Country Captain Chicken: My Last Final, Ever (With Recipe for Blanch, Shock and Awe Asparagus)
With some degree of anticlimactic huzzah, I recently made this, my last dish at Pulaski Technical College Arkansas Culinary School.
The humor was not lost on me that it was Country Captain Chicken, a sort of earthy, southern meal, to end two and a half years of mostly fine-dining training. I imagine this was because chicken is easily purchased and quickly used, things critical to a college kitchen trying to close up shop for the summer.
My last class just happened to be American Regional Cuisine, which I have really enjoyed this semester. The class was supposed to be taught by my PITA Food 4 instructor (who, incidentally, I now adore). But, due to a scheduling issue, the class was taught by a new instructor, Matthew Cooper of Lulav. No, not that guy, a new one. I imagine this one knows how to make sushi.
We did our written and practical final on the same day, which doesn’t always happen. The test had 70 questions. I was the first to turn it in, which always makes me a little nervous… overconfident much? Not really. I only missed three.
We didn’t know what we’d be making for our practical final until just before entering the kitchen. The class was divided and assigned one of two dishes, the Country Captain and a clam chowder. I was glad I got the chicken.
I really relished my last time in the kitchen as a student. For this final, we worked individually, which I enjoy, although I’m also known for often forceful leadership of a group activity. (That’s a phlegmatic/choleric personality mix, for those who are into that sort of thing.)
I finished. It was awesome. Then I realized I forgot to add the raisins, so I scraped off the sauce, fixed the error, and re-finished. Even more awesome.
Not ever being one to leave well enough alone, I asked Chef Cooper if he would mind a bit of liberty taken with the sides. He said that would be fine, with the sides only. So, rather than sautéing the recommended side of asparagus, I broke protocol and used my favorite technique: blanch, shock and awe. (I’m seriously going to make that into a T-shirt.) See recipe below.
The chef dug the food. I got an A.
I had a moment as I walked out the back door, toward the loading dock and trash area that was near my car. Never again will I have the opportunity to learn, play, experiment and grow that I’ve had here. Never again will I be surrounded by such culinary genius, all the time. Never again will I be with this particular group of students, of all ages and talents, who have become some of my best friends.
Here’s to whatever comes next.
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Blanch, Shock and Awe Asparagus
4 servings
- 20 stalks asparagus, woody ends trimmed/snapped off
- Olive oil
- 1 Lemon, zested, halved
- Kosher salt
- Black pepper, fresh ground
Prepare a bowl of ice water while you bring a pot of salted water to boil. Heat a grill or grill pan to high heat.
Blanch the asparagus in salted water for 10-15 seconds, or just until the color becomes a bright green. Immediately plunge asparagus in the ice water for a few seconds to stop the cooking process. Don’t leave it there too long, but remove and dry thoroughly on paper towels.
Drizzle olive oil lightly over the asparagus and rub with your hands to thoroughly coat. Season with salt and pepper, then grill for 5-10 minutes or until the asparagus acquires grill marks and the desired level of charring, if you like.
Remove asparagus from the grill and place in a shallow container. Squeeze one half of the lemon over the asparagus, then sprinkle with the zest. Serve to astounded and awed guests.
Should I be allowed to cook?
When I was a kid, my dad, God bless his willing heart, would take me to McDonald’s for a little outing.
This was in the days before McNuggets, so my standard fare was a cheeseburger Happy Meal. Every time, I would get about halfway through it and get “too full,” even a little sick to my stomach. This annoyed my sweet daddy to no end, as he had bought yet another perfectly good burger, and I ought to eat it.
Turns out I had a sensitivity (then called an “allergy,” although we now know that to be a misnomer) to onions, one that caused instant stomach swelling, nausea and great discomfort. After extensive testing, we discovered this along with a long list, about 20 different items, that caused some sort of reaction or another in my body.
In recent years, I’d gotten to where I can eat just about anything without a major reaction, even onions if they’re cooked really well. I got really good at cooking and decided to chase a passion at culinary school.
Then, halfway through school, I start to get sick again. Turns out that this time, it’s gluten intolerance.
I’m not going to use this post to defend gluten intolerance as a valid problem, so if you have an issue with it, read this article recently published in the Huffington Post for some insight.
Why am I dumping all this on you, after promising not to talk so much about my own health? Because some yahoos on Twitter went and got my goat last night.
A cook (who will remain nameless, because I’m charitable like that) tweeted his great displeasure that a guest in his restaurant said she was allergic to seafood, and she had a “mise en place” tattoo on her arm. (For the unwashed, that’s a term for prepping food for production. It’s a sure sign she’s a culinary student or professional.)
I replied, quite sweetly, I thought, that there were several students in our program with allergies and sensitivities, and why was that a big deal?
Here are some excerpts he rallied from his followers:
“ya I’m allergic to stupid. How can you be passionate about stuff your (sic) ‘allergic’ too (sic).”
“if you can’t/don’t taste the food your (sic) cooking, then stop wasting your time and go do something you want to do.”
And my favorite, after I asked why it’s such an offensive idea that people with food allergies/sensitivities might attend culinary school:
“poisoning them would f*** up the curve?”
I realize that these are all neanderthal folk who just like to troll up my Twitter feed, but they unearth some issues worth discussing.
It’s a fact that, for whatever reason, food sensitivities and allergies are growing at an alarming rate. Some of these people will end up at culinary school because they’re good cooks, and they want to cook for other people.
So, some questions:
- What good is a cook who has an allergy or sensitivity?
- Should they be allowed to attend culinary school?
- What accommodations are acceptable for students and cooks/chefs with allergies/sensitivities?
- And on a slightly different tangent, but the one that started the whole conversation: Does a diner have the right to ask for an allergen-free dish, and does the restaurant have the right to refuse them? (I say yes to both, although the situation provides a great customer service opportunity.)
At school, I have never refused to cook anything. Even if I’m having a mild reaction to something, I always power through and finish, just for the sake of doing it. If I don’t feel like I should eat something that day, I get a couple tastes just for verification and move on.
Since my gluten sensitivity came on when I was halfway through school, I had already established a reputation as a hard worker and good student. I think this has allowed me some flexibility to occasionally make a gluten-free version of whatever we’re making in class, although I don’t always push the issue.
The situation may be different for those with full-blown celiac disease or what we now recognize as true allergies, which can be life threatening. The tweeting cook said I should “do my homework” to understand the difference, because sensitivities were, apparently, not worth changing one’s diet over.
I suppose if someone was so food allergic/sensitive they couldn’t eat anything but rice, then maybe they shouldn’t be in culinary school. But otherwise, I think it’s helpful to the world out there, teeming with people who are getting sick from food, to have a trained cook who gets it.
I know I’ll regret this, but let me know your comments below. I’ll probably go ahead and approve everything, stupid trolls included. Bring it on.
Meanwhile, I’m going to just keep on kicking butt in the kitchen, putting out good food. Sorry if that makes you mad.
Making Indian Food at the Rockefeller Institute (And a gluten-free naan recipe)
Lisa Fischer being adorable.
For the record: Lisa Gibson Fischer is adorable.
Though she is mostly known in central Arkansas as the effervescent co-host of B98.5′s morning radio show, Fischer is also an excellent cook, hosting the “Made from Scratch” series entry focusing on Indian cuisine at the Rockefeller Institute in Morrilton earlier this month.
I felt a little strange cheating on my homies over at Pulaski Tech, but this was subject matter I hadn’t learned yet. I had wanted to take International Cuisine this semester, but it didn’t fit into my mommy-schedule. I also wanted to check out the new Rockefeller Institute, a stunning educational and meeting facility seated atop Petit Jean Mountain. With culinary education all the rage these days, they built a lovely teaching kitchen, with a stadium-seating lecture hall alongside a small hands-on lab area.
In the class, we started off with naan bread (a puffy, yeasted flatbread), a chicken coconut curry soup, and a mango lassi (mango puree with yogurt).
Shall I interject: I have been SO good lately with the gluten-free thing. But this day…there was just something about making bread. I hadn’t made yeast bread of any sort since going GF. I. Couldn’t. Resist.
Another participant's lovely naan and coconut soup.
I ate at least one whole naan, maybe more. It was in pieces, to feed my self-deception that I would only eat a bite. So, by the time we’re working on the next dishes, my eyes are puffy, I’m exhausted, and my muscles, which have avoided significant pain for several months now, started to cramp and seize.
Sheesh.
Anywho, it was probably worth it. The naan is DELISH. (See below for my gluten-free version.)
While I sank into glutenized stupor, we made Saag Paneer and Coconut Shrimp Curry, both surprisingly mild and delicious.
Surprise bonus: My seating neighbor and lab partner just so happened to be Dr. Meenakshi Budhraja, a gastroenterologist who is on the cutting edge of all things relating to food and/as medicine. She and I have tried for months to get together to finish a journal article we’re co-writing on the topic, and our schedules haven’t jelled. More on that another day.
I could go on about all the details of the event, but I’ll just say you should sign up for (1) Lisa’s “repeat” coming up at KitchenCo with the same recipes, and (2) anything at the Rockefeller Institute. It’s a stellar facility with a fantastic staff, culinary and otherwise.
Back to the naan. After driving 45 minutes or so home in a glutened haze, I knew I had to come up with a gluten-free version. As of yet, I had only stockpiled GF flours, hoping to one day have the time to play. I made the time when I got home.
Enjoy!
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Gluten Free Naan Bread
(Inspired by Bread in Five)
- 160g brown rice flour
- 110g sorghum flour
- 255g potato starch
- 1 T. yeast
- 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
- 1 T. xanthan gum
- 2 eggs
- 1 1/3 c. lukewarm water
- 2 T. + 2 tsp veg or olive oil
- 1 T. honey
Mix the flours, starch, yeast, salt, and xanthan gum REALLY (no, really) well in the bowl of your stand mixer. I am generally against sifting, so I used a whisk to mix things up thoroughly. You could also use the whisk attachment of your mixer. Now place the dough hook on your mixer and proceed.
In a separate, small bowl, break up the eggs a bit with a whisk or fork.
In yet another bowl or largish measuring cup, combine the warm water, oil, and honey.
Pour the eggs into the flour mixture and mix a few seconds. With the mixer on low, slowly add the water/oil mixture until completely emptied.
What’s left in your mixer will slosh around for a few minutes and generally look like a big, sloppy mess. Keep it up.
Depending on your local humidity and altitude, and the questionable accuracy of this, my first gluten-free baking recipe, your dough (like mine) might be a bit soft. This is to be expected, really, as GF doughs tend to come out more like batters. Don’t freak.
The sticky dough of my gluten-free naan.
Cover your dough and let it rise in a warm place for an hour or two. I have a warming drawer now, but I used to just run my dryer for a few minutes and then place the bowl inside. Instant proof box!
Now, to form our naan: If you have a Silpat, now is the time to bust it out. This stuff is sticky. Sprinkle on a fair amount of rice flour, a little more if your dough is intolerably wet and sticky. Pinch off a golf-ball sized piece of dough and place it on top of your heavy dusting of flour. Sprinkle another heavy dusting of rice flour on the top, all over, so it won’t stick to your method of flattening.
Rolling out the GF naan.
This flattening method is variable, depending on what you’ve got to work with. My awesome hubs got me a Silpat rolling pin for Christmas, which was perfect for this. If your hubs isn’t as awesome as mine, you can pat down your naan using a sheet of plastic wrap or a cut storage bag. Either way, get it down to about a 1/8″ thickness.
Use a large spatula to loosen the dough and get it off the mat, then use the mat itself (or the spatula, if it’s holding together well) to transfer your naan to a waiting, hot skillet with some oil or butter inside. Oh, yeah. Get that ready first, will ya?
GF naan all cooked up on one side, and about to flip.
I browned the naan on one side, flipped, and browned on the other, and that was enough to cook it through. If yours is thick in spots or otherwise doesn’t seem to be cooking all the way, you can cover it and let it steam a bit.
The dough is quite forgiving if you tear it on the way to the skillet. I’m certainly not advocating that you actually reach your hands down in a hot skillet to press the dough back together, but I’m just saying, I may have done so, and it may have worked.
I scarfed this stuff down with some homemade rice-noodle soup that night, and it was glorious. Hope it works out for at least one or two of you, too.
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The Marzipan Taunts Me (Dumb Luck at Making Roses)
It is seriously all I can do to not eat the entire bag of marzipan (a sugar-and-almond dough-like substance, used for modeling edible forms and flowers) I brought home from Cakes & Cake Decorating class.
We are supposed to practice making roses out of it, using the technique outlined in a video we watched in class. Although I can’t say my form is completely perfect, my second attempt (the first being at school) today was pretty darn okay.
Does that mean I can eat it? I. Love. Marzipan.
Here’s how I did it:
First, I rolled the marzipan into a 1″-thick or so log. I cut the following pieces with a sharp paring knife:
- One 1.5″ piece
- Two 1″ pieces
- Eight 3/4″ pieces
Each of these is rolled into a sphere, then into a cone shape. The first piece will be more conical than the others.
Using a plastic dough scraper/bench knife, you gently squash the cone into a flat, large oval, which will be thicker and wider on the fat end of the cone. Hopefully.
The guy in the video did this in two strokes, both at the same 45 degree or so angle across the cone. The first time, you leave some of the fat end untouched, and the second time you get the whole thing.
Okay, so my "bench knife" was a cheesy pasta measure thing that came in the mail. My real one is...somewhere.
Still a little lumpy. I later switched to a sturdier bench knife that left fewer ridges.
Next, I rolled the center of the rose with this largest piece, using the thick end toward the bottom. I used the extra at the bottom to squish out a base.
Next, I flattened the next two petals in similar fashion, gave them a little pleat in the side (see below) and stuck them tightly around the base.
My problem with my earlier attempt at school is that I let these drape widely, making the flower look too much like a pansy or something. Roses are more tightly wound in the middle.
Now I spread, pleated and placed the next three petals, from the remaining eight pieces.
Pleat all one layer's petals at once and lay them face down on the work surface until you're ready.
Now, just the remaining five pieces await. These will stick on a little differently, so stay frosty.
Since these final petals will be visible from the outside, you’ll want to make sure each one tucks underneath the one before it. You know, to look all natural and junk. So before you completely press down one side, hold it open and position the next petal.
Aaaaand….voila. The finished rose. Like I said, I had some dumb luck this time, and it took a little pre-fiddling at class to get the idea. It’s worth giving it a try. You can purchase marzipan by the bucket at cake supply stores and online.
Besides, they’re delicious, whether they turn out pretty or not. So are the scraps.
I’m just saying.
Cakes and Cake Decorating Class at Pulaski Tech (with recipe for Swiss Buttercream)
Delish, no?
Too bad I can’t eat it. Oh well. The hubs and kids will feast after dinner tonight.
Last night was our second lab in Cakes and Cake Decorating Class, and the first time we really got to go at it on a cake. So incredibly fun!
I didn’t get as much time as I would have liked to decorate, since we took so long learning the ropes of splitting and filling cakes and making Swiss buttercream frosting. It is a little wonky in places, and I had to use someone else’s vivid green rather than my own pastel just because I ran out of time to bag it up. But not too shabby for a first try.
Swiss buttercream, by the way, is so incredibly delicious, I think I’ll never make the regular kind again. It’s shiny and not too sweet. You get…well…heck. I’ll just show you the ingredient list that Chef J wrote on the board:
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Swiss Buttercream
Ingredients for Swiss buttercream
Place the egg whites and sugar in the mixer bowl over a pan of simmering water, and stir until the sugar is melted and the whole thing is just a little gooey, about 140 degrees. Then place this into your mixer with the whip attachment and kick it up to high for a while.
Conveniently, you don’t have to worry about overbeating, because the sugar acts as a stabilizer.
Once the mixture is well beaten, shiny and fluffy, check the temperature, which needs to come down closer to room temp before adding the butter. Usually the action of the mixer will do this, but some mixers add heat. If this happens, just place the mixer bowl into a bowl of ice for a minute or two and return your goo to the machine.
Now turn the mixer back on and add the butter, a room-temp chunk at a time (no need to be too pretty about cutting it up), while the mixer whips it together. Add the vanilla.
If you want to add chocolate, melt about 8 ounces of white chocolate or 12 ounces of semi-sweet, and let it cool slightly, then add. If you want to have some colors as well as chocolate, you can split up the batch and mix in the chocolate and the color bases separately, by hand.
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I want to walk you through everything else we did recipe-style, but it will take for-eh-vah. I’ll just regale you with photos of each step so you can be jealous that I actually get a grade for this sort of activity.
Meanwhile, I’ve found a recipe for a gluten-free poundcake, which I think I’ll use for our next project.
Stay tuned.
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Veggie Sushi at Home
If your new years’ resolutions include saving money on meals and cutting down on meat products, some veggie sushi might be just what you need. If you also want to teach your kids how to cook and appreciate healthy meals, then, booyah.
My 9-year-old has gained an appreciation for sushi, so I added it to this week’s semi-vegetarian menu. I decided it was time for her to try making something entirely on her own, so once I had made two rolls, she got to do some all by herself. She did great.
Big Kid sushi, coming to a plate near you! Or, at least, near me.
This recipe is particularly useful as a last-minute choice, given you’ve stockpiled some sticky rice and nori, because you can use just about anything in your veggie drawer. I planned ahead and bought cream cheese, but you could use tofu (as a vegan option, thx Jeff Hicks) or leave it out altogether.
Veggie Sushi
- Sushi Rice (see recipe below)
- 3-4 sheets nori (sushi-making seaweed paper)
- 1 carrot, peeled and cut into thin sticks, about 1/8″ square and 4″ long
- 1 roasted red bell pepper, cut into thin strips (Buy jarred or do it yourself)
- 1/4 cucumber, cut into thin strips
- 2 oz. cream cheese or extra firm tofu, cut similarly to above
- Sesame seeds, toasted or not, optional
You could spend all day freaking out about technique on this one. Or, you can do like we did and just wing it based on what you think you may or may not have seen before. Either way, it will taste pretty good, even if it’s not as pretty as what you bought at the sushi joint in town.
I’ve found that breaking the full-size nori sheets in half makes a prettier roll, at least for beginners like me. Wrap your bamboo rolling mat with plastic wrap and place the half-sheet on top, near the edge closest to you.
Oh, yeah, the water. Keep a small bowl of water near your work area, or you will be, as they say in Japan, sorry.
Wet your hands and get some of your finished sushi rice, then carefully spread it in a thin layer across your nori. I say carefully because it will generally STAY where you put it. If you want your rolls to be nori-side out, leave about a half-inch uncovered across the top for a seal. (If you prefer rice-side out, this isn’t necessary. Now’s the time to flip the whole thing over on your mat. Not you, nori-side-out people.)
This was our first roll of the night, with a sprinkle of bonito (dried fish) flakes. Meh. Also found it easier to place the cream cheese first.
About halfway down, lay down a solid line of your cream cheese or tofu. On top of this, start laying down your slices of veggies. Less is more, as too much will make the roll impossible to, well, roll. I use about four pieces of each item, slightly overlapped.
And now, the rolling. Don’t freak.
Okay, so Big Kid rolled hers from the top. No big deal.
Wet your fingertips and dampen the upper edge of the nori to act as a seal. Using the bamboo mat underneath, roll up your, er, roll, snugly but not with too much force. When the mat reaches all the way around, be sure to move it outward and not roll it up with your sushi! Oh, heck, just watch a video somewhere and see.
Once you’ve rolled it all the way, use the mat to give the roll a firm hug. It’s about to be your best friend! Unroll and move it to a cutting board.
With a VERY sharp, dampened knife, cut the roll exactly in half. Put the two halves against each other and do it again, so you have four equal pieces. Dampen and cut again with sets of two until you have eight equal pieces.
Serve proudly with soy sauce (use tamari if you’re gluten free) and chopsticks.
Sushi Rice
- 2 cups sticky rice (also called sushi rice)
- 2 cups cold water
- 2-3 T. rice wine vinegar (I like mine more tart)
- 1 T. rice wine (mirin), optional
- 1 T. sugar
- 1 T. kosher salt
You can find sushi rice in larger grocery stores in the Asian foods area, or at Asian specialty stores. In the Little Rock area, you can’t go wrong with Sam’s Oriental on University. Just don’t use regular rice, or you will be sorely disappointed!
Check the bag of rice to see if your variety requires rinsing, as many newer ones don’t. Unless it says not to, you’ll need to rinse it in a wire colander under cold water until the water runs clear. Place the rice and the 2 cups water in a rice cooker, or in a medium saucepan brought to a boil, then a low simmer and covered until done (check your bag for cooking times, but should be about 15 minutes).
While the rice cooks, place the vinegar, rice wine (if using), sugar and kosher salt in a small saucepan and place over medium-low heat. If you’re using the rice wine, cook until it simmers just a bit to cook off most of the alcohol. Otherwise, all you need is enough heat to melt the salt and sugar into the vinegar.
When the rice is fully cooked, spread it out on a sheet pan. Sprinkle the vinegar mixture over the rice, occasionally “cutting” the rice with a butter knife or spatula to mix it in without damaging the grains. Allow the rice to cool completely on the pan. (If you want go all traditional or if you’re in a hurry, you can use a folding fan to help the cooling process along, a fun task for the kids.)
Bonus Recipe for Ghetto-Fab Fried Rice: Scramble and fry an egg, remove from pan and chop it into tiny bits. (Or finely dice some tofu, season with tamari and sauté.) Cut your leftover veggie strips into tiny cubes and sauté in a tiny bit of sesame oil or broth. Add your leftover sushi rice, the egg, and some soy sauce or tamari. Stir. If you can be bothered, add some sliced green onion. Delish.
Back in the Saddle Again…One Last Time
Today, I start my last semester as a student at Pulaski Technical College Arkansas Culinary School.
I specify “as a student,” because I would love to come back as a graduate assistant, or whatever iteration that becomes in the new facility. This school has become a part of me, both reflecting my passions and giving me the means to carry them to others.
I only needed two more classes to graduate: American Regional Cuisine and an elective of my choosing (I chose Cakes and Cake Decorating, mainly because I didn’t get to take as many baking courses as I would have liked). Also, these classes are both at night, which is gonna save me bazillions in childcare this semester.
I’m still not entirely sure what I’m gonna do when I “grow up,” but writing, teaching and cooking will always be a part of it. Some opportunities have drifted up here and there. This is just as I un-planned it; the more I tried to make concrete plans, the more it looked like what other folks would want/expect me to do with a degree in culinary arts. Those plans were expensive, too, usually involving some sort of storefront, staff and other junk I don’t really don’t want to deal with, at least not right now.
So.
For one last semester, I put on the white jacket and black pants, PTC/ACS black baseball cap (yecch) and skid-proof black shoes.
I feel just a little like I did at the end of high school or college (the first time). The future is bright, full of opportunity. And this time, I’m just old enough, just young enough, just experienced-in-life enough to make something really cool happen.
Stay tuned.
UPDATE: Okay, already…I know good and well that several email subscribers to this blog are instructors and students. So why didn’t anyone tell me that I had the start date wrong? HA! I must have written the late registration date down. Or something.
I seriously ironed my coat, got a sitter, and went to school today, only to find that it doesn’t start until NEXT WEEK. Geesh. I started to delete this, but no. Go ahead and laugh at with me.
New Year’s Resolutions for 2012
I somehow feel morally obligated, as a blogger type, to write a new year’s post. Most likely, it’s just a way to force myself into completing a post in one sitting, as I’ve got about a dozen half-finished ones waiting in my drafts folder.
But, there is indeed some usefulness in the exercise. I’m about to finish my degree in culinary arts from Pulaski Technical College Arkansas Culinary School, and the time is right to lay out some plans, or at least some intentions.
So here goes.
Resolution #1: Get friggin’ healthy, once and for all. Even after cutting out gluten and reaping the benefits in reduced muscle pain and fatigue, other stuff has cropped up. Last doctor visit, my thyroid and liver were out of whack, and I feel like total crap. New meds just have me feeling worse.
This week, I’m taking my bod hostage and it’s gonna listen. Healthy meal plans (including shopping lists and scheduled time to cook) and a little bit of exercise — I seriously have no capacity for more — start now. I’m going to study Chinese and Indian medicine, especially their use of food. And tomorrow, I’m calling the fabulous acupuncturist I used to see years ago, who can cut through all the rigamarole of Western medicine that has left me hanging.
All that being said:
Resolution #2: Talk less about my health. If I haven’t lost you already: Talking about one’s own health is boring, and it’s rude to those who have it worse. I think the reason I do it is just to let people know why I missed school/church/that lunch date/big event/whatever, or why I don’t commit myself to much these days. But I do plan to share stories with you about food and how it relates to health.
Resolution #3: Teach. I adore helping other people learn how to cook for themselves, whether that is here on the blog or in person. Over the past year or two, I’ve had the opportunity to teach groups of children, moms on a weekend retreat, and many individuals. I hope to add group lessons in my own home, and maybe eventually in my own facility.
I also want to get involved teaching in programs like Cooking Matters, which is just getting started in Arkansas. Turns out that two of my chef instructors at school are involved already. I don’t have the cred that they do, but I would love to get there.
Resolution #4: Learn. I still have two more classes at Pulaski Technical College Arkansas Culinary School (American Regional Cuisine and, for fun, Cake Decorating), so obviously I’ll learn plenty there this year. But I plan to do my own schooling, too.
As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve never worked in the foodservice industry, other than on my own. I still have stuff to learn from others. But rather than get a long-term job somewhere, I plan to “stage” (pronounced stahzj) several different places. I might even just take you along. Stay tuned for all that.
Resolution #5: Be open to opportunity, and be wise in choosing. As I’ve come closer to my graduation, I’ve had all kinds of plans in mind, mostly pretty elaborate, expensive ones. A few months back, though, I decided to hang back and see what comes up, mainly to commit to a great year with my son before he starts kindergarten.
This has been a good policy, because several things have come up. Now, I’ll just have to choose and balance them wisely, keeping both my family and you, dear foodie reader, in mind.
The Cure
After just a few seconds under the beet/horseradish cure, the salmon is stained a beautiful red.
No, I don’t mean that blissfully strange 80s band, nor do I mean a fix for what ails ya.
Unless what’s ailing ya is a hunger for something really salty and yummy.
In garde manger class this week, we studied curing, pickling, smoking and that sort of thing. In the days before refrigeration, these methods were used to preserve meats and other foods so they wouldn’t spoil and kill you. These days, they’re just paths to increased yumminess.
In the lab, we divided into groups, working on different projects. Ours made the assigned recipe for cured salmon with (get this) beet and horseradish. Don’t get me wrong; I love beets, and I can tolerate horseradish most of the time. But this was some powerful stuff. My mascara did not survive the grating process.
We placed the finished rub on the side of salmon (carefully checked for pinbones, of course), and I realized I should have taken an earlier process photo so you could see the lovely flesh. My fellow student just scraped off a bit, and the flesh was already stained a beautiful shade of red. Although I don’t think I’ll care for the pungency of this dish, the color and flavor of the beets will likely prove repeating at home.
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Norwegian Beet & Horseradish Cure
From Garde Manger: The Art and Craft of the Cold Kitchen, published by the Culinary Institute of America
- 1 salmon filet, skin on (3 lbs)
Cure Mix:
- 12 oz. finely chopped or grated raw beets
- 1 lb. grated fresh horseradish
- 6 oz. sugar
- 6 oz. kosher salt (don’t use table salt!)
- 1/2 oz. cracked black pepper
Remove pin bones and score the skin of the fish. Center the fish skin-side down on a large piece of cheesecloth or plastic wrap, inside a perforated pan atop a hotel pan. (Ghetto-fab home cook workaround: Get two cheap plastic storage containers and poke a zillion holes in one. Put the holey one inside the other one, and construct your fish inside the top one.)
Mix the cure ingredients and pack evenly over the salmon. Use less at the thinner end of the fish, toward the tail, to avoid overdrying. Wrap loosely with the cheesecloth or plastic wrap.
Refrigerate 3 days to cure. After third day, gently scrape off the cure. Slice and serve immediately, or wrap and refrigerate up to one week.
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After wrapping and putting our fish away to cure for a few days, the chef told us to create our own cure or brine for whatever meat may be in the school’s walk-in refrigerator. I was hoping for some pork, but there were only whole chickens.
No problem.
Always wanting to do something different, I came up with this: kosher salt, turbinado sugar, dry mustard, fenugreek, a bit of dry garlic, and finely ground black pepper. I spatchcocked the chicken (a fancy word for just cutting down the backbone and spreading the bird out flat) and coated both sides with the dry rub, then wrapped it with plastic wrap.
Not familiar with fenugreek? I wasn’t either, until I was a nursing mother some years ago. I took it as a supplement to (sorry dudes) boost milk supply. I was told you had the dose right when your skin is oddly perfumed with the smell of maple syrup. In fact, fenugreek is often used in synthetic maple syrup production because the smell is so similar. It’s a lovely sweet/savory spice frequently used in Indian cuisine.
My chicken will sit in a perforated pan for a day or two until the chef or a student she assigns will come wash off the rub and cook it. (If it sits in all that salt for a whole week, until our class meets again, it will be completely dried out and “cadaverous,” as she put it.) I hope I’ll get to try it and see how my blend worked out.
Another group worked on duck confit, something I’d like to try for myself soon. The duck pieces are slowly cooked while submerged in duck fat (I mean, really!). The whole thing gets cooled, and as long as the pieces stay submerged in the solidified fat, they can stay in the fridge for several months. Confit is seriously delicious, so I’ll have to tackle that one another time on my own.
This was one of those fun days in culinary school where we get to play and develop something on our own. Even the assigned recipe, despite the horseradish, was cool, because I feel confident I can now cure salmon at home.
Maybe I can carry some of this renewed confidence to Food IV restaurant service this Thursday night. I’m starting to feel like a whipped puppy in there. Not the chef’s fault…he’s just bringing out all the things I need to work on. **whispering to self: this is why we go to school. this is why we go to school.** :/
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Yo Momma’s PB&J (at #IFBC)
In today’s recipe writing session at the International Food Blogger Conference, Deb from Smitten Kitchen made a PB&J on stage. Our task, as directed by session moderator Diane Jacob (author of Will Write for Food), was to write a recipe from her demonstration.
We had like five minutes to write it. This is a great exercise for anyone with a food blog.
I read mine first! I was amazed that they all actually dug it. Here it is:
Yo Momma’s PB&J
The best sandwich you always had.
Ingredients:
- Super-bleached white bread, preferably a store brand
- High Fructose strawberry jelly (or grape, ask momma)
- Skippy peanut butter. (No substititions on that one)
Lay out the super-bleached white bread so that the flat ends are facing each other. Using a butter knife and a momma’s tender hand, spread the jelly onto one piece of bread. Then wipe the knife and do the same with the peanut butter on the other piece. Don’t tear it! Gently!
Place the pieces together and cut into triangles, rectangles, or quarters — whatever yo momma did.
Eat in front of some after-school cartoons with a glass of cold milk.
