Unemployment has its downside.
The last two months have been hard on my head. I've kept as busy as possible, but a hard day's work provides a nice steady hum that drowns out the internal noise. A man has got to have a focus. Beginning next Tuesday I'll be in a kitchen from 9am to 11pm Tuesday through Friday, then 9am to 4pm on Saturdays. The Lord's day, I'll probably be sleeping off the week. This is going to be a ridiculous grind, I know, but I've done this before in one life or another. I don't expect it to be much different than going to work, going to school and playing music.
I have only a general idea of what to expect from Cafe C____. It is a cozy 30 or so table, mid-level French influenced restaurant in the Financial District, a short walk from Union Square. Based on the menu, I'll be preparing soups for service throughout the day, cutting vegetables, receiving and storing product, etc. Once I have some chops, I might get a hand in pantry, making sandwiches, salads, things like that. But the goal here, above all else, is learning how a true production kitchen works. I'll fill you in following my first day on the job.
In Skills, we are now plating three entrees each night, with the focus being on grill and saute. Thankfully, I've nailed time management, and Chef has taught us some practical tips on keeping product hot if forced to wait for something to finish before plating.
Yesterday was grilled pork chops and a sauce chasseur with pommes duchesse and veg du jour (there's always a lot of zucchini around), which will be one of our finals. The chasseur, an ultra-reduced veal stock with shallot, tomato concasse and parsley, is my favorite sauce so far. The chop was just a shade past perfect, but the sauce made everything better. I liked it. Chef liked it. Fine.
Today was beef, including a flat iron with mashed potatoes. Those in the know will tell you I have a special knack for mashed potatoes. That said, I won't make a habit of using the commercial grade heavy cream in the kitchen as my first run at roasted garlic mashed potatoes had the consistency of roasted garlic peanut butter potatoes. Not good. I had plenty of time to brew up a second edition and all was right with the world.
Another warning you may want to take with you on your way out: For lunch I had the remnants of a really good meatloaf I made at home on Monday, maybe 10 ounces. Then, with an 8 oz flat iron steak, a 6 oz sirloin and about 4 oz of veal as part of a blanquet du veau (a stew, basically), that about did me in. Almost two pounds of beef in 6 hours? Yes, I'm paying the price. It's 1:30 in the morning and I'm still fucking stuffed. Nothing but steamed rice for me tomorrow.
There haven't been a lot of hollandaise moments from Chef of late, but there have been a few. His comment on my risotto was something to the effect of if I fed it to my neighbors, 'they'd never leave me alone'. My coq au vin warranted a response along the lines of 'oh, we got somethin' here'. Whether Chef is catching it all or not, I have turned out nothing but excellent product since I hit my stride with hollandaise. I suppose getting comfortable in the kitchen has made the difference. Confidence ebbs and flows, so when I'm feeling uncertain on a dish, I fall back on the concepts I've picked up. Armed with those, over the next two weeks I'd like to get a little more experimental, something Chef tries to encourage but which few students try for out of fear of presenting product that is inedible.
Better than Chef giving a nod, a two-syllable critique, or a homespun comment equating to the highest praise, the strongest sense of satisfaction comes when Chef takes the plate you just presented and shows it to someone that didn't get what the dish was supposed to look like. It's vain, it's annoying, but Chef is discreet about it.
Most common Chef observations overhears, in order of frequency:
"More salt."
"Veg is cold."
"More salt."
"Too thin."
"More salt."
"Too thick."
"More salt."
If I've mentioned it once, you know the rest: Chef loves his salt. Still, as my own tastes adapt, I get where Chef is coming from. There is this magic point between not enough and too much in which you are getting the most flavor from the product without actually being able to identify salt as a major component.
Then again, maybe Chef has cursed me with a liking for physically intolerable amounts of sodium. We'll see. Ultimately, I blame the French. G'night.
The last two months have been hard on my head. I've kept as busy as possible, but a hard day's work provides a nice steady hum that drowns out the internal noise. A man has got to have a focus. Beginning next Tuesday I'll be in a kitchen from 9am to 11pm Tuesday through Friday, then 9am to 4pm on Saturdays. The Lord's day, I'll probably be sleeping off the week. This is going to be a ridiculous grind, I know, but I've done this before in one life or another. I don't expect it to be much different than going to work, going to school and playing music.
I have only a general idea of what to expect from Cafe C____. It is a cozy 30 or so table, mid-level French influenced restaurant in the Financial District, a short walk from Union Square. Based on the menu, I'll be preparing soups for service throughout the day, cutting vegetables, receiving and storing product, etc. Once I have some chops, I might get a hand in pantry, making sandwiches, salads, things like that. But the goal here, above all else, is learning how a true production kitchen works. I'll fill you in following my first day on the job.
In Skills, we are now plating three entrees each night, with the focus being on grill and saute. Thankfully, I've nailed time management, and Chef has taught us some practical tips on keeping product hot if forced to wait for something to finish before plating.
Yesterday was grilled pork chops and a sauce chasseur with pommes duchesse and veg du jour (there's always a lot of zucchini around), which will be one of our finals. The chasseur, an ultra-reduced veal stock with shallot, tomato concasse and parsley, is my favorite sauce so far. The chop was just a shade past perfect, but the sauce made everything better. I liked it. Chef liked it. Fine.
Today was beef, including a flat iron with mashed potatoes. Those in the know will tell you I have a special knack for mashed potatoes. That said, I won't make a habit of using the commercial grade heavy cream in the kitchen as my first run at roasted garlic mashed potatoes had the consistency of roasted garlic peanut butter potatoes. Not good. I had plenty of time to brew up a second edition and all was right with the world.
Another warning you may want to take with you on your way out: For lunch I had the remnants of a really good meatloaf I made at home on Monday, maybe 10 ounces. Then, with an 8 oz flat iron steak, a 6 oz sirloin and about 4 oz of veal as part of a blanquet du veau (a stew, basically), that about did me in. Almost two pounds of beef in 6 hours? Yes, I'm paying the price. It's 1:30 in the morning and I'm still fucking stuffed. Nothing but steamed rice for me tomorrow.
There haven't been a lot of hollandaise moments from Chef of late, but there have been a few. His comment on my risotto was something to the effect of if I fed it to my neighbors, 'they'd never leave me alone'. My coq au vin warranted a response along the lines of 'oh, we got somethin' here'. Whether Chef is catching it all or not, I have turned out nothing but excellent product since I hit my stride with hollandaise. I suppose getting comfortable in the kitchen has made the difference. Confidence ebbs and flows, so when I'm feeling uncertain on a dish, I fall back on the concepts I've picked up. Armed with those, over the next two weeks I'd like to get a little more experimental, something Chef tries to encourage but which few students try for out of fear of presenting product that is inedible.
Better than Chef giving a nod, a two-syllable critique, or a homespun comment equating to the highest praise, the strongest sense of satisfaction comes when Chef takes the plate you just presented and shows it to someone that didn't get what the dish was supposed to look like. It's vain, it's annoying, but Chef is discreet about it.
Most common Chef observations overhears, in order of frequency:
"More salt."
"Veg is cold."
"More salt."
"Too thin."
"More salt."
"Too thick."
"More salt."
If I've mentioned it once, you know the rest: Chef loves his salt. Still, as my own tastes adapt, I get where Chef is coming from. There is this magic point between not enough and too much in which you are getting the most flavor from the product without actually being able to identify salt as a major component.
Then again, maybe Chef has cursed me with a liking for physically intolerable amounts of sodium. We'll see. Ultimately, I blame the French. G'night.
