Day 8: June 21, 2010
Gillian grimaced when she saw dots of oil in our consommé as she brought the soup up to Chef X. The soup was supposed to be clear after we clarified it to remove any impurities from the stock. I held the vegetable soup we made, which didn’t look any better. Slicks of butter and bacon fat were on the surface as paper-thin cuts of carrots, turnips and potatoes swam around. We were the last ones to be judged.
Chef tasted the consomme.
“Did you season?” he barked at Gillian.
“Yes,” Gillian said timidly.
He turned to me and said, “And you were satisfied with that?”
“Yes,” I lied. I didn’t try the soup.
He tasted the vegetable soup and said, “That’s like water.”
“You don’t have enough potato. I told you to cut more vegetables and follow the recipe,” he said.
When we made the potage cultivateur, he peered into the pot to look at the vegetables sweating in butter and bacon. He pushed the vegetables around unenthusiastically with my wooden spoon.
“Did you guys follow the recipe?” he asked, lifting his eyes from the pot.
“Yes, Chef,” Gillian and I said.
“You need more vegetables,” he said.
We cut our carrots and turnips slowly, trying to dice perfect, thin squares. We had wasted a lot of each vegetable only to yield small amounts.
By not cutting enough paper-thin squares of potato, the soup lacked the starch to thicken and have flavor.
Since we were very late getting the soups done, I didn’t have time to season the vegetable soup properly.
Chef X shook his head. His eyes bugged out in amazement as if he were thinking, ‘That is really bad.’
"You guys are getting worse, not better!" he said. "You need to get faster!"
Frustrated, I remembered we were on time when we began making the consomme and the vegetable soup.
Just like Chef X’s consomme, our mixture of lean ground beef, egg whites and vegetables rushed to the top of the beef stock like a tsunami, forming a raft that acted as a magnet for all the impurities in the stock. It looked like a blob that was ready to eat you.
We were doing fine at that moment, but time left us behind.
The rest of the 5-hour class sped by after Chef’s inspection of our soups. We made split pea soup, enjoying the taste of the velvet puree and seasoning it with enough salt. Chef X was satisfied with it, but he didn’t write down a grade like he did for the consommé and vegetable soup. We assumed the grades were notes that helped him determine our overall evaluation.
I was glad class was over.
I smiled wanly at Chef X as I was about to leave the room.
He stood up straight, called out to Gillian and motioned to us to come closer.
“What is wrong with you guys?” he said with a look of concern.
“Nothing?” I said, not sure where he was going with this.
Gillian opened her mouth, only to pause.
“Please tell me. I want to know,” Chef said.
“I think we just don’t know how much salt to add,” she said.
“You need to get faster,” Chef said. “You need to practice at home.”
Gillian and I were perfectionists. We were compelled to be careful and deliberate in every task we did, and we had to stop doing that.
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Other posts:
FAQ about Culinary School posts
Why I'm going to culinary school
Panic before my first class at culinary school
Day 1: Who said cutting vegetables is easy?
Day 2: Cutting, boiling and sauteing vegetables in 35 minutes
Day 3: Culinary class leftovers
Day 4: The dreaded Tournage
Day 5: Making Stocks
Day 6: The Salt Experiment
Day 7: Emulsified
Making my own hollandaise sauce
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