Rabbit: It's what the cool kids eat

Level 2 Lesson 3 Monday, July 28, 2010

The head of the rabbit carcass hung over the edge of the bowl. The eyes were small, not like the huge bug eyes on another classmate’s rabbit. I avoided looking at the face even more.

During the demo, Chef M had said, “Rabbit is the new black. Everyone has rabbit on their menu.”

I placed the rabbit carcass on John’s cutting board.

“You do half, and I’ll do half,” John said as he picked up his boning knife.

John cut off one hind leg. I popped the joint, and worked the knife around the other hind leg. Each of us cut off a foreleg.

I grabbed the head and the ribcage and cracked the neck. We chopped up the ribcage.

John worked his knife up and down the grooves of the spine and around the pelvis. Even though the loin meat was attached around the bones, we still had to extract it in one piece.

John finished detaching the meat from the right side of the spine. I worked on the other side, while John seared the legs in a pan.

I felt for the bone with my fingertips, trying to make sure I made clean cuts and didn’t destroy the meat. 

John hovered around my side of the work station. "Are you OK? Do you need help?" he asked.

"No. I'm fine," I replied, staring down at the pink flesh.

John had worked in restaurants for 10 years, and was going to school to get the credentials and move up in the industry. Like Henry, my first partner in Level 1, John acted as my mentor and was always there to help me.

I worked the knife slowly and deliberately around the tiny hills and valleys of the spine. I wasn't going to be rushed.

"Jenny, do you need help?" John asked again.
 
"No," I said, waving him away and telling him to concentrate on browning the legs.

I pierced the knife in the flesh underneath the spine and the loin meat was off. It looked like a jagged butterfly, splayed out on the cutting board.

I rolled the sides of the loin inward to form a cylinder.

Chef M walked past our station, gave me a short nod and said, “Looks good.”

John and I high-fived each other with our rabbit hands.

We braised the rabbit legs in the oven. Later, we seared the sides of the loin and roasted it separately.

The loin was stubborn. The needle on my thermometer wouldn’t go past 125 degrees F. We stuck it back in the oven and waited. We checked again. The internal temperature notched at 140. We put it back in and waited. John took it out, and the loin was at 143 degrees F. We let it rest, but not for long because we had to plate.

John sliced the loin and laid the perfectly cooked meat on the plate. We added mashed potatoes. Then we placed shredded leg meat next to the loin, letting the reduced braising liquid naturally fill the empty space on the plate. We sprinkled parsley, carrots and green beans.

Chef M was pleased with the presentation and how the rabbit was cooked. Then he tipped the plate and the sauce rolled to the front.

“Your sauce is too thin,” Chef M said. “You need to reduce more.”

We brought the rabbit dish back to our station. Earlier during class, we had presented our braised lamb shank with couscous. The dish came out really well. The meat was tender and the sauce was the right consistency.


Braised lamb shank

At home, I scooped rabbit and mashed potatoes in my mouth as I wrote e-mails. I looked down at the smooth texture of the shredded meat. Maybe rabbit had a slightly gamier taste, but it reminded me of chicken.

Culinary school: New chef, another way to learn

Level 2 Lesson 1
Friday, July 23, 2010

From across the room, I read the letters on his ring as if I were having an eye exam---F-U-C-K.

Did that say what I think it said?

I squinted at the letters on Chef M’s ring and read them again. My eyes widened.

It would be different learning from Chef M, who was one of the instructors teaching us for Level 2, while Chef X is on vacation. Chef X had sternly told us not to wear jewelry, not even wedding rings, in class.

I moved my eyes away from the ring and watched as Chef M trussed a chicken. We had learned how in Level 1, but we had only done it for one class. Tonight, we’d be making roast chicken, “grandmother style,” and using the drippings, leftover chicken trimmings and caramelized vegetables to make a jus.

Chef M seared the chicken on its side in a sauté pan to brown the skin.

“Remember, it’s side, breast, side,” he said as the oil sizzled.

“Do you cook it for two minutes?” I asked as he seared one side.

His eyes focused on me. The chicken was browned when it was done, he said.

“I’m gon’ to teach you 50 percent,” he said in a French accent. “You need to figure out the other 50 percent.”

“There’s no timing in cooking,” he said. “Work it out yourself.”

His words reminded me why I was here: to learn how to trust my intuition and cook.

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Passed Level 1!

Hey guys,

I lived through a grueling practical exam Wednesday and passed Level 1 at The French Culinary Institute. There are six levels in the Culinary Arts program. I'm looking forward to learning pastry.

- Jenny

Practicing knife skills begets egg rolls

I spent a lot of time in the kitchen last weekend, practicing my knife skills for a Wednesday exam. I julienned carrots and diced onions, piling up bags in my refrigerator. I used my mom's egg roll recipe, and I sat at the table and rolled each one.

I had bought ground turkey at the farmers' market from DiPaola Farm, and decided to put that in the filling.

Making the egg rolls took a long time because I cut most of the vegetables myself. I wanted to get used to the feel of my knife on the cutting board. 

My husband and I lived on two dozen egg rolls for the next few days.

Egg rolls
(You don't have to painstakingly julienne the vegetables or chiffonade the green tops of bok choy like I did. Just shred or chop them.)

Yield: 2 dozen, depending on how many egg roll wrappers you have
 

Ingredients:
1 pound ground turkey or pork
1 medium onion, diced
cumin to taste
1/3 of cucumber, shredded
1/2 zucchini, shredded
1 Korean sweet potato or other potato, shredded
1 carrot, shredded
1 bok choy or half a Napa cabbage, julienne
1 bunch mung bean noodles
1 package egg roll wrappers
1 egg
1 tablespoon water
salt to taste
pepper to taste

Soy sauce

Shred the Korean potato. Microwave the shredded potato in the microwave for one minute to soften it. Set aside.

Shred the zucchini in another bowl. Season with salt. Then microwave the zucchini for a minute. Repeat with the cucumber. Repeat with the carrots.

Soak bean thread noodles in warm water. Set aside.

Pour vegetable or peanut oil in a Dutch oven or cast-iron pot until it is about 3 inches high or the depth you desire. Heat oil until it reaches 375 degrees F. If you don't have a thermometer, drop a tiny piece of an egg roll wrapper in the oil and see if it sizzles.

Meanwhile, pull off each bok choy stalk so you can wash off all the dirt. Chop bok choy or cut into strips. Chop up the green tops. (You’ll need a couple handfuls for the filling. Save the rest for another dish.) Season with salt. Microwave for a minute or two.

 Saute the diced onions in a pan. Add the ground pork or turkey. Season with salt, cumin and pepper. Cook until browned. Set aside.

Cut bean thread into lengths as long as your forefinger. Mix potato, zucchini, cucumber, cabbage, carrots, ground meat and bean threads in a large bowl.

Beat an egg and add 1 tablespoon of water in a small bowl and set aside.

Take an egg roll wrapper and place it in front of you on a plate, so it looks like a diamond. Spoon two tablespoons of the mixture in the bottom corner. Fold over the corner. Take your hand and pull the filling towards you to tighten the bundle.

Turn the bundle over again. Then fold the flaps of the wrapper inward. Fold the egg roll one more time. Brush egg wash over the last corner. Then roll the egg roll over to seal it.

Repeat until you have as many egg rolls as you want. Save any leftover filling in the refrigerator. Dip egg rolls in soy sauce.

Print recipe

New way to work in the kitchen

Since our first day at culinary school, we were taught to keep bowls at our work station: unprepared and unpeeled vegetables in a bowl on the left; peeled vegetables in a bowl on the right, and a third bowl to hold your peelings. Knives and other tools are next to the cutting board. If we peeled vegetables with no bowl underneath, we'd get yelled at.

It's actually a really organized way to work in your kitchen. Since all the peelings are in one bowl, I can just dump them in a bag I take to the neighborhood compost bin. Now I feel weird if I'm peeling a carrot and I don't have a bowl beneath my hands.

Gooseberry jam

I bought some gooseberries the other day just to try them out. The Samascott Orchards employee at the Inwood Greenmarket told me most people eat gooseberries or make jam. The gooseberries taste sweet and tart, and have the texture of grapes. The employee said the berries have a lot of pectin, meaning the berries gel and thicken very easily if you make jam.


I love the jam. I've been slathering it on cream scones and eating them every day. (I made the scones using a recipe from Savory Sweet Life at this link.)

Ever since I made homemade jam a year ago, I've stopped buying it at the grocery store. I like that feeling of self-sufficiency when I make my own jam.


Gooseberry jam
Yield: roughly less than a pint
1 pint gooseberries
1.5 cups sugar, or to taste
half a lemon
several mint leaves
Mason glass jar pint size

Fill a large pot with water. Place a plate in the bottom of the pot---face up--- and submerge a glass jar, the lid and screw top. Bring to a boil and sterilize the jar for about 10 minutes. (The plate prevents the jar from shattering if the bottom of the pot gets too hot.)

While the water is being heated, wash gooseberries and pinch off stems. Mix berries, sugar and juice of half a lemon in a saucepan. (If you prefer less sugar, adjust the amount.) As the berries cook, mash them. Cook for about 10 minutes. Take off heat and infuse the jam with mint leaves for a few minutes. Then discard the mint.

Fill the sterilized jar with the jam. Screw the top, but not super tight. Place back in the water bath. Bring to a boil and sterilize for 10 minutes. Remove the jar and let cool before placing it in the refrigerator.

The jar is sealed if the lid is lowered in the middle. The lid will pop when you open the jar. Enjoy the jam right away, or save for later.

Print recipe

Trout grenobloise

Trout grenobloise, sauteed trout with browned butter sauce, lemon flesh, capers and parsley


Filleting a fish is kinda cool. If you run a fillet knife slowly along the bones of a fish, you'll  hear a zipper sound.


I filleted this rainbow trout I bought from Max Creek Hatchery at the Union Square Greenmarket. The hatchery is based out of Delaware County, N.Y. The fish was $6.

Ever since I had two classes on cooking roundfish and flatfish at school, I've been excited about cooking fish.

I was stoked when I saw how orange the rainbow trout flesh is. It turns pink when you cook the fish.

Basics of making trout grenobloise and croutons

I sauteed the trout, skin-side down, to make the skin crispy. The flesh above the skin turned solid and I flipped it over. I took the fish off the heat and added butter. As the butter bubbled in the pan, I added capers, lemon flesh, lemon juice and parsley. The butter didn't brown as much as I wanted it to. I was using a huge 12-inch saute pan. In class, we used small, stainless steel pans. Once you dropped the butter in that small pan, the butter would brown instantly.

I had already made the croutons. I had cut a slice of bread into cubes. I melted butter in a pan and dropped in the bread cubes.

Chef L had taught me how to toss croutons. Tip the pan and make sure all the bread cubes are in the bottom lip of your pan. Then quickly jerk back your arm and the bread should fly. When the croutons are golden brown, drain on paper towels and season with salt and pepper.

The grenobloise recipe that is closest to what we learned in school is actually on MarthaStewart.com. Click here for the recipe.

Culinary school: Scallops

Day 14, Wednesday, July 7, 2010 continued...

I seared the scallop, watching the bottom slowly turn white. Once the color white creeped its way up a third of the scallop, I turned it over. The scallop had browned nicely.

Chef X had said the top one-third should be white, the middle should be clear, and the bottom one-third should be white.

I had stopped ordering scallops at restaurants because they never seemed to taste like anything, and I was curious how these three scallops would taste. 

The butter I dropped in the pan began to brown, and I basted the scallops with it. I drained them on paper towels.

We had made a parsley sauce with garlic and shallots. I put three blobs of the parsley sauce on a plate, spreading them out with a spoon and making them look like comets. I put one scallop at the head of each whirlie.

The plate looked messy, but I presented it anyway. Chef X took a knife and sliced a scallop. He saw the layers of white, clear, white.

"Good," he said.

I put the plate on my cutting board and took a bite of the scallop. Its texture was soft and I could taste its subtlety. If scallops were supposed to taste like this, I'd make them all the time.

There was still one scallop I hadn't cooked. We only needed to present a minimum of three. I took the plate and asked Chef L what to do with the salt-and-peppered raw scallop.

"Don't come back here and try to give it back," she said. "Cook it. Eat it."

So I did, and I cooked another classmate's scallop, too.
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Culinary school: Lobsta killers

 Day 14, Wednesday, July 7, 2010

The lobster waved its antennas slowly. It had been put in the freezer and was docile.

Chef X lifted the lobster with no fear.

“You don’t have one that’s moving a little bit better?” he asked Chef L.

Chef L placed another lobster on Chef X’s cutting board.

The two lobsters raised their claws at each other and began to duel.

“We going to put the lobsters to sleep,” Chef X said.

Chef X separated the crustaceans. Then he began rubbing the top of a lobster’s head with one finger. The lobster stopped moving.

“See how relaxed it is?” Chef X said. “It’s getting a free massage.”

He rubbed the head of the second lobster and it stayed still.

“There we go,” he said. “They look like angel now.”

We laughed.

“Now we gon’---“ Chef X made a guttural death noise, motioning across his neck with his finger.

My classmate Nicole asked how long the lobsters would stay still.

“Until you do this,” Chef X said and tapped the lobsters. They woke up and lifted their claws.

He promptly rubbed their heads and the crustaceans instantly shut down.

Without warning, Chef X lifted a lobster, twisted off its claw, took off the other claw and ripped off the tail. The lobster’s antennas and legs moved with no body. He did the same to the other lobster.

“Anybody who take 10 minutes to do that, I’m gon’ to call you ‘butcher,’” he said.

He broke open a lobster head and took out the gills. Chef explained the gills had to be removed or they would leave a bitter taste when we made the americaine sauce later. The claws and tails would be cooked separately.

Chef dismissed us from his lecture and the class migrated to the refrigerators where the lobsters were.

Phil, my new partner, retrieved two lobsters and plopped them in a bowl on the counter between us. I gingerly lifted one onto my cutting board and began rubbing its head. The lobster stopped moving.

I looked down at the lobster and paused, thinking of its future death.

I lifted the lobster by the back of its head and tried to grasp a claw, but the lobster waved its legs and antennas so much that I put it down, losing my resolve. I frantically slid my finger back and forth over the lobster’s head. It stopped moving, except for its eyes.

The lobster’s beady eyes rolled forward, to the side and back, taking in its surroundings as if it knew it was going to die. It curled its tail in defiance.

This wasn’t at all like how I imagined we would kill lobsters. I had thought of Julia Child plunging a lobster in a pot of boiling water. We were committing real murder compared to her.

Phil kept rubbing the head of his lobster.

“What are you waiting for?” said Eric, who was at the work station next to us.

Phil said his lobster wasn’t asleep yet, although it hadn’t moved from its spot on his cutting board.

I looked down at my lobster again, trying not to think of how I was going to kill it. I took a breath, lifted the lobster and twisted off a claw. I gripped the other claw, turned it and dropped it in a bowl. I ripped off the tail, hearing a crunch before it came off in my hand.

I had never killed a lobster before. This was our introduction to shellfish.

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Poisson en papillote (fish baked in parchment paper)

For our Fourth of July dinner, I made poisson en papillote--- a dish I would never have attempted to do if I hadn't gone to culinary school. That includes filleting a whole fish before I cooked it.

When I took one of the parchment paper packages out of the oven, it had ballooned like a puffer fish.


Inside the bag, I had layered the black sea bass fillets on tomatoes and mushrooms that had been cooked down and had put julienned layers of celery, carrots and leeks on top of the fillets.

My husband cut open his present and took a bite. His face changed into surprise and then pleasure.

I gave myself the failed papillote. I didn't seal the package properly.


The fish was very good though. It was moist and perfectly flaky. The white wine I had poured over the bass added more flavor. I had softened the carrots, leeks and celery in a bit of water, butter and salt in a pan on the stove before I layered them on top of the fish, but the celery was al dente.

It felt so good to have made every component in the meal, including cutting the fillets myself.

I bought the black sea bass from P.E. & DD Seafood at Union Square Greenmarket on Saturday. I got the bass for $6. If they had filleted the fish for me, the cost would have been $17!

Last week, we had our first lesson on fish. Filleting a fish has less to do with your eyes and has more to do with what you're hearing and feeling with your fingertips.

P.E. & DD Seafood had already scaled and gutted the fish and cut off most of the fins.

I could tell the fish was fresh because it had brightly colored gills that were full of blood; bright, shiny eyes; shiny body and smelled like the sea i.e. not "fishy."

I thought back to Chef L's demo on filleting the bass. She told us to hear a "zipper" sound as she slid her knife along the backbone of the fish. I tried to feel for the backbone that bordered the top of the fish, but someone had cut it off and bones were sticking out. Normally, you'd use the backbone as a guide to lay your knife on top and gently glide your knife along the skeleton. Each side is equal to one fillet.

I cut off too much of the head, leaving behind less meat for my fillets, but I moved on. I slid my knife slowly against the skeleton of the bass, trying not to cut into the flesh. I did the same to the other side of the fish. The fillets didn't look too beat up. Now I just had to take out the pin bones.

I turned over a metal bowl and laid a fillet on top. I squinted at the flesh. In my June 30 class, I had stared at the fillet, my nose almost touching it.

Chef X walked by and said, "Can you see anything, Jennifer?"

"Barely," I muttered.

At home, I held the flesh of the fish down with my left thumb and forefinger and pulled the pin bone away from me like Chef L told us to do. That way I minimized how much flesh the pin bone would take away. I took out the bones in the second fillet. Then I put the fillets in a bowl over ice and stuck them back in the refrigerator.

We had dinner late. But Matt didn't mind.

___________________________________________
Other 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
Day 8: It just gets worse
Day 9: Just cut, don't think

FAQ about Culinary School posts

4th of July surprise

Happy 4th of July!

I cooked a surprise in parchment paper. I'll tell you all about it later.

Culinary school: Too pretty a salad to eat

Cooked vegetable salad

Day 10 Friday, June 25, 2010

I had never made a brick castle for a salad before. Gillian and I diced carrots and turnips into cubes and blanched them in boiling salted water for the cooked vegetable salad. Then we blanched the peas and string beans.

Chef D, Chef X's number 2, walked by our station, noticed the cut carrots and turnips and said, "Nice knife skills."

"Thank you, chef," I mumbled, not used to the praise.

I wished Chef X were here to see how well Gillian and I were doing, but he was gone that Friday and Chef Dq was our substitute teacher.

We made mayonnaise to bind the cooked carrots, turnips, string beans and peas. Then we put the mixture in a ring mold, topped it with tomato fondue and removed the mold to create the shape.

Chef Dq showed us how to plate the salad. He peeled the skin of a plum tomato and rolled the skin into a rose. As I used a paring knife to peel a tomato from the core to the tip, I took some of the flesh. But no matter how much I botched up the tomato flesh, the rose still looked like a rose. The “leaves” of the rose were basil puree.

How did the salad taste?

It’s a whole lot of mayonnaise.

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Other 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
Day 8: It just gets worse
Day 9: Just cut, don't think

FAQ about Culinary School posts

Culinary school: Just cut, don't think

Day 9: Wednesday, June 23, 2010

I sheared strips off my potato wedge in swift movements, trying to shape it into a bullet. We had to form four cocottes, or 5-centimeter long potatoes, in roughly 20 minutes— an exercise Chef X made us do when we were done with our food preservation lesson. I dropped my first cocotte in a bowl filled with water to prevent the potato from turning brown. I buzzed away on my second one.

The day before, my classmate Henry had given me some tips on how to do tournage. It was all in the thumb, he explained. As I held the potato wedge in my left hand, I had to turn it down with my right thumb so my knife could make a curve on the potato. The shaped vegetable had to roll on the cutting board. If it didn’t roll, then I would have a difficult time browning the potato on all sides in a sauté pan.

Henry and I practiced slicing and dicing an onion and carrot. Gillian, my partner in class, had told me I needed to hold my knife against the knuckles of my other hand. I found I cut a lot straighter after that since my knuckles supported my knife.

As I watched Henry cut the carrot with ease into cubes and sticks, I realized I thought way too much when I cut my vegetables. I had kept trying to do a “steam-train” motion, making sure the tip of the knife stayed on the board as it slid through a vegetable. But that’s hard to do when you’re cutting a large onion. I just needed to cut and not think about it.

In class, when I held the potato wedge, I shaved off potato strips without trying to be perfect. My goal was speed.

Chef X walked to our station.

“How are you girls doing?” Chef asked.

“Better,” I said.

“Show me,” he said.

My shoulders tightened as he stood next to me, but I focused on cutting my third potato. It looked like a fat bullet and I was trying to get rid of an uneven cut.

Moments before, Chef had warned the class not to cut away too much or our potatoes would be too thin.

“Stop,” he said.

When I lowered my arms, he had already disappeared. I dropped the cocotte in water. I formed my last one.

“You have two minutes!” Chef X said.

I was already done. I grabbed my shaped potatoes and my scraps and stood second in line.

“Good,” Chef said. “See? You will never forget how to do this.”

Henry came up as I headed back to my station.

“Look!” I said, holding up my potatoes and grinning.

“They look good,” Henry said.

Class went well that day. Gillian and I had made a brandade, salt cod mashed with potatoes. We had spread the brandade on croutons—small bread slices that had been dried out in the oven. We drizzled olive oil over them and garnished them with minced parsley.

When we presented the brandade appetizer to Chef X and Chef L, Chef X took a crouton and drove a knife through it. If the crouton were soft inside, he would have yelled at us. But his knife made a crunch as he cut a piece for Chef L and himself.

“Good,” Chef X said after taking a bite.

“Mmm,” Chef L said. “I really like that touch of olive oil.”

Gillian had worried about how much olive oil to drizzle on each crouton. It was just right.

We took bites of the brandade-covered croutons back at our station. The brandade was very salty because of the cod. But it was delicious, especially with the heavy cream and the olive oil mixed in with the mashed potatoes.

I took the dish home as if it were an award.
_____________________________________
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
Day 8: It just gets worse

Culinary school: It just gets worse

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