This is the real world.
Chef Almir has followed through with his "you are no longer in school" line. His expectation that we have reached this point in our education because we have some chops is put to task daily. As I mentioned previously, we don't get recipes for dishes. We get basic preparation instruction, sometimes as little as a protein (you're doing veal chops) and a preparation method (you'll grill it). Everything else is an exercise in recall, developed common sense and extemporaneous riffing.
Having dinner at Careme two nights in a row, you won't have exactly the same dish twice. As different students take on a different dish, you'll see a different sauce, different plating, a different starch and veg, sometimes a wholly different preparation method for a given dish. This kind of freedom to experiment is at once exciting and terrifying. The hoi polloi is paying good money to eat what you put up, and the whole world knows that eating at Careme can be a gamble, so, if you give a shit, you want to plate up the best food ever. Ever.
On Thursday night, Chris, our sous for that day, gave me the special, and asked me to make osso bucco. I'd never made it before, though as a class we'd done one in Euro. So, what is osso bucco, I thought. Well, it's veal shanks, trussed tight, dredged in seasoned flour, seared off, then stewed with lots of wine. There's more to it, but that's the basics. Think beef bourguignon. Think coq au vin.
It's 3. I have to have 20 thick veal shanks ready for service at 6.
Yeah, right.
With no time to fuck around, I get my mis en place together, and start rolling. Mirepoix, check. Seasonings, check. Veal trussed and ready, check. Tools, check. Granted, it took me a lot longer than it should have to get everything together, but I'm still getting my sea legs in the bustling Careme kitchen. Due to the number of students prepping on my group's stoves, I have to haul all my shit down to the other end of the kitchen to sear off the veal. The rondo I grabbed, the last one available, had a deep depression in the center of it, causing the oil I pour in to accumulate in a single scalding hot swimming pool about the size of a saucer, so searing properly required keeping the 3 foot wide pot moving, and continuosly adjusting the positioning of the veal in it to avoid any serious burning.
With everything seared, and the mirepoix nicely browned, it was time to deglaze. Behind me, I had group A, whose space I had encroached upon, getting antsy for their burner space. The only thing I could do was to throw the pot on the grill and crank the grill all the way up. I filled the pot with demi glace and wine, tossed in an entire herb garden and let it roll. By then, we had 45 minutes before service. Doing an osso bucco in 45 minutes is futile at best. I let Chris and chef Almir know where I was at in the process, an attempt to lower expectations a bit, prepare everyone for rare osso bucco, and waited.
Amazingly, by 6 I had a nicely reduced sauce, the veal was tight, and the days special was done. I roasted red potatoes in garlic and herbs, sauteed zucchini and garnished with a gremolata and deep fried ribbons of phyllo.
As service wound down, I asked Almir if he'd tried the dish. To my suprise he'd not only tried it, but served it to the other chefs dining in Careme that night. Everyone thought it was very good. True, it needed a pinch more salt and perhaps more time stewing, but all in all it was solid fare. For me, it was another hollandaise moment, which I spend all of my time in the kitchen chasing.
Chef Almir has followed through with his "you are no longer in school" line. His expectation that we have reached this point in our education because we have some chops is put to task daily. As I mentioned previously, we don't get recipes for dishes. We get basic preparation instruction, sometimes as little as a protein (you're doing veal chops) and a preparation method (you'll grill it). Everything else is an exercise in recall, developed common sense and extemporaneous riffing.
Having dinner at Careme two nights in a row, you won't have exactly the same dish twice. As different students take on a different dish, you'll see a different sauce, different plating, a different starch and veg, sometimes a wholly different preparation method for a given dish. This kind of freedom to experiment is at once exciting and terrifying. The hoi polloi is paying good money to eat what you put up, and the whole world knows that eating at Careme can be a gamble, so, if you give a shit, you want to plate up the best food ever. Ever.
On Thursday night, Chris, our sous for that day, gave me the special, and asked me to make osso bucco. I'd never made it before, though as a class we'd done one in Euro. So, what is osso bucco, I thought. Well, it's veal shanks, trussed tight, dredged in seasoned flour, seared off, then stewed with lots of wine. There's more to it, but that's the basics. Think beef bourguignon. Think coq au vin.
It's 3. I have to have 20 thick veal shanks ready for service at 6.
Yeah, right.
With no time to fuck around, I get my mis en place together, and start rolling. Mirepoix, check. Seasonings, check. Veal trussed and ready, check. Tools, check. Granted, it took me a lot longer than it should have to get everything together, but I'm still getting my sea legs in the bustling Careme kitchen. Due to the number of students prepping on my group's stoves, I have to haul all my shit down to the other end of the kitchen to sear off the veal. The rondo I grabbed, the last one available, had a deep depression in the center of it, causing the oil I pour in to accumulate in a single scalding hot swimming pool about the size of a saucer, so searing properly required keeping the 3 foot wide pot moving, and continuosly adjusting the positioning of the veal in it to avoid any serious burning.
With everything seared, and the mirepoix nicely browned, it was time to deglaze. Behind me, I had group A, whose space I had encroached upon, getting antsy for their burner space. The only thing I could do was to throw the pot on the grill and crank the grill all the way up. I filled the pot with demi glace and wine, tossed in an entire herb garden and let it roll. By then, we had 45 minutes before service. Doing an osso bucco in 45 minutes is futile at best. I let Chris and chef Almir know where I was at in the process, an attempt to lower expectations a bit, prepare everyone for rare osso bucco, and waited.
Amazingly, by 6 I had a nicely reduced sauce, the veal was tight, and the days special was done. I roasted red potatoes in garlic and herbs, sauteed zucchini and garnished with a gremolata and deep fried ribbons of phyllo.
As service wound down, I asked Almir if he'd tried the dish. To my suprise he'd not only tried it, but served it to the other chefs dining in Careme that night. Everyone thought it was very good. True, it needed a pinch more salt and perhaps more time stewing, but all in all it was solid fare. For me, it was another hollandaise moment, which I spend all of my time in the kitchen chasing.
