Two for Two

This week the angels must have been smiling on me. I found out my countertops that were no where to be seen might actually be installed the first week of May. They orginally didn't know when they would even show up in Omaha, let alone my kitchen. Then, I got out of class early on Wednesday night!! Can you hear the choir sing??? I know I was singing when I rolled in by 10 that night. 10! Not midnight, not even 11. I was home by the evening news--or Chelsea Lately--which is what we watch instead of the news for the third time. Love me some Chuy. Anyway, my midterm was on Wednesday night. I had it all planned out and had practiced which is unusual for me. Generally I like to let my adrenaline kick in and take me away or it could be that I'm lazy. Either way I should have trusted my instincts. I made a lemon tart, little butter cookies, and an apple and brie bite that I winged that night. We were given a half and hour to mise en place (set our stuff up) which allowed us to make some doughs that needed to be chilled and prepare some other ingredients. Then we had to stop for another half hour--the dream team worked straight through which I'm not quite sure about...chopping nuts, cooking something on the stove... Oh well, anyway, then we were off to the races. Literally people were racing around. Me included. I started with my lemon tarts, which, mind you I had practiced with great success at home. Well, the crusts puffed up too much in the oven and the lemon curd never fully set. Tasted great but a bit runny. Would have been great on ice cream. My cookies turned out but she didn't like the filling. Her tech that graded with her did, I did, but she did not. She gives the grades so that who counts. If I hadn't practiced at home I wouldn't have changed the recipe. See? No more practicing. She really liked them though. The apple brie bites were pretty good considering I made them in 20 minutes with no recipe. The only criticism was that I should have heated them a bit. I was finished at 8:30 without a minute to spare. I don't know why I hurried though. There were people putting stuff in the oven and cooking things on the stove at 8:30. There were only two of us done on time. If I knew I could take all the time I wanted, I would have slowed down and finished my damn curd. Chef had a chat with each of us about our project. I don't know if our chat was a C chat or a B-/B+ chat. No clue. You should have seen some of these people's things. Our class ringer produced tuille cookies shaped like ice cream cones and put them in a decorated basket like a children's birthday party. She is quite amazing and she works full time and she has kids at home. Wow.

When I walked in to class on Thursday I was coming off a full night's sleep. I hadn't prepared at all for our Hollandaise final. I just figured I'd work though it and hopefully everything would work itself out. This class has been one of my favorites. By far the hardest work and most taxing but I really like it. I think it really helps when you have a great group. Maybe it's a comfort level thing too. I'm just way more comfortable in front of a stove than an oven apparently. The practical exam was straighforward. Produce a nice tasting, beautifully textured sauce in an hour. Maybe even 90 minutes. I can't remember because we all did--in one try--in about 30 minutes. Even me. I, who broke six sauces last week, produced a nice sauce in no time. I think I even got one of the better grades too. Ken (the class hollandaise ringer) finished first and therefore got to skip dishes and go home early. I would have saved that chit for a day we were running late. There was some negotiating to do there. Maybe he is just a nicer, less devious person than I. After our exam we marinated and brined all sorts of things. We made salad dressings. Then we grilled and sauted and pan fried. My group was all women. The minute we stepped up to the grill every single man in the class asked us if we were doing okay. Did we know what we were doing? Did we need any help? Have you never seen a woman at the grill before? Apparently not. Our meat was grilled perfectly. Lesson of the day--never mess with a group of women at a grill. Noted. Thank god the meat was perfect or we would have never heard the end of it. Thank you Laura. We sat down to a feast. Dishes done, no problem. AND I was home by 4. Cue the choir...

Trail and Error

There were tears and such frustration that I didn't know if we would make it through class. It was hollandaise day. Mayonnaise day. Emulsion day. I figured we had to have an easy day coming after the last two weeks of crazy classes. I was pretty convinced I would make it to "the teenager's" soccer game at least in part. It started at 4:30. I was being optimitic, I know, but I figured we deserved an easy day. Wrong. I got together with a group that I knew could pound out some sauces and keep moving. We pounded through sauces all right but they were the same sauces over and over and over again. They broke--over and over and over again. The theory is simple. Add warm butter to warm cooked egg yolk that is ribbony in texture and ready to accept this butter. Add a little acid to the mixture and you've got hollandaise. But the reality is that you have to whip until your arm hurts at just the right time when the eggs are just the right consistency-- that got me. Over and over and over again. I am not kidding. I had to redo this stupid hollandaise about six times. I'm not an idiot most of the time. I got the concept. I could picture it in my head. It just wouldn't do it. It just wouldn't whip into that beautiful sauce. Then I'd get it halfway and look down and I'd have melted butter floating on top. Some students whipped this up with no problem. They filtted around the classroom with their beautiful sauce with big smiles on their faces. I was bitter. I needed a break. I'll do mayo. I'd done it before and it had gone well. Thank god it did today. Not so for my teammate. She was so frustrated by time seven that there were tears in her eyes. I knew how she felt. I took a look around the classroom and the mood had changed. Not so many smiles. Lots of buttery goo in the trash cans. Growls and frustration were slipping out from behind the stoves. I was not alone. We went through 40 pounds of butter that day. We had yummy chicken and shrimp to dip into our finished (!) sauces. It smelled like tarragon and butter throughout the kitchen. By god, we got out 15 minutes early. And I made the second half of the game.

I'm kind of getting used to the pace of my pastry class. I'm not saying I like it, but I'm getting used to it. 11:45 seems normal to me to be rolling in from class. The "dream team" wasn't even there with pots on the stove at 11. I did a presentation on plum pudding that went fairly well. Our class is starting to gel a bit better. I can tease the girl who sings the whole time now. I have gotten used to doing everyone's dishes. The upside to that is that I get out earlier than the rest of the class. We had to make cream puffs, both savory and sweet. We were supposed to make a gateau St. Honore, which is a puff pastry base with cream puffs secured to the top layer with cooked sugar. I sort of short cutted the process by directly attaching the puffs to the pastry before baking. I thought it was really clever. It came out looking like a demented Mickey Mouse. It looked even crazier when I stuck a puff on top of the whole thing with some sugar. It cracked me up and chef even giggled a little bit. The girl next to me made a croquembouche. That's the tower of cream puffs covered in spun sugar that you see in magazines. This didn't really look quite like that. A couple of us "helped" her. It ended up looking like a large chunk of concrete with a tumor hanging off the side. It looked even better with the sugar draped like garlands all over it. We named it Henri. It seemed fitting.

My midterm is on Wednesday. We have to cater a passed dessert party for 20 people. Three different desserts, all bite sized and pretty. I've been practicing. The cat enjoyed the lemon tarts. We did too before we realized she enjoyed them before us. My hollandaise practical is on Thursday. Wish me luck.

11:42

Note to self: when you're instructor tells you that she's allergic to a certain food, don't feed it to her. Ever. Frankly, it was just a grand ending to a very strange day of cooking. The day began with great promise. We had formed a plan, a very detailed plan, so that we wouldn't be in the dish mess and chaos of last week. We had such high hopes. Three sauces, three hours, one student to fix the proteins and oh, did I forget to mention they shut off the water? For real, no water. And not for the half hour we were promised. My anxiety level rose as quickly as the dishes. It was the most unsanitary day I can ever remember--outside my own home. We were literally just wiping them clean and carrying on. And by the end of class the rags were so dirty, because nothing could be rinsed, that it was disgusting. Not to mention the overwhelming thought that you had to use the bathroom but couldn't. It would probably never would have occurred to me to use the bathroom but you say the water is going to be shut off and I instantly have to pee. In all the chaos, I had forgotten that I put a smidgen of pork in one of my sauces. I'm usually very aware of the deadly ingredient because of chef's allergy but it is such a weird thing to be allergic to that I completely forgot. Until she began to get quite red in the face did it then occur to me. Holy shit, I gave her pork. A lot of it. She really liked the sauce and had it on everything that she was eating for lunch. Not a good way to up your grade, my friend. In keeping with the day the water was turned back on at 10 minutes to 5. Back to the dish pit with you...

11:42. That is what time I finally rolled in from baking class on Wednesday night. All we had to do was make three cookies/petit fours. This does not take long--or so I mistakenly thought. I made a yummy shortbread, a chocolate orange madeleine, and macaroons. Who knew there was so much to making the perfect french macaroon? They are not difficult and do not take long but a little overwhipping of the egg whites and you've got trouble. I had trouble. If I had been home and made these I would have though I'd done a pretty good job. This is what I mean about the precise thing. These people in this baking department really do want perfection. Anyway, three of us were done by 9ish and had washed everyone's dishes. Low and behold, I turned around at 10:55 and there are still mixers running! There was a man at the stove! WHAT???!!! I thought my head was really going to explode right then and there. And all over the squeaky clean and calm bakery. Luckily she let the dish bitches (us three) go after the long lecture about macaroons and our shortcomings baking them. Honestly, I don't know if I can make it through another week. I'll let you know.

Spring Has Shown It's Face

I'm whipped. Completely. I feel hungover without the pleasure of having had a kickass night. I think Spring's crazy arrival has my body confused. It feels strange to go to school when I feels like I should be going to the pool. I almost couldn't bear the thought of going to class Wednesday night when it was so beautiful. I would have rather been having a glass of wine on my patio. But, alas, it was not to be. Instead I was off to custard night. I hate custards. I think it's a texture thing. To make matters worse, the lights went off during lecture so we sat in the dark in the glow of the television/chalkboard. Half of the class was sound asleep in ten minutes. The girl next to me nearly snapped her neck; she nodded off so severely. Our assignment was to make two custard dishes and a roasted fruit dish. Doable. We made ice cream, pots de creme, and roasted peaches and raspberries. We were done by eight. Class goes until eleven. We were encouraged to plate the dishes as they would be in a restaurant setting. This is when I decided that perhaps the baking program is not for me. As I looked around the room, everyone seemed to be happily creating these fantastically decorated and beautiful plates. Not me. Or my partner. We got a nice plate, some whipped cream, gave the pot de creme a squirt and voila(!) we were done. Not so simple for the rest of the group. These people were making candied lemon peel, tying parchment around things, making strips of orange peel. I felt like a fish out of water. Maybe I just like it simple. It's not like I'm not artistic. I just didn't care. It''s going to taste great either way. I just wanted to go home. But no, I didn't get home until 11. People asked a lot of questions during the wrap up. A lot. Questions that are never going to be applied to real life. Way to many questions about how to cararmelize the top of a creme brulee. On a boat. In a storm. Not really but about that bad.

The next morning it was up and off to Soup/Sauce. I love this class. I feel comfortable and at home. In baking classes I get nervous and feel like I stick out like a sore thumb. I think I have decided to stick with the savory side of things. It'll be better for my mental health. And my waistline. I had a great group to work with. I learned how to use the commercial steamer from one of them. I love to learn from the students. We made a bechamel and veloute sauce. Then we made the daughter sauces of them. Not difficult if you know pretty much what you are doing. It was a lot of cream to constantly be tasting however. I wonder how many trips to the bathroom people made when they got home... With the sauces we had to prepare a protein to go with. Since I made the crawfish butter for the sauces, I used this to make my main dish. Celery, onion, garlic, parsley, rice, crawfish and the most wonderful sauce to make it all yummy. It was great. Chef had three helpings. That is a good sign. I just pulled the reciped out of my ass. It was a good day to be on my game. The dishes, however, were a site to see. I didn't know the kitchen had so many pots and pans. My gracious class let me go to take care of the kiddos. Bob had provided us a great dinner, though. I had gotten and email midway through class that said he had gone to the grocery. He had gotten dog food, steaks, and wine. What more do you need? Perfect!