What I Learned at Culinary School Today

[Naturlaut II]

Way too cool, manton. You're getting a lot of i-envy points here. Wish I have the time and energy to do that right now.

Just wondering, what are other pretigious cooking schools for other cuisines (such as Italian, Japanese, Chinese, etc.)?

 

[Manton]

Originally Posted by Naturlaut II

Way too cool, manton. You're getting a lot of i-envy points here. Wish I have the time and energy to do that right now.

Just wondering, what are other pretigious cooking schools for other cuisines (such as Italian, Japanese, Chinese, etc.)?

Not that I know of. All the big schools teach all these cuisines, but none focus on them exclusively. I don't think the other cuisines have quite the same level of codification of both techniques and recipes as French. They are much more passed down chef to apprentice in restaurants or generationally in homes.

 

[kwilkinson]

Uncle Manty, we're waiting!

 

[GQgeek]

Originally Posted by kwilkinson

Uncle Manty, we're waiting!

He's busy with the holocaust deniers in another thread.

 

[Manton]

Originally Posted by GQgeek

He's busy with the holocaust deniers in another thread.

Sad thing, some people in that thread think I am an anti-Semite, while others think I am too hard on Hitler.

 

[gdl203]

Originally Posted by Manton

Sad thing, some people in that thread think I am an anti-Semite, while others think I am too hard on Hitler.

You may have a new career in law.

 

[Manton]

Originally Posted by gdl203

You may have a new career in law.

What's the pay like?

 

[gdl203]

Originally Posted by Manton

What's the pay like?
Depends on the specialization. Holocaus denial pays well from what I hear but do you have a bank account in Tehran?

 

[Manton]

Originally Posted by gdl203

Depends on the specialization. Holocaus denial pays well from what I hear but do you have a bank account in Tehran?

I hear the Rial is way down.

 

[kwilkinson]

Enough tomfoolery. We wants teh updates and pix!

 

[Manton]

It's getting harder. And so is Chef X.

Today was stocks day, and also we dipped our toe into sauces. (Not literally, I hope I don't need to add.) I went to this class feeling pretty confident, as I have been making stocks and sauces for years, have read many recipes, and flatter myself that I know a thing or two about them. Still, I had to remember Chef X's injunction from the first day: "In this class you don't know anything until I teach it to you."

Unlike last week, I arrived early. I immediately set up my station, and just as I finished Chef came in, orchestrating the delivery of our supplies. So I was pressed into work. Happily, I might add.

Indeed, this whole day I was sort of a teacher's pet. Not Martin Price bad, I hope, but still. I worked very fast on everything, was always done first, and so was always asked to do something else.

The first thing Chef asked, though, was, "Did you come in last week?"

"No, there was no class."

"Two students showed up, they tell me." He shook his head. As everyone came in, he asked each one if they had shown up last week. Eventually, he found them.

Anyway, for about 30 minutes before class, Chef and I (and later Restaurant Guy, who also came early), did "pre-prep."

We sorted all the vegetables and laid them out. We sorted the chicken bones (all backs) into five equal portions and put them in the fridge. We took the fish bones - the meaty skeletons of several huge flat fish - and used Chef's cleaver to hack them into equal portions, then submerged them in cold water, and left the tap on running cold. This way, Chef said, they would "degorger," that is, a lot of the scum would just rise off the bones and flow out of the pot. When they water ran clear, they would be pretty clean.

This was not the ideal way to degorger, he said. Ideally, the bones would be soaked in iced water overnight, but the people responsible for supplying this class forgot that. Chef had a few choice words for them.

He had several more choice words - even choicer, in fact - for the people responsible for the veal bones. "These are frozen," he said, astonished. The guy wheeling the cart just shrugged. "What I am supposed to do with frozen bones? I am supposed to start this stock in an hour, less even? Why didn't you take them out last night? You were supposed to take them out last night. The sheet was clear." But wheelcart guy just slinked out of the room.

"I don't know what is the matter with these people," Chef said. "They know. Believe me, they know better. We make stock here every single day. They know we can't start with frozen bones. But they give me this."

It was, I must say, a truly tremendous box of bones. I wish now that I checked the weight. I would say that it was at least two feet by one foot, and six inches deep - totally filled with bones, all veal.

This was interesting to me because in all my years of making stock, I have rarely been able to get veal bones. Beef bones, yes. On those very few occasions, I have made good stock indeed. On other occasions I have used beef bones and veal shank meat, which has a round bone in the center, but did not look at all like the bones we used today. The Sokolov recipe, indeed, calls for half and half.

I asked Chef at one point why we were using no meat on any of the stocks, except that little bit that clung to the bones. He looked at me like I was crazy. "You know what that costs? These bones are $1.89 a pound. Even shank would be at least five dollars. You might as well open your wallet and just put money in the stock." Except that would taste bad.

Still, I could see his point. When I make anything at home, cost is not the top priority. First is fun. Second is a good end product. Third is learning something. Cost comes maybe after that.

However, as Chef is always reminding us, in professional cooking, you cannot think this way. You have to save in every way you can. You have to make everything you buy work for you. Which is why all usable trimmings get saved, for instance. (And, indeed, I have been saving the usable trimmings from my home practice sessions for future use.)

Anyway, to degorger the veal bones, Chef put them in the bottom of a huge sink and let the cold tap run over them. Every few minutes he would change the position of the faucet. This went on for at least two hours. "Ideally, we should soak these bones overnight in ice water, too, and I would in the professional program, because I have control over the supply guys, but this is the best we can do today. The bones are not going to be that clean."

Chef also began clarifying butter. Now, I have done this many times. I first learned how from Julia Child (not personally, of course). Take some butter, melt it on low heat, and then spoon out the yellow fat leaving behind the milky solids. Chef X, however, took five enormous bricks of butter ($30 worth easily) and dumped them in a Dutch Oven (or, if you want to be literal, an 8 quart rondeau). He had the heat on high and he positively boiled that butter. This was something I was certain you were never supposed to do. But he did it. The butter foamed up high, and then boiled violently. The foam turned into solids which all sank back to the bottom, just as Chef said they would. Then he put a fine chinois into a ban marie and strained the butter . The chinois caught all the solids. Voila, clarified butter. "This is not the school way, but this is the best way when you have just a little butter. Very fast." A little? I guess in his world, this was a little. Anyway, then he told me to take the ban marie and put it in a water bath. This was just a hotel pan half filled with water, put over a burner on low. There our clarified butter hung out for the rest of the day.

Once we had all that ready, we hit the coffee machine, and I bragged a little about all my practice, and complained that I still could not get tournage exactly right. "Some students, they never get it," he said. "When I teach Level 1" - basically, this class in the professional program - "and some student doesn't have it down by the 12th day, I know they are not going to make it. Most have it by then. Keep practicing."

OK.

Lecture was a little shorter this time. He defined mirepoix - vegetables used as flavoring - and then described three types. The first type is 50% onion, 25% carrot, and 25% celery. This is used for most stocks. The second was half onion, half carrot. This, he said, is used for derivative sauces when more celery would just add unwanted bitterness. The third, the so-called white mirepoix, is 50% onion, 50% leeks. You could use white mushroom trimmings if you have them, but this is not essential. In restaurants, he said, it would be considered too expensive to cut up good mushrooms just for stock. Anyway, white mirepoix is used for fish stock only. He also said to halve a head of garlic for all stocks, and to add quartered tomatoes to veal stock.

How the mirepoix is cut is important. The longer a stock simmers, the bigger the pieces should be. If you put little tiny cuts in a 12 hour veal stock, the will disintegrate and incorporate into the stock and cloud it. "And that ruins not just the look but the flavor, because it will be bitter and gritty. And if you have bad stock, you will always have bad sauce, always. Alain Ducasse, his stock is always crystal clear, and the sauce is perfect because he always makes good stock." Chef brings up Ducasse a lot. He is the touchstone, the exemplar of perfection. I must ask about this later.

Anyway, long simmering stocks get big pieces - onions no smaller than quartered, carrots cut into four or five pieces, etc. Medium simmering stocks like chicken stock get medium pieces. Say, onion into 16ths and carrots into a dozen pieces. Short simmering stocks like fish and vegetable need very small pieces.

Then Chef ran through a series of words that we will be expected to know:

"¢\tDegorger: I mentioned this earlier, to soak the bones in cold water to clean them.
"¢\tDeglacer: Deglaze. You take the roasting pan used to brown bones and sometimes mirepoix from brown stock, pour a layer of water in, put on the burners over high heat and scrap up the sticky bits. Then you pour all that into the stock.
"¢\tSuc: the aforementioned sticky bits. I have always called this fond, I think because that's what Cook's Illustrated calls it.
"¢\tMouiller: moisten. This just means putting water in the pot over the bones and mirepoix.
"¢\tFremir: simmer
"¢\tDegraisser: degrease. This is a pain the ass. More in a moment.
"¢\tEcumer: skim. As you heat the stock, scum will collect and float to the top. Use a skimmer - a slotted or meshed spoon - to get it out of there.
"¢\tReuir: reduce. This is done two ways. First, with all the bones and mirepoix in there. The longer the stock is on the heat, the more the liquid will reduce. Second, after that stuff is gone, you can reduce still further. With the first, reduction is just a byproduct. You want to get the stuff out of the stock after you have extracted all the flavor. Every minute it spends in your liquid after that is just risking clouding your stock. The second reduction actually has a point, which I will get to.
"¢\tVanner: Stir. Basically, Chef said: Don't Do This. Very bad. Moving bones and mirepoix around guarantees that you will cloud your stock. Vanner is more properly a methodical "Z" shapend stirring of a delicate sauce.
"¢\tTamponner: Drip some butter on top to prevent a skin from forming.
"¢\tRemouillage: take all your remaining bones and mirepoix after the stock is strained, and remoisten. The resulting liquid will be too weak to be called stock - most of the flavor will have been pulled out into the stock already. But it will be better than plain water, and can be used in stews, soups or anything that calls for water to be flavored by similar ingredients. Another example of waste-not-want-not.

Chef drew a rather amusing diagram of what goes on inside a stock pot on the dry erase board. I should probably use MS Paint to reproduce it, and maybe I will. But not yet.

The gist is, fat and scum are lighter than water so they float up. But heat also forces them down. Basically, there is a convection effect in the pot. Fat goes up along the sides where it is the hottest, then migrates toward the top center and sinks back down, only to repeat the process.

Now, Chef was very insistent that degraisser be done methodically as the stock simmers. What I have always done is skim off the scum (of course, because that is easy) but then not bother with degreasing until the stock is strained, cooled, and chilled overnight in the fridge, when the fat is all solidified at the top, like the surface of a frozen skating pond. So, foolishly, I asked about this practice.

"Lazy! Lazy, lazy, lazy!" But it's so easy!, I protested. You are sure to get all the fat, and not waste any stock. I did not mention that Julia Child and Raymond Sokolov both say that this method is fine.

"What did I just show you?" Chef asked, pointing to his diagram. "As that fat circulates, it incorporates into your stock. You don't want that. It will make your sauces taste *****, or even worse, it will burn and taste bitter. Whatever you take out later, it won't be all of it, not even close."

"But when you de-fat with a ladle, you end up taking out a lot of stock, don't you? And that's wasteful." I thought I had him here.

"Yes and no. You do take out stock, but it's not waste unless you waste it. Get a ban-marie, put some water in it, not much just a little. Then ladle the fat into there. Then once you don't see any fat in the stock, degrease that water into a smaller ban marie. Once it is degreased, pour it back into the stock. Then degrease the next ban marie. Keep doing that, one ban marie after another, until all the fat is gone."

"Isn't that a lot of work?"

"Of course it is! I had a chef I worked for in France, many years ago. He made us do this every day. Every day. It was horrible. But it made a great stock with no waste. Here at school we don't do that. But we do use the ladle. You waste a little stock, but not much, and you save the stock from cloudiness."

One other element, the bouquet garni. This is a bunch of herbs that get dunked in the stock that give it a little extra flavor. It consists of parsley stems - "Why not leaves?" "Because leaves are useful elsewhere and wasteful in a stock. You can chop the leaves and use them as a garnish, but what else are you going to do with stems?" And also thyme, basil, and peppercorns. And a very few whole cloves. "These are powerful, don't use too many, five for the veal stock, two for the chicken, none for the fish."

These all get tied up in a cheesecloth.

"Keller says to take the greens of leeks and use those as a casing, and stuff the other herbs and peppercorns in there and tie the ends."

"I don't like to do that because things float out, especially the peppercorns, then you have to hunt them down later." I wish I had the presence of mind to ask why this mattered, since we were straining everything anyway, but I didn't.

Then Chef ran down the basic definitions of the mother sauces. He gave us a nifty mnemonic:

"¢\tBÃ

chamel
"¢\tEspagnole
"¢\tTomato
"¢\tHollandaise
"¢\tVeloute

BethV. Get it?

He once again defined demi-glace as a stock reduced by half. Did I speak up and cite Escoffier #23? Well ... no. I chickened out.

"If you keep reducing until you have only one-tenth or so left, the consistency is a like a syrup. That's from the gelatin in the bones that gives body to your stock. That is called a glace, and one or two spoons -- no more -- can make a huge amount of really good sauce."

"Now I am going to tell you a secret. This is not in your book. Taken an onion and cut in half, not along the axis, like you are going to chop it, but along the equator. Turn on your flat tops, and put the onion on there, cut side down. This is called onion brulee, means burnt onion. When the bottom is black like your shoe, take it off. We are going to put these in the stock."

"Aren't we never supposed to use anything burnt? Won't that make it bitter?"

"That's what everyone thinks, but it doesn't. This is not the school way, they don't like it. But the stock they make is weak, pale. Has no color and no flavor. Technically, I am not allowed to do this, so I tell my students, put in the onion brulee at the bottom and put the bones over them so they don't float to the top and that way I don't get caught. But you know what? Everybody likes my stock best, and they take it all because it tastes better and has a deeper color."

Time to get to work. We were only going to make one giant communal pot of each kind of stock, but each of us did one portion of the mirepoix. Chef demonstrated the sizes he wanted for our mirepoix. For the fish stock (this, I should mention, is really called "fumet"), everything is emancer, that is, thinly sliced. For the chicken stock, slices maybe 1/2" thick. For the veal, a lot thicker, more like 2".

We chopped all our vegetables and then presented them for inspection. If they passed, they went into one of three big bowls, the contents of which would later dumped into the appropriate stock.

Restaurant Guy and I were done first, so Chef instructed to roast the veal bones. We poured some corn oil in two huge pre-heated roasting pans, arranged the bones, and put them in the oven. After about 30 minutes, they were good and brown on the top. Chef said, "Downstairs, this is where they stop. They would use these right away. For me, they are not done enough." He took a wooden spoon and raked through them. "See that? The underside is not browned. So we have to turn all these bones and roast them all over."

"You can make a white veal stock if you don't roast the bones. Your book says to blanch them, that is, you boil them in water to get all the impurities and blood out, and then strain. We're not gonna do that today. My way is never to blanche the bones because blanching takes out flavor. The first 45 minutes takes out most of the flavor, so why anyone would do that, I don't know. If I need a white stock, I just don't roast the bones, but I don't blanche them either. Blanching is like a cheat, it's to make it easier to get the scum out. But if you skim properly, you will get the scum anyway and you won't lose flavor."

Meanwhile, he got started on the fish stock demonstration. He used a huge rondeau for this - probably three feet across. For short simmering stocks like this and vegetable stock, you want the maximum surface area. "Sweat the mirepoix in butter, do you know what that means? It means cook slowly, do not brown. No color. When the onions are translucent, they are done. You go by how the onions look because the leeks are not gonna change much."

When they were done, we added the fish bones. "Now we are waiting for them to turn white. When you see that, you know that step is done." It took maybe ten minutes for that. Then he poured in white wine, just enough to cover the bottom of the pan. He let that cook for a few minutes and added the cold water. "Water for stock must always be cold. People try to cheat by using hot water because they think it saves time. But the water should be brought up to temperature slowly. If it is hot in the beginning, it will cloud, and you will never get that out."

We covered the fish by maybe a finger or two of water, and then turned up the heat. "Once that looks like it is starting to boil, turn it down to a simmer. Don't let it boil," he said to the guy whose station was in front of the burner where the fish stock was. "if it boils, it will cloud, and I'm gonna blame you. Then, once it simmers, it cooks for 20, maybe 30 minutes, that's all. So when they say this is a fast cooking stock, 20 minutes, that means after the simmer. All the rest of course takes more time."

"You know, nobody uses this any more. To make fish sauces they mostly use chicken stock now."

"Why?"

"Because it's easier, it keeps longer, and it has so many uses. It's not so economical to make fish fumet when you don't have to. Chicken stock is so neutral it can take on the taste of your fish just by deglazing the pan. But we are going to send this down to the restaurant today, and they can use it if they want for the next few days."

Next it was time for the chicken stock. We got our chicken parts and trimmed off as much fat as we could, and then had to break them into pieces. Chef suggested hacking with your chef's knife. Well, I had my good Shun knife and didn't want to risk that edge, so I asked to borrow his cleaver (a nice Global, the same one I have at home). That did the job right quick. Then the chicken parts had to be inspected and approved before we started. Once again, I was done first, so I was asked to collect them all after they passed and put them in the pot and get the water running.

I turned the heat on high. First, we were to get the water boiling, or nearly so. Then watch as the scum rises and skim it off. Then defat to the extent possible. Then, and only then, add the vegetables. This is not the way I had been making stock until recently, though I know from the CIA book Professional Chef that it is the correct way. I used to put everything in together and then boil the water.

After that, bring up to a near boil again and simmer. Then Chef showed us a neat trick. Defatting with a ladle is harder when have all those veg cuts floating around in there. You don't want to remove them because they are adding flavor. So take a china cap and put it in the top of the pot, making sure that no solids get into the conical part. The liquid and fat will drift in there, and you can defat from there without risking any of your solids.

From that point, the chicken stock needed 2-3 hours to simmer. "You can also make brown chicken stock if you roast the bones before, just like veal, only it takes less time. Same with lamb, duck, pork, any bones you can get."

I can't remember how it came up, but before we left the chicken stock, Chef said, "It takes years to learn all this. Practice, practice, practice. School is only six months, and you can't really learn in that time. I had a student come to me just last week. He got a job as executive chef at [Chef named a nearby restaurant]. He needed help planning the menu, he didn't know how. I asked him, "˜If you don't know how, why did you take the job?' He said the money was $50,000." Chef shook his head in disappointment. "If this guy wants to get really good, he can't do that. In France it takes years just to become a sous chef. Over here, it's different. What he should do is travel, that is if he can afford it, and work at the best places he can for five or six years. Do that and then become executive chef somewhere when he knows how."

On to the veal. "We are not gonna get to taste this, the students tonight will strain it after their class is over, and they will use it. But for next week we will have some stock my other students make during the week to use for our brown sauce."

Now, the thing were using to make the veal stock was something I have read about but never seen: a steam jacket kettle. It was this huge ... cauldron (I don't know what else to call it) used only for making stock. It had its own heat source, literally a layer of steam that heats it not just at the bottom but along the sides as well, and was totally self contained. Crucially, it had a spigot at the bottom, and its own strainer inside. There was simply no way anyone could lift a full pot this big, so that made sense.

Once our bones were browned, in they went, and we started filling it with cold water and turned on the heat. But I had to ask, don't the burnt onions go in first?

"No, today it doesn't matter because my boss is not here."

Then we put the veggies on the roasting pans with two generous dollops of tomato paste each. "Some chefs just put it into the water. That is stupid. You have to cook your tomato paste."

"What about putting it on the bones?" I have one recipe that says to do that.

"It will burn, the bones need to roast too long. Better on the vegetables, that is just enough time. Plus, the flavors combine nicely. Guys, you need to watch these vegetables. They're not like the bones that can be stirred after 30 minutes, they need to be stirred more often. Don't let them burn."

Finally, it was lunch time. Breaded chicken cutlets, bowtie pasta, squash, and green salad. Not as good as the last two, but still very good. One of the students works as a waitress - I suppose I could call her Waitress Girl - and she proclaims that family meal at the FCI was much better than any she had eaten in a restaurant.

In between bits, I would go over to the oven and stir the vegetables.

After lunch, they were ready and went into the stock along with the bouquet garni. I have to say, that pot or whatever it is called is amazing. After a very short time, it had the water at a full rolling boil and beyond - great bubbles were leaping up into the air and splashing down. It looked like a volcano. "Guys, I think we can turn that down now."

Time for a second lecture. How to make emulsified sauces. Traditionally, these are all considered part of the Hollandaise family, but Chef X. got a little bit literal on us and said that two of the ones we were going to make today - BÃ

arnaise and Mayonnaise - were not true derivatives. I thought he had a good case with respect to mayo, not so much with BÃ

arnaise. And what about BethV? Anyway, I didn't say anything.

Hollandaise is a warm emulsified sauce; these are made with clarified butter. Mayo is cold; it's made with oil.

Warm or cold, the basic principle is the same: take two things that ordinarily don't mix, and mix them. The emulsifying agent is egg yolks: they are the glue that can hold together (say) oil and vinegar.

The ratio is very important. 100-150 ml of butter per yoke for warm, 150-200 ml of oil for cold. Put the upper end in your measuring cup in case you need it, but in all likelihood you won't. Save what you don't use. Pouring in too much guarantees that you will break your sauce. I remember from Ruhlman that his skills teacher, Pardus, argued that the ratio is key. The ratio is everything. The essence of the sauce.

Typically, the yokes are mixed with some flavoring agent and beaten over very low heat. This combination is called a sabayon. "If you are really good you can do it on the burner. In a restaurant they will expect that because it saves time. But you are just learning so you will do it the traditional way. Put your sabayon in a bowl and put the bowl over a water bath" - a Russe with a little water in the bottom, over medium low heat. I actually can make a Hollandaise at home directly on the burner; I use a small pot called a "saucier", whose sides are straight toward the top, but curved at the bottom so there are no corners where the sauce can hide from the whisk. But this time I did if Chef's way.

You cook the sabayon very gently. In the case of Hollandaise, the flavoring liquid is lemon juice. Once the yoke foams, start adding the clarified butter in a think but steady stream. It must trickle in slowly. Meanwhile you have to beat it hard and fast with a whisk.

That's basically it. The result should be thick and creamy.

For bÃ

arnaise, chef once again went off script. Red wine vinegar instead of white, first of all. Just a capful. Chef said red won't really affect the color, but has a stronger flavor. The traditional recipe calls for white. Ciceler some shallot, chop some dried tarragon, get a bay leaf, and then make some mignonette. These are cracked black peppercorns. He showed us how to use the bottom of a sauteuse to do that. You could also use a mortar & pestle. Ground pepper, however, is too fine.

Throw all that in a sautoir with some water, and boil, then lower heat and reduce until you have almost a syrup. Strain through a fine chinois, but don't discard the shallot mix. "School would say to throw it out, but it is too valuable, so I want to save it. We are also going to put some in the sauce, which is not so traditional, but it makes the sauce much better. Different chefs do things different ways, I am not saying that mine is the only way, or the correct way or the perfect way." Wow, some rare humility from Chef X. Then came the punch line: "But I got three stars from the New York Times, twice, so maybe my way is pretty good after all."

Take the strained liquid and combine with the yokes. That's your sabayon. Proceed as with Hollandaise. Once it is creamy and thick, add some minced fresh parsley and tarragon, salt and pepper, and two spoonfuls of the shallot mix.

"Oh, that is terrible," Chef said, tasting his demo bÃ

arnaise. "No salt. We are not afraid of salt here," he said, taking a huge pinch and throwing it in. "Much better."

"You know they had the Level Six final the other day. Lot of big people here, Pepin, Soltner" - former chef/owner of Lutece, now with the school - "Sailhac" - another big-time NY Chef now with the school -"and the owner of the school. Tough, tough final," he chuckled. "Anyway, when they got to the end, the owner of the school" -Dorothy Cann Hamilton - "tasted this one student's dish and said, "˜Too salty! It's these French guys! They are teaching you to use too much salt!' I wanted to say, "˜Hey, lady, you founded this place, and named it the French Culinary Institute.'"

Of course, I therefore aggressively salted my sauce. It took a while to thicken -"You had it on the heat too long. Get a wet towel and make a ring and nestle the bowl there. Then whip it off the heat."

That did it. Chef pronounced my sauce very good. Restaurant Guy, unfortunately, did not fare so well. "Too salty." This from Captain salt himself? Turns out while the rest of us were using coarse salt, he had used table salt. The same sized pinch of table salt will be twice as powerful as coarse. Oops.

Meanwhile, Chef was barking out questions. "What are those cracked peppercorns called?" he asked of another student. No answer. "Come on!"

"Mirepoix?"

"You put mirepoix in bÃ

arnaise? I don't know what planet you are living on."

No one else answered, so I did.

After making my sauce I set about cleaning my station and chef asked, "Michael, what are the ingredients of bÃ

arnaise?." This is easy, I thought, we just made that! So I rattled them off, certain that I was right. "Shallots, tarragon, pepper, bay leaf, vinegar, water, egg yolk, butter ..."

"Wrong."

Wrong? How could I be wrong? Maybe he wanted more specificity. "Cisler of shallots, dried tarragon, black pepper corn -"

"Wrong."

"Black peppercorn mignonette."

"No. You don't say that. Mignonette is cracked black peppercorn."

So I went through it all again, with specificity.

Waitress girl had another hard day. Chef was really on her. He didn't yell - he never yells - but she was not keeping up and he told her so. Nor did she really understand the recipe or follow along. I felt bad for her. "I don't think you are listentening."

"I'm listening!" she said plaintively.

"I don't mean right now, I mean earlier, when I explained all this. You need to listen, carfully. And your station is a mess, you need to keep it clean and organized."

Her partner got a little bit, too. "Is that gum?"

"Yes."

"How are you gonna taste your sauce? How will you know if it is good? It will taste like cherry or whatever, not bÃ

arnaise."

Last was Mayonnaise. One egg yolk, big spoon of mustard, pinch of salt. Stream in the oil. Finish with salt and ground pepper. Now, I still had not filled my little pepper grinder with peppercorns. The few times I needed some, I grabbed Chef X's off his station. This time he had put it away. I'll be damned if I was going to go through his bag. So I grabbed the bottle of ground pepper from the spice cabinet and threw in a pinch. When Chef tasted my sauce, the first think he said was, "Pepper a little big, no? Did you use a grinder?"

"No, I used the pre-ground."

"Very bad, that's too coarse. You need to use your grinder. Otherwise, the sauce is good."

I broke down and cleaned my station and also filled my little grinder with corns. I was finished first, again, so chef asked me to help strain. I had to do the fish fumet while he did the chicken stock. I tilted the rondeau up at a steep angle, dipped a ladle into the lowered end, and just ladled it out, one little bit at a time through a fine chinois. I have to say, though I am not a fish person, it smelled ... not bad.

Chef is fiercely opposed to pressing liquid through the chinois - something I always used to do until I read Thomas Keller's injunction against it. "The point is to strain," said Chef X, "to remove those particles, so what are you doing when you press? You are pushing them through."

So I didn't press.

Then he filled one of the big sinks with cold water and ice and we put the two stocks in there to rapidly cool them. "At home, you know, you leave things out, sitting their for a long time, and it's very dangerous. Unless they are very hot or very cold, they will grow bacteria and make you sick. At home, I am not going to worry about you because you can only get yourself and maybe a few people sick, but here it's different. Your stock will go down to the restaurant" - that's l'Ecole, the school's formal restaurant, open to the public - "or to the family kitchen, and you could get a lot of people sick."

So the solution was to rapidly cool the stock in cold water. He took another step, which was to fill a ban marie with ice and swirl that inside the stock pots. Once they were cool, a professional student came and took them away. "Anything else, Chef?" he asked.

"No, that's all. Thanks. See that guy?" Chef X. asked me. "I failed him in Level 3. He wasn't getting it. Had to take it again. He was really mad at me. Now he is on Level 6 and he is a top student. Focused. Helps out around the kitchen all the time even when he doesn't have class. He's gonna do well."

There is a kitchen adjacent to ours with another La Technique class, this one on its tenth session. The chef teaching it used to work for Chef X. at La Cote Basque. There is a little pass-through window at the dishwasher's station, and the chef handed over a plate of one of their dishes for that day, poulet sautÃ

chasseur, or sautÃ

ed chicken hunter style. I looked amazing to me, but Chef found fault. "Look at all the flecks in that sauce. It's not been well strained. You would not see that at Ducasse."

On the Spring Street subway platform after class, there was a guy with long white hair, an orange coat, Cambridge scarf, heavy wide-wale cords and brown suede Norwegians. I wondered if he is on Style Forum.

Then on the train, there was the same lady I saw last time. This time she had out her binder and a highlighter, carefully re-reading the day's recipes. I took a nap and had a dream that Alain Ducasse took one look at some of my sauce, and flushed it down the drain.

 

[Spatlese]

Thanks Manton, terrific read.

 

[kwilkinson]

Originally Posted by Manton

I took a nap and had a dream that Alain Ducasse took one look at some of my sauce, and flushed it down the drain.

Hahahaha.. That's amazing! And yeah, Ducasse is the pedestal against which everything and everyone else is judged.
Sounds like a really good day. It's interesting to see the differences in our school's "official" curriculum, but that what the individuals chefs are teaching seem to be the same.

BTW-- I think the cases of bones are 50 lb.

 

[rnoldh]

Great!

You are getting closer to publishing a story in the New Yorker. Probably something Chef X has never done.

 

[Manton]

Kwilk, I stupidly forgot to bring my camera again, but if you check the blog, you can see the tournage I did on Friday:

http://culinarytechniques.wordpress....9/01/24/glace/