the story of a new culinary instructor… and some other stuff too

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Ginger Nectar

i had this knob of ginger that was sprouting. i stuck it in a pot to see if it would grow… that was three years ago….

three years of tiny sprouts that broke free through the dirt to express some form of short lived green. last year it flowered which i heard was hard to do. but it did. a tiny bud of folded leaves that quickly withered and died…

this year it sprang to life… not one sprout broke free, but five took the chance and emerged from the dirt… one at a time. as if sending a test mission out to see if the world was ok and sent a message back to the rest … all clear. grow up.

occasionally i brush past this plant that is now over three feet tall an i feel a wetness on my arm…. that smells of ginger and honey combined, but is thin like water…. nectar. the stuff tiny honey bees would gather to make honey if my plant was outside… out in the world…

it just grows, ever reaching for the window on it’s right, stretching towards the sun soaked window… dripping ginger scented water tears.

new stuff pending:

Lately, I’ve been so busy with adjusting to my new schedule of morning and evening classes and juggling a a few miscellaneous things in my personal life, I feel guilty for neglecting Toque and Dagger. I have a few items, articles, pieces in the works and I need to find the time to focus and put thought to keyboard in order to finish them. I will… some things can’t be forced or rushed… So, when the time is right, when the planets and stars have aligned in such a way that allows the creative in me to work again…. stories will be told. Until then, I’m going to take a nap and do some laundry.

got one right

Through lots of trial and error, I finally made a gluten free cookie I would be proud to serve.

I love cookies so going gluten free was not without some feeling of loss. I experimented with making my favorite chocolate chip cookies using Bob’s Red Mill Gluten Free flour only to be disappointed in the taste and texture. I found BRMGF flour to be nutty and bean-y in flavor so it did not really work well with chocolate chips. The flavor profile of this flour blend stuck with me… the aftertaste stuck around even longer. I realized that maybe a nutty tasting flour should breed a nutty kind of cookie and there fore a peanut butter cookie should work well with BRMGF flour except I can’t eat peanut butter. This was turning out to be an exercise in substitutions.

I reached for my faux peanut butter (soy nut butter) and got to work. I mixed all the ingredients and tasted the dough (good dough makes good cookies). It was pretty good…darn good! Better than any of the other formulas I tried.
Here’s the recipe:

1/2 cup butter

1 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup soy nut butter (or peanut butter)

1 egg

1 tsp vanila

1 1/4 cup BRMGF flour

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

3/4 tsp baking soda

cream butter and sugar; add soy nut butter (or peanut butter), egg and vanilla, mix well; fold in dry ingredients and mix well. refrigerate for 30 minutes and scoop on to parchment lined baking sheets and bake at 350 degrees for 8-10 minutes

let cool and smear soy nut butter and jelly between two cookies and enjoy!

gfy

It’s not what you think it means…

Gluten-Free-You… and it is a complete work in progress.

In a strange, weird and unexpected twist of fate I have reason to believe that I have a wheat/gluten allergy or intolerance which at this time is unconfirmed by an MD, but I isolated it from my diet about three weeks ago and have NEVER felt as good as I  do since eliminating it. I have been playing with “pre-made” gluten-free flour blends from “Bob’s Red Mill” to some degree of disappointment. You see, I’m so used to wheat flour, white flour, AP flour, bread flour and pastry flour knowing intimately how each works, their suitable uses and what to add or substitute to make one more like the other depending on what the formula calls for. I can spot dough flaws just by feel and sight and know how to correct them. I know flour and how it behaves…I’m used to flour…. I love flour. I also love to bake… but have had some rather … disappointing trials since I switched to gluten-free flour. Or at least the “pre-made” blends. So far, I made cookies and pizza (both using “Bob’s Red Mill” gluten free flour and his pizza mix) with some disappointing results. (for non-commerical gluten free flour blends… see gluten free flour blends under recipes)

About a week ago, I made GF chocolate chip cookies that tasted good, but looked like Florentines with lumpy chocolate chips and had a lacy texture versus the crispy edged, soft-gooey centered cookies I was baking before going GF. I have to admit, I’m leery of trying them again and resting on solid disappointment. On a closer analysis, I think the fault may lie in the sugar I used and not the flour blend so I’m willing to try them again. (As soon as I can get to the grocery to replenish supplies like eggs, butter and milk.)

Tonight I tried the pizza mix…. I mixed the dough according to package directions and it felt sticky… overly wet. Not like my usual pizza dough and it smelled different… not as yeasty, kinda nutty. I love that yeasty bread dough smell. I wondered and almost feared the dough I just made. I questioned this dough every step of the way and then decided that i may need to “mask” the taste of the blend of ground whole grains by adding some garlic, onion, cayenne and garlic bread powders to the dough. That, at least, made it smell better. I stuck my fingers in the mixing bowl and the dough, instead of being a solid, elastic mass that would leave an imprint of my fingers stuck to my skin like glue… When I rinsed them off under water the dough dissolved slowly, leaving a slick reside and not rinsing clean away. I set it to rise, like the directions said then I got worried… I wondered how in the fu*k was I going to roll this out, stretch it, toss it and get it off the pizza peel and on to the 450 degree stone I keep in my oven. I kept checking the dough during it’s rising process, touching it, poking it until finally I pulled off about a tablespoon of dough pressed it between my fingers (most of it stuck) and placed it on my pizza stone and closed the oven… the sample piece. The tester…. I watched it. It rose a bit, then the edges turned brown. I opened the oven and touched this dough ball which felt springy, spongy and dense. I tore it in half and popped it in my mouth, chewed it and tried to figure it out…. it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t great either. I covered the rest in tomato sauce and tried that bite… better.

After letting it rise… I felt it up again and this time it was leavened but even more sticky so I dug the package out of the trash and re-read the directions…. “press dough into pizza pan with wet hands” … WTF???? You don’t make a good pizza by “pressing” dough in a pan. You make good pizza by hand stretching dough, tossing it in the air, catching it and feeling the smooth elasticity between your hands. (I’ve made so much pizza dough and made so many pizzas in my culinary career, I think I can safely call my self a pizza expert and know good dough from bad dough… this was bad dough.) I could feel the panic setting in realizing that I wasn’t going to be able to roll, toss and stretch my dough… so I “pressed” on and coated a small sheet pan with olive oil, wet my hands and grabbed a handful of this foreign dough. I pressed it as smoothly and as evenly as I could in a pan and baked it for 8 minutes as directed without toppings. 8 minutes later, the crust was bubbling a bit and sort of golden around the edges… ok, so far so good. I pulled it out, sauced it, topped it and returned it to the oven hoping that the crust would be crispy and light. The suggested 12 minute baking time later, the edges were certainly more brown and all the toppings were cooked through (home-made beef Italian sausage, bacon, asparagus, pepperoni and fresh mozzarella) I pulled it and its hefty weight from the oven. I could feel how dense this crust was before I even cut into it. It looked good… smelled good… Do you remember making pizza using bisquick biscuit dough as the crust? That’s what it looked like. And that’s how it tasted. Like dense, wet biscuit dough pizza. Disappointing to say the least especially since I’m used to a thinner, light, crispy yet chewy crust that holds up the moisture of the sauce and not succumbing to it like this one did. I think my expectation was that it was going to be like my earlier pizzas… and that’s where I’m conflicted. I feel so awesome since I  eliminated wheat, gluten and flour products from my diet… but miss the taste, texture and crumb of what I have over more than 30 years of baking have been accustomed to. I want to just swap the flour to a gluten free one and have the same results… and that’s not happening.

After the perceived failures of the cookies and the pizza I wonder if I should give up baking all together… but then again, that would go against everything I believe in.

6W7ESPAF3GB6

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writer’s block

I have a few articles that I’ve been working on and just haven’t found the right words or thought streams to to finish them. I promise dear readers that I will get something new up on Toque and Dagger very soon. It’ll be worth the wait.

working people

The following was written by the first Chef I ever had the honor to work for. In a rather strange twist of our lives we have both found ourselves as new culinary instructors. I hope from time to time Chef Mike will donate his words, his wisdom and his humor.

Here are his words:

Working People

So you want to be a cook?

Does it take a period of unemployment to realize the multiple levels of satisfaction working brings? Do I have to spend months strung together, inventing meaning?  Do I have to lose it all to know that the ritual of early rising, the coffee, the shower, the shave, and the ferry ride to the dark kitchen have meaning beyond satisfying supervisors? Paying rent?

Those warm work shoes on again, fire the cool ovens, the aroma of the over night stock pot, the arrival of the cooks who are ambitious, motivated and clear headed, alongside those who are not. The produce man wheels in a stack of boxes. The strawberries are perfect! And here we are. In this moment lies the anticipation.

We just walked in. Hit the lights, somebody. Bring a smile. Who’s missing, a casualty of the night’s constant temptation? A set of hands that the warm cocoon bedding dreams won’t release. Who got caught in the traffic? Choked by weather phenomena? Whose intentions fell down by the wayside of minimal involvement?  Who killed their alarm clock? Who succumbed to those things I cannot control? We are already chasing down time. And the eastern mountains are just now turning pink. The morning bread just now is forming under the baker’s hands.

There is something more to work than skill and sweat and the gratification of recognition. Notice for something that comes in on time, a morsel well received, looks great, tastes so good! How did you think of that? Look at the color! There is a quality of intangible enrichment beyond a paycheck. And I don’t care how far you came, how destitute you’ve been, how broke and hopeless. In a kitchen we come together over the food with well forged intentions and fine, hard-metal tools of awareness.  Or we ought to. We harness this river of effort that began back in the furrows of farms, from the birdsong orchards, deep-wind flowing fields of grain, the pastures of dark eyed cows, off the decks of rough hand fishing boats. A river that banks and cuts, flows into our moment of responsibility salted with the sweat of working people. It doesn’t matter who is taking in our objects of alchemical transformation.  It doesn’t matter who is eating today. We’re paying attention.  We have to. This is an investment in now.

There is something more to this work.

the most honest answer

I started a new term this week with 27 new students. All of whom are… exuberant, to say the least. On the first night of class, I asked my students a rather simple question: “what does it mean to be a chef?” In fact, I assigned it as homework and told them I wanted at least a paragraph, typed with no names. I was operating on the assumption that anonymity breeds honesty. Wanting to do a good job for their new chef, they peppered me with questions like: what if it’s longer than a paragraph; can I read poor handwriting; when is it due and the like. One student mentioned seeing a quote attached to another instructor and asked if he could use that as his premise. I reminded him that I was looking for an honest answer of his own. I answered all the questions and was ready to move on when one caught me off guard. One student asked me “chef, what does it mean to you?” Whoa. What does it mean to me? I stalled, killed some time… stammered, “that’s a fair question.” I had a hard time trying to summarize in my head all that being a chef is, what it entails and all the many detailed minutiae that goes along with this awesome responsibility to above all else make great food.

In this short window of time I wondered how I would be able to explain that being chef these days is not just about being in the kitchen, making great food. That you had better have some secondary skills, know how to communicate, know when to be firm or gentle and know how to fire someone in a way that leaves them with a little dignity. I wanted to tell them about the day that will come when they will ache to work a line station over a sitting in yet another marketing meeting. I wanted to list every positive and negative trait of every chef I ever worked for including some of my own. Is here where I tell them the story about dedication and doing what ever it takes to get the job done as illustrated by the one time I had to clean the restaurant’s bathrooms because my morning dishwasher no called-no showed (or as I like to call it: he fired himself, sparing me the trouble). I wanted to tell them about how I spent my birthday dinner at my restaurant with my family, in a chef coat, shuttling between my table and the expo line to make sure that dinner service was running smoothly. I wanted to talk about sacrifice, the hours, the endless phone calls from vendors, the interviewing and ordering. Does it mean that I’m in charge, that I lead, that set the tone of the kitchen? Does it mean that I get the biggest pay check in the house? Or is it all about the food? How could I possibly begin to explain it all. I gave them a response…. a response that only one who knows could issue. I could feel my brain starting to hurt. Then for some reason a scene from City Slicker’s popped into me head. The scene where Curly explains that the meaning of life is one thing. It all got clear and I said to them, “for me… it’s it one thing.” I wrote one word on the board… giving them the most honest answer I could… L – O – V – E. And moved on….

I went home that night wondering what kind of responses I was going to get… were they going to regurgitate what they think I want to hear or are they really going to be honest? I’m not really sure what I was expecting in terms of responses. The following day, I had forgotten about the assignment and was busy  prepping for my demo when one student tried to hand it in. I asked my TA to collect them for me so that I wouldn’t be tempted to try and associate a response with a face. Here is some of what they wrote.

“I love to see the expression on a person’s face when I prepare a meal and the person says ‘good lord man, you really can cook.’ So, me becoming a chef means for me to continue what I’ve always had a passion for which is cooking.”

“It means to do something that I want to do for a living rather than doing something that I have to do.”

“To be a chef is to start with passion and love. You have to want to put others before yourself, knowing there’s a lot of long hours, hard work and in some instances, no appreciation…. to me, being a chef is knowing what your customers/guests want or expect and giving them something extra. It’s all about what you put into it. If you don’t put any love or passion you might as well flip burgers at the local fast food joint.”

“Above all a chef should be unflappable in their kitchen.”

“…you have to have a genuine love for food and a passion for cooking… a chef does what they love, a cook just does it for money.”

“I think it is about taking pride in what  you do and have a desire to please the people you feed and keep them coming back.”

“A chef is someone who takes pride in what they do and how they do it. They take pride in their food, kitchen and workers. Passion makes a chef stand out, without passion there is no uniqueness. Knowledge and patience is the key to becoming a great chef. One has to deal with people and complaints everyday they come to work. Becoming a chef is not easy. One has to work long hours, stand on their feet, get burn marks, get yelled at and barely have enough time to sleep. This career is not for the weak minded.”

“A chef has to be able to make everyone happy.”

Most of their paragraphs talked about why they chose to become a chef, the path that they took to land in culinary school or what they hope to do once they get out. With out a doubt, each paper I read expressed a level of passion, commitment, eagerness to learn and hopes for the future. Each impressed me in some way and collectively made me feel like they, in that moment, gave me their best stuff. It made me want to give them mine in return. However, one answer struck me as the most honest:

“I have no idea. I am not a chef. Ask me this question down the road.”

Exactly right and above all, honest.

bittersweet chocolate donuts

These lovely, little chocolatey bites are still a work in progress. A friend, Dan Schreiber, who is making amazing chocolate just a mere two hours away from me sent me a sample of his product, which I used in the glaze. I used dutch process cocoa in the dough, which dried it out a bit. I’ll keep working on them until they taste as light and airy as “commercially” made donuts. I have a few ideas on how to achieve that without reinventing the proverbial wheel.

I’ll post the recipe as soon as it’s right.

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