What I Learned at Culinary School Today

A French interpretation on Banh Xeo would be interesting and very good

Originally Posted by Manton

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School was closed, no class. Next class is this Saturday. Eggs.
I would love to have Oeufs pochàs à la bourguignonne just once.

Originally Posted by Xiaogou

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A French interpretation on Banh Xeo would be interesting and very good

Banh Xeo has no eggs in it.

Students enter the building from Broome Street. From there, you wind your way through family kitchen to a large service elevator, and go up to the locker room floor. The elevator was full. Two professional students were chatting. One of them said, offhandedly, “Time to go up and get yelled at by Xavier.” He pronounced it “Eggs-avier.” Which was oddly appropriate.

Chef X’s reputation really does fill those halls. He has never yelled at us, but I suppose it is different for the real students. In any event, I later saw that same guy and Chef X., and no yelling took place. They seemed to get along fine.

The egg. L’oeuf.

Chefs take eggs very seriously. If I may quote from a sermon by Marco Pierre White, a famous British chef: “An egg is very important. Give a chef an egg and you’ll know what kind of cook he is. It takes a lot to cook an egg. You have to understand the egg too cook an egg, especially if it’s one you want to eat.”

Chef X. was not quite so rhapsodic, but it was clear that he takes eggs just as seriously.

Lecture was devoted to an anatomy lecture on the egg. You think there is just shell, white and yolk? Think again. There are no fewer than ten components to an egg. I am not going to run through them all, as only one new discovery (to me) really played much of a part from a cooking perspective. This is the difference between the thin albumen and thick albumen (the whites). I will get to that later.

Eggs are sorted by size – from jumbo to pee wee – and quality: only those from AA to B are suitable for a kitchen, chef said. “Also, the size is important because of your recipes. If you use the wrong size egg, it can throw off the recipe. This is most important for pastries, where proportion must be exact. Most cookbooks assume size extra large, so if you use those you will be fine.”

Chef cracked several eggs onto plates to demonstrate quality. AA eggs had very firm yolks that stood high on the plate. The whites were thick and did not spread out. Grade B had a flatter yolk and the whites were very runny. Grade A was in the middle.

“Grade B is fine for scrambling or omelets or using in pasta or boiling. But any recipe where you are going to see the yolk, use A or AA. AA is best for sunny side up because you can really see the yolk stand out. It’s also great for poaching.”

“We are gonna cook a lot of eggs today. First we have to do some prep. Then we will make Oeufs farçis Chimay” – that is eggs stuffed with mushrooms – “then lunch, then you will learn all the other ways. We are going to do things over and over because practice is the only way to learn.”

We had to prep two things. The first was the mushroom duxelles, the filling for our stuffed eggs. This is finely diced mushrooms, cooked with ciseler shallots and crushed garlic, some herbs and a cartouche until all the liquid evaporates. “You will know it is done when your mushrooms are dry – no liquid in the pan. Keep checking often, because once the liquid goes, the mushrooms will start to burn, and you have to start over.”

That would be a pain, because finely dicing 250 g of mushrooms was not easy. Trimming, peeling and thinly slicing them was easy enough. Cutting the thin slices into battonets and then fine dice was also easy – if you did it to one slice at a time. But that took forever. Restaurant guy did that, and he ended up with very fine, uniform dice.

Chef held the sides of his mushrooms in place with his forefinger and thumb, then sliced with the tip of his knife between is fingers, then placed the slices stacked on their sides and cut into battonets the same way, then cut the blocks of battonets into dice. Worked great for him. For me, not so much. I did finish more quickly than RG, but my dice were not nearly as uniform as his, nor as good as Chef’s.

To cook, first sweat a ciseler of shallot and a crushed garlic clove in butter. When translucent, add the mushrooms and cook until the start to release their liquid. Throw in bay leaf, some thyme, add the cartouche, and turn the heat down – way down. The liquid probably took 30 minutes to evaporate.

Meanwhile, we had to have four eggs per person boiling to the hard boiled state. Chef explained soft boiling and medium boiling, but we did not do these.

The other thing we had to prep was the filling for an omelette Basquaise. This is sweated green pepper, onion, and tomato. Drop the tomatoes in boiling water, boil for a few seconds (Chef says 10-15, but I find that it takes longer), then shock, then peel. Quarter. Remove seeds and core, julienne. The recipe says to coarsely chop the tomatoes, but Chef finds that inelegant. You use 2x as much tomato as onion and pepper; once they are trimmed and cooked (and the water evaporated) the yield will be about the same for all three.

For the peppers, core with a paring knife, cut of the top and bottom rounded part. Cut pepper open with a paring knife along one of the “valleys” and then lay it flat. It should be a long rectangle. Use the chef’s knife to shave off the white ribs and any silvery skin. Julienne.

Onion was a simple emincer, slice along the lines.

Sweat the onions and peppers slowly in oil, adding a crushed garlic clove. (Chef adds a crushed garlic clove to virtually ever sautà or sweated thing he does.) “No color! The finished product should clearly look red, white and green.”

Once the onions are translucent, add the tomatoes – “Not before, or they will overcook” – add the cartouche, turn heat way, way down, and wait. This one needed some attention, though. Every few minutes, you need to lift the cartouche and give it a stir, otherwise things will start to brown. Here is the finished product:



Next, we had to make a Mornay. “Everyone remembers what this is, right? We learned this when we did sauces. So what is it?”

“BÃ chamel with egg yolks and cheese.”

“Correct. And even though we didn’t make it, you know how. Because you know how to make a bà chamel. You don’t need me to tell you, and you don’t need to look it up.”

Well, that was wishful thinking on Chef’s part. I did OK, the only thing I forgot was that the milk had to be hot, but I remembered before I poured any cold milk over my white roux. Most everyone else, however, kept barking out pleading questions. This did not please Chef X. Most of the questions he answered with more questions. Only when someone took a positive step in the wrong direction did he intervene.

Separating egg yolks reminded me of when I first did that. I was making a hollandaise from the Julia Child book back in my college days. She calls for egg yolks, but does not say how to separate them. So I called my mother and asked. “You break the shell in half and then transfer the yolk back and forth between each half. The whites will all run out.”

“No way. That sounds stupid.”

“How long have I been cooking, and how long have you been cooking? Just do it. It will work.”

And I did. And it did. I called her back to apologize. My mother loves to tell this story.

But I had some trouble with it in class. The shell was not breaking into even halves, and a few yolks got away from me.

“Michael, why are you breaking your eggs like that on the rim of the bowl? You could break the yolk, and push pieces of shell into the liquid. Plus the shells are not breaking evenly. Tap the side of the egg on your cutting board or countertop, and then gently pull the shell in half with your fingers. It works much better.”

And, indeed, it did.

The cheese and egg yolks make the mornay super creamy; the yolks also make it yellow. Manager Guy undercooked his. “I taste flour” Chef said. “You don’t wanna taste any flour, and you don’t want any lumpiness. Keep cooking and whisk, whisk, whisk.”

I did not remember having this problem when we made bà chamel before, but this time when I was whisking the mornay, I found the heat from the burner nearly unbearable on my hands. I felt like my whisk hand was burning just being 8 inches above the flame. Here is the completed Sauce Mornay:



Next we peeled the hard boiled eggs and cut them in half lengthwise. It’s very important to wet your knife before every cut – “Otherwise the blade will stick to the yolk and you will not get a clean cut.” The yolks slid out easily. By this time the mushrooms were cooked and in a bowl. We pressed the yolks through a drum sieve into that bowl. This ground them almost to dust. Then add a pretty good heap of mornay, and some minced parsely. Mix. That is your stuffing.



Fill the yolk cavity of the eggs with the stuffing, and then pile it up on top of the eggs. Pour a healthy spoonful of mornay over each half-egg. Sprinkle cheese (we used gruyere). Set under a salamander until the cheese melts and browns. Done.

(Interestingly, this is the same recipe that Sokolov uses to illustrate the Sauce Mornay in his book The Saucier’s Apprentice.)

Plate in a circle surrounding chiffonade of Boston lettuce. I was not too happy with my plating. Chef’s is on the left, mine on the right.



I left my eggs too close together under the salamander, so the sauce and cheese layer blended together and I had to break it to plate the eggs. See how Chef’s are nice and distinctly separate? Also, he said that I should have used tongs and not a spoon to take them off the sizzle platter and put them on the plate. But he said the taste was perfect. “I love this dish. You can’t have too much egg.”

After lunch, chef demoed six ways to cook eggs: poached, sunny side up, over easy, scrambled, rolled omelet, flat omelet.

To me, poached eggs are cooked in this metal steamer my parents have had since before I was born. The idea of dropping all the liquid in an egg into boiling water was something I learned about on television. I had never done it.

It is sort of fun. You pour white vinegar into the water first. “Why?”

“Because it helps the egg close up,” said Manager Guy.

“Correct. You want the water boiling, but not like this” – Chef gesticulated wildly – “a moderate boil.” He was demoing this as we all crowded around. “When you have a moderate boil, have your egg ready in a mis en place cup. If you are really good, you can crack the egg with one hand and drop it in. That is faster, but riskier. You might break the yolk or get some shell in the water. Give the water a little swirl with your slotted spoon. I call this ‘tornado effect.’ But not too fast. Gentle. Too fast, and when you drop the egg in, you will have a comet with a tail and not a poached egg.”

The first thing he did was cook an egg for three minutes. “This is what restaurants do. You have a brunch service, you can expect … oh … 85% of customers will order something that has poached eggs. Eggs Benedict of course, but lots of things. Now, you can’t cook all those to order. There is no way. First, there are too many. Second, you will lose track of which egg is which, which is done and which just went in. When you have a lot of orders, you can’t risk that.

“So what they do is, they undercook a lot of eggs the night before, put them in the refrigerator, and then boil them for a minute or two to order.

“So what I am showing you now is an undercooked poached egg.” He scooped it out of the water and shocked it, then put it onto a plate and cut it open. “See how the white is still runny a clear a little bit? It’s not cooked. When you are ready to serve it, you throw it back into the water and cook for a minute or two.”

Then he demonstrated the full procedure: undercook, shock, re-cook, serve. A proper poached egg is snow white, no trace of clear anywhere, but very soft.

We were then sent back to our stations to make eggs – lots of eggs. The look of a poaching egg is mesmerizing. At first, when you drop it in, it looks like a sea creature. It starts out like a jellyfish, then coagulates into some many tentacled cephalopod, then as it closes (IF it closes), it looks sort of like an anemone.

I had some problems getting my water temperature stabilized. At first it was too hot, then too cool. A few eggs were sacrificed. Once I stirred the water too fast and got exactly the comet effect Chef warned about. It looked cool. But it was not servable. Compost!

I started to get the hang of it. The first egg, the undercooked one, was cut open and pronounced perfect. Then I had to do that again, shock it, recook it and represent. That one was good to. Then it was time to do the one to order. Also fine. Here are the last two:



Yes, I see now the hair on the plate, and no, I didn’t notice it then, and no, no one was served that plate.

Next up was frying eggs: oeufs poule (named after the pan, incidentally). This was done in a regular (i.e., not non-stick) very small fry pan. Sort of scary to me, who has always cooked eggs in a non-stick pan. “Guys, if your pan is hot enough, and you used the right amount of fat, the eggs will not stick. They won’t. Trust me.”

His certainly didn’t. It was very tricky. You wanted a hot pan so that they didn’t stick, but also minimal browning. Hard balance to strike. He also insisted that the salt and pepper be added to the pan into the fat, BEFORE the eggs. “I don’t want to see any spots on the surface, do you understand?”

Then he showed us something that surprised me. All the thin whites were to be removed. What? I always just ate those. Why not? “Not elegant on the plate.” Oh.

You sort of picked away at the thin albumen as it cooked and composted it.

“Guys, if your eggs brown, before you make more, clean your poule, or get a new one. Even if you have the temperature correct the second time, the brown bits in the pan will discolor your eggs.”

Check.

I broke a few yolks taking out the thin white; compost. My first decent shaped ones were pronounced too brown. I tried again:



This one was OK, but could be whiter. Next up was over easy. My next pair of eggs was perfect for sunnyside up – “Really beautiful” – but I broke the yolks trying to flip them. No picture, sorry.

“Michael, why are you using your offset spatula? Use the rubber spatula, you won’t break your yolks.”

Good advice. Here is over easy:



I don’t see a way to brown the underside less than that, and Chef’s were about that color too.

Next was omelets. The school owns a handful of nonstick omelet pans, we were told. They are kept locked up in a downstairs kitchen. We had access to them for that day. But Chef did not use one. “I learned to make an omelet on a regular pan. I don’t need nonstick. If you want to use them, you can use them.”

As it happens, earlier that week I had seen a show on the Food Network on which Andre Soltner, formerly chef/owner of Lutece, now at the FCI, demonstrated how to make an omelet in a regular pan. He said that the pan had to be seasoned especially for the purpose, and that one was typically set aside and not used for other tasks. Our text binder says the same thing.

But Chef X. used a regular poele and his omelets came out fine. Mine did not. It stuck at the first get-go. “That’s OK, add some cream and make scrambled eggs with that, don’t throw it out.”

Cream in scrambled eggs … a new one for me. Milk, I have done but not cream. Now, the “correct” French way to make scrambled eggs is to whip and whip and whip continuously with a fork – never stop – and plate just as the eggs are still wet. In other words, the way most Americans learned to do it at home is WRONG. At least, the way I learned to do it is wrong.

Omelets, by the way, we cooked in clarified butter only. The other eggs were cooked in half whole butter, half oil. I am not sure why we didn’t just use clarified butter for that. Cost issue? We certainly had a ton of it.

I was pretty good at omelets. I have loved to make them for a long time. But I only got good recently. I credit “America’s Test Kitchen,” which showed the proper technique on one episode. While I sort of cheated by using only the non-stick pan, I did make several good omelets. In fact, the only one I screwed up was the first one I tried in the regular pan.

They way I used to do omelets was half-moon style. Cook, fill, fold in half. This is not the French way. The French way is “rolled” or “flat.” Flat is very easy, it’s just a disk. Add the eggs, stir with a rubber spatula, then put in a 350 oven when the surface is still we. Remove when it the surface is dry and has some golden brown patches. For our version, we added some of the basquaise as a garnish.



You can also use a salamander to finish the topside or – this is tricky – flip the omelet with your wrist. Chef did it flawlessly, needless to say. None of the rest of us did.

Rolled are the tricky ones. Chef recommended adding some water to make it ligher and fluffier. “You can add water, milk, or cream. Personally, I do not use cream; it’s too thick.” You beat the eggs in a bowl (three extra large is perfect for an 8” pan) with a fork, add salt & pepper, then beat some more. Heat the clarified butter, then add the eggs. Stir constantly with a rubber spatula. “Guys, I don’t want to see any metal touch those pans. You will scratch the surface. Those pans are expensive.”

The eggs will look they are beginning to scramble, and indeed they are. Tip the pan this way and that, to let the surface liquid of the uncooked egg spread out evenly. Pull back the edges with the spatula to help them set.

“A proper omelet has not color at all. None. It is also totally smooth. Stir your eggs well to make them smooth.”

You stop cooking when the surface is still wet. Once the omelet is folded, residual heat will cook through what is left.

Folding is fun. Off heat, and use your spatula to fold one-third of the way. Then tip and shake the pan so that the omelet slides down into the curved part. Slide the unfolded two-thirds onto the plate, and using the pan and the spatula, fold the final way. Voila:



That's my first one; Chef cut it to check for doneness. It should be just ever so slightly runny inside.

Chef also said to use a clean towel to shape the omelet, which in all the madness I forgot to do.

I made several omelets, some filled, some unfilled, some with water, some with milk, some with just cream. They all came out well, and were highly praised. The one on the left is just eggs; on the right also has water:



Filled:



Took a bite of the filled (it was good!); scrambled on the right:



I was feeling good about my effort until I saw one of Restaurant Guy’s. Its surface was perfectly smooth and light yellow. Really dead on, like what you would get in the best restaurant. I wish I had snapped a picture of that.

And, finally, the compost bowl:



I wish I could say that was all I had to compost, but I actually filled and emptied the bowl twice. I believe the class went through at least six flats of 30 eggs. It was at least that much, actually. Maybe more.

Hey, at least they weren't chickens!

The poached eggs looks awesome. Good job.

Kwilk, what do you think of my omelets?

Originally Posted by Manton

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Kwilk, what do you think of my omelets?

There are a couple good ones, but most of them have some more color than you want. I feel your pain. It looks easy, but it takes a damn good amount of skill to cook eggs right--- Marco Pierre White was right in his quote. I'm reading his book now and he has mentioned it 2-3 times. When we did our day on egg cookery, Chef made me redo the tri-fold omelet 12 times before I finally got it right. That's no joke either. Make omelet, plate, show chef, get told to redo it, repeat x 11. It was insane.


Edited to add: The only criticism is from a culinary school/perfectionist kind of view. I'd still happily pay for an omelet that looked like that.

I will do better.

Man, you should have seen this one from the guy next to me. It was badass. Like the most perfect omelet you have ever been served.

I suspect that even if KWilk were to reject your omelets, you would find them a good home. Thanks for another great write-up.

Wow. I like to think I can cook eggs, but I am humbled.

Not sure I understand the how you remove the "thin" egg whites, though.



BTW, Manton. I caught Anthony Bourdain's show last night on "Disappearing Manhattan." He featured a classic French restaurant called Le Veau D'or. Ever been there? It looked like something you'd appreciate. I know I'd try it.

Originally Posted by greekonomist

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Not sure I understand the how you remove the "thin" egg whites, though.

You carefully scoop them up with a narrow offset spatula. PitA.

BTW, Manton. I caught Anthony Bourdain's show last night on "Disappearing Manhattan." He featured a classic French restaurant called Le Veau D'or. Ever been there? It looked like something you'd appreciate. I know I'd try it.

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Nope, but it's worth a look.

For some reason, my egg skillz are lacking. I need to practice.

I tried making some poached eggs last night after reading your post. My first one looked like a comet but the second one looked right and they both tasted good. I ended up with a lot of weird white foam (egg proteins?) that just sort of floated to the top of the pot...what is this stuff? I skimmed it off with the slotted spoon but I didnt see you mention anything like it in your description.

Oh, man, I forgot that and I fully intended to put it in. I too got all that foam and it was sort of unnerving, and it really made seeing the eggs very hard. I said, "Chef, I have a lot of foam in my pot!"

He said, casually, "Yeah, you get that."

"Scoop it out if you want, it doesn't matter."

So I did, or tried. I think you get the foam if your water is boiling too fast. Chef didn't get much, but I got a lot, and it mostly coalesced in the time when my water was on too high.

Isn't the foam basically a small, unformed beginning of a clarification raft? It's just the foam from the coagulation of egg protein.

Originally Posted by kwilkinson

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Isn't the foam basically a small, unformed beginning of a clarification raft?

Could be, but we haven't done consumes yet.