"What You All Been Waiting For: Group 5"

That's what Julian wrote on the white board, in preparation for today's presentations. Our theme today was "diabetic friendly," and we had foods from Korea, North Africa, Greece, and Rome. Although Rudy may have had his geography a bit messed up: one of his menu items was "Romanian Stuffed Cabbage."

First thing this morning, Chef Vinita announced, "We would be foolish if we did not recognize the special energy in the classroom today. Not only is it Friday, but it is the start of our spring break. But don't compromise the basics! Cook delicious food. Pay attention to the details!!" As we got together our mise en place, she offered up items as if they were prizes: "Here is some delicious Italian dressing! Let's use that on the Greek salad. Who wants to use these lovely baby zucchini? We have a whole bag of fresh peas!"

I worked with Julian on his Greek menu, sautéing chicken breasts that were then braised in a tomato-red wine sauce, flavored with allspice and cinnamon. And I put together a simple Greek-style salad with romaine, tomatoes, cucumbers, radishes, and feta. He eliminated the olives to keep down the sodium count, but a Greek salad really calls for some olives.



I volunteered to use some of the lovely baby zucchini, which I made into a frittata: sauté onions and garlic, add chopped zucchini and bell pepper, sweat until soft. Add fresh spinach. Mix with beaten eggs, bread crumbs, fresh herbs (chervil!!), parmesan cheese, and, because we had it handy, a big dollop of basil pesto. Pour into a baking pan and sprinkle with more parmesan. Bake for about 45 minutes. I love fritatta. It's so versatile: use what you have, serve with anything, for any meal.



We were "perfectly staffed" today, with 11 of our core 14 in attendance. Chef Vinita seems to have worked some magic on Jim and Aaron, at least — Jim was here every day except Monday. Tashana is apparently holding a grudge about the Cocoa Roll. Before we were excused, Chef encouraged us to nurture what we've learned in her class: "You don't have to become vegetarian or vegan, just remember the things we've talked about and plant some of them as your own." She's looking forward to hearing about our future endeavors, but she won't come to our restaurants unless we have a vegetarian offering.

Chef Vinita doesn't shake hands when you say goodbye. She hugs.

We're out of school until April 10th. I'm planning to read: I have the new Alice Waters biography, and the new book by Natsuo Kirino. I'm going to send out some inquiry letters regarding possible internship sites. I'll have lunch with friends, go to the farmer's market, see a movie or two, get a pedicure. I'll cook. I'll eat, and drink. I've already put my engagement ring back on, and turned off the alarm clock.

The Moon Lady

Today's theme was macrobiotics, and once the team (Tashana, Andy, and Travis) had reviewed their recipes in front of the class, Chef Vinita threw in a wrench. Well, actually, it was a wrench and a couple of bolts. She disallowed one of Tashana's dishes, and requested that her cooking team redo the menu. See, the problem was that Tashana was assigned Irish macrobiotic cooking, and her menu included no grains (should equal 50% to 60% of a macrobiotic meal) and finished up with a "Cocoa Roll With Mint Cream," utilizing non-dairy whipped topping and green food coloring. As we began to work, the pockets of conversation made clear that the class was divided: half agreed with Chef that keeping to the day's theme was important, and she was right to demand changes. The other half felt that Tashana's creativity had been dissed, and she said so herself, when we did the day's wrap-up: "I'm disappointed in how it went today, because I wanted to make the Cocoa Roll with Mint Cream." But Saint Patrick's Day has come and gone.

I worked on Andy's dishes with Julian and Sarah. He was making Moroccan food, and his menu needed no adjustment. Chef did request that we use up some additional ingredients, as part of the spring break refrigerator clean-out, so we rolled with the punches, so to speak.

Julian made the Moroccan stew, loaded with udon noodles, tofu, eggplant, tomatoes and onions. Bonus vegetables: diced acorn squash and celeriac.


Sarah made the sushi: the recipe actually started out as phyllo-wrapped scallops, highly spiced, with tomatoes and mangoes. Andy changed the wrapper to nori, as seaweed is an important ingredient in the macrobiotic diet. Chef added some raw shrimp. Sarah had trouble rolling the sushi so I helped out there, and it's really fun. Like a party trick.


I made couscous and chick-peas with caramelized onions, which was extended to incorporate some fresh fennel as well. The chick-peas were cooked in vegetable stock flavored with "ras al-hanut" ("best in the house"), a mixture of cinnamon, cloves, black pepper, and other spices. The sliced onions and fennel were blanched, then cooked over low heat with some of the chick-pea stock, plus raisins and dried apricots, until the liquid was virtually gone and the vegetables were golden and soft.


(Andy brought in his own ceramic dishes for presentation. He made them in high school art class.)

While we worked, Chef went through the contents of all the refrigerators. Midway through class, she handed me a paper-wrapped package to take home: big bunches of fresh sage, rosemary, marjoram, thyme, and oregano. "And they're organic!" she said.

To roll the sushi, I had to borrow a makisu (bamboo mat) from Chef Duffy. When I returned it, he said, "Back so soon?" I handed him the mat and said, "Danke Schoen," and he said "Bitte." We clearly speak the same language.

I was slicing the acorn squash, and the pieces from the top of the gourd were perfect bright orange half-moons. When Chef Vinita walked by, she stopped and admired them. She loves her ingredients. "Did anyone see the moon this morning?" she asked, raising her voice so the whole class could hear her. Turning back to Andy and I, she said, "On some mornings, when the moon is full, or nearly full, I have to pull over on the side of the freeway to admire it for a while. Sometimes the police will stop to see if I need assistance. And I tell him, No, I am just spending a few minutes looking at this beautiful moon."

I wonder if they have to call in the stop. "Moon Lady on westbound 80 again."

We'll Now Sing Verses 4 and 7.

The words we know, the tune we hum: "The Ballad of the Flaky Culinarian." Whereas in Baking and Pastry, "flaky" would be a positive attribute, in our program it's just damn frustrating.

Prior to the group sing-along, featuring a lengthy solo by Chef Vinita, we cooked "ovo-vegetarian" dishes from Italy, as directed by Aaron. He was a group of one: the other two people in his assigned group failed to materialize, ever, and eventually disappeared from our roll list. So Chef let him run the whole show. It was a loose day, as a result, and we're also being encouraged to use up perishable inventory: school will be closed next week and we must honor our ingredients and not waste them. So several dishes were somewhat deviant from the ovo-vegetarian diet: the three shrimp dishes, for example, and the chicken florentine crepes. But we had bruschetta (five types, from Andy), and Tuscan bean soup, and fresh pasta with vegetable and tomato sauce, and zeppoli with marsala-marinated apricots. I worked on dessert. Zeppoli are fried balls of dough, sprinkled with sugar. Chef picked up one and bit it, and smiled. "What can be wrong with that?" she said. Andy said they reminded him of the Minnesota State Fair. We had peaches so I used them instead of apricots, marinating them in marsala and sugar, and just before serving, I added toasted pecans and diced bananas.

I also made some really nice crepes that Julian filled with chopped chicken and creamed spinach. There's something really satisfying about making them. Today, I smartened up and used two little pans. You can stack them up and make them ahead of time, and they're perfectly wonderful and forgiving and they make people smile.



And look what I bought!



Time to make good on the promise to Self and make some nutritious delicious lunch snacks.

Chef told us that every day, when we leave the classroom, we should ask ourselves the question, "Would I hire me?"

"I'm Not Nervous. I'm Just Silly."

Derrick dropped all his recipes on the floor as he was talking about his menu, "Sicilian food the DASH way". "There's no need to be nervous, Derrick," Chef Vinita said encouragingly. "I'm not nervous," he said. "I'm just silly."

He has good musical taste, though. He brought his iPod speakers to class today, since he was one of the three facilitating chefs, and so we got to chop and stir to Stevie Wonder, Jason Mraz ("I hope no one thinks I'm wimpy,") Death Cab For Cutie and Dave Brubeck, plus a bunch of hip hop stuff that I didn't recognize.

I was part of Andrea's team, and her task was to cook low-salt Vietnamese food. This presents a bit of a problem as the cuisine often contains contains fish sauce ("nuoc mam": 1 tablespoon contains 690 mg sodium) and soy sauce (tamari: 1 tablespoon contains 1002 mg sodium; low sodium shoyu: 1 tablespoon contains 600 mg sodium). The goal with the DASH diet is to keep sodium below 1500 mg per day, 500 mg per meal. Her menu included hot and sour shrimp and shiitake soup, lettuce wraps with spicy chicken, glass noodles and lightly pickled carrots and daikon, and sticky rice with mangoes. Dava, Aaron and Silvia also worked for Andrea today.

Per normal, Andrea was well organized, and she brought in a written plan of action. I had several tasks throughout the morning. I cleaned and deveined shrimp (saving the shells to use in the stock). I started the sticky rice, using sushi rice and a couple of tablespoons of coconut milk in the cooking water. I sautéed the chicken breasts after they'd been marinating for a while, then put them into the oven to finish cooking. And Aaron and I cooked the little rice cakes for the dessert. Here's what it looked like:




In order to keep within the required guidelines, Andrea removed all the offending ingredients from the recipes. Maybe it's because we're not regular consumers of Viet food, but we didn't notice a big flavor hole where the fish sauce and soy should be. There was lots of flavor: fresh, spicy, sweet.

For his Sicilian menu, Derrick started with minestrone, followed by mussels in marsala sauce over fettuccini, and finished up with strawberry granita. The mussels were especially good, though their appearance caused some adolescent snickering, reminding me yet again how young and immature some of my classmates actually are. Jordan was the other facilitator today. He was tasked with making Japanese food, and prepared spinach and strawberry salad, sesame honey chicken, and broiled fruit kebabs. Unless something was lost in the translation, I didn't get the Japanese influence in his menu.

Sarah asked me if I'd cook her chicken on Friday. She's planning ahead. "You know how to cook chicken good," she said. Like me, she has to cook African-style, but her restrictions are diabetic, so chicken is allowed. I wasn't sure if she really liked me, but cooking the chicken's a pretty big responsibility.

Jim showed up today. "How did it go yesterday?" he asked. He said Chef will let him turn in his report, though he won't be able to make up the in-class presentation. Twenty points out of a hundred, right there, and that's not even taking into account his 50% absentee rate. How long will they let him flounder?

"Rainy Days and Mondays"

Well, today was the big day: Group One (Dava, Jim and I) was in charge of running the class for the morning, splitting up the chefs-in-training and supervising them while they cooked our dishes. Jim failed to show up. Chef said, "Well he told me last week that his grandfather died so he might not be here. I wonder how many grandparents he has." Dava had laryngitis ("How convenient," as the Church Lady would say), so the bulk of the "running" was left to me. At least the verbal part. Dava communicated by note and hand signals.

Our assignment was to create a menu of vegan dishes, with an assigned geographic slant. Dava did vegan/Spanish, and my dishes were vegan/North African. We split the rest of the class in half so we were each leading a team of five — plenty of people to carry out our wishes.

Before class even started today, Julian said, "I want to make the soup," and so he did: Moroccan Cold Tomato Soup, which we changed up and served hot today, to match the weather.


Tashana and Sarah collaborated on the couscous, which was done in a flash, and Rudy took on the vegetable ragout ("Give me something hard, man!"). I realized when we sat to eat that he'd neglected to add the raisins, which he'd plumped on the side of the stove in some hot water.


Jordan handled dessert, oranges in syrup with pistachios. The first job was to peel the zest off of some oranges and cut it into julienne. He made that job last half an hour. Tashana and Sarah were cleaning up before he got to step two.



With so much "help," we had our buffet set up by 9:45. Thanks to Tessie for loaning me the lovely African table cloth. When I spread it out, Jordan moaned and said, "Man, you keep raising the bar."

Mid-morning, Chef Vinita looked out the window and exclaimed, "Oh look! It's a red Beetle! That's a special color. You can't get it on just any car!" I laughed and said, "I'm surprised that you know so much about Beetles, Chef." She said, "Oh, it's the color. When I was a younger person, I thought that by the time I was fifty, I'd have a red Porsche. But I have a hybrid. And it's black. But I love to have red things around me. My canisters are red, and my daughter bought me a lovely red thermos cup."

For the rest of the week, my job is to show up and cook for the other four groups. Hopefully I won't be the last one picked for the team, like in kickball.

"If I Knew the Way, I Would Take You Home"

Ah. Happy Friday.

Was it just me? I could not wait for class to be over, for the weekend to start.

I didn't correctly identify the bonus item on the product identification portion of the final exam — they looked just like shiny brown sesame seeds (as opposed to white and black ones). Don't they?


Flax. Now we all know.

We had a "practice session" in preparation for our class presentations next week, the opportunity to try out any of the dishes we'll be including in our special menus. I really didn't feel like making any African-hued vegan dishes. So I started a gigantic pot of vegetable stock and then worked on cleaning out the refrigerators, a job that happens a couple of times a week, and always on Fridays. Stuff that won't last the weekend gets used (the gigantic stockpot was handy) or tossed, as appropriate. Towards the end of the morning, I made a big spinach salad at Chef's request. "I'll feel a little better if I can see them eat something green today," she said. Jordan had opened a #10 tin of mandarin oranges, so some of them went into the salad, with some red onion and toasted walnuts. I warmed some cumin seeds in olive oil and used that as the basis for the dressing, and added some mandarin orange juice and raspberry vinegar.

Andy (our blond Minnesota boy, too young to buy marsala for the tiramisu he made for his girlfriend's class project on Italian style) was rinsing a mortar and pestle when I went into the dishroom mid-morning to grab a big bowl.

"Do you know the Grateful Dead?" he asked me. [Uh, do I look like a Deadhead to you?]

"Oh yes," I replied.

"I've got this song stuck in my head this morning.... 'If my words did flow da da da da da..."

"Ripple," I said, and then it was stuck in my head, too.

"Cuisine Minceur"

"You can remember that it's 'lean cuisine,' but without the box."

Chef Vinita gave an overview of the "historical" culinary revolution of the 1970s. "There was music in the cafés at night and revolution in the air..."* and in the kitchen too, apparently, beginning in France with cuisine minceur ("diet of slimness") and moving into nouvelle, spa, and California cuisines. In all of these, the emphasis is on fresh local ingredients, but the roots are classical French, a la Escoffier. During her lecture, the school's executive chef, Michael Weller, joined our class and sat in the back, as an observer. I practically prayed that my sometimes unruly, always unpredictable classmates would give Chef Vinita the respect she deserves. In the middle of her lecture, a cell phone rang. "How rude!" I thought, and then Chef Weller walked into the next kitchen to take his call.

When she talked last week about eating a healthy, well-balanced diet, Chef made an excellent suggestion. Balance and moderation are key, occasional indulgence is good and even necessary, but we should pay attention to the things we eat three times a week or more. In that vein, I've wanted to find a homemade alternative to the granola bars that are in David's lunch every day. Even though they're the "Nature Valley" brand, "a good source of whole grains," they still (grrrrrrr) contain high fructose corn syrup. Chef decided that today would be the day to experiment with something healthy, so that was my challenge.

I used the Raisin Spice Bar recipe from our Professional Cooking text, modifying it with Chef Vinita's assistance. The original recipe contains only 1 gram of protein per serving. In order to boost it, she recommended substituting silken tofu for the butter, and replacing the pastry flour with equal amounts of all purpose, whole wheat, and soy flour. I also used brown sugar instead of white, and instead of raisins, I added dried cherries, dried apricots, and pistachio nuts. I left in all the eggs. We put aside most of the tray, for energy tomorrow during our final exam. Chef Vinita is giving us all possible advantages, those of us who are open to receiving them.



So, alright already. These were delicious, and definitely something I'll make again, and at home. I just won't tell David about the tofu.

We had ground beef in the class refrigerator, for whatever reason, and in the spirit of "honoring the ingredients," it was used. Andrea prepared Italian-style meatballs with sugo (she was thrilled that she found a big piece of Parmigiano Reggiano, the official stamp visible on the rind), and Silvia made a big pot of spicy albondigas soup. As she dropped the meatballs into the simmering vegetable stock, she said, "I've never made this before, but I've watched my father do it many times." While we ate, Andrea commented, "When people make what they feel passionate about, the quality really goes up a notch, doesn't it?"

Chef Vinita and I chatted while I used the class computer to look up a recipe for preserved lemons (I'll use them as a garnish for my North African vegan stew on Monday.) She said, "I think after you are finished with school, we will get together and cook a meal. Sometimes it does happen that we start out as student and teacher, and then become friends. I feel as though that could happen with us."

* Bob Dylan, "Tangled Up In Blue," from Blood on the Tracks

Palak Paneer: A Signature Dish

After formally acknowledging the arrival of spring, Chef Vinita embarked on a brisk review of her lectures to date, in preparation for our written final which is the day after tomorrow. We still have another week of class left, but next week will be taken up with our class projects.

Chef also introduced the concept of raw food, where nothing is heated above about 116 degrees. Proponents believe that energy-giving enzymes are killed at higher temperatures. Rudy, in class for just a day, scoffed at the idea but Chef Vinita responded immediately. "You may laugh, but there are chefs laughing all the way to the Citibank. Chefs are preparing three-hundred-dollar-a-plate raw Thanksgiving dinners for celebrities in Hollywood. I am confident that this information I am giving you will be useful to at least one of you, someday."

Once it was time to cook, Chef urged us to prepare something from the heart, "and make it as if it's your signature dish." We made paneer yesterday for cooking today, so I was tasked with preparing palak paneer and cumin rice pilaf. Chef generously spent much of the morning coaching me through the process. My cooking today was definitely from her heart, through my hands.

Paneer is a fresh cheese, the only cheese indigenous to South Asia. It does not melt, and it is not made with rennet, and is therefore vegetarian. To make it, bring whole milk to a boil. Infuse with spices or herbs, if desired (we used saffron.) Curdle the milk by adding an acid — vinegar or lemon juice, for example, about three tablespoons per half-gallon of milk. You've added enough acid when the whey is clear, not cloudy. Pour the curds and whey through a cheesecloth-lined colander. Chef Vinita says she always retains the whey, at home, and uses it like stock when cooking rice or vegetables. (She told me today that "Nothing ever goes to waste in my house. We only need to put out trash one time a month!") The paneer is then refrigerated and left to drain overnight or longer.

Our dish today was Palak Paneer, Paneer with Spinach. You often find "saag paneer" on Indian menus: that translates to "greens" and Chef says they're typically a combination of mustard greens and spinach. I started by slowly caramelizing two diced onions in oil for a LONG LONG time, close to an hour, until they were deeply golden brown. At the same time, I cut the paneer into cubes, and sautéed a couple of tablespoons of cumin seed in hot oil, in preparation for the pilaf (made by the same stove-top method that Chef Afreen showed me last week.) I washed the rice, using three changes of water and letting the rice fall through my fingers. When the cumin seeds were deep brown, I removed the pan from the heat and added the water, and let the spices infuse the water on the back of the stove.

When the onions were caramelized to Chef's satisfaction, we added minced garlic and ginger, and cooked them until golden. Then we made a thin paste with curry powder and water. Andy made the curry last week, under Chef's direction, and it contained cumin, coriander, turmeric, and cayenne. Maybe something else. I added the paste to the onions and allowed it to cook, the water evaporating, the spices warming and browning. Chef said that you need to "cook" the spices to remove the raw taste, and she sniffed the pan regularly, fanning the steam towards her nose, until she determined that they were done. I was not really able to discern the difference, but she says that the aroma changes, and the spices become a blend rather than a combination of individual scents.

Once the spices were properly incorporated, I added the spinach — a huge amount, stirring it to wilt it. For formal occasions, you would cook and stir the spinach, using your spoon to push it against the side of the pan until it becomes a paste, and the palak actually forms a sauce. When you're getting really fancy, you add cream. But today, we were cooking "rustic," Chef said, so I stirred the spinach until it was totally wilted, then added the cubed paneer.

By this time, the rice was cooking right there in the open, lid-less, until the steam vents appeared on the surface of the rice, and most of the water was gone. Then, as before, I covered the pan with a towel, then aluminum foil, and turned off the heat.

Chef prepared a special garnish for the dish. "In lieu of ghee," she melted about a quarter cup of butter, then added more minced garlic and ginger, and a generous amount of cayenne pepper. She allowed the aromatics to get quite brown in the bubbling butter, stirring the pan frequently. Right before serving, she poured half of this over the paneer, and stirred it in. The rest was poured like a little gravy over the dish.


Our buffets keep growing bigger, and more diverse. Today we had salmon two ways and chicken two ways, an eggplant-cheese casserole, lentil dal, spiced green beans, stir-fried vegetables with sweet and sour sauce, risotto milanese, bean burritos with guacamole and fresh salsa, rice noodles with shiitake mushrooms, and Rudy's "triumph," faux broccoli beef made with seitan. Just not my cup of tea. Oh, and we also had raspberry iced tea, in which I did indulge.

Food Conscience / Consciousness

So Chef Vinata titled this morning's lecture. She gave an impassioned introduction to the Slow Food movement. She said she doesn't like to speak negatively about anybody, but, in reference to fast food of all stripes and the resulting mechanized farming, mass distribution, and homogenization of product, she noted, "In this process, we are losing the old, the ancient, the species, the seed, the soil." She talked about the way that three thousand individual apple varietals in North America alone have been whittled down to eight or ten "harvested" varieties. She described glowingly the work of a hypothetical Sonoma cheesemaker, who knows his cows and goats and can make enough product to serve the local community, "and maybe he can open up a little shop in the Ferry Building." But he's not shipping cross-country.

She also talked about grass-roots movements in general, and the power of the collective, and, in an aside: "You may think I am just the hippie chef from India..." And at the end of the lecture, she directed our attention to the white board: "It may appear blank, but it is filled with space, space for you to go out and sow your own seeds. A place for you to make your mark." And then we turned our attention to cooking, salt-free.

We again had relatively free rein, and she urged us to use herbs, spices and vinegars creatively, to minimize our dependence on salt as a flavoring ingredient. I cooked polenta, a first for me, and flavored it generously with parmesan cheese and basil, then poured it into a sheet pan to solidify. Then I made a simple Italian-influenced stir fry: shallots, garlic, pine nuts, and broccoli, seasoned with fresh basi and oregano, cooked with some vegetable stock. I also made a balsamic reduction. You can try this at home. I reduced balsamic vinegar (use the "faux" stuff you can buy at the grocery store, not the fancy 25-year-old kind that you got in your Christmas stocking) until it was a thick syrup — a couple of drops of the reduction brightened up several of the dishes we shared today. Totally easy and amazing.


We had zucchini-garbanzo pancakes with curried tomato sauce, a cauliflower/chickpea/potato medley, some sautéed chicken breasts (marinated in ginger and orange juice), a arugula/roasted beet salad, lentil soup with feta, oatmeal-raising cookies made with pink peppercorns, and honey nutmeg lemonade.

Rudy returned after six days AWOL. Jordan and Travis arrived at about nine. Our group "grocery lists" were due today, and Travis sent Tashana his requirements via text message. She was incredulous, looking at her phone. "He wants 150 cloves of garlic!! Thirty bok choy!! Seventy-five shiitake mushrooms!! Two pounds of basil!!" Some sort of math error, clearly. We're supposed to be making twelve to fifteen servings of our menu items.

Jim wandered in about ten, as we were finishing our cooking and beginning to prepare the buffet. He spent more than an hour "updating" the grocery list that Dava and I developed this morning. I saw it after he'd turned it in. He's requested a dozen eggs. But we're the vegan team. He is SO not on the bus.

"It'll never be perfect."

"It's about getting better." That's Chef Vinita's opinion of the USDA program for organic food labeling, authorized in 1990 and implemented (finally!!) in 2002. The program, overseen by the National Organic Program, authorizes four levels of "organic" labels, and it's worth knowing the difference between them.



The first level, "100% organic," means that all ingredients are certified organic, except any included water or salt. A product can be labeled "organic" if between 95% and 99% of the contents are certified organic. Only these two levels can display the organic seal.

The other authorized labels are "Made with organic ingredients" — between 70% and 94% of the total ingredients, and "Organic ingredients listed" — where any organic ingredients are less than 70% of the total. Again, smart consumers read labels.

And to review, "organic" means: not treated with chemical fertilizers, pesticides, hormones, GMOs (genetically modified organisms), or radiation. It takes three years of farming with organic methods before a farm (or field) can obtain certification. This is one of the reasons that organic products are usually more expensive than non-organic. Another significant reason (and a whole can of worms) is the fact that much "traditional" agriculture in the US is federally subsidized.

Ah, but on to the real drama. Jim was sent home today, for being out of uniform. He complained that he'd have to drive all the way to Hayward and back "just" to change his shoes, and Chef Vinita said politely, "We'll plan on seeing you tomorrow, then." And Sarah (new to our class this session, but at the same place in the program) got a major dressing down for her fingernails: a fancy French manicure on acrylic nails, with black tips. She had to wear gloves while cooking today, and Chef told her to cut her nails to an acceptable length before coming to class tomorrow. (Acceptable means that your nails are not visible when you look at the palms of your hands.)

Before leaving class today, Chef called us to order and advised that anyone out of uniform tomorrow would not be allowed into the classroom. She was clearly distressed at having to enforce the uniform code in the face of lax behavior, reminding us that we've been in class for four months and none of this is news.

It's really really really really really really boring, going through this all the time. Uniform. Attendance. Uniform. Attendance. I just wish the offenders would get the message, or quit, or be ousted. So that the rest of us can just get on with the cooking.

"When you cook with your heart, that's really good chef-ing"

While Chef Vinita is generally upbeat, she positively glows this morning as she gives her Macrobiotics lecture. She says she has previously taught three-month programs on the subject, so synthesizing it into an hour's lecture is challenging.

The term comes from two Greek words, makro (long) and bios (life). The main principle is one of balance, the yin and yang, as well as the belief that your health, well-being and happiness are strongly influenced by your food. Some of the concepts we find so "contemporary" and even obvious, such as the mind/body connection, moderation in all things, living in the moment: these precepts were considered revolutionary when they became widely publicized in the US in the 1960s.

My earliest encounter with macrobiotics was through my "study" (translation: slavish fan behavior) of John Lennon and Yoko Ono. In their 1980 interview with David Sheff of Playboy Magazine (which I own in hardcover, evidence of slavish fan behavior), they provide a fairly succinct definition of the philosophy:

PLAYBOY: What does your diet include besides sashimi and sushi, Hershey bars and cappuccinos?

LENNON: We're mostly macrobiotic, but sometimes I take the family out for a pizza.

ONO: Intuition tells you what to eat. It's dangerous to try to unify things. Everybody has different needs. We went through vegetarianism and macrobiotic, but now, because we're in the studio, we do eat some junk food. We're trying to stick to macrobiotic: fish and rice, whole grains. You balance foods and eat foods indigenous to the area. Corn is the grain from this area.

PLAYBOY: And you both smoke up a storm.

LENNON: Macrobiotic people don't believe in the big C. Whether you take that as a rationalization or not, macrobiotics don't believe that smoking is bad for you. Of course, if we die, we're wrong.

One key component of the macrobiotic diet is flexibility: staying true to your geographic and seasonal location, and acknowledging that our individual differences affect a "balanced" diet. It's not a cookie-cutter approach: in fact, George Oshawa, the Japanese philosopher who is credited with codifying macrobiotic principles and bringing them to the West (via Paris), described ten "ideal" diets.

Andy and I talked about the differences between the vegan diet and macrobiotics, at least as presented by Chef Vinita, over today's buffet. Macrobiotics seems to be a positive, affirming philosophy, with an emphasis on individuality and balance, whereas a vegan diet seems more about saying "no," and "I will not."

I spent the morning making two "puddings" and some green beans. The beans were very simple: trimmed, blanched, then briefly sautéed in sesame oil and sprinkled with black and white sesame seeds and sea salt. Beautiful. The puddings were a side-by-side grain comparison. I cooked both brown rice and millet. (Millet = "The birdseed you see in the pet store," according to Chef Vinita. "I love it!") Then each was further simmered with apple juice, cinnamon and a touch of sea salt. (Salt is generously used in macrobiotics, as opposed to vegan cooking, where we were urged to use it sparingly, if at all.) I finished each pudding by stirring in a big handful of freshly toasted chopped walnuts. They were both delicious, with the rice having more body overall. I brought home leftovers, because I think they'll be great for weekend breakfast, rewarmed and topped with a big spoonful of that luscious (full-fat, non-macrobiotic) Greek yogurt.

We also had stir-fried marinated tofu, a green salad with bean sprouts and a carrot-miso dressing, red snapper with mango salsa, coconut milk risotto, stir-fried vegetables, Jamaican-spiced pinto beans, and three soups: miso, barley/mushroom, and a gingery winter vegetably purée. Dava roasted barley and made an iced tea with it, which was surprisingly refreshing. Nutty. (It's a common adjective when describing our dishes, lately.) I tasted the tofu, but not the cauliflower. I'm learning where my true limits actually are.

Jim and Travis were in class today, though Aaron wasn't, and Rudy's been missing all week. "He's gonna have a lot of work to make up," Derrick said, as we were cleaning up after our tasting. "He'll have to make a tempeh wedding cake."

In a separate conversation, Silvia asked, "How big is a bunny egg?" [She also stood for several hours at Pier 27 when the Queen Mary II was in town — she wanted to get a glimpse of Her Majesty, debarking.]

And just in time for Saint Patrick's Day ("Amateur Night," as Chef Afreen noted), we learned that a cup of miso soup is a most excellent hangover remedy.

If We Were All Breatharians, We Wouldn't Need Culinary School

Whereas the cake decorating day was our hardest in baking and pastry, vegan day in Contemporary Cuisine presented a different kind of challenge to us all. Cake decorating requires precision. Vegan cooking — and eating — felt almost like spending the morning in a country where no one speaks your language. As we sat talking after the buffet, before our final clean-up, Derrick said, "Well, it wasn't as bad as I thought."

We spent our first 30 minutes working in small groups, discussing our group project for presentation in week three. Unsurprisingly, Jim didn't show today, so Dava and I consulted with Chef Vinita as to how we should handle his unreliability. Essentially, he's cut loose. Chef reiterated, "We don't worry about those who are not here." Yet she frets. She shook her finger at Travis, as we left class today — today was his first appearance. "I'd better see you in class tomorrow," she admonished. "I can become your worst nightmare!"

Our lecture covered two aspects of veganism: the rationale for adopting a vegan diet, and the health implications. Among the reasons to eat vegan: health, love for animals, culture/family background, environmental activism, and ethical beliefs. Chef Vinita spoke at length about the inability to specifically categorize vegans, who, like the rest of us, live within a continuum of choices: honey? wool? leather? pets? a trip to the zoo?

Chef's description of breatharians ("Absolutely mindblowing!") reminded me of some of Chef Allen's anecdotes in Butchery (about variety meats, or sea urchins): provided mostly for their potential shock value.

Many of us cooked tempeh today. It comes in a plastic package, a solid flat eight ounce mass of sprouted soy beans. You can parboil it or use it as is. Our buffet today included tempeh in a sort of mock-tuna salad; fried rice; and yellow curry. Oh, and my contribution: tempeh "cutlets" with orange-ginger sauce. We also had mango/payapa Thai salad; nachos (using pre-seasoned beef substitute and "cheese sauce" made with nutritional yeast); quinoa-peanut soup; and Indonesian rice pancakes with sautéed vegetables. We also had three desserts: vegan versions of chocolate chip cookies and brownies, and date-banana cookies. They weren't strictly vegan, because they included (processed) granulated sugar instead of raw sugar, another "essential" ingredient that Chef Vinita is trying to make available.

I took my assignment very seriously, and I think everyone did: using our acquired skills to prepare our dishes with care. With "love," even. But still, most of what we ate today was not particularly tasty. I made a sauce of red onions, orange juice, garlic, ginger, capers, and orange segments, spiced with red pepper flakes and thickened with arrowroot. I cut the tempeh into triangles and used soy milk and dijon mustard as a faux "egg wash"; the cutlets were dredged in a mixture of rice flour and polenta, seasoned with minced fresh thyme, basil, oregano, and pepper. I pan-fried them in canola oil, and they were nice and crispy outside, chewy and somewhat nutty in flavor, but not really that good. Chef Vinita loves them though. "For me, this is not an acquired taste. It is delicious." She leaned in a bit to say, "And very good for menopausal symptoms." I don't know. For me, it's a stretch.

After tasting the various items on her plate, Andrea said, "I don't like it. It all tastes the same to me." But I think if you were choosing a vegan diet, part of the attraction has to do with the concept of simplicity.

Before she dismissed us, Chef Vinita entreated us: "Please eat vegan one day a month! It will change your life!" As I split paths with some of my classmates outside the campus, I said, "I think I'm going to go home and make a grilled cheese sandwich." Andy said, "I think you should put some bacon on that."

So! Today's a Wonderful Day!

That's how Chef Vinita welcomes us, as she walks into the classroom at 6:50 am, the dawn not yet visible in the west-facing windows behind us. Traffic moves rapidly on 280 North, right behind the UPS building, but within an hour it's slowed way down. Our lecture and production today are vegetarian, but we digress briefly to discuss the requirements of hypertension (the DASH diet, simplistically "low sodium") and diabetes.

Chef is the most outwardly holistic of the chefs we've had so far: she speaks passionately about the connection between the mind and the body, and about the interdependence of, well, everything. "Remember one thing. You are not the only one with a brain!" She speaks about the innate intelligence of the body's cells, each developed for a precise function. "Wake them up! Let them do what they need to do!"

We get the "eight glasses of water" admonition, but Chef vividly compares the body's cells to sliced fresh eggplant, once it's been salted. "All the water runs out! The same thing is happening to your body." We are surprised to learn that a "healthy" day's worth of salt is 2400 milligrams ("a few grains over a teaspoon"), though average salt intake in the US is estimated at 3400 milligrams. A tablespoon of soy sauce contains over 1000 mgs. The pretzels now residing in the salty snack location in my kitchen contain 20 percent of a day's allowance in one serving. "Your tongues are being brined!" Chef announces. Dava insists that she cannot drink the RDA of water, or she'll be spending all day in the bathroom. Chef Vinita jumps on the comment: "You see! Your cells have dried up to the point that they no longer know what to do with water when you finally remember to drink it! You are like the doll, with the water going in one end and coming out the other." To prove her point, Dava refills her cup at the faucet throughout the morning, then ostentatiously excuses herself several times.

We are given free rein in the kitchen, guided only by today's themes of "Greek" and "vegetarian." Our buffet: falafels with roasted vegetables and pita; babaganouj; tzatziki and hummus; pita pizzas with feta, arugula, and fresh tomatoes; spanakopita; a chunky vegetable soup that Andy invented; and lemon bulgar with roasted winter vegetables, topped with marinated feta and chopped kalamatas. I made baklava with pistachios and honey. Hardly a stretch for me, I must admit.

We have once again managed to avoid tofu. But Chef Vinita ordered tempeh, and she's threatened it — I mean, promised it — for tomorrow.

How Long Have the French Been Cooking Rice, Anyway?

Chef Afreen (that's her first name) is "shadowing" Chef Vinita this session: Contemporary Cuisine is in need of another instructor, so she's getting the lay of the land. She's been teaching at the CCA for a while, Banquets and Catering. An elegant Pakistani woman, she's in the traditional chef garb and subversively bejeweled with bangle bracelets on both wrists, earrings, a small diamond stud high on one side of her nose, and an elaborate silver bracelet encircling one black-sock-covered ankle. She arrived this morning after lecture (allergens and food intolerances) and our fresh air break, and strolled the room, stopping to ask us each what we were preparing. My assignment for today was rice pilaf, and I intended to vary the Cordon Bleu recipe a bit: by substituting olive oil for butter, and vegetable stock for chicken, and by adding some sautéed mushrooms and some fresh peas. Chef Afreen began her indocrination slowly, by suggesting that I caramelize the diced onions first, then add the mushrooms and some "woody spices."

As the morning progressed, I received more than advice. I learned the "correct" manner in which to make rice pilaf, a methodology which can be traced back dozens of centuries. (Rice cultivation in Mesopotamia is thought to have begun in the 5th century, BC.) As the onions were caramelizing (in a generous amount of olive oil) in a large sauté pan, Chef Afreen showed me how to wash the rice. We substituted basmati for long-grain ("Why not use the best?"), and she measured it into a bowl, then covered it with cool water. She gently used both her hands to scoop the rice and let it fall off her fingers. "For us in the kitchen at home, the washing of the rice is spiritual." She poured off the water and replaced it with clean, rinsing it a total of three times. Then the water was drained from the rice which was set aside to dry somewhat, as the rest of the cooking progressed.

To the olive oil and onions, I added a whole bay leaf, a cinnamon stick, and a few peppercorns. I would have added some cracked white cardamom pods, but we don't have them in the kitchen. (Chef Afreen harrumphed at this, and immediately added them to the requisition list.) As the spices warmed up, their scents infusing the kitchen, I added the sliced mushrooms and stirred everything together.

While I was working on pilaf, Chef Afreen was focusing, mostly, on strawberry crepes, which she cooked in the adjacent kitchen. (We received a flat of strawberries in this morning's delivery, so in addition to her dessert, we had strawberry/soy smoothies. Soy milk is teetering dangerously close to tofu, for me, but they were delicious and refreshing.) When she presented the crepes during our buffet, drizzled with caramel/citrus sauce and topped with a bit of sweetened yogurt, she said, "I needed some therapy this morning. I made crepes."

After the mushrooms were well browned, I added the water (twice the amount of measured rice), and deglazed the pan. Then I removed the pan from the heat until about 20 minutes before serving time. Chef Afreen said that the flavors will steep together, creating a flavorful "stock" in which to cook the rice. I asked about the whole spices, and she said, "The 'Cordon Bleu' way is to remove them, but we leave them in." It's a gesture of respect and generosity towards your guests.

When the time came to finish the rice, I brought the liquid to a boil, stirred in the rice and the peas, and cooked it on the stove at medium high heat, uncovered. When holes had developed on the surface of the rice, and there was only a bit of liquid left, I covered the rice with a towel (to absorb the remaining moisture), then covered the whole pan with foil (lacking the correctly-sized lid.) About fifteen minutes after I added the rice to the liquid, it was finished. I served it as the Chef advised, spread out on a big tray. With the golden pieces of onion and the bright peas, the chunks of mushroom and the spices, the dish looked almost extravagant. And it was perfectly cooked, each grain separate and moist.

We're not going hungry in this class, no, not us. In addition to the rice, crepes, and beverage, we feasted on green salad (with low-fat viniagrette), cream of celery soup (lactose-free), lentil salad, chickpeas with spicy sauce, spinach sautéed with garlic, pork tenderloin two ways, fresh linguini with vegetables, and pasta puttanesca, made with rice pasta (gluten free). Chef Vinita puts a high emphasis on presentation, so everything was beautifully displayed and really delicious.

As I left class today, I thanked Chef Afreen for her attention. I feel like I've been handed a bag of secrets. "Bah," she said. "What do the French know about cooking rice? You should learn from someone who can do it properly."

"You Will Walk Away, Satisfied"

Chef Vinita concluded her first morning's lecture by saying, "If you cannot taste the earth, stars, sun, and moon in your food, you are missing the point."

It's Day One of Contemporary Cuisine. Although she has seventeen students on her roster, we numbered ten today. We'll be digging in deeper to the Nutrition book (good thing, too: it's an $80 text and we barely cracked the spine during our crash course during Basic Skills.) We'll be learning about various alternative and restrictive diets, and our focus will be on adaptation: using cooking techniques, substitutions, modifications and changes in serving size to accommodate the potential needs or requirements of our customers.

Chef Vinita Jacinto was born in India and studied hotel management and cooking there. She talked a bit about the challenges she's had as a woman in an Asian professional kitchen, where the attitude has been "Go home and raise your children, and do your cooking there." She's been a professional chef for 26 years, and she is enthusiastic and warm as she introduces herself and outlines the plan fo the next three weeks.

"There's no room for softness," she said, though she appears soft, at least outwardly, but I have no doubt that her inner core is steel. She's a vegetarian and a yoga practitioner, and we've asked her to lead us in some basic stretching exercises before class begins. We've been broken into five teams of three or four (I'm working with Jim and Dava — strict alphabetical order), and each day we'll be given several recipes in one of five categories: Soup & Salad, Sides, International, Protein, Beverage & Finale. We'll have an hour or so of lecture, a "fresh air break," then cooking. We'll set up a buffet at 10:30, eat, then finish the clean-up.

Today, Dava made potato leek soup with sorrel, and Jim made three gallons of vegetable stock. I made a quick cucumber/dill salad (with yogurt), then helped to organize our class refrigerator, sorting the supplies we received today. Compared to our last kitchen, we have tons of carrots, celery, herbs, and low fat and soy milk, and a large variety of grains and flours. We do not have cases of eggs, or of butter.

Chef told us that this part of the curriculum is the "most fluid, the most cutting edge," and that it's important for us to understand such concepts as raw food and sous vide in order to have a complete education. She told us that "more than in any other class," we'll be using both our right and left brains, in order to creatively develop delicious dishes while working within strict guidelines.

Today's buffet also included zucchini provencal, risotto alla parmagiano, pan-fried eggplant, crab cakes with bell pepper coulis, and raisin spice bars, with mint green tea. Chef urged us to try "everything that you see," and expand our palates. I've joked that tofu caused my divorce. That's overly simplistic, but I've resisted tofu for twenty years, mostly on principle, and I've never cooked with it. I have the feeling that that's about to change.

We have a final group project, due in two weeks, which will require that our team "lead" the class in cooking a particular style. I'm in the Vegan group. Other groups are ova-vegetarian, macrobiotic, DASH ("Dietary Approaches to Stop Hypertention,") and diabetic. Individually, we have to develop a three-course menu in our style, based on an assigned cuisine. Mine is North African. Dava's is Spanish. Jim's is Japanese. (Other students will be cooking Korean, Moroccan, Sicilian, and so on.) We have to find and analyze recipes to fit our cuisine, and modify them to meet a set of restrictions that we will receive later this week. I haven't done any research yet, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed that even vegan North Africans don't eat tofu.

I Learned It All From My Mother

I left school today with an odd ambivalent feeling. Lots of satisfaction in finishing a great class, knowing I did well. A visit from Dean Rocco about changes in school policy, mostly having to do with academic probation. Not good news if you're borderline, but I have no worries in that regard. Great conversation with our class guest, Lucie Buchbinder, who was Chef Judy's former employer (and mentor, clearly). Lots of complaining from the anti-Duffy faction while we were cleaning the kitchen, when Chef Judy was giving Lucie a tour of the facility. Andy finally said, "Maybe you would have gotten along better with Chef Duffy if you came to class and did the work." Gossip from Andrea, who saw two students sharing answers during the final, and watched as another student surreptitiously filled in numbers on the assignment worksheet that Chef Judy collects each week, giving himself credit for work he never submitted. And some hallway chatter after class between Derrick, Andrea, Andy and me: all of us a little frustrated at the bitching. It's supposed to be hard. That's what we signed up for.

We stood at the dish sink, doing dishes, Andy, Travis, and I, and talked about what we want to do when we're finished. Andy already has an internship opportunity, "at the best restaurant in Minneapolis," and Travis wants to move back to Waikiki, eventually. But it's expensive there, he says, so he wants to have some experience here first. I suggested that he look at internship opportunities in Las Vegas: if you have no reason to stay in the Bay Area, you could potentially work at some fabulous places (with big name chefs).

Lucie Buchbinder is a lovely lady, advanced in years, dressed in a bright orange swishy skirt with black boots and chunky exotic jewelry. Chef Judy introduced several of us to her and she engaged each of us in brief but informative conversation. Her background is in community organizing, and she founded The Bread Project because her low-income housing clients had few opportunities for job training. She asked me about my background and goals, and when I told her I want to be a food writer, she encouraged me to join the San Francisco Professional Food Society, where she is Secretary. "Probably a third of our members are writers!" she said. Just what I need: coming face-to-face with my competition. They have a discounted student membership rate.

My baked pork and mushroom buns were not stellar. The fillings were delicious, but many of the buns split open during the final proofing. I think I took too long to get the dough rolled and filled, and they ended up being over-proofed. Perhaps. Chef Judy said, "Perhaps there's an old Chinese secret." Our buffet was pretty overwhelming. It was great to have a half-dozen pizzas (who knew that Jim could toss pizza crust?) along with a table overflowing with sweet desserts.

Chef Judy read my dessert menu aloud to the class. "I want to be there," she said. I think I wow'd her with my presentation: I inserted my menu, cut with my fancy pinking shears, inside a menu card that I purchased last year in Cortona. It was one of those impulse purchases: when will I ever need to create a fancy printed menu?

Unlike any of our other teachers, Chef Judy talked to each of us individually today, and gave us our grades. She said, "You're one of the best students I ever had." And she gave me an "A," with honors. I have to thank my mother, first.

Tiramisu Tag Team

Today, a couple of people worked madly to complete their four required plates — Rudy, in particular, who missed Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday due to a family emergency which kept him in the Central Valley since the weekend. When I arrived in class at 6:30, he'd already begun several projects simultaneously, and had both Julian and Tashana running around, collecting his mise en place.

Most of us, though, had only one final dish to present, so the mood was relaxed, even during the final (open notes, 25 questions). Andy made an elaborate "deconstructed banana split" and spent most of the morning designing his plate presentation, and he was joyful after presenting it to Chef Judy: "She said it was the best banana-flavored product she'd ever tasted!" Jordan followed a tip from Chef Joseph, who tasted a couple of the Guinness ice creams yesterday. Chef's suggestion was to use a neutral-flavored base, and churn it almost to completion, then add the beer for the last minute or so of churning. He thought that might result in a more "forward" beer flavor. I guess we'll all be able to judge, tomorrow.

I presented my cinnamon ice cream after some goofing around with puff pastry, eventually settling on a small disc covered with caramelized apple slices. This was set next to two scoops (one large, one mini) of ice cream. I garnished the plate with a drawing of an apple + leaf (in coating chocolate) and the apple and part of the leaf were filled with appropriately colored sauce. Totally acceptable. Then I made the dough for tomorrow's project: (savory) baked buns, from Barbara Tropp's China Moon Cookbook. I'll make the fillings this afternoon (hoison/pork and mushrooms), then roll, fill, proof, bake, and eat them tomorrow. We have a 10:30 start time for the class buffet.

About 10:30, Andrea and I decided to make tiramisu. We both agreed that we could stay after class, if necessary, to complete it. Chef Judy gave us a quick run-down on the process for making ladyfingers, with ingredient measurements that Dava copied from an on-line recipe. We soon had two mixers going, beating egg yolks and whites, and minutes later, I was piping 3" strips onto a sheet pan. Andrea lasso'd Derrick into whipping and flavoring heavy cream, while she cooked the egg yolks for the filling, and after she folded in the mascarpone and marsala, she incorporated the cream and more egg whites that Dava had whipped. Andrea being Andrea, she couldn't resist saying, "Looks like you went a little too far with the whipping, Dava," but it was all good. While Chef Judy kept an eye on the baking ladyfingers, I went down to student dining for two cups of coffee, which I then spiked with a good 1/2 cup of rum. The ladyfingers cooled briefly, then the assembly line cranked into gear: I loosened the ladyfingers from the parchment with a small spatula. Dava dipped them in coffee, then laid them into a small hotel pan. When she'd finished a layer, Andrea laid down a thick layer of mascarpone filling. Then Dava added a second layer of ladyfingers, the rest of the filling went in, and the whole thing was covered with layer of sifted cocoa powder. It's resting in the refrigerator overnight. Total elapsed time: 37 minutes. Sweet dreams.

MEAT, please!

You get desensitized to sweet after a while, working with it every day. I mean, today alone, I tasted (besides my own dishes) port custard, creme brulée, passion fruit mousse, lemon parfait, vanilla soufflé, the base mixture for raspberry/red wine sorbet, tangerine/green tea sorbet, and pineapple/mint/tequila ice cream. A student from another class brought in a large bowl of chocolate mousse, beautifully garnished, to the collective groans of the entire class. We need protein!

I submitted my two custards today. The first, the baked custard with the middle eastern flavors, was not particularly successful. The texture was somewhat grainy, almost like it was overcooked, but there was a softer layer at the bottom which appeared undercooked. We looked over the recipe, which I brought from a cookbook from home, to analyze the problem and posit some solutions. My recipe calls for honey rather than granulated sugar, and a greater proportion of whole eggs (versus egg yolks) than the baked custard recipe we're using in class. So Chef Judy suggested that I could decrease the honey (which has twice the sweeting power of sugar) and/or substitute egg yolks for one or more of the whole eggs, in order to achieve a smoother final product. I asked if I should remake it — I'll definitely have time before Friday — and she smiled her dazzling smile and said, "Oh, you so have an 'A' in this class. Do something more fun." Then she gave me eight points out of ten.

My vanilla panna cotta was far more successful. I accompanied it with "citrus-strawberry salad," diced oranges and strawberries in a simple orange syrup. Chef Judy practically swooned when she tasted it, and said that it always reminds her of junket, a rennet-gelled dessert that she used to eat as a child. It's just one of those creamy simple things.

We have a fancy ice cream machine that churns in six minutes. It took longer to clean it (so that Aaron could run pistachio, after my cinnamon) than it did to freeze my custard. It will sit in the freezer overnight, then I'll make some apple tartlets to go with it, to be served tomorrow.

Also tomorrow, we have our written final (open notes — ha!) and we have to turn in our "fantasy dessert menu." This is what I've come up with:

Desserts
Thursday, 8 March 2007

❀

Meyer Lemon Mousse with Coconut Macaroon Kisses

❀

Raspberry Frangipane Tart with Honeyed Crème Fraiche

❀

Valrhona Chocolate Truffles & Clementines

❀

Warm Gravenstein Apple Pie
with Myer’s Dark Rum Raisin Ice Cream
or
with Black Diamond Cheddar Cheese

❀

Peanut Butter Cookies & Grape Jellies

❀

Grilled Pineapple Upside Down Cake with Morello Cherry Sauce and Crème Anglaise

❀

Cheeses:
Pecorino Toscano with Honey & Pistachios
Saint André with Ginger Crisps & Asian Pear
Colston Bassett Stilton, Port-Infused Sultanas, Sesame Tuile

Would you care for dessert?

Staying Organized

Planning for today's kitchen work began early, as I found myself wide awake at 1:00 am, thinking about dessert plating. Eventually, I got up and made two lists. The first was of the items I'll be making to fulfill this week's assignments: "cinnamon ice cream with individual tarte tatin; middle eastern custard with cardamom butter cookies; vanilla panna cotta with citrus strawberry salad; crepes suzette with bananas and pecans." The second list was today's To Do list: "Make cinnamon base. Make custard. Make panna cotta. Make cardamom cookie dough. Make citrus salad. Serve crepes?" Then I went back to bed.

And the day pretty much unfolded as planned. First, Chef Judy discussed baked custards, gelatin, and churned frozen desserts. I learned that I'd been harboring a misconception about the purpose of scalding (usually milk) before incorporating it into a recipe. I thought the scalding was related to bacteria reduction, and was now unnecessary in these days of ultra-pasteurization. I don't know where I got that idea — I'm sure I read it somewhere. But really, warming the milk helps to hasten the overall cooking process, keeping all the ingredients going in the same direction, temperature-wise.

Half the class churned their ice creams today, including three people who volunteered for "Guinness" duty. Ostensibly because of the upcoming Saint Patrick's Day holiday, Chef Judy obtained two six-packs of Guinness beer in bottles, and she brought in three different recipes for Guinness ice cream. I only tasted one of the batches, after Derrick churned it. The beer flavor was very subdued, mostly as part of a malty finish. The ice creams must freeze overnight before they're served, which apparently helps "cure" the flavors, so it'll be interesting to try it again later this week, along with the other varieties. Dava made hers with soy milk.

My cinnamon ice cream base went together easily, especially since I "practiced" it yesterday. Once it was safely in the walk-in, unadulterated, I made the two custards. The middle eastern one, based on a recipe by Joyce Goldstein, has cardamom and rosewater in it. It baked in a bain marie for about an hour, then I refrigerated it until tomorrow. The panna cotta is made with gelatin, and I used sheet gelatin for the first time. You soften it in cold water, then add the whole floppy transparent sheet to your liquid ingredients. We learned today that gelatin melts at 86 degrees, and sets at 68 degrees, so you have a range of only 18 degrees to get the mixture into its container(s) before it begins to gel. I poured mine into triangular silicone molds, then put them into the freezer until tomorrow. They'll thaw slightly before presentation.

I've made the cardamom cookies several times before, and they seem appropriate as an accompaniment to the middle eastern custard. So I made the dough, then wrapped them up to be baked and decorated tomorrow.

By this time, it was only about 9:45, so I knew I'd have plenty of time to present the crepes to the Chef. I started a sauce by caramelizing sugar, keeping an eye at the same time on the pecans I was toasting in the oven. (Chef Judy believes that nuts can only be properly toasted in the oven, as opposed to Chef Duffy, who encouraged us to use a saute pan on the stovetop.) I added orange and lemon zest, orange juice, and butter, then some orange liqueur. I flambéed that briefly to mellow out the alcohol. Then I dipped three crepes into the sauce. I folded them into quarters and arranged them, points up, in a row on a triangular plate. Then I added diced bananas and pecans to the sauce, and spooned it over the crepes. I piped orange-flavored whipping cream above each of the crepes, then stuck in a thin banana slice. Time to serve!

Chef Judy liked it. She ate a teeny bite, then tossed her plastic spoon into a half-full bucket of used plasticware. Her only recommendation was that I could have caramelized or bruléed the garnish bananas, but I still got full points (ten). Today was the first day that she's actually evaluated our dishes and taken off points. During the last two weeks, we basically got points for completion, not style or taste.

I put together a simple orange-strawberry salad to go with the panna cotta tomorrow, then spent about an hour at the dish sink. Andrea brought her tools over for washing, her face a dark cloud. While Chef evaluated her plate (mocha mousse), Jeff stood alongside, providing ongoing unwelcome commentary. "You should have put the sauce on the other side. I would have used some fruit sauce. You should turn the plate the other direction." Andrea glared at him and said, "Don't you have something else to do?" "No," he said. "I'm done." Chef looked him in the eye and said, "Jeff, GO AWAY."

Before I left class today, I reviewed my lists and made one for tomorrow: "Bake cookies. Bake tuile and caramel garnishes. Toast pistachios. Mint? Plate and serve middle eastern custard. Plate and serve panna cotta and fruit salad." Now I won't need to wake up in the middle of the night to get organized.

Think of the Waiter Who Will Carry The Plate

This week is free-form, with requirements. By Thursday, we have to submit for tasting: 1) a baked custard, 2) a gelatin-set dessert, 3) a churned frozen dessert, and 4) a made-to-order (warm) dessert. All must be plated and decorated. In addition, we have to submit a "fantasy dessert menu" on Thursday, and on Friday we have to contribute something baked to the Last Day Buffet. We also have a written final on Friday.

Chef Judy talked today about dessert sauces, and we made a bunch of them: creme anglaise, chocolate, caramel, sour cream and lemon sauces, and a variety of coulis (raw fruit sauces): kiwi, mango, guava, cassis, and the like. She demonstrated the making and use of a paper piping cone, and we practiced writing "Happy Birthday" with melted coating chocolate. We also had to make five similar filigrees of chocolate: little decorative shapes that can be placed on a dessert. Mine were leaves.

We made tuile dough and caramel dough to use for stenciled formed cookies. Chef showed us how to form dessert cups and little cookie curls for garnish. We have lots of "stuff" to use when putting together our desserts, so we used most of the morning today to begin strategizing and preparing. Very much like the last week of Garde Manger.

After I wrote Happy Birthday David, Happy Birthday Adam, and Happy Birthday Joseph a whole bunch of times in chocolate, (the "D" is definitely the biggest challenge), I made the base for my ice cream (cinnamon). Then I ruined it by setting the bowl of warm spiced sugar and cream into a bowl of ice water to cool it down, per directions — but the ice bath was too big and deep to hold my bowl. I thought to myself, "Oh, it'll just balance in there," seconds before the top bowl tipped and filled up with ice and water. Had to throw the whole thing out. And there wasn't enough time to remake it today, so I'll have to do it tomorrow. Stupid. I did manage to make a couple of dozen crepes, which I'll use later in the week for my "made to order" dessert. I'm thinking of something with caramelized bananas in an orange sauce. Flaming, maybe.

Team Gianduja v. Team Gingersnap

Wouldn't you know it, the team quiz ended in a tie. And there were really no prizes, just a good overview of the material for next week's final, and the opportunity to use a (full-size) blowtorch later in the day, to practice browning meringue.

We got right to work this morning, first thing, but not before preparing our cakes for evaluation by the Chef. We took them out of the walk-in refrigerator, unwrapped them, and then cut out one piece, using a warm knife (heated in hot water, then dried off). While Chef went around the room, peering and tasting, we got started on two of today's projects: baked tarts, with frangipane and brandied apricots, and unbaked tarts (or, rather, pre-baked tarts filled with uncooked filling), which were filled with pastry cream and topped with fresh fruit.

We also had a third assignment before the end of the class: a cookie or candy recipe. Several people never got that far, and those of us who did felt rushed. I made rugelach (a short dough made with cream cheese) with two savory fillings (sun dried tomato, kalamata olive) and I think Chef took them out of the oven a bit too soon, in an a effort to get us finished (and out of the classroom so she could start her weekend, if she's in any way like the rest of us.)

The tart crust was really easy to work with and crisp, like a cookie. We rolled it to about an 1/8 of an inch thick, so the tarts won't get soggy and fall apart. I had a great time making my fruit tarts: Chef suggested that I fill each of the six with a single kind of fruit, though everyone else got instructions to use several kinds of fruit, and to make six identical tarts. We also had to cover up every possible bit of the pastry cream, and then glaze them with thinned apricot jam. So I had strawberry, blueberry, blackberry, grape (red, with the cut sides showing), raspberry, and kiwi tarts, and they looked smashing. I swear. I put them on the "student dining" tray and Tashana said, "Wait! Aren't you taking those home to show your husband how beautiful they are?"

No. Because then we'd just have to eat them. And we already have a cake.

"This is Your Toughest Day"

Those were Chef Judy's words, as she directed us to "go forth and decorate." Maybe to soften the blow, we had a chocolate lecture + tasting first. Chocolate is a semester's subject, all by itself. We just skimmed the surface, talking briefly about such subjects as nibs, conching, couverture, and tempering, and nibbling on unsweetened, semisweet, milk, white, coating, and gianduja, and chocolate chips.

The enemy of chocolate is water. Never store it in the refrigerator or freezer. A loved one (with a pantry) might really appreciate a present of a 10 pound block of quality chocolate (like Callebaut or Guittard), readily available at specialty baking stores (or even sometimes at Trader Joe's) for less than $3 per pound.

And health alert: chocolate contains antioxidants, more benefit being obtained from darker chocolate. Dark chocolate and red wine are apparently components of the perfect diet.

We were set free to adorn our cakes and rarely has the tension level been higher. A lot of it is in the tools, true, but Chef Judy made it look incredibly easy. Stepwise: beat your buttercream (stored overnight at room temperature) to fluff it up. Split it into two parts so that you have one unadulterated (crumb-free) bowl of icing to use for final spreading and decorations. Pick up the cake (with a palette knife), and hold it on one hand, using the other hand to spread buttercream around the sides of the cake. Put it on the turntable (you use the knife as a lever when moving the cake around, to avoid smooshing it with the side of your hands). Center the cake and even out the sides. Put a blob of buttercream on top, and spread it to the edges. Keep it flat, not domed. Avoid picking up crumbs (or remove any that you inadvertently pick up). ("I don't want that in there, because I'm a professional," Chef said.) Concentrate on the middle and the edges will follow. Keep the spatula clean between swipes.

Chef compared the move you make to flatten the top of the cake to "landing an airplane on an aircraft carrier," and if you have no idea what that means, we were equally baffled. But you use the edge of the blade, pulling it towards you from the back of the cake towards the middle. Spin and repeat. Voila!

Ha.

As I was mixing my buttercream, Chef handed me a little can. "I usually wait until week three to offer this, but why don't you try some in your icing?" It was green tea powder, which I added to the (already orange-flavored) icing. It turned a beautiful pistachio color (or "guacamole," Rudy said) and adds just a hint of subtle flavor. I had my cake pretty well frosted, I thought, and asked the Chef for her opinion. "Good, but not perfect." Duh. Corrective actions followed.

We are required to pipe decorations on the cake, so we began by practicing on parchment paper (you can scrape the used icing up and return it to your pastry bag and use it again.) We couldn't use plain stars ("Everyone can do that"), so we practiced rosettes and shell borders and other fancy things. I marked the top of cake with shallow lines indicated the cut marks (for 12 portions), then piped a white shell border around the edge. I used a cake comb on the sides, and "artfully arranged" (i.e. dumped) a pile of white chocolate shavings into the center. I sprinkled a few pieces of julienned candied orange peel on each slice, then pressed slivered toasted almonds around the base of the cake.

In lieu of almonds, you could use minced chocolate, or chocolate cake crumbs, or vanilla cake crumbs. An edging of some sort around the bottom of the cake serves a useful purpose, we learned. It covers the cardboard base that the cake rests on. And it's a sort of durable surface that the cake serving person can use, putting a tool against it to scoot the slice off the server and onto the plate.

Not only was my cake the best-looking cake I've ever made, but everyone's looked better than anything I've ever made. Even Aaron's. Poor Aaron kept saying, "This just isn't my cup of tea. I just need to walk away for a while." But he ended up with a mocha-frosted cake with white rosettes topped by chocolate coffee beans, and it looked, well, professional!

Tomorrow, we have a pre-final quiz in the form of an in-class game show. Chef wondered how we should be grouped. The five of us females were totally up for "girls against boys," and Chef said she was open to any combination that didn't include Andy and me on the same team.