It's That Time Again...

My group's final presentation for Baking & Pastry II

At the end of every kitchen rotation comes Practical Time. We also have written final exams, but as I've mentioned previously, for an academic geek like me the hands-on kitchen practical is far more nerve-wracking. Our Advanced Baking & Pastry practical was the most intense yet: it spanned three days, throughout which we made and presented multi-component desserts in groups of three and individually.

It's amazing to me that the number of components we produced only added up to two (very painstaking) desserts: a chocolate mousse entremet (cake, in layman's terms) and individual fruit mousse timbales.

The entremet had a base of coconut dacquoise—meringue made with almond flour and grated coconut—and a creme brulee center, which involved making creme brulee in a small ring mold and freezing it instead of torching the top. On top of the dacquoise base, we added about half of the chocolate mousse, placed the ring of creme brulee in the center, and then filled the mold with the rest of the mousse. That was left to freeze overnight, and the next day we garnished it with French macaroons that we'd also made from scratch, plus chocolate decor that we'd tempered and curled, and tuiles that we'd stenciled and baked.

My group's chocolate mousse entremet

For the individual mousse timbales, we first made chocolate decor paste which decorated the thin layer of almond bisquit cake that would line the timbale molds. We stenciled the decor paste in the diamond pattern you'll see below, then poured the almond bisquit batter over it and baked it. Once the molds were lined with cake, we filled them with mango mousse and a fruit compote center (we chose raspberry) that we'd made and frozen the previous day. These mousses also went into the freezer overnight, and then we topped them with a raspberry glaze.

One of my two individually-plated mango mousse timbales

My three-person group presented our entremet and two of the mousses; then we each plated two additional mousses for an individual grade. Here is the menu that we turned in (written on the paper in the first photo):

Chocolate Mousse Tort
Layers of Chocolate Mousse with Creme Brulee Center and Coconut-Almond Dacquoise
White Chocolate Shavings and Chocolate Tuile


Mango Mousse Timbale with Raspberry Fruit Compote Center
Chocolate and Almond Cake
Raspberry Sauce

Whew. In the end, everything came together surprisingly well, but I won't lie—my stress level was pretty high at times. I try to remind myself that culinary school is a learning experience for me and just to have fun, but sometimes I can't keep my perfectionist tendencies in check. One evening during the three practical days, I was telling my sister about it on the phone. She listened and concluded that she'd never want to work in a group with me for anything. Instead of getting offended, I had to laugh because she is probably right. (Reminds me of one of my favorite quotes: "You have to laugh at yourself, because you'd cry your eyes out if you didn't." So wise, those Indigo Girls!) Fortunately, the two guys in my group promise that they still like me after all. And we scored a 95%!

Sick of Sugar

Plating attempt #1: Chocolate Pot de Creme

Remember when I started my first round of Baking & Pastry, I commented here about the fundamental differences between cooking and baking? Well, between then and now, I have determined that although I am a fan of eating baked goods and desserts, I'm definitely not a baker. For me, cooking savory food is not only more forgiving, it's more fun.

Although improvisation and creativity are possible on the pastry side, at our novice level the recipes really must be followed exactly or you'll end up with a ruined dessert. I've seen it happen multiple times this week. One little mistake and the macaroons will be mush, the sponge cake like a sheet of leather, or the creme brulee watery. This makes scaling all of the ingredients and following the recipe step-by-step rather stressful.

In B&P II we're now putting together some pretty complicated multi-component desserts which each incorporate several different techniques. Last week we had a whole day of custards—creme brulee, pot de creme, creme caramel, panna cotta—and this week we'll incorporate a creme brulee center into an elegant cake. We spent the whole day today working on garnishes, like tuiles made with hippen paste (the batter that also makes crisp fortune cookies), chocolate cigarettes, and spun sugar. I usually think of these garnishes as throw-aways—although they're all edible, they're not on the plate for flavor. I could take them or leave them, but pastry chefs tend to be artistic and spend a lot of time and energy making the plate look pretty.

My second plate: Creme Caramel

Third plate: Cheesecake with Raspberry Sauce

The dessert that I had the most fun with isn't baked at all: bananas foster. This could be considered a "cook's dessert" because it is made pretty much using a saute technique. You make a pan sauce by caramelizing sugar and adding butter, brown sugar, orange juice, zest, banana liqueur and rum, and then cook some bananas in it. Then you can even put on a show and let the alcohol flame up for a true flambe presentation. There's no waiting by the oven and praying your dish will come out well. You can taste the sauce and adjust as you go. It may not look as pretty and elegant as the fancy plated desserts we've done, but this is the one I would order, hands-down:

Bananas Foster, no fancy plating required!

Last Friday, after a long morning of filling piping bags with decorating chocolate, making mediocre chocolate designs on plates, and plating our custards over and over again for the chefs, I came home with a bunch of groceries to make dinner for some guests. Zack's mom and grandparents were coming into town and I wanted to cook for them. We'd be going out to nice restaurants the next two nights, so I went with something homey and casual: spaghetti and meatballs.

I thought I'd be burnt out from working on pastries all morning, but in fact I was more excited than ever to cook. I turned on some music and made tomato sauce from scratch, then made turkey meatballs as it bubbled on the stove. I improvised as I went, adding freshly grated parmesan, chopped parsley, minced garlic, and a little bit of lemon zest to the meatballs (my take on Jeff Seltzer's famous recipe!); a dash of balsamic vinegar and sugar to the sauce. For a side, I simply roasted asparagus with a little olive oil, salt, and pepper. I couldn't have been happier and thoroughly enjoyed my afternoon in the kitchen. But when it came to dessert, I was burnt out. Knowing that Zack and his mom love chocolate-covered strawberries, I melted some chocolate over a double boiler and dipped away—no recipe, no scaling ingredients necessary.

Baked Alaska x 2

I went to a wedding this past weekend in New Orleans, and one of the culinary highlights was the Baked Alaska dessert served at the rehearsal dinner. It's a specialty of the house at Antoine's, the French Quarter institution where this dinner was held.

After we'd finished the entree (trout almondine), waiters walked the room showing off the massive uncut Baked Alaskas, the outer layer of meringue decorated with the names of the bride and groom. Then the lights were dimmed and the ice cream-cake-meringue confections were ceremoniously torched. Baked Alaska is ice cream wrapped in a layer of sponge cake, then covered with a thick layer of meringue that gets all toasted-marshmallowy when torched. At Antoine's, they served each slice with a big dollop of warm chocolate sauce. It was absolutely delicious.

When I returned to school this week, I started my next rotation: Advanced Baking & Pastry. And by the title of this post, I'm sure you can guess what we started to make on the first day. Yep, we tackled the seemingly-complicated Baked Alaska. How do you keep the ice cream frozen? Well, we made the ice cream on the first day and froze it in logs. We then baked thin sheets of sponge cake and after they cooled overnight, wrapped the logs with the cake. Then the meringue is piped on with a pastry bag and the whole thing goes back into the freezer until it is ready to torch and serve.

Pre-meringue Baked Alaska, filled with chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla ice creams (Neapolitan)

We also made a few mini Baked Alaskas in ramekins, just by putting a round of cake on the bottom, topping it with ice cream, and placing another round "lid" of cake on top. This was capped with meringue and torched.

Baked Alaska for one

They were tasty, but as proud as I am of our work, it could never have measured up to the one I tasted in New Orleans. Even Zack, the non-dessert-person, was hoping for Baked Alaska the minute he learned that we'd be having dinner at Antoine's, and it did not disappoint. Actually, it was a big sweets weekend for him...

Gratuitous photo of Zack eating beignets at Cafe du Monde

"Is there any powdered sugar on my face?"

Tasting Notes

I apologize for the posting lag. Someone (umm, my dad) suggested that perhaps I was coming back from Wine & Beverage class too drunk to post, but alas, this is not the case. We use spit cups in class so are not actually ingesting much alcohol. Well, except for one day that Chef H. brought in some cheeses for us to taste with red wines as a special treat (above).

Today was our fifth of five days of tastings: white wines, red wines, sparkling wines, fortified wines, and beers. I've always been intrigued and intimidated by the world of wine and although I've learned a great deal over the past couple of weeks, I know I've only scratched the surface.

The biggest accomplishment that I'm taking away from this class is a firmer realization of what I like: crisp white wines, fruity reds, pretty much all sparklings, citrusy-flavored wheat beers. And then there's what I don't like: white wines that are very oaky, intense reds with lots of tannin (although I know they'd mellow out and be better with food), bitter beers with intense hops. Basically, my drinking tastes are very, very girly. I know.

Something else I just can't bring myself to love: Sherry. A couple of summers ago my family and Zack went to Spain and one day we toured the Lustau winery in Xerez, tasting a half-dozen different sherries. I was excited when the sherry we tasted in class was a Lustau wine, but unfortunately, I still didn't like it! I just can't get past the oxidized taste and smell. At the tasting in Spain, I remember being much more excited by all of the marcona almonds, dried fruit, and other snacks than the actual sherries.

I liked the other fortified wines we tasted much more: two Ports (ruby and tawny), Madiera, and Muscato d'Asti. They're sweet wines that most people associate with dessert, but Chef H. stressed that there's no such thing as "dessert wine." He claims it would be like labeling something an "entree wine" or an "appetizer wine."

I wish this class lasted longer, but I already feel like my wine knowledge has grown exponentially. As I continue to educate my drinking palate, I'm sure that I will start to appreciate wines and beers that I'm not crazy about at this moment. I apologize in advance to anyone who has to go out for dinner with me now and wait for me to assess the wine list!

Bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon, Zinfandel, Pinot Noir, and Bordeaux that our class worked our way through (and, sadly, spat out into spit cups)

Hunger-Inducing Photos

I'm in a non-kitchen class this rotation—the first part is Restaurant Cost Control (basically a business course for restauranteurs) and the second half is Wine & Beverage. Hopefully I'll have some interesting material to blog about once we start tasting wines next week, but for now, I won't ramble on about food costs, revenues, and profits. Instead, I thought I'd post some pictures of food from Meat Fab that never made it into my previous posts. 

The simple bowl mussels above of is one of my favorite things I've made in culinary school—or anywhere—so far. Mussels are something I would never have considered making for myself before—I guess I was afraid that I wouldn't cook them correctly and end up making myself and others sick. In reality, they're unbelievably easy to cook, and once you get them steaming in a pan or pot, you know they're safely done once the shell has opened. If it doesn't open at all, throw that mussel away. 

I mimicked the mussel demo that Chef K. had done earlier that morning and sauteed mine in a pan with some shallots, garlic, white wine, tomatoes smoked on the stovetop, and a little parsley. I added sliced mushrooms to my version, because in my opinion most things are better with mushrooms. The major difference between my mussels and Chef's was that at the end of cooking the sauce down (after removing the cooked mussels), he added about half a stick of butter. I decided to omit the butter all together and see how it tasted, and I actually enjoyed the lighter version more. It was really fresh-tasting and allowed the flavors of the shellfish and smoked tomato to shine.

On crustacean day, I decided to honor my Maryland roots and tackle the softshell crabs above. They're blue crabs that are eaten shortly after molting their hard shells, so you can eat the entire thing. I grew up finding these on menus all the time, but many in my class had never seen or tasted them before. A few classmates worked with me to make a few different coatings—we did a cornmeal crust (spiked with a little cayenne pepper), panko bread crumbs, and tempura batter. After dipping the crabs in flour, then egg wash, then crumbs, we fried them in hot oil. My favorite was definitely the cornmeal-crusted version—the coating was really flavorful and it provided the thin, crispy exterior that makes a softshell crab so special. 

On shellfish day, we also had a big bushel of Gulf oysters to work with. After my mussel dish was finished, I helped a classmate make these Oysters Rockefeller. It's a classic preparation in which oysters on the half-shell are topped with a spinach cream sauce and bread crumbs. We made a bechamel sauce and added a whole bunch of chopped spinach and some grated parmesan to it, then let it cool and spooned this over freshly-shucked oysters. We used panko bread crumbs for their awesome crunch and put the oysters in the oven just until the crumbs were brown. I've had this dish many times in New Orleans and thought our attempt was pretty decent.

This is actual Japanese Kobe beef, imported from Japan with a certificate bearing the name of the cow it came from (no joke). A classmate who works at one of Atlanta's top steakhouses brought it in to class for us to try—the chef there gave it to him specifically as a gift for our culinary school class. I certainly did not cook any of this meat myself—it needed to be handled by a true steak expert, since the smallish piece that he was given costs close to $100 in the restaurant. My classmate cooked it perfectly and sliced it thinly so everyone could have a little piece. Please forgive the culinary cliche, but it truly melted in the mouth like butter.

I really never expected to eat foie gras in culinary school. But when a few people in my class expressed to Chef K. that they'd never tasted it before, he made sure to bring some in so that they could experience this luxury menu item. Another of my classmates works at Craft and prepared the slab of foie the same way that they do it at the restaurant. Chef Tom Colicchio, Craft's owner and one of my favorite chefs, is known for keeping things simple and letting great ingredients speak for themselves, and this foie gras dish was very indicative of that style.

I watched and asked questions as my friend worked: he cut apples into a perfect brunoise (1/8 x 1/8 x 1/8 inch dice) and cooked them down with some apple cider and vinegar (I think!), then put them into a Cryovac bag and did some sort of sous-vide thing to them so that the apples absorbed most of the juice. He simply seared the foie gras in a hot saute pan and topped it with the apples. I had one tiny bite, and it was still completely decadent. It was interesting to hear what people had to say after tasting this delicacy for the first time. It's hard to compare the richness and silkiness of foie gras to anything else. 

Looking back, now that I'm sitting in a classroom, I realize just how spoiled we were over the last few weeks!

Applying My Kitchen Skills...

While I was living in D.C. and Zack was here in Atlanta, Valentine's Day fell in the middle of the work week, so both years I celebrated by cooking dinner (and drinking lots of wine) with my awesome roommate, Becky. Looking back on those dinners, I realize just how far I've come thanks to Le Cordon Bleu (ha-I could be on one of their commercials with that line!) Both of my meals for Becky turned out very well, but I used to cook by adhering strictly to whatever recipe I'd printed from epicurious.com, making sure I had every ingredient it called for and measuring each one precisely. 

This year, when Zack and I cooked Valentine's Day dinner together, I didn't follow any recipes, save for a few notes from school that I checked to remind myself of a couple techniques. I wanted to re-create and improvise upon a couple of dishes I'd made in class and wished Zack had been able to taste. I didn't measure anything all night. With the help of my hard-working sous chef, I pulled off my most ambitious meal yet.

Saturday afternoon, we headed over to Star Provisions, a gourmet market attached to what is considered the best restaurant in Atlanta (same owners). We'd discussed the menu earlier and were planning to splurge on our proteins here: top-grade tuna (for a tuna tartare appetizer) and rack of lamb (for our main course). 

We got everything else at Whole Foods, which was a complete mob scene on Valentine's Day (has it always been like this, or is everyone just staying in to cook thanks to the economy?) Then it was home to start prepping. Having some sort of timeline is a must for executing a big meal like this with several different components. 

I started with the risotto, because it's a time-intensive process and I knew I could just finish it first, move on to everything else and then reheat it, with little more chicken stock stirred in, right before serving. We had a bunch of red and yellow peppers in the fridge already, so I decided to incorporate these into the risotto. I diced the peppers and sauteed them with some garlic separately, then stirred this flavorful mixture into the finished risotto with some grated parmesan cheese.

While I worked on the risotto, Zack chopped rosemary and thyme for the lamb (not his favorite job). Then, after cutting our beautiful 8-bone rack of lamb into two half-racks, he seasoned them thoroughly with salt, pepper, and the herbs he'd just chopped:

Sous chef Zack seasoning the lamb (he's very meticulous)

Then the racks were ready for me to sear in a hot pan. Once browned on all sides, they went onto the roasting pan to rest. During the 40 minutes or so that it took for the lamb to rest and roast in the oven, Zack put together the asparagus. I gave him free reign over this one because he said he kept getting the bad jobs! He halved some fresh tomatoes and put them in the pan with the asparagus spears, topping it all with garlic, salt, pepper, and olive oil, then sprinkled the tomatoes with some of the extra chopped herbs--a really nice touch! A little grated parmesan went on top of it all during the last few minutes of cooking in the oven.

Searing the lamb

I made a red wine sauce in the pan the lamb had been seared in. This is something I would have never known how to do pre-culinary school, but all it takes is a couple of chopped shallots, red wine (we used pinot noir and drank the rest of it with dinner), and veal stock (we bought veal glace--a concentrated veal stock--at Star Provisions). I sweated the shallots, then let this all reduce until it produced an extremely flavorful sauce thick enough to coat the back of a spoon--this is the sign that your sauce is ready, called nape in French. 

Once again, the hardest part about cooking lamb for me is taking it out of the oven at just the right time to achieve medium-rare meat. I temped it and took it out a few degrees under 130, then let it rest for 20 minutes. During this time, I put together the tuna tartare from start to finish. The kicker for this dish was the little ramekins that I bought to mold it in, like I had done with the salmon tartare in class. For this version, I decided to add a layer of avocado--both for its creamy flavor that compliments tuna so well and for a beautiful color contrast. 

I diced the tuna carefully and mixed it with minced shallots, thinly sliced scallions, a minced jalapeno pepper, lime juice, a touch of olive oil, and a few drops of hot sauce. I pressed this mixture into the ramekins and topped it with a layer of chopped, seasoned avocado. I was going for all-out restaurant presentation here, so I sliced cucumbers paper thin and arranged them around the plate. We also had sesame crackers on the table for scooping up the tartare.

Plated tuna tartare

The first course was delicious and I enjoyed it thoroughly...but I was still waiting for the moment of truth: slicing the lamb. I worried that it would be a little too rare, and in that case I'd just put the sliced chops in the oven for a minute. No big deal. But when I sliced the chops, once again they were a rosy medium-rare. I think I've got rack of lamb down now, officially. I sliced each rack in half and plated them with some risotto, asparagus, and sauce. Our appetizer may have been dainty (Zack went back to the extra tuna mixture in the fridge for seconds), but this was a huge plate of food! 

Roasted Rack of Lamb with Pinot Noir Sauce, Red-and-Yellow-Pepper Risotto, Parmesan Asparagus: restaurant-worthy description, no?

We could taste how high-quality the lamb from Star Provisions was--but we also patted ourselves on the back for seasoning (Zack) and cooking (me) it so perfectly. Team effort! The risotto was infused with roasted pepper and garlic and was super-creamy, even though I didn't use any cream or even butter. The roasted asparagus and tomatoes were garlicky and full of flavor. After all this, I was so glad we didn't mess with baking anything for dessert. The long-stemmed strawberries that we bought at Whole Foods, along with everyone else in Atlanta, were perfect. 

Rack of Lamb, Take 2

Remember the practical exam in Skills 2, when my mystery basket contained rack of lamb and it intimidated me half to death? Although I did avoid disaster and present an edible plate in the end, I've been eager to cook lamb again—without overcooking it or being scared this time. I got the chance today in Meat Fab...it was Lamb Day! 

Chef K. started off with a demo, instructing us how to properly French the racks of lamb. It's really very easy—simpler, I think, than a lot of the other fabrication we've done. Even breaking down chickens is a bit more complicated. He showed us how to get the bones perfectly clean without having to scrape them, which was great because I can't stand that scraping sound of a knife against bone...gives me the creeps. 

After I mimicked his demo to French my half-rack of lamb (4 chops), I cooked it following the same procedure I'd learned in Skills 2. I seasoned the lamb with salt, pepper, and rosemary, then seared it on each side in a hot saute pan. While letting it rest, I started to put together a sauce. I found some dried apricots and figs and wanted to incorporate those, so I soaked them in wine and then cooked them down with more wine and some lamb stock that we had made. I also added a touch of balsamic vinegar. There are no recipes in Meat Fab, and I've loved the opportunity to just play around with flavors and get creative. This sauce turned out delicious—the wine and stock really balanced out the sweetness of the fruit.

Apricot-fig sauce

Then it was time for the tough part: cooking the lamb to a perfect medium-rare in the oven. Using the ovens at school is always problematic, since we're always opening and closing them to check on different things and letting heat escape. We have thermometers to temp meats in our knife kits, but I just don't trust them sometimes. Chefs are simply able to tell when meat is done by looking at it or touching it—I'm not quite there yet. 

Chef L., our assistant chef in this class, (the same Chef L. from Skills 1, if you actually remember all of these letters!) told me to take the lamb out once it reached 135 degrees and let it rest for medium-rare. I checked it after about 20 minutes and the thermometer still came out cool when I inserted it into the rack. After seven more minutes or so, I checked it again and although it wasn't quite at 135, I decided to let it rest instead of running the risk of overcooking. If the lamb was a little too rare when I sliced it, I figured I could always put the sliced chops back in the oven for a minute or two. When it's overcooked and no longer rosy pink, you can't go back.

The lamb resting

I let the meat rest about five minutes—if you cut it immediately, blood will run all over the plate, and that's not so appetizing (not to mention all of the flavor and moisture that is lost). I was thrilled when I sliced into it and saw rosy pink meat! No need to put anything back into the oven, it was ready to go. One of my restaurant vet classmates helped me plate it beautifully with some of my sauce:

Finished plate!

Chef K. also broke down a whole lamb shank today, and many of my classmates used some of that meat to make braises and stews. My favorite taste of the day was a brothy, Mediterranean-flavored lamb stew made with swiss chard and romaine lettuce—surprisingly, lettuce tastes amazing after simmering like this. It softens kind of like collard greens and picks up all of the meaty flavor of the broth. My classmate who made it is Greek and she grew up eating this dish. I was obsessed and can't wait to try my hand at her recipe. 

Greek lamb stew simmering

As proud as I was of my perfectly-cooked rack of lamb, this was the most delicious dish of the day. Thanks, Nicki!