "the girlz love zee salmon!"
Tomorrow, bright and early it's my turn to make the veal stuffed veal. I should get some rest!
Bon nuit!
As in most educational settings, you begin by learning easy things to build confidence, to get to know your teachers, classmates & learn general rules. Then you start to actually do stuff. LCB is no exception, and in our third week (or is it four?), we have made chocolate eclairs, are about to make veal stuffed with veal, pork and three different kinds of fat, and watched a duck terrine be prepared. All are things I will likely never make again. (Unless you really want me to make you eclairs…I could be talked into that.)
Yesterday morning, we watched the chef prepare chocolate eclairs and a few other recipes that use choux pastry. When it was our turn to make them, we were asked to prepare only seven, and I was honestly surprised at how much work those little things take! Choux pastry, no big deal. But then you pipe out your eclairs, eggwash them, score them with a fork, bake. Prepare the pastry cream, let it cool. Melt your chocolate with cocoa paste in a hot water bath, then add chocolate to pastry cream and pipe into your cooked choux pastry. Melt fondant (which is a whole other ordeal to make) into chocolate with red food coloring and top the cream-filled pastry and voila, you have an eclair. And the chef in our practical class said they have to be roughly the width of a hotdog bun. Really? To me that's too much of everything! Too big, too sweet, ick!
To add cream to the clogged artery…we watched the adorable Basque chef prepare pounded veal stuffed with, veal, three different kinds of pork, goose fat and cream. Oh-and mushrooms and shallots to get some veg in there! Then chef pulls out these huge sheets of pork fat…and hangs it across his back to demonstrate where they shave the huge slices off the pig. He cuts the sheet into one-inch strips and wraps them around the packets of veal to hold them together and add flavor in cooking. Then, braises them in veal stock (which takes about 4 hours to prepare in itself). Had I not seen how it was made, I am sure I would have enjoyed a few bites of this dish. But, I've never purchased large sheets of pork lard…and I'm happy to keep it that way, so this won't be going into me personal recipe repertoire!
Then, as the veal was braising in the oven, he began preparing the duck terrine. Basically a big loaf of duck meat, and of course wrapped in sheets of pork fat! The poor chef dutifully demonstrated how to make this antiquated delicacy with sauteed duck breast, ground duck leg meat, ground chicken & duck livers, prunes…and I'm to even sure what else (half way through I stopped taking notes). To top it all off he mixed milk with gelatin and poured a thin layer into a large silver platter. "Zis is not for eating, it is jus for presentation," he explained. Once the duck loaf is baked for four hours, and sits overnight with weights on top of it, it's unmolded, peeled of it's outer layer of pork fat and sliced. Those slices are arranged on the white milk jelly…because that makes it more appetizing?
Again I say, poor chef. He makes this dish that none of us are interested in making, and he knows it…but he does it with ease and a professional pride. He started by butchering a whole duck beautifully, and then moved through the dish relatively quickly, knowing he didn't have to be slow for us to keep up. Its like watching an artist paint, a math whiz breeze through an equation, or a virtuoso perform…it's just fun to watch someone do what they are good at. So, even on the days I don't want to taste a loaf of duck on a bed of gelatinous milk…I take comfort in the fact that I get to watch a master chef doing his craft.
As for the eclairs, I realize they are a staple in any French patisserie. They are yummy (when petite) and I am glad I have made them. It definitely made me appreciate all the little pastry shops that churn them out day after day. There's a lot of elements going on in those little guys, and it takes a lot of care to make them beautiful.
Many things take a lot of work, and I am happy to do it. But if you were hoping for a duck terrine in your future…sorry, not from my kitchen : ) I will be happy to prepare the salmon we made earlier this week. As chef said, "the girlz love zee salmon!"
Tomorrow, bright and early it's my turn to make the veal stuffed veal. I should get some rest!
Bon nuit!
Sunday, January 24, 2010
I am so sorry for the delay in posts, but I am thrilled to report that I am all moved and finally have internet!! I've been going to school, school and more school, started French class…and I have made and tried some delicious things!
Oh--I apologize for all of the following recipes using the ingredient measurements by weight. But, honestly, using a scale for baking will give you much more consistent results. So run to Williams-Sonoma and get cooking!
Quiche Lorraine Pour Ma Mère
My mother made Quiche Lorraine when I was a little girl for some shower or ladies lunch…and I remember thinking it was delicious. It has been made many times since, but it always makes me think of her. We ate this the last day before moving into my new apartment, and it was delicious. Light and buttery crust, creamy filling and crispy bite of pancetta. Yum. Mom can make this now because of her own LCB schooling…so, if you scared by this long recipe, ask her for a demo ; )
Fun fact: Quiche Lorraine comes from Lorraine (curious, i know), the region of France that has flip-flopped between German and French rule. The word "quiche" is thought to derive from the German word for cake, kuchen.
Short pastry
200 grams flour (plus extra for rolling out the dough)
100 g unsalted butter (plus extra for greasing the tart pan)
5 g salt
1 egg
2 T water
Filling
180 g of smoked, slab bacon (thick cut pancetta would be the best to use)
100 g gruyere or ementaller cheese
olive oil
3 eggs
250 ml cream (weighs 250 grams)
salt & pepper
nutmeg
Preheat your oven to 350-deg. Grease a scalloped tart pan (like this one) by brushing it with melted butter, and put in the fridge.
Prepare your short pastry:
Two a large bowl, add flour, salt and cold cubed butter. Mix with your hands ("sablage") to get the mixture looking similar to sand. Be careful not to overmix or warm the butter too much. (A good thing to do before you start mixing is to run your hands under cold water for a few seconds. It helps keep the butter cold.)
When your butter/flour mixture is ready, add one whole egg & water. Pierce the yolk and "mix with one finger," as Chef Cottes would say, until just combined. "Why mix with one finger…because then you only have to clean off one finger," he explains. Turn the mixture out onto your cold counter--it will still be crumbly.
Take the heel of your hand and, little by little, push the dough away from you ("fresage"). This is not kneading, you're pushing it in little bits away from you and leaving it in a pile (not bringing it back each time). Use a plastic pastry scraper to bring the dough back to a ball in front of you, and repeat once or twice. This method works the gluten in the flour the least, and makes your crust flaky and delicious. If it scares you, just mix as gently as you can in the bowl…but trust me, it's easy and well worth it. After your dough is ready, ball it up, wrap it in plastic film and put in the lowest part of your fridge to rest.
Now, begin the filling:
Slice your pancetta into small chunks, about 1/3" cubes. It will slice easiest when cold. Then place them into a pot of cold water. Put the pot over high heat, and bring up to a boil. Just when the water gets to a good boil, remove from heat and strain. This is not to cook, just to remove any impurities (all the foam you will see) and any over-smoky or over-salty flavor. Leave the pancetta in the strainer over the pot while you prepare your cheese.
Grate your cheese. After it's grated, run your knife over the shredded cheese so it's finely minced. This will help it melt better according to certain chefs…others, would say add the pre-shredded stuff out of the bag. Your choice!
Back to your pancetta…heat a sauté pan with a couple of tablespoons of olive oil on medium-high. Add your pancetta cubes and cook until you get a nice coloring (as much or little as you like). Keep your strainer & pot there, because when the pancetta is the color you like, put it right back in the strainer and let the extra fat/oil drain off.
Flour your counter, get out your rolling pin, dough & tart mold.
Roll out your dough so it's about 2" larger than your tart mold all around. When ready, carefully roll the dough up around your rolling pin and unroll it over the tart mold. Gently fit the dough to the sides of the tart pan without stretching the dough or pushing it into the form too much. When it lays inside nicely, roll your rolling pin over the top of the mold to cut off the excess dough. Now, push the dough into the sides of the tart pan so it stands up a bit and takes on the shape of the pretty scalloped edge.
Blind bake your crust: To make sure it doesn't shrink, line your crust with heat-proof plastic film, thin aluminum foil or parchment paper, and fill with pie weights (like these). Bake for 10-15 minutes, or just so the crust can stand up on it's own.
While it's baking, whisk together eggs, cream, salt, pepper and a bit of fresh grated nutmeg. Set aside.
When your crust is blind baked, remove the pie weights and plastic film/foil/paper. Put in the pancetta, sprinkle the cheese over, and pour in the egg/cream mixture just to the top. (Do not let it spill over the side of the crust or it will stick to the pan and look ugly when it's baked. You not use all of the egg/cream.)
Bake for 20-ish minutes. Just until the center is fully cooked (test with the point of a knife) and the bottom of the crust is golden. Let set for a few minutes, and remove from the pan. Slice & serve with a delicious salad!
With this method, you can use any sort of filling you like. If you would like to use any meat or vegetables, just make sure they're cooked and drained first so the quiche doesn't get soggy.
Choux Pastry for the Shoe Lover
Another dish that reminds me of being a little girl is my grandmother's cream puffs. She would make them for my Aunt Marie's birthday dessert with vanilla ice cream and Saunder's hot fudge. As Ina Garten would say, "how bad can that be!?" At LCB, the dough is called "choux" pastry, which to us Americans sounds like shoe pastry. So, Marie…choux for you next time I see you and…well, there's plenty of shoe shopping in Paris ; )
Choux Pastry
125 ml milk (ml measure out equal to grams)
125 ml water
100 g unsalted butter
5 g salt
15 g sugar
150 g flour
4 eggs
Piping bag with a 12mm tip
(1 egg for egg wash if you like)
Preheat the oven to 340-deg. Line baking sheet with parchment paper with a mini-magnet at each corner to hold in place.
To a large saucepan, add milk, water, butter, salt & sugar. Bring just to a boil to melt all ingredients together, stirring the whole time. Remove from heat and pour in flour all at once. Stir in the flour (don't use a whisk), and put back on heat for a few seconds at a time to cook out some of the liquid. It should steam a bit, but be careful not to let the bottom of the pan color. Once smooth, transfer dough into a large bowl. One at a time, mix in the eggs.
Fit your piping bag with the pastry tip, and fill the bag about half way. Pipe out the puffs to the desired size. Make sure to leave enough room on the pan for them to puff. You can whisk one egg together to brush it on the puffs if you would like them to have a bit more color and shine, but it's not necessary.
Put the pan in the middle of the oven. After about 10 minutes, turn the heat down to 325-deg. Bake for about 10 more minutes, checking the whole time. Take out when they are golden brown and transfer to a rack to cool. (Each oven is different, and it also depends on the size of the puffs. The first time babysit them a bit, and make a note of how long until they were done.)
When cool, slice in half, fill with ice cream and top with caramel, chocolate, fruit, nuts, or whatever you like. You can also make a small hole in the side to pipe in chantilly cream, pastry cream, or fruit filling...simply dip in chocolate…even plain they taste pretty good ; )
Bonus: Choux pastry is meant to be eaten the same day it's baked. To make in advance, do everything above, including pipe out each puff onto the parchment paper…but instead of putting them in the oven, you can put the pan into the freezer. After a few hours, when the dough is frozen all the way through, put them in a ziplock and store for up to 3 months. When ready to bake, put them back onto a parchment lined baking sheet, let them thaw and bake just as you would before. I haven't tested this--but the chefs said it's how bakeries can keep up with having extra pastry prepared for busy times of the year like Christmas. Voila!
Coming up this week we have eclairs and meringue in pastry, grilled salmon (with an emulsified butter sauce of course!) and stuffed veal in cuisine. Yes, veal stuffed with veal, 3 different kinds pork, goose fat and a dash of cream for good measure. Needless to say, fewer homeless on the streets of Paris will be hungry that night!
Bisous!
LZ
Oh--I apologize for all of the following recipes using the ingredient measurements by weight. But, honestly, using a scale for baking will give you much more consistent results. So run to Williams-Sonoma and get cooking!
Quiche Lorraine Pour Ma Mère
My mother made Quiche Lorraine when I was a little girl for some shower or ladies lunch…and I remember thinking it was delicious. It has been made many times since, but it always makes me think of her. We ate this the last day before moving into my new apartment, and it was delicious. Light and buttery crust, creamy filling and crispy bite of pancetta. Yum. Mom can make this now because of her own LCB schooling…so, if you scared by this long recipe, ask her for a demo ; )
Fun fact: Quiche Lorraine comes from Lorraine (curious, i know), the region of France that has flip-flopped between German and French rule. The word "quiche" is thought to derive from the German word for cake, kuchen.
Short pastry
200 grams flour (plus extra for rolling out the dough)
100 g unsalted butter (plus extra for greasing the tart pan)
5 g salt
1 egg
2 T water
Filling
180 g of smoked, slab bacon (thick cut pancetta would be the best to use)
100 g gruyere or ementaller cheese
olive oil
3 eggs
250 ml cream (weighs 250 grams)
salt & pepper
nutmeg
Preheat your oven to 350-deg. Grease a scalloped tart pan (like this one) by brushing it with melted butter, and put in the fridge.
Prepare your short pastry:
Two a large bowl, add flour, salt and cold cubed butter. Mix with your hands ("sablage") to get the mixture looking similar to sand. Be careful not to overmix or warm the butter too much. (A good thing to do before you start mixing is to run your hands under cold water for a few seconds. It helps keep the butter cold.)
When your butter/flour mixture is ready, add one whole egg & water. Pierce the yolk and "mix with one finger," as Chef Cottes would say, until just combined. "Why mix with one finger…because then you only have to clean off one finger," he explains. Turn the mixture out onto your cold counter--it will still be crumbly.
Take the heel of your hand and, little by little, push the dough away from you ("fresage"). This is not kneading, you're pushing it in little bits away from you and leaving it in a pile (not bringing it back each time). Use a plastic pastry scraper to bring the dough back to a ball in front of you, and repeat once or twice. This method works the gluten in the flour the least, and makes your crust flaky and delicious. If it scares you, just mix as gently as you can in the bowl…but trust me, it's easy and well worth it. After your dough is ready, ball it up, wrap it in plastic film and put in the lowest part of your fridge to rest.
Now, begin the filling:
Slice your pancetta into small chunks, about 1/3" cubes. It will slice easiest when cold. Then place them into a pot of cold water. Put the pot over high heat, and bring up to a boil. Just when the water gets to a good boil, remove from heat and strain. This is not to cook, just to remove any impurities (all the foam you will see) and any over-smoky or over-salty flavor. Leave the pancetta in the strainer over the pot while you prepare your cheese.
Grate your cheese. After it's grated, run your knife over the shredded cheese so it's finely minced. This will help it melt better according to certain chefs…others, would say add the pre-shredded stuff out of the bag. Your choice!
Back to your pancetta…heat a sauté pan with a couple of tablespoons of olive oil on medium-high. Add your pancetta cubes and cook until you get a nice coloring (as much or little as you like). Keep your strainer & pot there, because when the pancetta is the color you like, put it right back in the strainer and let the extra fat/oil drain off.
Flour your counter, get out your rolling pin, dough & tart mold.
Roll out your dough so it's about 2" larger than your tart mold all around. When ready, carefully roll the dough up around your rolling pin and unroll it over the tart mold. Gently fit the dough to the sides of the tart pan without stretching the dough or pushing it into the form too much. When it lays inside nicely, roll your rolling pin over the top of the mold to cut off the excess dough. Now, push the dough into the sides of the tart pan so it stands up a bit and takes on the shape of the pretty scalloped edge.
Blind bake your crust: To make sure it doesn't shrink, line your crust with heat-proof plastic film, thin aluminum foil or parchment paper, and fill with pie weights (like these). Bake for 10-15 minutes, or just so the crust can stand up on it's own.
While it's baking, whisk together eggs, cream, salt, pepper and a bit of fresh grated nutmeg. Set aside.
When your crust is blind baked, remove the pie weights and plastic film/foil/paper. Put in the pancetta, sprinkle the cheese over, and pour in the egg/cream mixture just to the top. (Do not let it spill over the side of the crust or it will stick to the pan and look ugly when it's baked. You not use all of the egg/cream.)
Bake for 20-ish minutes. Just until the center is fully cooked (test with the point of a knife) and the bottom of the crust is golden. Let set for a few minutes, and remove from the pan. Slice & serve with a delicious salad!
With this method, you can use any sort of filling you like. If you would like to use any meat or vegetables, just make sure they're cooked and drained first so the quiche doesn't get soggy.
Choux Pastry for the Shoe Lover
Another dish that reminds me of being a little girl is my grandmother's cream puffs. She would make them for my Aunt Marie's birthday dessert with vanilla ice cream and Saunder's hot fudge. As Ina Garten would say, "how bad can that be!?" At LCB, the dough is called "choux" pastry, which to us Americans sounds like shoe pastry. So, Marie…choux for you next time I see you and…well, there's plenty of shoe shopping in Paris ; )
Choux Pastry
125 ml milk (ml measure out equal to grams)
125 ml water
100 g unsalted butter
5 g salt
15 g sugar
150 g flour
4 eggs
Piping bag with a 12mm tip
(1 egg for egg wash if you like)
Preheat the oven to 340-deg. Line baking sheet with parchment paper with a mini-magnet at each corner to hold in place.
To a large saucepan, add milk, water, butter, salt & sugar. Bring just to a boil to melt all ingredients together, stirring the whole time. Remove from heat and pour in flour all at once. Stir in the flour (don't use a whisk), and put back on heat for a few seconds at a time to cook out some of the liquid. It should steam a bit, but be careful not to let the bottom of the pan color. Once smooth, transfer dough into a large bowl. One at a time, mix in the eggs.
Fit your piping bag with the pastry tip, and fill the bag about half way. Pipe out the puffs to the desired size. Make sure to leave enough room on the pan for them to puff. You can whisk one egg together to brush it on the puffs if you would like them to have a bit more color and shine, but it's not necessary.
Put the pan in the middle of the oven. After about 10 minutes, turn the heat down to 325-deg. Bake for about 10 more minutes, checking the whole time. Take out when they are golden brown and transfer to a rack to cool. (Each oven is different, and it also depends on the size of the puffs. The first time babysit them a bit, and make a note of how long until they were done.)
When cool, slice in half, fill with ice cream and top with caramel, chocolate, fruit, nuts, or whatever you like. You can also make a small hole in the side to pipe in chantilly cream, pastry cream, or fruit filling...simply dip in chocolate…even plain they taste pretty good ; )
Bonus: Choux pastry is meant to be eaten the same day it's baked. To make in advance, do everything above, including pipe out each puff onto the parchment paper…but instead of putting them in the oven, you can put the pan into the freezer. After a few hours, when the dough is frozen all the way through, put them in a ziplock and store for up to 3 months. When ready to bake, put them back onto a parchment lined baking sheet, let them thaw and bake just as you would before. I haven't tested this--but the chefs said it's how bakeries can keep up with having extra pastry prepared for busy times of the year like Christmas. Voila!
Coming up this week we have eclairs and meringue in pastry, grilled salmon (with an emulsified butter sauce of course!) and stuffed veal in cuisine. Yes, veal stuffed with veal, 3 different kinds pork, goose fat and a dash of cream for good measure. Needless to say, fewer homeless on the streets of Paris will be hungry that night!
Bisous!
LZ
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Suspense.
It starts when you are little and you are waiting for recess or Christmas morning. As you get older, it's checking the mail for your college acceptance letter or your first (legal) drink on your 21st birthday. When your twenty-six and going to culinary school in Paris…it seems as if finding an apartment is almost impossible. Almost.
We (and by "we" I mean mostly my mother) have searched the city high and low to find a furnished apartment that meets basic needs…internet access, an oven, non-smoking…you know, heat is good. Well, it turns out that's a tall order. Apparently, Parisians don't cook much at home, because most apartments are sans-oven. Many are nowhere near school, but mostly, a lot of places weren't so spic-and-span. That is, until yesterday, when the clouds parted…
A beautiful, newly renovated and…wait for it…never before rented (huge selling point for a OCD germaphobe like me) one-bedroom with an oven came into my life. As usual, I was at school, so my mom went to view the place and on the spot said "we want it!" Right away, the agent called the owner to find out…wah, wah, wah…there was a fly in the ointment:
The owner had promised another potential renter a look today. As their appointment was arranged before ours, I guess the owner felt they had the first right of refusal. My mom was bracing me for the worst, she said, "the place is perfect, I'm sure they'll want it." Merde.
Suspense. All last night…all day at school…I was crossing my fingers, praying to St. Anthony to bring 'round my lost apartment and hoping this other person didn't like new and clean things! I was in back-to-back class in the morning, tapping my fingers on the desk, eager to get back to see if my mom had any news. With each step up the stares, I was alternating between hoping, and then talking myself out of it. From "it has to work out" to "it's too good to be true…" and back again.
I walked through the door at at 4 p.m. Mom was sitting on the couch with a straight face. She said, "ugh, it's been a terrible day." My shoulders dropped, and my hope deflated. Then she told me to "look at this email, there's something you have to take care of."
Dear Ms. Zimmer, blah blah blah…finally, I got to the punchline: "If you will commit to a year lease, the apartment is yours!" Mom's face broke and she started laughing.
WHAT!!! YAY!!! That was a nasty little trick, Mom!
So, now you can ask me, "have you found an apartment yet?" Finally, I can answer, "YES!"
To celebrate, we walked to Pierre Herme, the home of the best macaroons in town. And they were amazing. Needless to say, a huge stress has been lifted, and I can begin to really get settled and spend time doing things other than trolling rental agency websites. I've heard that Louvre isn't too shabby?
Tomorrow, to coincidentally commemorate my last homeless day, I will be making one of my favorite dishes: Quiche Lorraine. Remember when I said I couldn't wait to make something I really like? Well, tomorrow is the day. Until now, we have made recipes to learn techniques that I am thrilled to know, but things I will likely never make on my own…fruit cake, to name one. Yes--with that gross green "fruit."
I will report the Quiche Lorraine recipe after our practical class and let you know how it goes. If it turns out a fraction as scrumptious as the chef's demo today, it will be a wonderful treat for dinner. I can't wait.
Suspense. Whether it's the journey to find a place to live, waiting for the warmth of spring or a perfectly made tart coming out of the oven…a little anxiety along the way makes it sweeter when you're finally there.
Apartment, check. The rest: to be continued... ; )
It starts when you are little and you are waiting for recess or Christmas morning. As you get older, it's checking the mail for your college acceptance letter or your first (legal) drink on your 21st birthday. When your twenty-six and going to culinary school in Paris…it seems as if finding an apartment is almost impossible. Almost.
We (and by "we" I mean mostly my mother) have searched the city high and low to find a furnished apartment that meets basic needs…internet access, an oven, non-smoking…you know, heat is good. Well, it turns out that's a tall order. Apparently, Parisians don't cook much at home, because most apartments are sans-oven. Many are nowhere near school, but mostly, a lot of places weren't so spic-and-span. That is, until yesterday, when the clouds parted…
A beautiful, newly renovated and…wait for it…never before rented (huge selling point for a OCD germaphobe like me) one-bedroom with an oven came into my life. As usual, I was at school, so my mom went to view the place and on the spot said "we want it!" Right away, the agent called the owner to find out…wah, wah, wah…there was a fly in the ointment:
The owner had promised another potential renter a look today. As their appointment was arranged before ours, I guess the owner felt they had the first right of refusal. My mom was bracing me for the worst, she said, "the place is perfect, I'm sure they'll want it." Merde.
Suspense. All last night…all day at school…I was crossing my fingers, praying to St. Anthony to bring 'round my lost apartment and hoping this other person didn't like new and clean things! I was in back-to-back class in the morning, tapping my fingers on the desk, eager to get back to see if my mom had any news. With each step up the stares, I was alternating between hoping, and then talking myself out of it. From "it has to work out" to "it's too good to be true…" and back again.
I walked through the door at at 4 p.m. Mom was sitting on the couch with a straight face. She said, "ugh, it's been a terrible day." My shoulders dropped, and my hope deflated. Then she told me to "look at this email, there's something you have to take care of."
Dear Ms. Zimmer, blah blah blah…finally, I got to the punchline: "If you will commit to a year lease, the apartment is yours!" Mom's face broke and she started laughing.
WHAT!!! YAY!!! That was a nasty little trick, Mom!
So, now you can ask me, "have you found an apartment yet?" Finally, I can answer, "YES!"
To celebrate, we walked to Pierre Herme, the home of the best macaroons in town. And they were amazing. Needless to say, a huge stress has been lifted, and I can begin to really get settled and spend time doing things other than trolling rental agency websites. I've heard that Louvre isn't too shabby?
Tomorrow, to coincidentally commemorate my last homeless day, I will be making one of my favorite dishes: Quiche Lorraine. Remember when I said I couldn't wait to make something I really like? Well, tomorrow is the day. Until now, we have made recipes to learn techniques that I am thrilled to know, but things I will likely never make on my own…fruit cake, to name one. Yes--with that gross green "fruit."
I will report the Quiche Lorraine recipe after our practical class and let you know how it goes. If it turns out a fraction as scrumptious as the chef's demo today, it will be a wonderful treat for dinner. I can't wait.
Suspense. Whether it's the journey to find a place to live, waiting for the warmth of spring or a perfectly made tart coming out of the oven…a little anxiety along the way makes it sweeter when you're finally there.
Apartment, check. The rest: to be continued... ; )
Saturday, January 9, 2010
"Sole à la Bumpa"
Yesterday was our second cuisine lesson where we made fillets of sole with a butter sauce. Yes the sauce looked relatively unassuming on the plate, but it was all butter…but we’ll get to that.
In the demo, a lovely chef du cuisine from the Basque country showed us how to fillet sole. The sole fish has four fillets, and we are to cut them away from the bones leaving as little meat as possible. It’s hard to describe the whole process, (and maybe harder to do) so I advise you to ask your fishmonger to do your filleting and send you home with beautiful, skinned fillets along with the carcass for fish stock. And, the fish stock…
I always cringe when I hear the words "fish stock," thinking smelly, murky liquid...but when fresh, it actually makes a nice braise for mild fish like sole or a base for soups. As chef was demonstrating how to make the fish dish, he also made veal stock, which took the entire class (2.5 hours). He explained that a good stock is the basis for many of the things we make and using bullion is never the same. Every day brown veal stock is made in the sous-sol (basement kitchen) in a vat that goes from floor to the top of the counter, probably 3’ wide and has a wooden spoon that is about 4' long to stir it.
As usual, chef was giving all his direction in French, but as he was skimming the fat off of the fish stock, he broke into English and emphatically said, “NEVER, NEVER, NEVER add salt.” We all furiously scribbled in our notes—NO salt!!!
When the fish stock was ready (a fraction of the time veal or chicken stock requires), he ladled some over the sole fillets and put them in the oven to braise. The fish was resting in a butter-greased pan with salt, pepper, finely minced shallot and a few splashes of vin blanc. Once the fish is done cooking (about 8 minutes), you use the cooking liquid to make your sauce.
It begins with about three cups of the cooking liquid which is reduced by half. While it is bubbling on the stove, chef takes out a packet of butter, begins to cube it and starts his speech, “people zhink French cuisine iz all butter and cream, but zis is not true...”
He takes another packet of butter out and begins to cube it, “You want to see a lot of butter and cream, eh? You go to Normandy…zey use zee butter, zey use zee cream—and zey use it togezher in everysing!”
Now, the sauce has reduced to about a cup and a half of liquid. And he starts to whisk in each cube of butter. All the while, defending butter's honor and going on about how fine cuisine is meant to be small, so each person will only have a small bit of sauce over the fish.
And as he plops the last cube of butter into the sauce, which completes a full pound, he remarks “...and, we use much less zan we used to.”
Well, I guess if served with a side of Lipitor, it’s fine!
But, as promised, he beautifully plated the fish and ladled over--well, I'd say a medium bit of the sauce. Garnished with a sprig of chervil and, fini! There were a lot of mmmmmm's in the room as the tasting dishes were passed out. Immediately when I tasted this dish, I thought of my grandpa, “Bumpa.” He loves flaky white fish…and I'm sure I’m not embarrassing him to say that he’s famous for asking for an extra side of sauce, dressing, gravy, catsup, and the like. I bet he would want more than un petit portion of this sauce. It's velvety, not surprisingly the color of butter, and you do actually get notes of the white wine, shallot, bay & thyme…one bite is d-lish.
So, Bumpa…this dish is for you. This and a bottle of vin blanc...and something sweet to finish with a cup of coffee and grand marnier when I see you again.
Today for lesson three, we had a different chef du cuisine to demonstrate chicken stock, cheese soufflé (which was uh-mazing), how to truss a chicken and a few other things. This chef is quite a character and a true restaurant chef. He was putting together the ingredients and bringing the chicken stock up to a boil when he ceremoniously sprinkled coarse salt into the pot. There were a few gasps in the room…just yesterday we had the “never, never, never” speech. One brave lady raised her hand and remarked that we were told never to use salt in stock. To which he replies, “who told you zat! It is for zee taste! You must add!”
Voila! Big lesson we all learned this week: each chef has his own method. Not surprising. They’re all strong, proud French men. Judicious note-taking is key it seems, and when in doubt, add butter.
Yesterday was our second cuisine lesson where we made fillets of sole with a butter sauce. Yes the sauce looked relatively unassuming on the plate, but it was all butter…but we’ll get to that.
In the demo, a lovely chef du cuisine from the Basque country showed us how to fillet sole. The sole fish has four fillets, and we are to cut them away from the bones leaving as little meat as possible. It’s hard to describe the whole process, (and maybe harder to do) so I advise you to ask your fishmonger to do your filleting and send you home with beautiful, skinned fillets along with the carcass for fish stock. And, the fish stock…
I always cringe when I hear the words "fish stock," thinking smelly, murky liquid...but when fresh, it actually makes a nice braise for mild fish like sole or a base for soups. As chef was demonstrating how to make the fish dish, he also made veal stock, which took the entire class (2.5 hours). He explained that a good stock is the basis for many of the things we make and using bullion is never the same. Every day brown veal stock is made in the sous-sol (basement kitchen) in a vat that goes from floor to the top of the counter, probably 3’ wide and has a wooden spoon that is about 4' long to stir it.
As usual, chef was giving all his direction in French, but as he was skimming the fat off of the fish stock, he broke into English and emphatically said, “NEVER, NEVER, NEVER add salt.” We all furiously scribbled in our notes—NO salt!!!
When the fish stock was ready (a fraction of the time veal or chicken stock requires), he ladled some over the sole fillets and put them in the oven to braise. The fish was resting in a butter-greased pan with salt, pepper, finely minced shallot and a few splashes of vin blanc. Once the fish is done cooking (about 8 minutes), you use the cooking liquid to make your sauce.
It begins with about three cups of the cooking liquid which is reduced by half. While it is bubbling on the stove, chef takes out a packet of butter, begins to cube it and starts his speech, “people zhink French cuisine iz all butter and cream, but zis is not true...”
He takes another packet of butter out and begins to cube it, “You want to see a lot of butter and cream, eh? You go to Normandy…zey use zee butter, zey use zee cream—and zey use it togezher in everysing!”
Now, the sauce has reduced to about a cup and a half of liquid. And he starts to whisk in each cube of butter. All the while, defending butter's honor and going on about how fine cuisine is meant to be small, so each person will only have a small bit of sauce over the fish.
And as he plops the last cube of butter into the sauce, which completes a full pound, he remarks “...and, we use much less zan we used to.”
Well, I guess if served with a side of Lipitor, it’s fine!
But, as promised, he beautifully plated the fish and ladled over--well, I'd say a medium bit of the sauce. Garnished with a sprig of chervil and, fini! There were a lot of mmmmmm's in the room as the tasting dishes were passed out. Immediately when I tasted this dish, I thought of my grandpa, “Bumpa.” He loves flaky white fish…and I'm sure I’m not embarrassing him to say that he’s famous for asking for an extra side of sauce, dressing, gravy, catsup, and the like. I bet he would want more than un petit portion of this sauce. It's velvety, not surprisingly the color of butter, and you do actually get notes of the white wine, shallot, bay & thyme…one bite is d-lish.
So, Bumpa…this dish is for you. This and a bottle of vin blanc...and something sweet to finish with a cup of coffee and grand marnier when I see you again.
Today for lesson three, we had a different chef du cuisine to demonstrate chicken stock, cheese soufflé (which was uh-mazing), how to truss a chicken and a few other things. This chef is quite a character and a true restaurant chef. He was putting together the ingredients and bringing the chicken stock up to a boil when he ceremoniously sprinkled coarse salt into the pot. There were a few gasps in the room…just yesterday we had the “never, never, never” speech. One brave lady raised her hand and remarked that we were told never to use salt in stock. To which he replies, “who told you zat! It is for zee taste! You must add!”
Voila! Big lesson we all learned this week: each chef has his own method. Not surprising. They’re all strong, proud French men. Judicious note-taking is key it seems, and when in doubt, add butter.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
