Week in Review #7: Beth V. and Her Daughters

Now, as they say, we're cooking. Culinary Foundations II is in, I suspect, the biggest kitchen I'll ever get to be in.

And class is a strange type of torture, actually. Because, yes, we're now cooking in cooking school. But, we're starting off with the basics. A quick glance at our syllabus shows that we start with stocks, which we then turn into sauces one week. Or soups the next. Then we work our way into salads and vegetables and fruits. A vinaigrette here and there.

There's nary a protein in sight. I'm starting to feel like the entire program is like building one complete meal in extreme slow motion. Which I guess is a good way to teach concepts, but goodness am I always hungry.

The basic schedule alternates demonstration days and cooking days. We made chicken and veal stock on our first hands-on day, and I learned that fatty veal bones browning in a hot pan are prone to frighteningly tall flames.

Simmering chicken stock.

Veal stock in progress.

Though we learned of her in Foundations I, we were formally introduced to Beth V, the mnemonic device used to remember the five "mother" sauces of French cuisine: béchamel, espagnole, tomato, hollandaise, and veloute. She's like Roy G. Biv, except she smells better.

It's not common to see these sauces as-is on a menu, though it's much more common to see their "daughters" or derivatives. For example, I've only seen béchamel with cheese added to it, which would then formally be called a Mornay sauce. Add macaroni to that and you've got mac 'n cheese. Or, ladle it over a sandwich with a fried egg and you've got a croque madame, which is exactly what I did with the béchamel I made in class.

In related news, I kinda sorta had my first catering gig over the weekend. Kinda sorta because my mom hired me (for the price of a plane ticket) to cook two dishes for my dad's birthday. I made paella and, with a recipe straight out of my school book, gazpacho. I think it turned out pretty well.

Week in Review #5 + #6: Callousness

I've been pretty much hunkered down studying/practicing for the last two weeks, which is why I didn't get a Week in Review out last week. When I first enrolled, I wasn't sure how much traditional studying, report writing, and test taking there would be. For the first six-week session, I'd say it's very much like any other educational program, complete with a marathon finals week full of exams and reports.

Another reason for no Week in Review was because Culinary Foundations I was, as the name implies, basics. The early going was the culinary equivalent of grammar lessons. Not the most exciting thing, but it's what everything else is based on: knife cuts, kitchen nomenclature, cooking techniques, stocks and sauces.

I'm happy to report that practice doesn't make perfect, but did help me score well on my knife practical final. And, more importantly for me, it's helped me develop a chef's callous.

The base of my right index finger, where the top of the blade and knife handle meets my hand, has gradually toughened up over the course of the class. It's the same area that tore open during my volunteer stint months ago, and it makes me feel like I've officially passed through some medieval ritual and emerged a member of a secret society of vegetable-chopping superheroes. Like Watchmen, but with uniformly cut carrots and fresh mayonnaise.

Culinary Foundations II starts today, which alternates demonstration/preparations and cooking days. In other words: cooking! Huzzah!

Week in Review #3 - 'Hot Behind!'

Fifteen days into culinary school, and I think I've learned more French culinary terms than my dog has learned English commands in nearly five years. Take from that what you will.

The third week was both a throwback and a kind of sneak preview for me. A throwback because I took my first tests in more than a decade. And a sneak preview because the class is in a type of prep cook period – we chop ingredients and watch them go into cooking demonstrations. We break down, say, parsley and potatoes, or make mirepoix for stocks that are later used in mother sauces, or hand-whisk mayonnaise until our shoulders scream, "no más!"

The food safety and sanitation stuff has, frankly, caused more grief than comfort in my everyday life. The wife and I took home leftovers from Neptune's Net, and all I could think about was the host of foodborne pathogens associated with fish and shellfish, which I'd crammed into my brain for the test. I wasn't paranoid enough to ask restaurant management where they source their shellfish (the primary prevention method for shellfish poisoning is "purchasing from reputable sources" according to ServSafe), but it was on my mind.

It also doesn't help that the advertising push for Contagion is in full gear.



Technique of the Week

Some good ones in the running, including monter au beurre and the proper way to mince parsley, both from Day 14. However, I taught my wife the basic safety language of the kitchen, which is both pragmatic and fun.

It includes saying, "Knife!" when carrying a knife and shouting, "Hot behind!" when either carrying something hot behind someone or trying to sexually harass someone. Preferably someone who will not sue because you're married and/or in an extended relationship with them.

Injury Report

The consecutive non-cutting streak has reached fifteen days. I did burn myself at home trying to mimic the roast chicken with pan gravy at home. After removing the chicken and pan from a 400-degree oven, I tried reaching past the handle and singed my wrist. Maybe the chef's uniform has magical protective powers since I seem to always nick myself at home, but never at school.

Week in Review #2 - Tourné Around

We're still weeks away from doing actual cooking, but we're getting closer. I can, quite literally, smell it. I got to drop some stock on Friday, so I spent a good ten minutes ladling veal stock through strainers (which, if you missed it, are of the Asian persuasion).

Ten minutes standing over bubbling, lip-smacking, two-days-simmering veal bones and meat and wonderful, wonderful fat. We pretty quickly attacked some of the meat that had been set aside from one stock pot, and while most of the flavor had made its way into the liquid – that's pretty much the point, isn't it? – it was still pretty delicious.

By my count, we're up to 15 different knife techniques, which we've practiced on potatoes, carrots, zucchini, onions, shallots, celery, and turnips. I'm happy to say I've already shown improvement. I'm not happy to say we keep having to do tournés, which certainly make for cute little vegetables, but seem an awful waste, make my hands sore, and don't have an obvious culinary application unless I ever want to serve cute little vegetables that roughly resemble boat hulls or footballs.

Technique of the Week

Not tournés! I'm going to go with our basic 3-2-8-2-2-4 volume conversion shorthand. I have three refrigerator magnets for kitchen conversions that I can now retire because of 3-2-8-2-2-4. I'm trying to come up with a mnemonic device for this, or at least for the corresponding measurements (teaspoon, tablespoon, ounce, cup, pint, quart, and gallon). Alas, my mind keeps drifting to 867-530-niiii-eee-iiiine. Who can I turn to?

Injury Report

The consecutive non-cutting streak has reached double digits. Ten days!

Week in Review #1 - Let Them Eat Pasta

The first week of culinary school is in the books. A basic foundation-laying process has begun.

And of all the things that I’ve learned, one thing jumps out: the French didn’t really invent modern cuisine. As a red-blooded American, I feel it’s my duty to take every opportunity to cut down those peace-mongering surrender monkeys.

"We all talk like Maurice Chevalier!"

I kid! I kid! But let's face it, there's a strange allure to poking fun at the French.

It’s fun to, how you say, ooze theez reedeecooluhs ahk-cent. It’s fun to add “le” to things to make them fancier. Even though American involvement in war is a lightning rod of a subject nowadays, can any one of us resist pointing out how we saved the French twice last century? And they lost Vietnam, too!

So, if you’d like to get under the skin of the resident Frenchman in your social circle, do try to work this into a dinner conversation: French cuisine was brought to France by an Italian.

Of course, this is a gross simplification that ignores all the innovations the French brought to the modern, professional kitchen, but it’s essentially true. Catherine de’ Medici, she of the Famiglia de’ Medici (cue your ridiculous Italian accent), married King Henry II of France in 1533. She brought her cooks and their more sophisticated techniques with her.

It wasn’t until the next century that a French chef, trained in a Medici kitchen, decided to break away from Italian conventions, kickstarting a series of changes that eventually resulted in haute cuisine, the brigade system, restaurant terminology and all that stuff.

Okay, so it’s not even “essentially” true that French cuisine was brought to France by an Italian, but hey, it’s all in good fun. And besides, we all know the Chinese invented everything.

Technique of the Week

My new rule of thumb: give it the finger.

One of the essentials of slicing and dicing is uniformity. Our cutting boards do have ruler hash marks on the bottom, but moving ingredients to the edge slows me down. The most basic measure we’ve had so far is half an inch, because from there you can cut down to a batonnet (1/4" sticks) and a julienne (1/8" sticks).

To help me eyeball the measurements, I went home and measured my fingernails. It turns out my middle finger nail is half an inch from the back to that line where the nail meets skin (as opposed to the end of the nail, which, of course, grows). If I'm ever in a kitchen with you, please don’t take it personally.

Injury Report

One week, zero cuts. I did scratch myself at home on, of all things, the little metal teeth on a box of parchment paper, but I don’t think that counts.