Blog of a Chef

Smoke 'Em If You've Got 'Em

2011-10-02T07:35:00.000-07:00

Ya know that haunting, delicious, ethereal scent that is produced by seasoned meat simmering slowly over a hardwood fire? Pork, ribs, chicken, and beef brisket...oh how wonderful! Your nose perks up, your mouth waters, your stomach growls. Even on a summer evening when you smell it in your neighborhood it frankly just turns you on--makes you hungry!

Well, no matter how it starts, when 63 other people are creating that smell around you and it's 4 o'clock in the morning, and it's in your hair and your clothes, and it's getting a little chilly, and you just want to sleep...it's fucking repulsive!

On Friday September 30, 2011 two of the five members of the newly formed Dean Street Smokin' Rib Rubbers showed up at a parking lot in dowtown Jonesboro, AR to begin setting up for Jonesboro's annual barbecue competition. I wasn't one of them, but I am a member of the team and I was there at 4 am wishing the guy next to us would have shown up a couple hours earlier to start his fire!

We talked about doing this last year and nothing ever happened. This year we signed up just in time! Our team leader and head cook is Mark Griffith. Mark is one of our catering cooks at ASU, and he has a nice butt...barbecued pork butt that is!

My first holiday season at ASU I had just hired Mark and he brought me a barbecued pork butt for Christmas. He had cooked a bunch for his church and had a couple left over. I thanked him and put it in our walk-in freezer for a rainy day. I live alone, don't eat at home much, and didn't have room in my home freezer for a ten pound piece of meat. I forgot all about it and from time to time didn't really know if it was still there.

One year later I was headed back to North Carolina (the home of American BBQ, I don't care what you say) for Thanksgiving and I toted the year old frozen roast with me just in case. Not only did it weather the year in the freezer well, it was the BEST barbecue that I and my family had ever had! So good in fact that my nephew and his fiance required it for their wedding the following Spring.

So when this year's barbecue competition came up we knew we had to get involved, and Mark was our guy!

The team consisted of Wes Wade (one of our cooks), David Miller (our General Manager at ASU), myself, Mark, and Allan Gates (Mark's catering partner in the kitchen). Mark is the expert and the rest of us were there to bask in his success, have some fun, and pitch in wherever we could.

It took a day to set the thing up and we started the first fire just after 11 pm. Pork butts went on about 12:30, along with brisket a bit later, and cooked all night. Everything was rubbed with Mark's own spice blend (which I'm still trying to talk him out of the recipe for), and the larger cuts were injected with a mixture of liquid love and spice!

The competition is broken into four different areas; chicken, ribs, pulled pork, and brisket. Competitors can choose what to enter, we entered all four.

Now here's where it get's a bit sticky...

Food competition is not necessarily about whose food is best. It's about a lot of things seemingly. It's a little about politics, a little about standards, a little about looks. It's about texture, timing, flavor...and I think a little about luck! There were 64 entrants in the competition. Now seriously, when 64 people are cooking all night and have spent the money on equipment and food that a thing like this requires, one might imagine that all 64 are pretty good at what they do.

So imagine that you're the judge...

Tell you what, do this...open a brand new bag of potato chips. Eat one. Eat another one. Let's say you've chosen barbecue potato chips. What do you taste? Imitation smoke, sugar, tomato, a little tanginess. Keep eating them (you can't eat just one). Get down to half the bag. Now tell me what you taste. For me it's always potato, grease, and salt!

Now, tell me how a barbecue judge whose tongue is covered with smoke, sugar, salt, and tanginess is going to be able to differentiate the next 30 or 40 samples accurately. And this was a small competition compared to some. And now put yourself in that seat for 4 hours tasting as many as 256 unique samples of food. Jesus, I wouldn't even be able to sit still much less eat all that stuff! I certainly wouldn't be able to be objective at some point...which is one of the many reasons that I am not a barbecue judge. LOL!

Are you getting yet that we didn't win?

Well anyway, let's look at barbecued chicken. We all know what barbecued chicken is right? Guess again. In competition standards we're talking about thigh meat only. And what the judges want to see (from what we were told) is not chicken to me at all.

I grew up with whole pieces of juicy chicken that are seasoned and cooked slowly on the grill for an hour or even two before being basted at least 3 times with delicious, tangy homemade barbecue sauce. Be careful to wait until the coals are the right temperature and then turn and move the chicken around frequently to avoid burning the sauce. When it's all done the chicken is juicy, the sugar in the sauce is lightly caramelized, and the skin is thin and crispy and holds most of the flavor. Oh how divine!

We were supposed to bone the thigh, remove the skin, scrape off all of the fat from the skin, trim the thigh to a perfect rectangle, then lightly season, roll into a perfect little bundle, and wrap the skin back around it before cooking. You can't tie it or pin it all together, as this would leave unattractive marks.

At this point you can't manhandle the pieces or the skin falls off. In fact, no matter how long you cook it the skin will be fine until the very end when we flip the skin side towards the flame for the final crisping and the skin reacts to the direct heat and shrinks up and off of the meat. At the very least the skin now has no flavor and none of the delicious crispness that would have come from leaving the fat in it.

We did brine the meat for a hour so our chicken was delicious, tender, and juicy...but barbecued chicken it wasn't. Not our fault, but the fault of the system that dictated this heinous bastardization in my opinion.

We didn't place in the chicken category.

Ribs...now Mark's ribs are without peer! Ribs are what Mark does...and pulled pork.

We were told that we could use any kind of pork ribs that we wanted to, as long as they were delicious. We bought St. Louis style ribs (my personal favorite) and baby back ribs. We cooked both...some with the membrane on the backside left intact to be removed after cooking, and some with the membrane removed prior to cooking.

After the team sampled them all we decided unanimously and without reservation that the baby backs with the membrane removed after cooking were far superior not only to each other but also to any ribs we'd ever eaten! These we sent in with great pride.

We didn't place in ribs.

We later found out that the judges in this region are currently (but not always apparently) looking for Kansas City ribs. I don't even know what in the hell that is.

Pulled pork is Mark's claim to fame, and my family will back it up from Arkansas all the way to North Carolina and Virginia. We took morsels from 5 or 6 different butts to submit the perfect entry. And it WAS perfect!

We didn't place in pulled pork.

Beef brisket is more of a western barbecue favorite. Though certainly part of the standard barbecue repertoire we don't do it in the Carolinas. I think it starts in Arkansas and makes its way south to Louisiana and west to Texas. I like barbecued brisket...always have. I've never made it and neither had Mark. We menu a more institutional version at school once a week or so, but have only really gotten it right once that I remember. It's not easy!

Brisket is a tough, fatty, but higher flavorful and less costly cut of meat from the front shoulder of the cow (or steer as it were). It requires proper trimming and just the right amount of fat. Fat...good, too much fat...not good.

It requires the right seasoning, a dark but thin and tender outer crust or "bark", and it needs to be not too tender and not too tough. Not easy! When sliced it needs to be thin and across the grain. There should be a substantial pink "smoke ring" around the edges. It should taste smokey. When sliced it should slice easily and you should be able to stretch it just a couple or 3 millimeters before the meat breaks apart--it should not just fall apart. It should stay together pretty well.

You should not need a knife to cut it for eating, and the necessary remaining fat should melt in your mouth and create a symphony of flavors and textures that you just can't get from any other food!

Our brisket was overcooked. The bark was too thick from too much cooking, and it was tough which made it difficult to slice. We were to produce six perfect slices, and we cut portions of 3 briskets to get them. I would liked to have seen a wider smoke ring and a little pinker meat than grey. The flavor was delicious, but the meat tended more towards falling apart than stretching.

We took 7th place in brisket.

We laughed!

They didn't even pronounce our name right!

Nonetheless, the name was heard and will perhaps stick in their minds for the next time.

Will there be a next time?

A few months ago I did an ACF culinary hot food competition (Category K-4 for those of you who are in the know). I had never done one and I took a bronze medal, which to this day I am ashamed of. The lamb rack I used was supposed to begin unfabricated and the only lamb I could get was already "frenched". The judges awarded me with enough points for a high silver, but later reviewed the rules and took some away because of having the wrong product.

However, they loved my dish. One judge said that he "would love to order this dish in a restaurant". They didn't say anything like that to any other competitor. Had I brought the right product and utilized the trim in an additional item on the plate I would have no doubt been given a gold medal and quite possibly "Best in Show".

The guy who got that designation produced an awful looking combination of foie gras, soft potato, and fried egg (which was tough and brown on the bottom) all served with a salad of vegetable peelings. I kind of liked the salad actually, but the presentation was sophomoric at best and the combination of flavors and textures was in my opinion way to rich and terribly uninteresting. Nonetheless, he got a gold medal and $2,000.

I couldn't help but notice that one of the judges spent the entire hour standing and talking to the gold meal guy as if to "catch up" and reminisce about old times and mutual acquaintances. The same judge told me that my coriander chutney was more of a pesto and that if I was going to use multicultural ingredients and labels that I should study them a little more. I obviously eat more Indian food than this guy, and I assure you that I have studied the cuisine exhaustively. I wanted to tell him to do the same...but I didn't.

So finally what I think is that when one is planning to compete in anything, one must first attend a few competitions and really study what the judges are looking for. Study who wins. Watch what they do at the next competition or two that they enter. Talk to them--pick their brains. Ask them what they do to be successful. Find out who the judges are, and why they are judges. Practice what you do...A LOT! Practice making mistakes and plan how to recover from them successfully. From all of this one should be able to distill what the competition is really all about, and perhaps what it takes to do well in it.

What you and all of your friends and loved ones thinks is spectacular may not mean much at all to the people who don't know you exist. So in the end one must feel a sense of accomplishment from it all. Most importantly one MUST have fun--and the Dean Street Smokin' Rib Rubbers collectively had a blast! We perhaps learned more about each other in a non-occupational setting. We bonded at times. We learned from one another. We respected one another. And we ate some great food!

Would I do it again? Not if my life depended upon it! But if someone else's life, happiness, or success depended upon it, or even if they just asked, I would gladly show up and do anything I could to help! It's what I do.

As for the ACF, I dunno. I don't think so...but who knows what the future will hold. I change my mind all the time.

What I know for sure is that I know food, and Mark Griffith makes the best ribs and pulled pork east of the Mississippi--and at least 100 miles west of it--and that's all that matters! I'm proud to have been there.

The Search Is Over, Part Two (AKA - Molto WTF?)

2011-03-07T19:44:00.000-08:00

I remember many years ago listening to a radio show or something like that where the speaker was talking about restaurant expectations. He was discussing something I had experienced, and he gave me the answer I had been looking for to a problem about which I was mystified.

He said, for instance, that people go in droves to Alice Waters' Chez Panisse in Berkley and are often disappointed to find that it's just food that she offers. This is largely due to the expectations that diners have developed by listening to stories, reviews, and marketing pieces about a place. As human beings we take in the hype and we come to expect something much different than can be delivered in reality.

I remember dining at Lutece in NYC back in the late 80's with no expectation and was truly overwhelmed by the flavors of foods I normally don't even eat. I dined at the once (locally) famous Restaurant Million (previously Phillipe Million) in Charleston, SC a couple years later and had the meal of my life. Never heard of the place previously.

Went to Charlie Palmer's place in New York, Aureole, and was very disappointed. A trip to Charlie Trotter's in Chicago left me wondering what these high dollar celebrity chefs have that I don't.

What I settled on was the concept of an agent, a crack marketing team, an enormous staff of talented people, and a whole lot of operating capital.

World class motivator Tony Robbins would say that what they have is drive, acuity, and perseverance. I suspect there's a lot of truth to that as well. I lack most of that some of the time...or some of that most of the time.

So, I think that the idea of expectations has a lot to do with one's dining experience these days! But that's not everything because if I ain't got nothing I do have good taste and an excellent palate.

And that my friends brings us to the steak house of (Molto) Mario Batali--Carnevino. I'm not going to spend a lot of time on this because it just gets my blood boiling. I was just at the doctor today and my blood pressure was great. I wanna keep it that way.

Carnevino is a place where you can get a steak that has been aged for at least 60 days, and it will cost you about half of your net income for the same period. Well, it seemed like it anyway.

A New York Strip is $54 and an enormous Ribeye, weight unknown, is $65 per person for two. Yes, $130 for one steak. Had it been an amazing steak I wouldn't be writing this. In fact, I bought a ribeye at our local Kroger two weeks prior and cooked it at home. It could have been one the 10 best steaks I've ever had. I paid about eight 9 bucks for it.

The waiter came to our table and greeted us with his idea of what we should have. He fancied that we should order one of three different items from the grill and split them among the 6 of us. When he returned to take our order and we told him that we preferred to order separately he criticized us and persisted to sell us his idea of a check that would've been about half what it ended up being. What an idiot.

Reminded me of the one time at the poker table that I went "all in" when I had a hand that would've beat anything. Rather than drawing out a pile of money I forced everyone to fold. Valuable lesson...but I digress (again).

So then he brings over some warm bread, not homemade, and two little vessels of condiment. One was butter. The other was "lardo", which is apparently the rendered fat of a pig that has been seasoned, cured, and aged. Fucking repulsive!

Sorry, I can't think of a better way to describe it. "It's an acquired taste", they said. We couldn't acquire it.

When beef is dry-aged, what takes place is water is evaporated out of the meat which concentrates flavor. There is further enzymatic breakdown of muscle tissue which increases tenderness. The outside of the meat turns black and must be trimmed before cooking.

The resulting piece of meat, if aged properly, is simply amazing! It cooks very fast because what cooking is really all about is denaturing protein and evaporating water. It melts in your mouth. Like a complex wine or a good cigar it tastes like several different things...a well aged cheese being one of them usually, maybe a little chocolate, and a little wine. There's nothing finer, and there was nothing that even comes close to it at Carnevino.

We told the waiter how disappointed we were, but none of that made it back to the manager until the next day when Dave and I went back to collect the $80 they stole from us. Well, it turns out it was only a pre-authorization on the credit card that was released a couple days later. The manager had read the comment card I left and was very apologetic. I guess we were the only ones who ever complained.

Nonetheless, if you're ever in Vegas and want to have a round or two of free drinks send me an email and I'll give you the manager's name. He'll be delighted to have you! Let me know if they took my advice and started chilling the bottled soft drinks before serving them. Mine was warm, flat, and expensive.

When in Vegas, Molto Mario should take the straw out of his nose and the stripper out of his lap and pay attention to the overpriced food that has his name on it! But that's just my opinion.

Then...

Just 48 short hours later we walked through a back hallway at the MGM Grand into what I will forever remember as the most amazing meal of my life. Right back where this whole story began--Joel Robuchon

First came the Amuse. Amuse-bouche means "amusement for the mouth" and is usually something designed to whet the appetite in just a couple of bites. Everyone at the table usually gets the same thing, and it is a course generally conceived as free or gratis by the guest (of course it's built in to the price). The amuse is also not usually posted on the menu or ordered by the guest. Understate and over-deliver is my favorite motto in our business.

Our amuse was Lemon Gelee with Fennel, Fennel Cream and Basil Coulis. It came out in an almost egg shaped glass dish and must have been around 33 degrees. It was ice cold. This made a huge difference. Basically the best, most tart, coldest lemon Jello (I hate to call it Jello, but that's what gelee is) you could imagine with finally diced fresh bulb fennel, topped with half- whipped cream that was flavored with fennel puree, and garnished with pureed basil.

Even if you didn't like the combination it was hard to argue with the mastery of flavors, textures, and temperature. From the first bite some of our table was disgusted, but I knew at once that we were in for the ride of a lifetime. I think I even giggled just a little bit.

Next came Carpaccio of Foie Gras with Violet Artichoke Salad and Shaved Parmesan. Black truffles were not listed on the menu...another extra! Again, I've never eaten anything that was so perfect. Perfect flavors, perfect amount of dressing with the perfect amount of acid, served at the perfect temperature. Spectacular how-did-they-cut-that-so-thin presentation, and I'm certain that nothing was leftover from the day before.

Also at the table was a dish of Lemon Flavored Scallops with Red Turnips and Radishes. I didn't taste the scallops but they looked divine. What was most remarkable was the radishes were whole and about the size of a fingernail, but smoothly and evenly coated with a bright green herb butter. It was as if they were grown that way. I'm blown away by the details in this meal, and we're only on the second course!

Chestnut Veloute with Smoked Lardons Foam followed. Imagine a warm cappuccino with extra foam, but it's flavored with bacon and chestnuts...heavy on the cream. Somehow there were almost microscopic flakes of bacon on top of the soup. Micro-planed I would guess, but perhaps Robuchon is as particular about knife skills as my Skills Development instructor Bruno Elmer was.

Anyway, each taunting bite left me wanting just a little more bacon...just a little more chestnut...and alas, the bottom of the bowl appeared.

For the main course (Les Plats Principaux in French) we had Sea Bass and Octopus with Lemon Grass and Baby Leeks, Chicken En Cocotte with Fricassee of Salsify, Spiny Lobster with Daikon and Nori in Sake Broth, and my Braised Veal Cheeks with Thai Spices and Fondant Carrots. I did not try the bass or the chicken. I'm told they were delicious. I did try the lobster and thought to myself for the first time in 20 years, "Oh, so THIS is what lobster tastes like".

After eating the veal flavored chewing gum at Jaleo a few nights previous I was able to share with one of my fellow diners that THIS is what veal cheeks taste like as well! They melted in my mouth like braised butter. OMG! They were surrounded by a clear veal broth that was ever so slightly scented with lemongrass and a little Thai chili, but not enough to know it until just after the very last bite, and only for a moment.

All of our entrees were accompanied by a small side dish of Robuchon's signature Pommes Puree (mashed potatoes). The potatoes are painstakingly made by boiling fingerling potatoes with their peels intact, peeling them, pushing them through a ricer...then a tamis. Then the potatoes are cooled and held for service, at which time they are heated with cream and mounted with butter--almost 50/50.

They're more like potato buttercream. They only gave us a small portion each, and after what I guess came across as a bewildered glance they brought another bowl for the table. They shouldn't have. They knew what they were doing the first time.

Throughout the meal we had been tantalized by a bread cart that carried at least 15 kinds of bread loaves and rolls that had baked that morning. We tried several of them...several times. There was bacon bread, mini baguette, petit pain, basil rolls, two kinds of cheese rolls, butter rolls, brioche, and a few others. But that was over now.

Our tables were cleared to make room for Fuji Apple Confit, Cinnamon Sable, and Manzana Milkshake; Guajana Chocolate with Coffee Ice Cream, Caramelized Puffed Rice, and Lemon Confit; and Banana and Passion Fruit Cream with Dark Rum Granite and Coconut Foam.

About 10 or 12 years ago a friend asked me, "What's the best dessert you've ever had?" I responded that I hadn't had it yet. A year or so later I had a Creme Brulee Napoleon with Butterscotch at Etienne Jaulin's Townhouse in Charlotte, NC. Etienne was trained by Michel Richard and Jean Louis Palladin. His restaurant closed years ago and he moved on to better things, but his legacy lives on in preparing "The Best Dessert I've Ever Had".

Robuchon's were awfully pretty though!

And when it all had ended, along came the mignardises (min-YAR-deez). Like the amuse-bouche, mignardises are perceived as being free by the guest, they are not ordered, and everyone usually gets the same thing. It's dessert after dessert in just a few bites. For that matter in America after-dinner mints are mignardises, but nothing like these!

I've looked back at the picture of the cart and counted 36 different hand-made candies that our waiter described for us by name and served to us each by choice. Between us all we tried most of them I'd guess. It was another lesson in "how did they do that?"

I remember blackberry opera torte, Poire Williams, blueberry custard, caramel with sea salt, pineapple gelee, pineapple marshmallow, blueberry financier, chocolate feuilletine, ganache macaroon, and five-spice chocolate. But if I studied my whole life I don't think that I could figure out the flavors and textures. They were not of this world. I've eaten a lot of chocolate, but never anything like this.

Fifteen cooks and six bakers and pastry chefs labored over this meal, some French...some American. Of course the Chef himself was unavailable, but he had been there a week or so prior and was expected back in a couple of weeks.

I can't tell you what it cost because my boss' boss might be reading this.

I floated away with a grin on my face.

I'm not sure that all of my dining companions "got it", but I'm grateful that they tolerated one of the most joyous moments of my life.

There'll be another burger run soon!

Stay hungry my friends!

The Search Is Over, Part One

2011-03-03T19:23:00.000-08:00

We sat in a room with purple velvet couches, fresh orchids, and soft piano in the background. Ours was the only party seated in this particular room. The wall was covered in a thick carpet of live ivy and below was a flower bed filled with tiny pink and white azaleas.

The table was adorned with two white linen runners, gold mesh, and over-sized, starched white linen napkins. I don't mean cotton.

First a tiny stool came to the table for Laura's purse.

Then a little plate came with two half-dollar sized curls of purest French butter sprinkled with sea salt.

A maitre d', a captain, a sommelier, two servers bringing bread and 2 kinds of bottled water, and two or three other tuxedo clad professionals all stopped by our table to offer their services. We hardly ever noticed them. There were plenty of other diners, but we were the only ones that seemed to matter to the team of French and Asian service staff there to meet our needs.

Looking back I don't remember anyone ever once asking, "How is everything?" They didn't need to--they knew the answer.

This was Joel Robuchon!

In 1989 French chef Joel Robuchon was given the title of "Chef of the Century" by the Gault Millau guide. To date his dozen or so world-wide restaurants have earned 26 Michelin stars, more than any chef on the planet. His restaurant in Las Vegas has 3, which is the maximum rating. Michelin just started rating American restaurants in recent years. Nine other U.S. restaurants have 3 stars...world renowned Charlie Trotter has only 2.

The 16-Course degustation menu is $385 per person plus supplements for caviar and French truffles. We didn't do that!

We chose a 4-Course menu at $180 per person. When it was all over I would have gladly given twice that. The experience we had was beyond value and without peer!

The night before we had dined at Thomas Keller's Bouchon. Bouchon is Keller's more informal bistro, and though I don't doubt that America's most revered chef is at the helm on occasion and has well trained chefs doing his bidding in Vegas, I have to wonder if it would match what happened on the same night at the original in Napa Valley.

The menu certainly interesting. The service fantastic. But the noise in the place from 200 or so happy travelers and convention attendees was deafening. Robuchon only seats 60, and they don't come to party.

Every protein at our table at Bouchon was overcooked. Scallops were deeply over-seared on one side and a lighter caramel on the other. Chicken breast was dry. Sweetbreads still had some membrane in them and were crumbly in texture.

A fantastic display of paper-thin sliced cured meats were all store-bought. Duck confit was missing the robust, melt-in-your-mouth flavors of herbs, garlic, juniper, and pepper. Foie gras vinaigrette didn't taste like foie gras.

I do however applaud the Peanut Butter & Jelly Pot de Creme and the Ile Flotante, which is the Keller version of the old-school "Floating Island", consisting of poached meringue atop a sea of Creme Anglaise. While both were excellent, they both lacked just one minimal twist that would have rocketed them to perfection.

The first night in town we dined at Jaleo which is Jose Andres' tapas restaurant in our hotel, the $8.4 billion, two-month old Cosmopolitan. I recalled that I saw Anthony Bourdain interview Chef Andres at his home restaurant in Washington, DC. Andres trained under Ferran Adria at El Bulli in Catalonia, Spain, so one might expect that he knows his stuff. I have not since learned otherwise. Jaleo was perhaps our unified favorite--until last night.

Entering Jaleo one is greeted by a sea of partying diners spilling out into the hotel lobby, some begging for a table. In the back a large circular cooking area contains 3 or 4 separate wood fires atop which are huge pans of authentic paella that are made fresh throughout the evening. It was like being in the fields of Spain where paella is made at lunchtime over open fires to feed farm workers. Unbelievable! The sights...the smells!

We feasted upon 3 or 4 different types of ham made from the famous black-footed pigs of Iberia. Bourdain toured the ham making facilities in Spain with Adria! Honestly, I wasn't terribly impressed. Tasted like a good old-fashioned Virgina ham to me, but what do I know? I have had some pretty good Serrano hams before, and the one we had at Jaleo I felt was better than the high-dollar acorn-fed black-footed varieties. Serrano is nothing to sneeze at, and not remotely cheap itself.

The selection of Spanish cheeses was excellent, but cheese nonetheless.

We must have tried and shared 20 different small plates, each one a painstaking lesson in passion for food that is clearly shared by Andres' huge staff of culinarians. There were scallops, mushrooms, octopus, asparagus, romesco, olive oil, shrimp and much much more. Veal cheeks with morels was a must-try, but though the veal was so delicately and deliciously flavored, it was like chewing something that spent its short life chewing.

An amazingly simple salad of warm brussels sprout leaves with ham and apricots will undoubtedly find its way to one of my future menus in some form or another.

Then came dessert...

A friend had recently told me about a combination of vanilla ice cream, sea salt, and olive oil. I thought to myself, "YUK!" Chef Jose put together a couple things that sounded so wild that we couldn't resist. One in particular, Olive Oil Ice Cream with Grapefruit.

New paragraph...

When in Las Vegas go to Jaleo and order olive oil ice cream with grapefruit. I don't care if you don't like grapefruit. Most people don't. I don't care if you don't like olives or olive oil. It doesn't matter that you can't get your head around this concept. Buy it and eat it. It doesn't taste like olive oil or grapefruit. It has a texture that you've never experienced before if you've only ever been to planet Earth. I will spend the next weeks and months obsessed with duplicating this dish because it was the best, most sensational, most delicious, most unique thing I've ever eaten...until last night.

The next night had us at Alain Ducasse's MIX in THEHotel at Mandalay Bay. Ducasse has always been one of my idols because 1) He's one of the world's best chefs, and 2) He once said, "If you want art go to a museum, food is meant to be eaten." I love his attitude towards contrived, over-handled food.

We climbed (well we didn't climb, we took a terrifying ride on a glass elevator) to the top of the hotel where we were treated to an amazing view of the Vegas "strip" and a stylishly ill-lit table surrounded by an enormous and surreal mobile of hand-blown glass spheres that conjured images of jellyfish silently, gracefully floating through a tranquil sea.

An incredible assortment of freshly baked bread was brought out with perfect squares of butter and homemade peanut butter (butter blended with hand-ground roasted peanuts). My first pet peeve in a fine restaurant is when butter is brought out that is too cold to spread. Table butter should be just below room temperature. This wasn't, but I couldn't stop sampling the peanut butter. What a great idea! It warmed up eventually and we kept asking for more bread.

Slabs of perfectly seasoned foie gras were displayed cold with toast points and then hot with roasted green papaya. I had a dish of soft potato gnocchi that mingled with veal jus and Parmesan cheese producing a flavor with such depth that I was seduced by each bite to take the next one. This was one of the most sensuously flavored dishes I'd had in years, if ever!

A roasted lobster was taken out of its shell, stacked, and covered with an equally seductive sauce of curry in an Asian or Thai style. Paper thin shavings of toasted hazelnuts completed the dish both texturally and flavor-wise. The lobster was a little tough and I wondered how this could be in an era of sous vide cookery and "butter poaching" at low temperatures to keep proteins silky smooth. Alas, the lobster was yummy and no tougher than I would have probably made with no more forethought than I gave it at the time.

My dining companions had sea bass and fresh hearts of palm, and roasted rack of lamb with quinoa. All were simple but elegant presentations with flavors that made us all wanting more long after the plates were licked clean!

Dessert brought a chocolate souflee with pistachio ice cream, a caramelized apple napoleon "tatin", and my MIX Candy Bar--a handmade bar of chocolate, hazelnuts, and crispy feuilletine enrobed in ganache and accompanied by a quenelle of intensely flavored coconut/lime sorbet. Light and refreshing as dessert should be.

With the check came freshly baked madeleines with a dish of warm chocolate/hazelnut Gianduja (similar to Nutella) for dipping or spreading.

I would go back to MIX! I might go back to Bouchon to see if we just hit a bad night. Jaleo would be an oft visited culinary refuge were I living in Sin City. And you should come back tomorrow to read more about the most fabulous food experience this chef has ever had!

Until then...

* Photos (not necessarily well-made) of all of the dishes we tried are available on my Facebook page!

The Game Is Afoot

2011-02-26T18:27:00.000-08:00

My boss, his wife and I set out this morning for a sure-to-be awe inspiring 4 day trip to Las Vegas.

Yeah I know...what happens in Vegas...

Well I'll tell you that 9 minutes after I got into my room on the
30th Floor of the Cosmopolitan I locked myself out on the balcony. 30 stories up, private balcony, no one knows where I am (not even my boss), it's 45 degrees outside, and I'm afraid of heights. Fortunately I had my phone with me and was able to locate the front desk number and call for help. Otherwise I was feeling like I was the bachelor in The Hangover, about to be abandoned for the next 24 hours. Okay, that's all the personal stuff I'm sharing about this trip. LOL

The front desk guy has my full permission to tell his buddies about it all at the bar later tonight.

I'm really excited about this trip! We're here for the 2011 Catersource Conference which is the premier convention of the year for our industry. I was here in 2002, which makes me a little leery of being here this year. I hope they don't remember me.

I was representing the VanLandingham Estate at the time and was charged with the care and custody of my then boss' credit card. My fellow chef and traveling companion and I put $140 on the card for the big soiree that they have a couple nights into the conference each year. L.A.'s hottest caterer at the time put on the show and it was actually pretty nice. Cutting edge displays and the technology of the day showed off 2002's most fabulous catering ideas--in the director's opinion.

After paying five bucks for a club soda and tasting some food that was no better than what we were doing at the time at the Van we left. Next day I went to Mike Roman, the President of Catersource organization and asked for our money back. I didn't feel we got our money's worth, and probably just wanted to be a prick.

Mike said that I would have to send a request in writing and that it was impossible to refund the money on the spot; to which I responded that it was entirely possible to TAKE the money on the spot, and I wanted back as easily.

His demeanor became inflamed and he asked, "Do you know what my relationship with your boss is?" My boss at the time was gay, but I resisted the obvious insult. After a brief standoff I got the money back, and felt bad about the whole thing ever since.

This year I have my own credit card and the event is sold out, so problem solved. Perhaps I'll have a word with Mr. Roman sometime this week.

In the meantime I have made reservations each of the 5 nights that we'll be here in 5 of Vegas' and the country's best restaurants! I'll be writing about each of them as much as possible. Our first reservation is in an hour!

But to start the trip we stopped in Memphis on the way to the airport for a burger. Dave was gonna take me to Huey's, arguably the best burger in Memphis, but they were packed. So we walked down the block to the Kooky Canuck, apparently known on the Travel Channel for their 4 lb and 6 lb burgers that of course are free if you can finish them within an hour.

We didn't have an hour, so we passed on the big 'un, but what we did have will go down in burger infamy in my opinion! Eight ounces of hand-pattied burgerlicious goodness on an oversized sesame bun with blue cheese and maple bacon, paired with a pile of fresh cut fries fresh from the grease. De-frickin'-licious!

The menu had a few cool items on it as well. I guess the theme is Canadian (I've been to Canada and was unable to discern a national identity, but nonetheless...). The wall was adorned with a fantastic collection of dead animals, mainly just their heads. One was a buffalo. I never can get the idea of buffalo hunting. Aren't they just like a big cow that you walk up to and say, "Buffalo, I'm a gonna shoot ya", and the buffalo says, "OK". I digress.

So the most Canadian cuisine I remember from my 1995 trip to Toronto was BBQ ribs at the Swiss Chalet and a doughnut shop on every corner. This menu had stuff like barbecue egg rolls, maple marinated flank steak, and my favorite new food idea Meatball Caesar Salad...blackened meatballs with a Heinz 57 Caesar dressing.

As I reflect on that menu whilst staring out my window at Caesar's Palace I am reminded of the time I got kicked out of Caesar's Palace in early 1999, but that's another story in which there was no food involved.

My last dining experience was last week back in Arkansas where the big gimmick is they throw hot rolls at you upon request. And fried okra...and white beans and ham.

I hope nobody throws food at me here! Check back later!

The Color Of Things

2010-09-20T18:49:00.000-07:00

A few of you have mentioned that I haven't written in a while, and you're right...I haven't. Hasn't been a whole lot to write about, and I frankly haven't felt like it. Some writer huh?

So here we are, 4 weeks in to the 2010 Fall Semester and life is good. I'll bring you up to speed on the events of the last few months, there have been a few.

We had a grill cook die of a massive brain hemorrhage.

My Sous Chef left after 10 years of service (although I think it was only 9 years) and didn't have the guts to tell anyone he was leaving. He sent another employee in to gather his belongings and drop off his phone and time card. He left to begin a rewarding career at Arby's. Many of us are still celebrating! His replacement started exactly one week later and has already received immense kudos.

The lady that I nearly strangled (and nearly lost my job over) this time last year passed away a week ago from inoperable cancer in multiple organs. She will be missed by many! One of the last bites of solid food she ate was a brownie that I took to her at the Hospice. They were the only good thing I ever made according to her. I agree! Not my recipe.

Back in the Spring we pulled off a couple of the most amazing events of my career, and I'm not sure why I didn't write about them except that I was tired and uninspired. But there's a couple things we did well here recently that I had to talk about because they were really cool.

The American Cancer Society has a program called Paint The Town Purple. Apparently purple (my favorite color) is the official color in support of all cancer victims and survivors in general. Well, it turns out that it's the official color for about 28 different things including 9/11, animal abuse, and eating disorders as well. I find the latter interesting. You'll soon see why.

We were approached by a group that is supporting the Relay For Life and Paint The Campus Purple movement to join them in a day of recognition. We decorated a section of our dining room decidedly violet, passed out purple ribbons to our staff, and created a menu of purple food.

There was purple cabbage, purple potatoes, purple jello, purple cheesecake, blackberries and purple Chantilly Cream, Purple Velvet Cake (Red Velvet Cake with a little blue coloring added), and my personal favorite purple soft-serve ice cream. We even made a couple purple desserts so as not to alienate the sugar-free constituency.

It's hard to make purple food that people and chefs alike can take seriously. Purple lends itself best to the dessert table I think. I thought of turning Vegetable Lo Mein purple, but I resisted. Plums are out of season. Purple green beans are a past fad, and they turned green when you cooked them anyway.

Eggplant in my opinion, while inherently varying degrees of purple, just plain sucks. Who ever craves a big plate of eggplant?

In my training I have been subjected to a lot of little tips on food presentation, particularly when it comes to color schemes. There are certain colors that are just more appealing than others when it comes to food. Green is pretty natural. Bright reds always wake up the visual senses. Yellow is a good one, especially when we replace red tomatoes, peppers, and raspberries with their golden counterparts.

In the fall when we think of fall colors we think of orange and brown. One big challenge has always been making attractive plates in the fall when cooking with the season. Pumpkin, winter squashes, acorns, wild mushrooms - what in the hell else is in season in October and November? The plate always comes out brown.

I learned years ago that blue is perhaps the most "inedible" color, although set up a snow cone stand and include blue raspberry syrup. Tell me at the end of the day what you sold the most of. Blue raspberry is my personal favorite Slurpee flavor at the gas station in the summer time. But what in the hell is a blue raspberry? Ever seen one? Me either.

Apparently there is, or was truly a blue raspberry that is closely related to the black raspberry (never seen one of those either). I found little about it on the internet, and no pictures...but still...I can't call up my produce vendor and order a flat of them so as far as I'm concerned they're a myth.

It is a core tenant in the school of thought that I come from that if the only purpose of a component on a plate is to make the plate look better then it doesn't belong. Difficult at times.

I also subscribe to the philosophy that when tinting something edible one should use naturally derived colors. Green comes from "making chlorophyll" by pureeing parsley with a little water and straining the resulting liquid to achieve a beautiful, intensely light green coloring agent that adds minimal flavor. Orange comes from doing the same with carrots.

Of course in the 90's there was a short-lived trend in making everything clear - void of color. Charlie Trotter made "water" from everything. He taught us that tomato water is made by pureeing ripe tomatoes, letting the liquid sit and settle for a few hours, and siphoning off the clear yet intensely flavored water that rises to the top. Pretty cool really.

When making colored pasta dough a portion of the liquid in the recipe is replaced with a puree of blanched vegetables or herbs. Spinach makes green, beets make magenta, carrots make orange, roasted peppers make red, and so on. Roasted garlic makes brown...perfect for autumn!

But what makes purple food? Purple food coloring my friend - or at the very least red and blue.

I - or I should say we discovered one of the most interesting phenomenons of my culinary career. It seems that purple, while striking, beautiful, intriguing, and unexpected, actually makes pretty cool looking food - and popular. In fact, I would say that you could paint a turd purple and people from all walks of life would line up down the block and fight each other to get one, hot or cold.

Dinner opened at 4:30. I started stirring the first purple coloring into the vanilla ice cream mix at 4. We were out of purple food by 6 with three hours to go. Normal diners were gobbling up the sugar-free stuff just to get at the purple.

At 6:30 I frantically plopped scoops of room-temperature vanilla pudding from a tin can into plastic cups, piped in a generous helping of leftover purple whipped cream, threw a handful of blueberries into each one, and stuck in a lady finger for fun.

I walked out unassuming into the dining room with about 18 of these delectable little suckers lined up on a bent up old sheet pan, all the while reciting Eddie Murphy's "parfaits are delicious" lines in my head.

Once at my destination I had to drop the pan and run for my life. Looking back in haste I witnessed erstwhile normal, civil human beings ripping each others eyes out to get to the purple layered concoctions. Severed appendages flew across the dining room splattering the walls and windows with what appeared to be violet-tinted blood. My God - what have I done? It looked like old ladies at a bargain basement rummage sale. Vicious.

We never run out of dessert. We always have leftovers. This was the most incredible thing I've ever seen. Fortunately I had initiated a policy at the beginning of the evening that when we were out, we were out. I left before the riot found me.

But it was not the only such incident this week, for this week ended with Halloween.

Last year for Halloween I did strange, scary foods. We cut hot dogs into tapeworm like strips and stirred them into baked beans. We colored Asian marinated chicken wings black and called them bat wings. We stirred corn and peas into meat-laden cheese dip to make it look like vomit. Everyone thought our efforts were ingenious and commendable, however they barely touched the stuff.

This year at the last minute it occurred to me to give people something they would enjoy. I purchased $2,000 worth of candy...nearly a quarter-ton altogether.

It worked.

Coworkers bet that the candy would last anywhere from all day to into the weekend. Not me. I knew they'd go through it all and I was right.

Interestingly though when the smoke had cleared and the bones were picked clean all that was left was orange candy. Bit O' Honey, marshmallow Circus Peanuts, orange Pixi Stix, and those little wax bottles with sweet syrup in the middle, but only the orange ones. Weird.

All in all it was an educational week to say the least. My front-of-house counterpart suggested that we do a different colored food theme every month. Great idea, but no thanks.

Color me done.

You Ain't The Devil! Where's My Waitress?

2010-02-08T17:26:00.000-08:00

Many of you know that when I travel I usually have a restaurant in mind as a primary destination. Sometimes it's to a 4-Star place to be dazzled like at Fleur De Lys in San Fran, sometimes a retail place like City Bakery in NYC, and quite often a local legend greasy spoon joint like my recent jaunt to Ben's Chili Bowl in D.C.

In Jonesboro, Arkansas there ain't much, let me tell you, but I've been in search of a great burger. What makes a great burger, you might ask? Well, a great burger is typically but not always hand formed from ground beef. Angus, choice, prime, sirloin, tenderloin, hormone free, chuck, or Japanese Kobe--doesn't matter. It's ground beef, and by law in most places it's cooked medium-well to well so who cares what cow it came from and what it costs?

To be honest I prefer my burgers medium to medium-well. I think that this is the range in which ground beef has the most flavor. I like steaks bleeding rare, "black & blue" or Pittsburgh-style, but a burger med-well with bacon, thinly sliced grilled (almost caramelized) onions, and freshly grilled raw jalapenos, not the ubiquitous pickled slices that adorn a well made stack of nachos. And for cheese, yellow American please. Who does this really well? Five Guys!

Now at times I do get in the mood for a mushroom and swiss burger with real swiss cheese and properly sauteed mushrooms. The 'shrooms should be sliced about 3/16" thick and seared in a "schtinking hot" pan. That's a European culinary instructor's description of a pan so hot that you can smell the metal. Don't forget the salt and black pepper, and keep them medium-rare in the middle.

Or there's the blue cheese burger with thin slices of red onion sauteed and piled on with blue cheese crumbles. Spend a bunch of money on Roquefort or Stilton if you want, but it all amounts to blue cheese at the end of the day. By the way, if it's an American or English cheese it is appropriate to write "blue" not "bleu". The Soda Shop in Davidson, NC does this one splendidly. Alongside they also serve my favorite burger accompaniment, the long forgotten and nearly impossible to find anymore cottage fry--1/4" thick coins of fried potatoes that almost souffle a little bit when you fry them.

The bun? I don't care, but it should be soft and warm. If you take the time to grill it so it's a little crispy around the outer edges that's nice but not necessary. No fancy kaiser rolls, ciabatta, brioche, or otherwise froo-froo bread. Just a freakin' bun please. Too small for the burger is better than too big.

Grease? Yes. Not juice...grease. There was a place in Matthews, NC many years ago called Roney's Grill--a middle-of-nowhere greasy spoon where they rarely scraped the grill and the old dirty bits that stuck to your burger and burned was an important part of the seasoning. I still can recall fondly that taste in my mouth's memories! They had the right grease.

Chili? Mr. K's in Charlotte has a decent burger and decent chili...neither are great, but decent. But when combined with the taste of the char grill there...magic!

Condiments? Here's where I differ from most, sadly. No raw vegetables and no sauces for me. Salad goes in a bowl, and as comedian John Pinette says, "Salad is not food". Ketchup doesn't belong on anything, and mustard definitely doesn't go with it. Sorry.

The Penguin in Charlotte...sublime grease. Perhaps the best. Big Block Burger with onion strings on the side.

The Beacon in Spartanburg, SC...the burger about a 7...the onion rings about a 19...the bacon, about 1/4 pound. The combination...my death bed last meal wish!

Lenny's Burger in Phoenix makes a rockin' green chili cheese burger and McDonald's in southwest Colorado even does a good job when the chilies come in from Hatch, NM each summer. Harvey's Wineburger in Phoenix hand forms each patty and steams them in wine at the end, but it's not as amazing as it sounds. Pretty anticlimactic actually.

$500 foie gras and truffle burgers in Vegas? $186 Burger King burger in London? Get the fuck out of here. Who needs that? By the way, I got food poisoning once...at Burger King. Burger King sucks anywhere at any price.

I almost forgot what this article was about. It's about my quest for a great burger in Arkansas. My boss has been talking about this magical place where they have the most amazing thing that could ever be called a hamburger. A place that childhood culinary fantasies are made of. They have a huge cast iron skillet that has about a half inch of grease in it and that's where they make the burgers and the fries. I can't wait. When can we go?

Well, last Saturday night we went. And on the way he decides that the place that has the skillet is in Memphis, and the place we're going he's never been to afterall.

So off we go. Nearly 30 minutes and 15 miles north of Jonesboro on State Highway 49, through hill, dale, and Goobertown we arrive at Roy's First and Last Chance in Paragould, Arkansas.

The story goes that Roy's started out as a one room party shack in the middle of nowhere and as the news spread the place grew. One room was added over here and another over there, but the ground was (and still is) unlevel so each room is on a different plane--very aggravating if you're drunk. Funny too when everyone else is but you.

Jonesboro is a dry county so Roy's was a treat. Not only can you watch perfectly good rednecks drink more than they should, but you can sit at your table and smoke while you do it. The room is dark (cuts down on the cleaning). The walls and ceilings are made of chipboard and covered with magic marker graffiti from everyone that's ever been in the place.

The tables are wooden picnic tables that are bolted to the floor with attached benches. There is a bar and in front of that bar is a row of barstools. The stools probably used to belong to a diner and stood in front of the standard counter height counter. Now they are bolted onto a 6x6 that is bolted to the floor in front of the bar to raise them to bar height. The floor is covered by what appears to be roofing paper tacked down with roofing nails.

A modest amount of unrelated memorabilia adorns the walls, one piece being the menu. As I later found out it is actually "A" menu, not "THE" menu. I'll come back to that.

The kitchen is about the size and shape of a bug and vermin filled closet and most people wouldn't eat anything that came from the place, but I don't care.

I suspect there was music playing but I don't remember what. I was fixated on the fact that the hostess that greeted us was also the bartender, the waitress, and the cook. There were no other visible employees in the place until about 45 minutes later when her husband showed up, had a beer, and made his way to the closet to start grilling burgers and frying cheese balls as fast as he could, which wasn't very fast.

Customers went behind the bar and helped themselves to beer shuffling through the stack of tabs on the bar and marking their purchases. Seemed like business as usual. There was a cocky looking, gum smacking Burt Reynolds type leaning on the backside of the bar. We wondered if he might be Roy, but if he was he certainly didn't seem phased that we and two other tables had been there for nearly an hour and had not been invited to order.

Robo-Waitress did furnish us with several beers and my canned Coke. Said she'd come back shortly to take our order but she didn't.

About 8:45 or so, an hour after we arrived, she approached our table and asked what we wanted. I began asking questions and ordering off of the menu on the wall. When I asked if they had bacon for my burger I was told they didn't. "Why not?", I asked. "Because this is Roy's", was the answer--nothing more.

Then I ordered Spicy Fries off of the menu on the wall and she said that that menu is old and that they don't have most of what's on it, including the prices. I had barely mustered a look of bewilderment when a friend of hers came to our table and handed her a cell phone, call in progress.

She took the phone and started talking, telling the caller that she was in the middle of taking an order and asked if he or she could hold on a second. He or she apparently couldn't hold on so the conversation proceeded. It was unevident whether she was asking us to hold on or asking her friend if they wanted mayonnaise.

We finally got the order in and about 30 minutes later we actually got 3 burgers and 3 orders of fries. Good timing too. I was about to eat the corner off of our picnic table.

This was a half-pound burger, hand-formed, well-done, and cold, but the fries were hot and not bad. Decent grease. The jalapenos on my burger were the pickled ones and the cheese, cold and unmelted white American. It's called Swiss American but I don't know why.

About the time we got done eating the band showed up. As they were setting up, one of the guys stepped into our barroom with the announcement, "Does anyone here have a roll of duct tape in your truck? I'll buy you a beer if you do". The only thing funnier than the fact that someone did was the fact that everyone there except me drove a truck. In fact there's only 6 of us in the county that drive cars, and 4 of us are from out of state.

I have no idea how much the bill was and we never spoke to Robo-Waitress again. She stood at the bar for most of the next half hour or so with a Parliment Light 100 hanging out of her mouth, perusing the bar tabs. I threw ten bucks on the table and we left, never to return most likely.

Back to skillets...

FYI, the World's Largest Functional Frying Pan lives in Rose Hill, North Carolina...my home state. They use it every year for a big chicken festival, and apparently in between festivals it reeks with the putrid stench of old fried chicken. I've never seen it, but I've been to Roy's. My advice--go see the pan.

Oh, and one more thing. If a burger weighs more than 6 ounces (before cooking) it needs to be split into 2 thinner burgers and called a "double". Just my opinion. Hands down the best double meat burger in the country...consistent, affordable, and yummy, is the Double, Double at In and Out Burger in Southern California. You get a double burger the way it's supposed to be, two beef patties and two slices of cheese. Get it with grilled onions and hand-cut fries for about the same price as Mickey D's and 101 times better. For the burger monster in you ask for a 4x4 (not on the menu). That's 4 meat patties and 4 slices of cheese. Yum!

Hold The Onions

2010-01-29T19:04:00.000-08:00

A friend sent an interesting email the other day and I wanted to post it here and expand on my personal experience. So many sensational email warnings are circulating these days that Snopes can't research the facts fast enough. This one is quite true however, even if it may be remote.

The author writes:

"I have used an onion which has been left in the fridge, and sometimes I don't use a whole one at one time, so save the other half for later.

Now with this info, I have changed my mind....will buy smaller onions in the future.

I had the wonderful privilege of touring Mullins Food Products, Makers of mayonnaise. Mullins is huge, and is owned by 11 brothers and sisters in the Mullins family. My friend, Jeanne, is the CEO.

Questions about food poisoning came up, and I wanted to share what I learned from a chemist.

The guy who gave us our tour is named Ed. He's one of the brothers. Ed is a chemistry expert and is involved in developing most of the sauce formulas. He's even developed sauce formula for McDonald's.

Keep in mind that Ed is a food chemistry whiz. During the tour, someone asked if we really needed to worry about mayonnaise. People are always worried that mayonnaise will spoil. Ed's answer will surprise you. Ed said that all commercially made mayo is completely safe.

"It doesn't even have to be refrigerated. No harm in refrigerating it, but it's not really necessary." He explained that the pH in mayonnaise is set at a point that bacteria could not survive in that environment. He then talked about the quaint essential picnic, with the bowl of potato salad sitting on the table and how everyone blames the mayonnaise when someone gets sick.

Ed says that when food poisoning is reported, the first thing the officials look for is when the 'victim' last ate ONIONS and where those onions came from (in the potato salad?). Ed says it's not the mayonnaise (as long as it's not homemade mayo) that spoils in the outdoors. It's probably the onions, and if not the onions, it's the POTATOES.

He explained, onions are a huge magnet for bacteria, especially uncooked onions. You should never plan to keep a portion of a sliced onion.. He says it's not even safe if you put it in a zip-lock bag and put it in your refrigerator.

It's already contaminated enough just by being cut open and out for a bit, that it can be a danger to you (and doubly watch out for those onions you put in your hotdogs at the baseball park!)

Ed says if you take the leftover onion and cook it like crazy you'll probably be okay, but if you slice that leftover onion and put on your sandwich, you're asking for trouble. Both the onions and the moist potato in a potato salad, will attract and grow bacteria faster than any commercial mayonnaise will even begin to break down.

So, how's that for news? Take it for what you will. I (the author) am going to be very careful about my onions from now on. For some reason, I see a lot of credibility coming from a chemist and a company that produces millions of pounds of mayonnaise every year.

Also, dogs should never eat onions. Their stomachs cannot metabolize onions. Please remember it is dangerous to cut onions and try to use it to cook the next day, it becomes highly poisonous for even a single night and creates toxic bacteria which may cause adverse stomach infections because of excess bile secretions and even food poisoning."

As a chef of over 25 years I can attest that commercially made mayonnaise is a benchmark product and is pretty much bulletproof. Cooked potatoes however are highly susceptible to promoting foodborne illness. They are a perfect medium for bacterial growth.

Peeled and/or chopped raw garlic that is stored in an oxygen-void atmosphere (ie- canned or vacuum sealed, or in oil) can harbor the bacteria that causes botulism. I was always taught that but I can't prove it. Has to do with sulfur compounds.

Onions I'm not so sure about. In all my years I can remember twice hearing about onions promoting salmonella (from unreliable sources). I don't remember it from several rounds of sanitation certification, but I don't remember a lot of things. I do know that most foods spoil at some some point and eating spoiled food isn't cool.

We are aware in the foodservice industry that what causes foodborne illness is seldom the most obvious suspect. The biggest culprit is cross-contamination (poor food handling practices) and the greatest safeguard is proper hand washing.

Over my career of 27 years in the biz I am aware (not that there haven't been more) of only one time that someone legitimately got sick eating food from one of my kitchens. One day in 2006 something like 5 staff members of a hospital I worked at in southern California got sick eating tuna salad that was made that day. No explanation ever made sense and we never figured out what caused it.

First of all let's look at what it takes to create foodborne illness. Whole books are written on this topic but I will discuss the most commonly known and feared "food poisoning" scenarios. The ones that most people talk about are Salmonella, Botulism, and E.Coli. These illnesses are caused principally by bacteria, and either by ingesting the actual bacteria or the toxins that the associated bacteria produce (in which case you're probably ingesting the bacteria as well).

Bacteria are living creatures, and like most living creatures they require certain conditions to survive and multiply. We live, sleep, eat, drink, and breathe potentially harmful bacteria all of the time, and our immune systems adapt to their presence. Normally we are perfectly healthy and filled with little critters that we don't know are there.

It's when they are allowed to multiply that they cause problems. To do that they require time (could be hours, could be days), temperature (between 41 and 135 deg. F), food (usually sugar/starch, and protein), moisture, oxygen (though some prefer the absence of oxygen), and the right pH (typically neutral, between 6 and 8 on the pH scale).

Mayonnaise is made from oil, eggs, and vinegar. Due to the addition of lemon juice and/or vinegar commercial mayonnaise has an acidic pH level of 3.8 to 4.6. Bacteria cannot live below 4.5. Interestingly, if you try to make mayonnaise without the acid, you will not get mayonnaise. The acid is required to achieve emulsion. Because of the shelf-life extending qualities of commercial mayonnaise it is often used in the kitchen as a base for other cold sauces and dressings.

Potatoes on the other hand offer the perfect moisture content, food availability, and neutral pH to make critters feel right at home. Even if the surface is coated with caustic mayonnaise the potato itself dilutes the acid content and those little suckers bore inside and set up shop. Leave it on the picnic table for a couple hours and it's on.

Professionally, local and federal health codes dictate that if a prepared food product is allowed to sit in the "danger zone" of 41-135 deg F. for more than 4 hours it must be discarded. Good policy to follow at home as well. So why did the chicken legs that mom always left on the counter overnight never make us sick when we ate them two days later? Who knows.

Basically, buy good quality ingredients from reputable sources, store and prepare them properly, wash your hands, and enjoy your life and your food! We'll all die from food poisoning if something else doesn't kill us first.

By the way, an interesting little tidbit I picked up as a beekeeper a few years back--honey (in its natural and undiluted state) is the only food that cannot and will not spoil. Bees rock! I could argue that there are a few other unspoilable foods (just made another word), but that's another article altogether.

Follow up:

After writing this article I actually stumbled across a Snopes article about the email I received. Funny. An interesting read that concurs with what I have written.

With $160 You Get No Eggroll

2009-12-26T15:59:00.000-08:00

"Talk is cheap, barbers give it away free with haircuts."
- Ancient Chinese Proverb

Ah, Christmas in D.C. I finally got a break and got to visit the world outside of Arkansas, and I’m pleased to report that it’s still there!

My sister lives in Northern Virginia near Washington, D.C. and that’s where I spent the holidays. They had just had a massive winter storm a few days prior, and by Christmas Day there was still nearly a foot of snow on the ground hence a somewhat White Christmas.

Anytime I travel food is always a focal point for me, and this trip was no exception. Though I tend to avoid cooking shows and the Food Network, I had seen a couple of shows somewhere that touted Ben’s Chili Bowl in D.C. I had to go.

Ben’s is a Capitol City tradition that features a typical “grill” menu that specializes in Half-Smokes and Chili. Imagine a chili dog made from a quarter-pound smoked sausage, drowning in top-shelf chili. Add cheese sauce from a can, a double handful of standard 3/8” fries (like Wendy’s), and a Coke. You'll find yourself $12 lighter and covered with killer chili and cheese sauce…and that’s about it.

A coworker had told me of a show he’d seen on the Food Network where Duff Goldman (don’t know who he is but we sat next to his picture) had been to a place in Falls Church, Virginia and had one of his best meals ever. My buddy said that the name of the place was Peking Gourmet Inn and that I should go. Peking Duck he said was the meal in question and the house specialty.

From my experience in my hometown of Charlotte, NC, any restaurant that opened up in a “strip-mall” shopping center either sucked…or…wasn’t good. Peking Gourmet Inn is in a shopping center along with an Asian market, a Middle Eastern market, a bank, an insurance company, and a Thai restaurant plus a couple others. The storefront is about twice as wide as the door and not very impressive.

It was a cold Wednesday night and we arrived about 6:00. We walked into a small and cramped foyer that was mostly filled by the hostess’ podium with nothing else in view but the take-out window and pictures of the owner and several recognizable customers including both Presidents Bush and their wives. Two Chinese girls were frantically studying reservation lists and seating charts, and practically screaming at each other in their native language. It sounded like a Hong Kong auction and I’m still not sure that we ever truly got their attention.

One of the girls never looked up, but asked if we had reservations.

“No.”

They both got a little more frantic, and then one finally said, “You come now, but eat fast…another table coming soon.”

We were whisked into what opened into a huge dining room filled with white-table-cloth appointed tables, each one filled to capacity with well dressed “beautiful people”—half of them Asian. Every wall was covered with more photos of famous customers that included every Congress man and woman in the District. Amazing smells filled the room and an army of tuxedo-clad waiters and busmen danced around the packed house like well choreographed ballerinas.

How long it has been since I smelled, saw, and felt the energy of a REAL restaurant? Oh, Heaven and electricity!

Out waiter’s name was Chao, a 40-something year old Chinese veteran of the industry with a nearly indiscernible accent and a twinkle in his eye. Judging by his mastery of the dining room and the Rolex on his wrist he has been trained by the best (probably European) and been at it for decades. The kind of guy that you have no idea what he just said, but you know you’re in good hands so you just let go and let him drive.

We ordered some drinks and the first item on the menu—a six course meal for 4. Done!

Chao expediently showed up with a round of Hot & Sour Soup and a plate of very different fried noodles. They were round, a little thinner than a pencil, a little softer than the usual, and freshly fried. Everyone at the table remarked that they had never “really” had Hot and Sour Soup until this moment. To me it was hot and sour soup, tasty nonetheless.

I had seen a couple bowls of what looked like sliced chilies on a neighboring table and inquired about them. Chao promptly brought a dish of what he called “hot sauce”. It was a little monkey dish filled with thinly sliced little green Chinese “death chilies” (you know the ones) with a little soy sauce poured over them. I put them on everything with joy!

Next came a plate of Sweet and Sour Cabbage and another of Peking Celery. Now one might say that these were mere fillers, and one would be right, but just let me tell you. To the best of my recollection I haven’t had a vegetable in at least six weeks and these were welcome. Both were essentially raw and served room temperature. Hot would have been just not quite right and cold would’ve been just wrong.

The cabbage was firm, white, and a little curly. Oddly enough I’m not sure what kind of cabbage it was. The only thing I can figure is that it was your basic green cabbage, but only the more tender white center that had been soaked in ice water and dried thoroughly before being tossed in a little vinegar, salt, sugar, and crushed red chili.

The celery had been filleted, peeled, blanched for about 5 seconds to bring out the green, and tossed in a little sesame oil. It’s possible that the oil was in the blanching water. At any rate for the first time in my life I thought celery was really cool. I had an instructor in culinary school that vehemently believed and taught that “celery should be tasted but never seen”. Peking Celery would’ve changed Chef Z’s view.

Next came the main course, the dish we came for—the house specialty, Peking Duck.

It seemed that nearly every table had one. Out comes a little plate with warm, hand-made steamed pancakes covered with a lid to hold in the steam. A bowl of traditional Hoisin sauce, and plates of julienned cucumbers and leeks followed.

And then the duck.

A skilled server brought out a whole duck with the most amazing crispy golden brown skin. She whipped out a Chinese cleaver and began by shaving paper thin pieces of crispy skin. The whole duck is skinned but only the choicest top layer. Next she scraped off the layer of soft fat from between the meat and the outer skin, revealing juicy meat that was as soft as silk and as tender as a mother’s love. It was sliced thin and arranged next to the skin. She went through the entire animal until nothing but a carcass was left. True craftsmanship. With reverence, one by one, we passed around the components and built little stuffed rolls.

We ate the duck!

One bite and then there was dead silence for about 30 seconds. Angels drifted down from the ceiling. Some floated in from all four corners of the dining room, and a few ascended from under our table. They gathered hands and formed a circle around the table. From out of the carcass came a bright light that filled the room. Quite in unison all of the angels made a joyful noise unto the Lord, and danced around the table as in a synchronized swimming musical from the 50’s. It started as the Blue Danube and made a crescendo into a fanfare by Mozart.

We liked the duck!

It was then that plates started flying at our table from all directions. There were huge, plump Ginger Shrimp with Asparagus. The tails were removed, the asparagus was fresh and crisp, the shrimp were cooked perfectly, and tossed with long, matchstick thin strands of fresh ginger that was hand cut by virgins with razor sharp blades hewn from rarest ivory.

There was a plate of beautiful sesame/soy green beans—fresh, green, crunchy, and perfectly seasoned with flavors I’ve never experienced together. A dish of Black Pepper Beef came with a broccoli garnish. It was best described as Chinese pot roast—tender, moist, and exploding with layered flavors from outside to center.

Next we all learned what fried rice is supposed to be. Perfectly cooked individual grains of rice tossed with an equal amount (not an obligatory garnish) of peas, chicken, shrimp, and barbecued pork. OMG! In parts of Asia each grain of rice is considered a representation of the children, and here was no exception. Each grain was treated with individual respect, love, and honor.

We ate what we could and the rest is still in the fridge.

Finally Mango Ice Cream, a bill for $144.00 (plus a well deserved tip), and fortune cookies. Mine said “The day only gets better.” How?

As we were leaving at 8:00 about 200+ people were seated and another 30 were waiting in line for our table. Chao passed us en route to a new table and wished us a Merry Christmas by name. His night was only half over at best.

If you’re ever within 500 miles of Falls Church, VA drop by Peking Gourmet Inn. They actually do have egg rolls on the menu and I imagine they’re good, but not what you go there for and they don’t come with. Be sure to call ahead for reservations.

Stop by Ben’s only if you’re in the neighborhood, and have a Happy New Year!

Molecular Schmeckular

2009-09-27T15:29:00.000-07:00

"Cobbler, stick to thy last"

Those of you who know me know of my previously demonstrated disdain for this "Molecular Gastronomy" thing that's plagued our industry in recent years. I have grown over the course of my career to a place of simplicity. I've enjoyed eating some great meals in some of the nation's best restaurants and the best meals were the ones that were simple but executed well.

Sometimes I think that I've lost my passion when I look at some of these websites with beautiful food that I didn't think of first. So I've tried lately to incorporate some of tenets of M.G. to make me look like I'm a hip, modern chef. It hasn't really worked.

This weekend was the busiest weekend of my entire career. Thirty five or so VIP catering events for 50 to 250 people in 36 hours. Seven chefs flew in from New Orleans and Texas to help out. Quail eggs came from North Carolina at the last minute (because Georgia was flooded and they couldn't get them to me). Lamb racks came by special courier from Memphis because my distributor failed to order them for me. There was green tea powder from Massachusetts that got lost in the mail and didn't show up until 4 hours from plate-up, strawberry powder from California, bonito flakes from Michigan, and chocolates and 23K edible gold leaves from Maryland.

This was Legislative Weekend--the weekend that legislators and major donors come from all over the state to enjoy a lineup of special events designed to make them want to open up their wallets over the next year. This is our centennial year at ASU so the guest list was a little bigger than usual, and the itinerary included a major rock band in concert on campus (The Fray...whoever they are), a football game, a Japanese musical presentation in the Fine Arts Center, and a whole bunch of other stuff for a whole bunch of people.

At times I wondered why I try.

Our P.I.T.A. event planner insisted on a breathtaking display of Waldorf Salad and Ambrosia to be splayed out on a mirror the size of a door on beds of sliced oranges and pineapples. Uh, the 50's called...they want their salads back. And BTW, mirrors and mayonnaise make poor company. We did something different.

Talented chef's from afar hit the proverbial wall on prep night and left before the prep list was done. They didn't bother asking. The day of the big show they arrived over an hour late because their driver overslept from the muscle relaxers he took to ease the pain of a bulging disc that all but paralyzed his right side. I myself suffered back pain and a sore bursitis-ridden shoulder that right now can't even get a PB&J sandwich all the way to my mouth.

By lunchtime Saturday none of us could see straight or stand tall. I had just completely snapped on the event planner lady and screamed so loud I hurt my own ears. I was shaking and almost cried I was so mad. I never get that way! People left the kitchen momentarily to regroup. It was the quietest moment of the weekend. One of those awkward silences that you wish you wouldn't have caused. Hopefully my next blog won't be entitled "God Dammit I Did It Again".

So what does this have to do with molecular gastronomy? Now that you mention it...nothing.

Friday night was a Japanese themed plated dinner for 75 dignitaries and trustees to commemorate the 100 year anniversary. The menu:

Sushi (California Roll, Philadelphia Roll, Crunchy Shrimp Roll, Spicy Tuna Roll, Shrimp Nigiri)

Wasabi, Pickled Ginger, Soy Sauce

Salad of Baby Spinach, Mizuna, Sweet Radish, and Grapefruit, with Rice Wine/Miso Vinaigrette

Roasted Beef Tenderloin with Umami Foam

Spicy Lacquered Eggplant, Zucchini, and Sweet Potato

Banana-Sesame Upside-Down Cake with Strawberry Powder and Green Tea Whipped Cream

We bought the sushi. The idea was that presentations were to be Japanesely minimalistic. The salad was nice...salad. The foam didn't foam. We left the micro greens for the entree back in the kitchen across campus. The banana cake was beautiful and texturally interesting the day before when it was made. Unfortunately it wasn't possible to make them fresh as they should have been. The green tea whipped cream was pretty and tasted interesting, but needed something else...ginger juice maybe...and it went flat by service time. Strawberry powder as a condiment sounds better than it looks or tastes.

Not one of my prouder moments.

Ah well, as Etienne used to always say, "You'll never go broke underestimating the tastes of the American public". As far as I know they were all impressed and happy. I'm finding that many of these events at the college are more about the event than the food. Disheartening but sometimes a saving grace. The tenderloin was "spot on"!

I think that I'll continue experimenting with some of this new stuff. I was really into food science when I was in school 20 years ago. Surely there's something redeeming to it when the top rated restaurant on the planet hangs its hat on the invention of M.G.

Until then I'll keep it in the kitchen until I get good at it.

The Cold, Hard Winter

2009-09-08T20:47:00.001-07:00

It was a cold, hard winter…

That was the first line of a book I started writing a few years ago. I’ve since tabled the book for of a number of reasons. One, the theme kept changing as the storyline developed. It was to be the story of a very bleak period in my life and some of the funny things that happened, some of the harsh drama I endured, and a lot of things I discovered about myself.

It started to become a tale of opinions and cynicism brought on by the world’s injustices. And then I went through a period (which has just recently ended) where I didn’t have a place or the resources to become and remain motivated and inspired to write.

So now, through a series of events that have brought me to point of not being able to sleep tonight, I find myself needing to write and to be read, so I am compromising my commitment to writing a food blog to air my innermost thoughts, struggles, and fears with whatever audience I have left on this nearly abandoned forum.

I went to Google and typed in a burning question that at least for the moment I don’t seem to have the answer to -- “How do I stop being an asshole?”

The first hit took me to a bulletin board where the first entry on the page was this…

The asshole inside me seems to keep getting larger. Masked in alcohol, snide comments and passive aggressive behavior. I can blame it on depression, or a shitty childhood, but really, I have to blame it on myself. I have had so many incredible opportunities, squandered most of them, bitterly, and been a shitty person dressed up as a funny man. I’ve also done some straight up asshole stuff like sleep with my friend’s wife, repeatedly. I can blame this on being lonely and rationalize it, but the fact is, that is something only an asshole would do. Also, little things, like expecting the world to treat you different than it does everybody else. Like I deserve better. That’s super asshole stuff, that is a daily thing. Looking down on people is a big part of it I think. Thinking you’re better than them, and not wanting the friends you have because they’re not good enough… but not liking people who think they’re better than you, or perceiving that… Authority issues? You bet. Asshole? Yes. I don’t like being an asshole. I don’t want to be an asshole, and yet – there it is.

I thought to myself, “now there’s a guy who understands me.” We could be great friends, though we’d probably hate each other by virtue of our impossible and insatiable personalities. I wondered if I had gotten up in my sleep one night and written that myself without realizing it.

So then I followed a link to a free personality quiz designed to inspire me to buy something and I took it (I haven’t bought anything yet).

The result...

You are a Self-Knowing Self-Improving Believer

1.40% of the 207164 people who have taken this quiz are like you.

Oh that’s super! It certainly explains a lot. It explains why I’ve gone through life thinking that I’m misunderstood. Hell, I am…by 98.6% of the people on the planet. No wonder I feel so alone most of the time.

Where’d all this come from? I’ll tell you where. I’ve been getting my ass kicked at this new job the last couple of weeks. I live and work in a town where the labor pool is right shallow, and the demands on our understaffed little enterprise have been relentless for a thus far brief period that seems to be without conclusion.

I have been working 12-16 hours a day for about a month now, and have to retrain most of my staff of 40+ people on a daily basis. I finally had the opportunity to take 2 days off for Labor Day weekend and the phone rang constantly. It was like being at work, except I sat at my “desk” naked and chain smoked while I put out the proverbial fires over the phone and tried to maintain a calm and peaceful demeanor.

My core staff, long-term employees are dropping like flies.

One is retiring at the end of this week, seemingly because she doesn’t like the coworker that has been assigned to assist her with the mundane and simplistic task of maintaining a salad bar. But more likely because she is unpleasantly faced with the inevitable results of the aging process and just doesn’t have the stamina to do the job anymore. It’s always easier to blame someone else.

One quit last week to avoid being fired for stealing from us twice in the last 3 weeks on camera.

One just enacted a leave of absence due to a complete emotional breakdown over her grandson’s recent suicide. Perfectly justified!

One got locked up for a month for reasons unbeknownst.

One walked out last week citing that he just can’t tolerate the work load anymore and he wants to see the world while he’s young.

And one is being forced to quit due to medical problems that quite possibly may soon result in the loss of his right foot. He came to me tonight and asked me if he can return to work after losing the foot because he can’t accept retirement and disability. I hugged him as a tear nearly fell from my eye, and told him that he will always have a job with us if I can help it.

And not unexpectedly, there is a faction of the ones that are left that speculate that all these people are leaving because of me, and they’re spreading rumors about me within upper management that is designed to return them to a lack of supervision that allows them to practice the art of sloth and mediocrity. The dangerous part of it all is that it just may work.

The stress level in my life has soared to unfathomable levels and sometimes…on occasion…however infrequently…it seeps out in ugly ways and unkind words in the “heat of passion”. Doesn’t help matters.

And then there’s my chief nemesis. A woman who I like, enjoy, and respect that is as stubborn and immovable as a house-sized granite mule. She means well and has a desirable level of skill at her assigned job, but we just don’t see things in the same light. Unfortunately, she is the one person that I need to have an indivisible alliance with, and I’m really struggling with this. To all appearances it is impossible for her. She is an island.

She is a manager to whom I am equal on the organizational chart, but she fancies herself (in my opinion) the “lead dog”. She has turned our operation upside down, pissed off everyone around her, and is only interested in pleasing our client 100% at all costs. A noble and just interest, but she doesn’t seem to get that doing so within the boundaries of her vision requires resources and collective talent that we don’t currently possess. She’s not the one that has to do the work…and she doesn’t.

Now mind you, the last 19 years of my life have been for the most part focused on self-improvement (with intermittent success). The last month hasn’t been. It’s been about survival. I hate “survival mode”!

I want very much what most humans do…to be liked, loved, admired, desired, and respected. Funny how God seems to have molded my personality in ways that contradict all that is good and pure in human striving. Then I think that it’s this damned business. Why would he give me this one gift and talent that I can’t use successfully? This has always been my struggle, and in 19 years I have not been able to assign a viable and consistent remedy to it.

So tonight I will have another cigarette and return to bed where I will lie awake for a short while reflecting, praying, meditating, and wondering what I will return to tomorrow morning and how it will all turn out. I will try not to lie awake talking to myself...having that conversation with “her” in which I will tell her everything she deserves to hear in order for me to solve our relational problems by getting my way.

I will try to remind myself that I got this job by asking God to give me the perfect job working for an employer who thinks I’m the perfect employee. And I will continue to look only for my part in the misshapen chaos that has become my career…again!

Namaste

2009-09-04T19:06:00.001-07:00

"The light within me honors the light within you."

Today was one of the days I’ve been waiting for!

Once the school year gets started, we do a “Taste Changer” once a week; something to keep the kids excited and break up the day-to-day routine. We set up a separate buffet table and put out a small spread with a theme. Might be a different culture’s cuisine, could be a table of upscale desserts…one week we’re doing a bunch of different hot cobblers. Just something different. For our first one I chose Flavors of India, mainly because I love Indian food and there ain’t none in Jonesboro, Arkansas.

Our company has been doing a lot of Indian stuff, and there is supposed to be a line of products available to me to pull some off with, but I can’t get it at my place. In fact, here’s a list of a few other things I can’t get:

Lentils, wild rice, Sriracha sauce, rice noodles, whole cumin, whole cardamom, herbal tea, cinnamon sticks, basmati rice, cous cous, Chinese oyster sauce, hoisin sauce, turnips, rutabagas, seedless watermelons…the list goes on and on.

Seems that the nation’s largest wholesale supplier of food has their most ill-stocked branch in Memphis...the home of ribs, the blues, and Elvis. You would think that such a large city would be more amply equipped to handle the tastes of a diverse population, but I guess they’re not really that diverse over there...pretty much just ribs, blues, and Elvis.

It was kind of embarrassing that I could not accurately represent (and celebrate) the world’s most poverty stricken culture because the tiny legume that has prevented them from slipping into extinction for over 3000 years is only available to me in a fancy little 10 pound box at $35.00 (plus shipping) and a one week wait. Oh well.

So we started out the morning toasting about 4 pounds of various whole spices, chopping ginger, garlic, and mint, and opening cans of garbanzo beans and tomato products. The chicken, potatoes, onions, peppers, and eggplant had been cut the day before…about 200# of chicken thighs, 50# of potatoes, and a bushel or so of onions and peppers. We used something like 3 pounds of mint, 5 pounds of ginger, 3 pounds of garlic, 40 pounds of eggplant, and a gallon and a half of olive oil (should’ve been melted butter or “ghee”).

Our bakers cranked out hand rolled “naan” flatbread the night before, and rolled about a gazillion little dough balls that became the most incredible little “galub jamun”. This is India’s one great dessert in my opinion, and I can eat these things all day and night!

They’re made from dry milk powder, flour, baking powder, and yogurt. You deep fry them and plunge them into divine pool of sugar syrup scented with cardamom and rose water. Then you eat the heck out of ‘em!

They were great, but not the only good thing we had. We made as good a batch of Chicken Vindaloo as I’ve ever had, some kickin’ Saag Paneer (curried spinach with cheese), Eggplant and Chickpeas Kottu Style, Vegetable Biryani, and the ubiquitous Mint Chutney and Onion Relish that is customary at most Indian eateries (except ours was better).

The campus Indian organization showed up with a display that rivaled anything that we conjured up (awkward), and as far as I could tell the feast was a complete hit! The only problem was that I was too busy to sit down and eat any of it, and I’m really feeling bad about that now as I sit here and snack on peppered beef jerky and habanero barbecue almonds.

Now here’s a funny thing I learned just the other day about India…

I’ve always known that India is made of mainly of Hindus and Muslims, but you usually only hear about the Hindus. They greatly revere cows and are frequently vegetarians. Throughout India (with some exceptions) you typically don’t see pork on the menu. We’ve hired a number of Indian students this year and it turns out that some of them are Muslims.

How I know this is that last weekend I stopped by to check on a couple guys that were making omelets, and neither of them would put ham in the omelets they were making (which were otherwise very beautifully crafted). Even with gloves on and 8” tongs they refused to handle the ham at this time of the year citing the fact that we are in the middle of Ramadan.

Ramadan (for those unfamiliar) is the month long Muslim holy season during which Muslims (among other customs) are not to eat while the sun is up, and are apparently not to have any contact whatsoever with pork. So I've got a third non-Muslim employee standing between serving only the purpose of applying ham to the occasional egg pan.

I asked one of the guys who refused to handle pork during Ramadan if he was fasting. He said, “No, I’m not that orthodox”.

I like Galub Jamun!

Feeding the 5000

2009-08-30T10:06:00.001-07:00

Jesus did it with just a couple loaves of bread and a fish or two…and we did it with 45 dozen eggs, 4 or 5 cases of Pillsbury biscuits, several gallons of non-sausage gravy, 60 pounds of bacon, 250 pounds of pork barbecue, a mountain of macaroni & cheese, 400 or so hamburgers, 150 pounds of flank steak, 120 pounds of roasted turkey breast (with cranberry sauce, gravy, and dressing), several cases of “imitation” shrimp (didn’t know it existed), a ton of cookies, rolls, cake, and the likes, a couple hundred pizzas (when we could get ‘em out), and a whole bunch of other stuff. And we’ve repeated the miracle everyday this week!

I never saw anything like it, but what a rush! We pulled it off and everyone was happy.

Classes are officially in session at ASU and playtime is over.

It was a fun time this summer though and we did some fun stuff. A few weeks ago we prepared one of the nicest dinners I’ve done in years.

Pan Seared Tuna with Wasabi Potato Salad, Asian Chili Sauce, and Pickled Onions

Crab and Avocado Salad with Salmon Tartare, Citrus Cream, Vanilla Bean Essence, and Sesame/Ginger Crackers

Champagne/Black Currant Granite

Boneless Southern Quail stuffed with Wild Mushrooms, Smoked Ham, and Leeks over Red Quinoa and Black Pepper Demi-Glace

Pork Tenderloin and Pan Seared Sea Scallop with Cucumber “Noodles”, Port/Soy Glaze, and Spicy Corn Salad

Chef’s Selection with Grapes, Apples, and Toasted Nuts

Panna Cotta with Honey, Fresh Figs, Toasted Hazelnuts, and Blueberry Leather

Flavored Handmade Marshmallows and Chocolates

This was a meal for about 36 people that we do every year. The host is a friend of the Chancellor and Vice Chancellor, and a world traveler with a discriminating palate. When it was all over, my staff and I received a standing ovation, and a letter of praise the next morning stating that it was the best meal ever prepared for this event.

Over the course of the summer we made a lot of food for summer camp groups of 15 to 450, with as many as 1000 per meal period during the height of the season. And I found out the hard way that young children apparently don’t care for lima beans or shrimp & grits. Football players eat the hell out of most anything you put out (especially lasagna), and women volleyball players are cuter than cheerleaders (they like lasagna too).

The school year kicked off last Sunday night with a customary Luau that was attended by about 1000 students, mostly new to ASU, complete with roasted pig, plastic leis and karaoke.

We had a couple of casualties over the summer too.

A retail supervisor stopped by one Saturday night/Sunday morning and helped himself to $1000 out of the safe (that he had a key to). Told the police he was gambling and needed the money. Said that he thought he would make it back and return it, but “that didn’t work out”. He’s doing 2 years.

One of my catering staff kidnapped his son from his wife and fled to Florida, where he intended to find a job, live with relatives, and file for divorce. A few weeks later the wife went to Florida and got the kid. Now the cook is back in Arkansas minus a wife, a kid, and a job.

Another cook left work one day and shoplifted something from a nearby store. She was wearing her chef coat with company logo and her name embroidered on it. Police stopped by work the next morning looking for her, but she’s never been back.

My boss, who I love dearly, was reassigned to another campus in Missouri at our client’s request.

And one of our banquet servers was arrested for molestation of a minor and possession of child pornography. He won’t be back.

Hell, even I got a ticket from a campus policeman for running a stop sign…but I’m fighting that one next week in court. I didn’t really run the stop sign (I don’t think). I’ll let you know what happens.

So there’s no telling what’ll be next. Football season starts next weekend and supposedly I’m in for a whole new color in my paint box.

Until next time…

What In The Hell Is Chocolate Gravy?

2009-04-28T21:43:00.000-07:00

I don't know, but they sure lap it up in northeast Arkansas!

It's the end of another semester for students at Arkansas State University and exams begin tomorrow. To fuel the late night study sessions we put on a "late night" breakfast that couldn't be beat. I don't know how one would go forth and retain vital academia tonight, but they are certainly well fed.

From 9 o'clock to about 10:15 tonight we fed about 800 students sausage, eggs, bacon, ham, grits, hashbrowns, oatmeal, rice (Arkansas thing), pancakes, french toast, biscuits and gravy--and chocolate gravy. Imagine my mom's amazing chocolate cream pie filling (basically a chocolate pastry cream made with flour instead of cornstarch) thinned down a little and served warm. They gobbled up three gallons of the stuff and I made 3 more gallons on the fly. Wow!

We also put out a chocolate fountain. Anyone who went to a wedding in the 90's should be familiar with this foul appliance that features molten chocolate cascading down a series of tiers to drench spectator wielded skewers adorned with strawberries, pretzels, marshmallows, and the likes.

And, we did a "waffles and ice cream" bar that blew me away with lack of attendence. Who wouldn't drool over crispy hot waffles piled high with ice cream, chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and any number of your standard sundae toppings? The same people that pour warm pudding over a biscuit and call it heaven, that's who.

When I spent my externship summer on the Jersey shore I became addicted to waffles and ice cream at Seaside Heights on the boardwalk. Must be a northern thing.

Now chicken-n-waffles I totally don't get, but that's another story. I think that's a southern thing from a different South than I grew up in.

Anyway, I was going to tell you more about my journey to Arkansas, but I never got around to writing it, and the more I thought about it the less exciting it became.

There was a stopover in Memphis at the infamous Rendezvous rib joint. These ribs have been written about by every food writer that has ever visited Memphis, and I was inspired by them back in '99 myself. But in 2009 "the thrill is gone". Dry, not-so-meaty, tough, and over-priced.

Then there was a week in Pittsburgh where I failed to dine at one of America's most famous sandwich shops, Primanti Brothers, though I walked by it half a dozen times. Stupid.

I did stop into Essie's Original Hot Dog Shop and had what Gourmet Magazine once named America's 4th Best Hot Dog. It was #1 on my list so far! All the locals made fun of me for paying $6.00 for a hot dog, but what do they know? I'd do it again every time!

I asked my Pitt connection for good Italian within walking distance. He directed me about 6 blocks away (in the snow) to Joe Mama's, home of the 1/2 pound meatball. I had one...on a bed of the worst spaghetti I've ever had, tossed in the worst sauce imaginable. The spaghetti had been under-salted and over-cooked the day before, and then to add insult to injury they reheated it in a strainer held under running hot water out of the tap--and they didn't shake off the excess water. The big-ass meatball was pretty good though. Hell, who could hate a meatball the size of a baby's head?

The walls are covered with ubiquitous autographed head shots of celebrities that have graced the place since the 60's. I was seated next to a late 70's era (Jerry's hair was still black) promo shot of the Grateful Dead with the inscription, "Thanks Joe. Your pasta is to DIE FOR! - The Grateful Dead"

To warm up the cold pasta in my belly they brought me out about a pound-and-a-half of steaming hot white chocolate bread pudding swimming in melted white chocolate and bourbon. I told the server I would need to change my shorts. I didn't feel it necessary to tell her that I wasn't wearing any, but I thought about it. Coulda been the whiskey.

Other than the bread pudding and the Dead pic--and the cute college girls--Joe Mama's sucks!

So now I'm back in Arkansas and I absolutely love my new job! After a life of fine-dining and food snobbery I find it a far more exhilarating challenge to make school food look and taste good! If you'd have told me 20 years ago where I'd be today I'd have laughed--just before I pulled the trigger. But knowing what I know now I wouldn't be anywhere else!

Check back soon...there'll be some good ones come from this!

Oh, did I tell you I saw Elvis sitting at a bus stop in front of Graceland on my way through Memphis? Next time maybe.

On The Road...Again

2009-04-07T19:53:00.001-07:00

I am happy to report...no...THRILLED...to report that I have left my home town of Charlotte, NC once again! On my birthday, April 6, I began as Executive Chef at Arkansas State University in Jonesboro, Arkansas.

Jonesboro is the 5th largest city in Arkansas and one of the most progressive. We are in the northeast corner of the state about 70 miles from Memphis, Tennessee. Nestled among hundreds of thousands of acres of rice, corn, cotton, and soybeans, Jonesboro is a home to Riceland Foods (the world's largest rice grower and manufacturer) as well as many other well known companies. Nestle and Frito Lay also have a large presence.

I work for Sodexo, one of the largest contract foodservice companies in the world. I must say that so far I am quite impressed with my company's commitment to excellence and to its employees. They've sure been nice to me!

Arkansas State has a student population of around 11,000 and specializes in agriculture, but offers a comprehensive list of education programs and has an active athletic program.

As is usually the case with my many travels and relocations, I have spent some time during the move checking out some well known eateries and getting my fill of yummy Americana.

My last couple nights at home featured mom's amazing chocolate cream pie and a goodbye dinner with half a dozen close friends at one of Charlotte's few decent Thai restaurants (Thai Taste). The little Thai people lit me up with Red Curry Crispy Duck (#6 heat on a scale from 1-5). My hair began sweating and I went into hallucinations. Why the Chinese place around the corner couldn't do that for me I'll never know.

Day one of the journey led me to my old friend Joe Scully's place in Asheville, The Corner Kitchen. Joe and I were at CIA around the same time, though we never met until years later. He returned after graduation and did a fellowship at the Institute. He worked for Mark Ericsson, CMC (Certified Master Chef) at Cherokee Town and Country Club outside of Atlanta where he and the Chef developed a company called Woodsmoke Provisions (and the country's best smoked salmon), and he served as Executive Chef at the United Nations building in NYC.

Today Chef Scully is co-owner of arguably the top restaurant in Asheville, NC where he changes the menu daily and feeds more people than he can seat. He fed me an Italian Cuban Sandwich with Joe's Veggie Chips and Pea Salad, and a nearly authentic Key Lime Pie (he's made a couple small liberties that add a little pizazz to the original).

The sandwich featured turkey, prosciutto, smoked mozzarella, chimichurri aioli, tomatoes, and arugula (sorry, no pickles on mine) layered between two pieces of foccacia and pressed on a hot grill. Perfect!

My server talked me into the pea salad. I knew it would have mayonnaise in it (another no-no for me) and I hesitated. Boy was I glad I went for it! Green peas that I'd swear were freshly shucked are tossed with sugar snaps, sour cream, red onion, and bacon...oh...and just a little mayo. What a simple and fabulous way to kick off spring!

I knew Joe's chips well. Remember Terra Chips, those overpriced crisps made from a variety of tropical root vegetables? Joe does the same thing, but his are made fresh a couple times a day. Sometimes you can get 'em still warm. Thin slices of roots like potato, plantain, and taro are slow fried in clean oil to make them light and crispy without darkening their color or adulterating their delicate flavors with too much caramelization.

I left The Corner Kitchen feeling so healthy, and it was great to see Joe. You should stop by an see him too next time you're in the NC mountains. You'll be glad you did. Tell him I sent you.

Next stop Memphis, home of barbecue and blues! Stop back soon to see what happened!

On A Personal Note

2009-03-24T22:34:00.000-07:00

For a number of years I have done private/personal chef work either as a main job or as supplemental income. Back in the 90's I started doing this stuff with a buddy and colleague and we named our little business Professional Home Dining (PHD for short).

The whole thing kicked off with a high-end wine dinner for a guy here in Charlotte that had something to do with the Charlotte Hornets basketball team. Never figured out if he was a doctor, or a lawyer, or what he was.

I've had the opportunity to offer my services as an item for charity auctions. Those are always fun, and it's amazing how frenzied the bidders get about any chef at all.

In Phoenix I served as personal chef for the President/CEO of the Fender guitar company Bill Shultz and his wife Mary Jane. [I also groomed their little Bichon Frise, Molly].

I've had a lot of fun getting to know people over the years and serving their most candid culinary desires! In all of the free time I've had lately I've put a lot of effort into learning how to design a website...so I have one now! I'm about to embark on a new journey and a new chapter in my career (tell you more about that later), but I'll always be around to do private events, cooking lessons, demos, and professional consulting.

I finally finished my website and this is just a quick note to invite you along...

Professional Home Dining
(professionalhomedining.com)

See you there!

PS- Those plump, delicious looking Morels up top there were actually discovered and plucked from the ground by yours truly in the spring of 2006 at Beech Mountain, NC!

Star@ucked

2009-03-17T09:15:00.000-07:00

"There's something happening here. What it is ain't exactly clear."
- Stephen Stills

Ever think about some of the food you loved as a kid, or even more recently? Ever wonder why you can't get it anymore? Me too.

Change is good--sometimes. But sometimes I don't get what people are thinking. I was just reminiscing about some of the fast food giants in America and the products they offered that made them what they were.

A few years ago (probably close to 20 now that I think about it) there was a a little fast-food restaurant named Frank-R-Furters that had a slogan, "What America needs is a good 19-cent hamburger." They had hamburgers for 19 cents, and cheeseburgers were something like a quarter. I stopped in and got a couple one day...and after consuming them with all the gusto of a hound dog I said to myself, "You know...what America needs is a GOOD 19-cent hamburger."

Frank-R-Furters didn't last. And there was another group that tried to cash in on the obvious success of the fast-food genre by offering a low-cost burger that was delivered via drive-thru with lightning speed. Can't remember their name, but I drove through one day and ordered a plain cheeseburger. I don't do vegetables or condiments (I know...weird), and when I say plain I mean PLAIN. A patty, slice of cheese, and two pieces of bread. That's all I'm looking for. So the voice on the other end of the speaker box say, "All of our burgers come with ketchup, mustard, and a pickle. We can't make them any other way. Would you like one of ours?"

No.

Seriously. Is it a surprise they didn't make it to Christmas that year?

Just last night I had the experience of a lifetime. I'm still scratching my head over this one.

I don't drink coffee like I used to, and frankly since the first Starbucks opened in my town in 1996 or so I was sucked in and seldom open my mind to anything else. I have often defended them to the opposition by stating that if anyone else was able to produce such a high quality product with such consistency they would be as successful as Starbucks too. I even worked for the caffeine magnate for a short time.

Through a series of events in early 2000 I cut out the regular stuff and only drink decaf now, and I stopped by an oft visited branch last night for a cup. After some confusion the cute little barista girl looked at me and I thought she was about to ask what I wanted. It was kind of weird because she took my friend's order and then went back to doing her cleaning tasks, having never said a word to me. She thought that I had already been helped, though it never occurred to her that I had walked in with the guy whose order she had just taken, and that she was the only one taking orders. How could she have...oh, nevermind.

Another barista walked up and I ordered a small decaf coffee. He rang me up, took my money, and then walked off. After a couple of minutes he came back and it occurred to him that no one was making my order. Must have been the perplexed expression on my face. So he says, "Oh, I thought she had already made your order, plus we don't make decaf after 12-noon. I can make you an Americano (espresso and hot water) or something else."

So when you took my money for the small decaf, what did you mean by that exactly?

"Can you make me an Americano for the same price as the regular cup of coffee?"

"I guess so."

"Because I would expect that"

"Well", he responded snottily, "It's not our policy, but I'll do it this time."

OK, let's review this deal here... You're Starbucks. You make and sell coffee. IT'S ALL YOU DO!

You make two kinds...regular and decaf. There is nothing else. Okay, yeah sure, there are some with milk, some with froth, some with chocolate, some with flavored syrups, some cold or even frozen...but essentially you make regular and decaffeinated COFFEE.

JUST DO THAT!

When did you decide that after 12 o'clock in the afternoon you would cut your product line in half, thereby forcing your loyal customers who drive out of their way to get to you, and don't want to drink a mug full of speed at bedtime, to pay more for being your customer? Why do you think that this is acceptable?

This is where it starts.

When I was younger Wendy's slogan was "Hot and Juicy". They had an ad campaign that implied that you had to have a huge stack of napkins to eat one of their burgers. California's Carl's Jr. revived this long deceased campaign with, "If it doesn't get all over the place, it doesn't belong in your face." Of course, then they put Paris Hilton out there as one of the spokespeople for this concept...'nuff said.

When's the last time you ate at Wendy's? Was it either hot or juicy? Not mine. Why did they discontinue this line of marketing? Was it because they changed their products and they could no longer back up the claims? Or was it because our culture sickened to the point that the Hot & Juicy slogan began to be associated with little Wendy and not her daddy's delicious burgers?

They had a chicken sandwich that was incredible. Chicken Cordon Bleu. Nice, tender, moist, fried chicken breast with high quality thin-sliced ham, Swiss cheese (that melted onto the chicken), and a sauce made from Grey Poupon mustard. Man was that thing tasty. Can't get it anymore. Why?

They had a burger too that they threw on as a special from time to time. Couple patties on a soft cornmeal-dusted bun with grilled onions and cheddar cheese sauce. Might have had some bacon involved as well. Now that was a good burger, and it brought back the need for mucho napkins! Can't have that one today either. But then again, today no amount of bubbling liquid cheese would effectively counteract the powder dry squares of lukewarm ground meat on little Wendy's sagging buns.

When I was a kid I looked forward to getting a Yumbo from Burger King, and an Ice Br-Gr (burger). The Yumbo was simply a hot ham and cheese sandwich on a sesame seed bun. The ham was piled high and tender, and the cheese may have been that white American stuff, or maybe not, but it was a damned good sandwich for when you're just tired of burgers. The Ice Br-Gr was a little frozen juice dessert, kind of like a popsicle without a stick. I know they had grape and I don't remember what else, but it was yummy. All that was back when Burger King "flame broiled" everything. Today about the only time you see a flame at a Burger King is if you accidentally catch the cooks smoking crack out by the dumpster.

Church's Chicken used to have chicken legs the size of my arm. Oversized pieces of chicken were their trademark. Not anymore. Today Hooter's wings are bigger than Churches legs (though Church's breasts are real), and you have to ask for the jalapeno that they used to throw in whether you wanted it or not.

And there was a Holly Farms chicken place that invented those soft, spicy batter-dipped potato wedges that you can only get at low-end grocers and truck stops now. Damn those things were good.

Little Caesar's always had crappy pizza, but they used to have this sandwich called the Big Deal Veal. One of those little fried mystery-meat breaded veal patties was enrobed in pretty decent marinara and a slice of provolone, and then stuffed into a half of a pita pocket. I could down those suckers by the six pack on a Friday night during my high school daze. I still crave them today and I'm coming up on my 25th high school reunion.

When I lived in California the first time Carl's Jr. won me over with a Western Steak Sandwich that featured a grilled, chunked-and-formed (though you'd never know it) steak on a soft sub roll with bacon, barbecue sauce, cheese, and onion rings. I'd eat those things twice a day. And on the off days I'd get the Spicy Western Chicken Sandwich that combined a fried breast with Pepper Jack cheese and chunky bacon ranch sauce. Damn! Both delectables were gone when I returned 5 years later. Too bad Carl. Guess it's just In-N-Out for me now.

Now there's a burger place. Never been to In-N-Out? Don't know what to tell you. They have burgers, fries, milkshakes, and sodas. Nothing fancy. But for some reason they do it better than anyone else in the biz, though you have to head west to find out for yourself.

Dairy Queen used to have the best burgers--and ice cream too. Not anymore. I still crave the footlong cheese dogs that dad used to take me to get at Wiener King (long deceased). Cadbury Creme Eggs and Reese's Cups seem to get smaller every year, and I'd swear that Hershey's Kisses are made from different chocolate and that M&M's changed something in the flavoring of the candy shells.

I know it's tough. Being a chef and a 25 year veteran of the food business I am fully aware that customers are like fish. They troll around mindlessly until the next shiny thing passes catches their eye and they're gone. Human nature stuff. And just when you think you've got it all figured out, the rules change

You know who hasn't changed? Two places... McDonalds and a handful of Greek owned neighborhood grills and "greasy spoons" in town. Two in particular in my town, Zack's and Mr. K's, have been going since before I was born, and they have the same size of the same burger that they've been making since their inception. That's why I keep going back. The original owners of both are still alive, but their kids run the businesses. I'm on a first name basis with them, and it saddens me to see some new concepts coming in and stealing their customers.

Every town has at least one. My all-time favorite is actually in Spartanburg, SC--The Beacon Drive-In. I've written about them before. They ain't changed nothin' in 60 years!

And Mickey D's? The same old phrase, "It ain't great, but it's always the same. You know what you're gonna get". That's why they're the most successful business in the history of food. Always will be.

Why can't everyone else just get that?

No More Loafin' Around

2009-02-08T19:23:00.000-08:00

Ya know that bread you get at restaurants that's so good that you can't stop eating it? You gorge yourself on it. You were hungry when you got there and you asked for some bread right away just to soothe the pangs.

The waiter brings the bread. It's warm and fresh. Steam rises out of the basket. You pick up a slice, slather it with too much butter and take a bite. A little mound of butter slides off the side of the slice as if it were surfing down a melted golden wave that didn't soak in fast enough.

Your eyes close and you sigh to yourself as the planet stops spinning and time stands still. All is silent in the world, and for a moment you are sensuously in touch with nothing but the deep, yeasty saveur -- the crunch of the crust, the slight chew of the crumb, and the briny creaminess of the butter that's sumptuously melting off of your bottom lip.

That's what I did tonight for dinner, and I never left home! I finally achieved bread.

This was the best bread I've ever had in my life and I made it myself with nothing but all-purpose flour, water, salt, a tiny bit of yeast, and no kneading whatsoever. Unbelievable!

I made the dough last night before I went to bed. Must've been around midnight or so. I left it out on the counter at room temperature. When I looked at it again it was nearly 1:00 pm, 13 hours later. It was starting to look like bread! It had nearly doubled, but I wanted to make sure that it picked up every nuance of excellence that it could. After all, I've been working on this project for nearly two weeks.

About 4:30 this afternoon I pulled the soft, bubbly, living mass onto a flour drenched towel, shaped it into an elongated loaf, and let it sit for another two hours. It doubled again.

Following Jim Lahey's directions I placed a heavy walled Dutch oven and lid in to the oven for 30 minutes at 450 degrees F. Once the pan was hot I carefully (but not gracefully) lobbed the flour covered loaf into it, placed the cover on, and shoved it in for 20 minutes.

The hot covered container serves a couple of purposes.

The secret to amazing crust is steam. Commercial bakeries that produce high quality European style breads often have ovens that automatically inject steam for the first half of the baking period. Without it you cannot develop good crust.

The enclosed blazing hot space of the Dutch oven holds in moisture from the dough and simulates the effect of the steam oven.

The bottom and sides of the Dutch oven are so hot that the dough doesn't stick at all. The other incredible benefit of this process is that the searing hot surface duplicates the bottom of a brick oven for that old world taste and texture that is equally difficult to duplicate without the proper equipment. Plus, you get what some call "burnt" but quality bakers call "French sunshine" (you want this on this kind of bread).

The result of the whole process is a rustic looking loaf (maybe a little too rustic on this first attempt) with rich crackling crust, large chewy crumb with big holes, and a depth of flavor that cannot be described in words.

The best part -- anybody that can operate a measuring spoon can make bread just like this.

We paired the bread with some awesome barbecued chicken, some perfectly cooked haricot vert in a light mustard and shallot sauce, and capped it off with a dish of Mom's famous southern peach cobbler a la mode.

Daddy always said that, "Few black women and no white folks at all make peach pie like your mama." He was right about that...and I suspect he would've approved equally of the bread.

An hour or so after the cobbler dissipated I went after a couple more slices with some honey! I can hardly wait 'til breakfast.

(Unkle Chef is making some home cured bacon with some kickin' naturally raised pork belly from up the road a'piece. Check back next week for a collaborative BLT!)

When Life Gives You Lemons...

2009-02-07T21:50:00.000-08:00

I made a comment a couple posts ago about how people have been making bread since the beginning of time, so it can't possibly be too difficult.

Well, as it turns out...two weeks into my research on sourdough I haven't produced the first crumb of anything you could call "bread". I have nearly as many different starters as Heinz has sauces (kidding), and I can't even make a cupcake.

Tell you what I did make though...

The current recession that has caused me (and a bunch of other folks) to be out of work going on three months has brought up a renewed interest in beans. Tonight I made a bangin' pot of chili with a leftover Latin-flavored pork tenderloin, some black beans, a can of Ro*tel spicy diced tomatoes, and a couple of chipotles. And, I quickly threw together what I shall call Sourdough Corn Blini.

They're too bread-like to be a johnnycake, too light to be called bread, too thin to be a muffin, too thick to be a pancake, and they are partially yeast-raised. Thus, blini.

Here's the recipe:

1/2 cup Sourdough Starter
1/2 cup Flour
1/2 cup Cornmeal (we use white cornmeal in my part of the south)
1/2 cup Milk
1 Egg
1/2 tsp Kosher Salt
1 tsp Sugar
1-1/2 tsp Baking Powder

Mix all ingredients together to make a smooth, thick batter. Let set for 1 hour at room temperature or overnight in the fridge.

Heat up a griddle or skillet to medium heat, coat with melted butter, and spoon batter onto the surface like you're making pancakes. You can make them any size you'd like. Mine were nearly 3 inches across when they were done.

They should cook fairly slow, as they will rise to about 3/8" thick, and you want to be sure they cook through. Mine took about 3 minutes per side. If they're cooking too fast then turn the heat down a bit. They're best served right away!

These blini were just awesome with the chili I made. They were fairly light and fluffy with a slight sweetness and just enough cornmeal profile to make them taste "different", but not enough to make them taste like cornbread (which I don't care for). I had the last couple with some butter and some blueberry preserves that a friend had given me.

I thought that these things were so quick, easy, tasty, and neutral that they would be good with jalapenos and cheese folded in, maybe some chopped bacon and shallots, or even on the sweet side with some blueberries folded in. I might prefer dried blueberries to fresh, or even another dried fruit like cranberries or cherries!

Back to sourdough... I made this great video of the breadmaking process to share with you, but when the dough hadn't risen but about 10% in 16 hours I decided to pitch it and not waste your time with the video.

What I have done is gone to the Sullivan Street Bakery site and put together Jim's recipe for No-Knead Bread. This is what I was shooting for to begin with, but was using a modification to allow for sourdough starter instead of yeast.

Go to his site and check out the recipe. If I end up with bread tomorrow I'll let you know.

Damn, I'm starting to feel like I've spent 25 years of my life to get to the point where I know nothing. Maybe that's not a bad thing.

Cheers!

PETA Bred?

2009-02-01T20:22:00.000-08:00

WARNING

EXPLICIT LANGUAGE

If this guy doesn't offend you then keep reading...

I have sooo had enough of PETA. Seriously. Who in the fuck are these people? If you're just tuning in, it's People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.

I totally get not clubbing baby seals. They're amazingly cute. They can't have much meat on them, and who would want a seal fur coat?

I used to live near the California coast and would often drive to a beach where you can view literally hundreds of elephant seals sunbathing. I dig the seals. There was another beach I frequented where it was not uncommon to see seals and otters playing and feeding in the surf just a few yards away from me. Cool!

But, I can also tell you that I knew some restaurateurs at Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco that loved seals like most people love pigeons or roaches. The place is overrun with the damned things. They're noisy and they make a mess. Tourists don't know any better - they think they're cute and they feed them constantly. They're like stray cats and raccoons. You can't get rid of 'em.

Honestly though, I've always lived in urban America where we have an absolute excess of everything a human being could possibly want. I've never wanted for anything and have at times been embarrassed in certain company over how fortunate we are as a culture. But what about cultures that aren't as fortunate as we are (which is most of the world)?

Have you ever seen a row of tomato plants and an igloo in the same picture? In all the photos and video footage you've seen over the years of Mt. Everest and the Himalayas how many gardens have you seen? How many vegetables have you seen growing out of those rocks and glaciers? How about west Texas, southern Arizona, New Mexico, the California High Desert, and the Sonoran Desert of northern Mexico. Ever been there? How many cacti and dried chilis do you think you could eat?

Do you know why people in Southeast Asia and remote Africa eat bugs? Because they have to. So, If I was starving and the only thing I could see for miles was snow, ice, and a baby seal I would beat that little bastard silly!

I suppose that it's okay that whaling is illegal in the U.S. Not sure I'd want to eat a whale. And I don't hunt because a) I could never shoot an unarmed animal. I love animals. And b) I don't eat game. But here's the thing. God made certain animals specifically so humans could eat them! Read the book! It's in there. Start at Genesis and make your way through to the New Testament. We're supposed to have complete and total mastery and control over animals, and WE'RE SUPPOSED TO EAT THEM!

In fact, here's how important this was to God (years before PETA); Noah was to take one pair of each and every land animal onto the ark, but he was instructed to take 7 pairs of each animal that had been designated by God for eating (they're listed later on in the book).

PETA even has a site devoted to proving that God and Jesus intended us to be veg-heads. Okay, but if you want to take the bible literally let's go back to the old testament where for a couple thousand years animals were senselessly sacrificed on a daily basis (in the church even) to please God and to atone oneself for one's sins and indiscretions.

Um...ever heard of "loaves and fishes"?

Here's the newest. According to PETA we're supposed to refer to fish as "sea kittens". We're supposed to stop eating fish. We're supposed to stop fishing, or "hunting sea kittens". Seriously? Adopt a fish? Give a fish new hope? There's even a little activity page where you can design your own sea kitten. There's little sea kitten clothes, and little sea kitten sunglasses...I wish they had a little sea kitten machine gun.

Give me a fucking break!

PETA suggests that by switching to a vegetarian lifestyle "you can save more than 100 animals a year". Alright, let's do the math.

Let's say that the 300 million people in our country stop eating animals tomorrow. By the beginning of February 2010 there will be more than an additional 30 billion animals roaming, shitting, and breeding in the United States alone.

Where should we put them? Are they to roam the streets like the anemic cows do in India? Ever seen one of these cows in the National Geographic. They're poverty stricken and malnourished too. If Indians would get over the idea that cows are their long passed relatives and start slaughtering them for food, the largest population of starving people on the planet would be instantly well fed! Problem solved!

What would happen if we as a species stopped eating all animals for 10, 20, 30 years? Ever think about that? There's no birth control being practiced out there where the buffalo roam. Who do you think would be in charge of the world then?

PETA has a page devoted to saving chickens across America from a poor upbringing. The page is titled Kentucky Fried Cruelty. On the homepage Pamela Anderson (whore) is all dolled up (like a whore) in a video touting a ban on KFC. As far as I can tell she keeps her clothes on and her legs together in this video. Maybe she's pissed off because all the hormones are causing the birds' breasts to plump up bigger than hers (rubber and salt water).

She is joined on her Crusade of Stupidity by numerous other celebrities including Tommy Lee (Pam's ex john and porn partner), Richard Pryor (dead for 4 years now), the Dalai Lama (vegetarian, moot point), and Rev. Al Sharpton (need I say more?).

You wanna attack the slaughterhouses, feed lots, and poultry farms? Fine. Do it. Do it because they could do a better job, and because humans will benefit in the long run by having tastier and more nutritious food. There's a huge trend right now in holistic farming. Follow that, but don't tell me I shouldn't eat meat.

Altogether PETA has 66 different websites that specialize in a different angle to carry their message. Really...SIXTY-SIX! You can go here and count for yourself. Do you know of any company or organization that has (or needs) sixty-six websites to carry their message?

Here's one of the better ones...www.milksucks.com.

First line on the page:

"Have some … pus with your cookies? If you down a glass of cow’s milk, you will. It may be white, but researchers say that every cupful contains somatic cells, i.e., pus."

Jesus! So we're just supposed to drink water, juice, and soy-goddamn-milk, and eat roots, stalks, and leaves?

Comedian Ron White said it best I think:
"I didn't climb to the top of the food chain to eat carrots."

Here's a website for ya -- how about www.peta-sucks.com.

What brought all this on?

PETA had a commercial set for the 2009 Super Bowl promoting vegetarianism, but it got banned. It featured attractive, lingerie clad women using vegetables in provocative ways, with the tag line, "Vegetarians have better sex." They proudly make it available on their website here, along with their sarcastic rebuttal to NBC for rejecting the spot.

Their campaign is based on the concept (stated as a fact) that vegetarians make better lovers. Let me tell you something -- first of all the models they used for their commercial are not likely vegetarians. Second of all, I've dated a couple vegetarians. Great lovers they weren't. Something about being "meat shy" if you get my drift.

I wish I had a nickel for every customer I've cooked for that had special needs because they were vegetarians. "I can eat eggs, dairy, and fish." Guess what? Fish and cheese ain't vegetables. Eggs are chicken! And true vegans - another planet altogether. Hey, I'm not knocking it really. God knows my diet shouldn't support life at all. I can't remember the last time I ate a vegetable. All I'm asking for is the right to meals without persecution.

They've even got a cookbook..."Cooking With PETA". How about "Cooking With Pets"? Okay, listen...I love animals. I love my dog and have kept fish, snails, snakes, ferrets, turtles, rabbits, cats, birds, lizards, toads, and even a praying mantis once I think. I never ate one of them. And I believe strongly in adopting pets, closing down "puppy mills", spaying and neutering, rescuing injured or abandoned animals, and keeping pets indoors as much as possible. Pets are to be loved -- not eaten and not to be used as lawn accessories.

But God meant damn well for me to eat steaks, bacon, and cheeseburgers. He meant for ice cold milk from a cow to go with warm cookies. I love the AFLAC duck, but not as much as a steaming bowl of crispy Thai red curry duck. AFLAC this! And while Babe is one of my favorite movies, I rarely turn down an opportunity to eat a pig.

Sea Kittens? Fuck You!

Day 3 - We Have Achieved Fermentation!!!

2009-01-29T21:11:00.000-08:00

Well, last night when I took the pictures I was excited...

These are taken at the 32 hour mark. Clearly the yeast has settled in and there is bonafide fermentation taking place. Hooray!You can tell just by looking at the level and the bubbles from the side view that something has changed radically since the same time the day before. From the directions that I am following I was expecting it to be days before this would happen. Not sure what this means about the cleanliness of my house.

Now check out what was happening just 4 hours later! Man, it's the Attack of the Killer Yeast! Very exciting. I went to bed expecting that this morning the starter will have blown up to the rim of the container and I can give it a feeding and put it away.

But then..

This morning it looked the same. I went ahead and fed it a cup of water and a cup of flour, and let it set out at room temp for a few hours. I did not see additional activity at this point and was a little concerned. Hmmm.

I went ahead and mixed up a little dough to see what would happen. The recipe I used is loosely based on a formula for "No-Knead" Bread from Jim Lahey at Sullivan Street Bakery in NYC! This is the bread I intend to make first.

Sounds really easy and really awesome! Check out the video from Jim and the New York Times at YouTube.

Here is the formula that I am using as an ingredient modification with Jim's method unaltered:

1 cup Sourdough Starter
1 cup Distilled Water
2 teaspoons Kosher Salt
3 cups Flour

I think that I will prefer King Arthur bread flour, but that's not what I had on hand to start with today. I just used some all-purpose schwag. Just testing basic principles at this point.

I put all this stuff together at about 3:00 pm. It is now 12:30 am and to be honest not a lot has happened. Also, the newly fed starter hung out in a warm place for about 5 hours with no significant change. I'm a little worried. Hope I didn't kill the little guys somehow.

I'm really hoping for a miracle of life to be happening in that bowl come morning. Check back this time tomorrow...there'll either be a cool pic of a crusty loaf, or a very short description of Sourdough Starter - Take #2!

Sourdough - Day 2

2009-01-28T12:30:00.000-08:00

Well, here we are. 24 hours after beginning the great sourdough adventure we have what appears to be a minimal amount of activity.

I stirred the mixture a little to allow any yeast that has settled a little better coverage within the muck. Though the starter still has a healthy and untainted flour smell, and the level of volume hasn't changed, there do seem to be some bubbles forming.
Bubbles would be evidence of yeast, but could also just be escaping air that was whipped into the starter in either the original manufacturing process or the subsequent "folding".

For those of you unfamiliar, here is the life cycle of yeast and what is happening along the way:

Yeast is in fact a living organism and is classified scientifically as a fungi. It is estimated that there are approximately 1,500 species, but only around 1% of them have been documented.

Dry yeast is yeast that is dehydrated and packaged for maximum shelf life and ease of use for primarily baking applications. The yeast cells are in a dormant state and will become vibrantly active when exposed to moisture.

There is also cake yeast, which is a moist block of yeast, and liquid yeast as well which is largely used in brewing, distilling, and winemaking.

Yeast, like most living organisms, requires certain conditions in which to live and reproduce. The main 4 are moisture, food , neutral pH, and an agreeable temperature. In this case the ideal temperature is between 70 and 90 degrees Fahrenheit and the required meal is sugar.

When exposed to the proper conditions, and with or without a partner, the yeast cell feeds on sugar, reproduces, and gives off carbon dioxide and alcohol as byproducts. This process is called fermentation.

When the carbon dioxide gets trapped within the structure of dough it causes layers of the dough to separate (or rise), and expands further when heated in baking. The resulting alcohol creates a pleasant flavor as well. Without this process bread would be dense and flavorless

When the gas is trapped in a seal container of liquid it results in carbonation as in beer, Champagne, and out-of-date orange juice. The process that I am undertaking to gather wild yeast is all that there was for making bread until Charles L. Fleischmann introduced commercial yeast to the market in 1876.

So, check back tomorrow and let's see if anything else develops!

I'm Bored

2009-01-27T23:16:00.000-08:00

Couldn't think of a better title.

Being out of work is really taking its toll. In my job search of over two months now I'm finding that the market is flooded with overqualified, out-of-work chefs.

All this time off has help to inspire me to cook at home more, something I have seldom done a lot of over the years.

The other day I made some Mexican Fudge. It was my third attempt in a week, and I still don't have it right. What I'm trying to make is a duplication of this incredible fudge they sell on the streets in Mexico, and also in Hispanic markets here in the states. Mexicans call it Jamoncillo, or "little hams". I don't get the ham reference.

What I have had ranges from a taupe to light-brown sugar color, is very sweet, and has a creamy texture but with a pleasant graininess from the minute sugar crystals. Most recently I had the best ever. I bought it in a Latin market here in Charlotte when I went in to get some skirt steak and some chicharones (incredible fresh fried pork skins the size of your hand).

These were little slabs of individually wrapped candy called Crema de Leche. This term literally refers to what we call whipping cream or heavy cream, so the name is really a marketing term for this product. It was light in color and had a texture similar to maple candy. You know those little candies you get at the Cracker Barrel that are outrageously expensive and even more tasty - and there's always one in the center of the box shaped like a maple leaf?

You know - the one's with a delicate, thin, crunchy layer of crystallized sugar on the outside and rich, creamy goodness and silky smooth maple love in the middle?

Hold on...I'll be right back...

Okay, so it was like that except cheaper and without the maple flavor. And I tried three times to reproduce it and failed. Not really even sure I learned anything. One recipe had baking soda in it. I had to translate it from Spanish. It foamed up, boiled over, turned dark caramel brown, and began to scorch before it got to the correct temperature.

The most popular recipe I found online for Jamoncillo consisted of condensed milk, milk, and pecans. I don't know for sure if they have pecans in Mexico, but I never saw any - especially not in fudge.

I was supposed to boil one cup of condensed milk while blending (in a blender) 1/4 cup of whole milk for exactly 2 minutes. Not sure what that was supposed to do. Once the condensed milk boils you mix the two together, pour into a wax paper lined dish, garnish with the nuts (I opted to leave them out altogether), and allow to set up to a sliceable texture.

You might be saying to yourself, "That ain't ever gonna work", and you'd be right.

Moving on...

I looked up Mexican Fudge this time and found a recipe that seemed plausible from my limited experience with fudge making (a universally common procedure). I think it might have been not so bad if I had a thermometer, but I lack the intuition to estimate sugar temperatures by sight - a skill that comes easy with a little experience.

Having put off fudge making for a bit I'm moving on to sourdough.

I made a small batch of sourdough starter. Here's a topic that without a whole lot of effort you can find enough material on to fill an entire bookshelf with. Yeast, no yeast, certain types of yeast, pineapple juice, grapes, certain types of flour, certain brands of flour, pH tests, chemistry, ad infinitum.

The one thing I know for sure about bread is that it is one of the oldest foods known to man. I don't know of a single culture on the planet that doesn't eat some type of bread at some point on some occasion. The poorest, stupidest people on Earth have had bread to eat since about day 9. This can't be that difficult.

I'll keep you posted.

[This coming from someone who couldn't put 3 ingredients (2 of them sugar) together and boil them up into an edible form of candy. Heck, it'll be something to write about for a few days at least.]

The idea I chose to run with is the one that was the easiest, most practical, most traditional, and made the most sense. One cup of warm water (I elected to use distilled to avoid chemicals that might kill yeast), and one cup of flour (I used Gold Medal brand unbleached bread flour because it's what I had). Mix it up and let it sit at room temperature until it smells and bubbles. Should take no more than a week to ten days - probably less. Sounds easy right?

I put the starter in a plastic container and covered it with cheesecloth. The point here is that naturally occurring, airborne wild yeasts will fall, fly, crawl, or be thrown into my starter. Once there they will feed off of the natural sugars and starches from which flour is composed, and grow to a sizable population of sugar eating, carbon dioxide producing creatures that will leaven dough and produce a pleasant flavor and aroma in the finished bread. The cheesecloth lets some air and some yeast in while keeping larger critters and debris out. Later on it will be fully covered for safe keeping.

I took some pictures, although I didn't think about it until about 8 hours after I mixed the stuff up. Already there seems to be a little bit of activity. I'll take some everyday and post them. If you're out of work and bored like me we can watch this puddle of much grow together!

Check back tomorrow. :)

Whole Lotta Rosie (or...The Hole In The Doughnut)

2009-01-06T20:24:00.000-08:00

So I was going to write this blog about losing one of the top 5 worst jobs I've ever had. And I was probably going to say some things that I shouldn't say. But everything happens for a reason and I'm lucky to be away from the place! So I'm letting that one go.

Then I thought about writing this piece about the really awesome Christmas I had with my family. It was the first Christmas we've all spent together since 2001. And to be honest it was the first Christmas dinner I've ever cooked. With a great disdain for turkey, and for all things traditional, I conjured up an Italian feast for 8 that would've comfortably fed about 23.

In fact I did write that piece. Then I realized it was less about food and more about what I think of the watering down of this specifically Christian holiday, and the use of the word "holiday" instead of "Christmas".

So I came up with a nice story about doughnuts!

I helped out a buddy (who I swore I'd never work with again) with a Christmas party catering this year. Fact is he was banned from the place and called me in at the last minute, but that's not what this is about. He had gone out this little bakery to buy mini desserts for the event, and what he brought back were some of the most amazing little delights that have passed across my palate--doughnut holes!

I was raised in North Carolina, home of Krispy Kreme, and I don't want to hear about anything else. Dunkin' be damned. But somehow doughnuts have become my greatest obsession over this last month or six weeks. Now my buddy Unkle Chef just returned from New England with the story of some damned doughnut mecca he went to in Massachusetts. You can read all about that on his blog, but this is my story.

There's this little bakery here in Charlotte, on Park Road, called Suarez Bakery. I'm 41 and can't remember that bakery ever not being there, although it hasn't always been Suarez. It was a Federal Bakeshop when I was a kid, and I never went in but I remember the wedding cake in the window. I think the same one is still there. So I just recently got turned on to this place.

You walk into a bakery storefront that is probably twice the size it needs to be; cases filled with all the stuff you would expect in a retail bakery in the south. Cupcakes, cookies, cream horns, novelties for the kids...and doughnuts. Not a large selection mind you. Glazed doughnuts, doughnut holes, and Texas doughnuts (glazed doughnuts the size of hubcaps with the hole spectacularly resting on top...package deal). They are absolutely amazing for a shop that doesn't really "do" doughnuts as a focal point.

Today was a rainy day, much like the last 6 have been, and I stopped in after a job interview to pick up a couple dozen holes to take home. Some bitch had just been in and bought all but five of them. Damn it!

Dissappointed I drove home, went straight to the computer, and started looking up doughnut batter recipes. I said batter, not dough. See at Krispy Kreme you used to be able to watch the doughnuts being made. That was the big gimmick at KK before they stupidly sold out to the mainstream corporate demons and expanded more quickly than the market could support them. Now they're all but closed up here in Charlotte at least.

Hot & Now! When those words are lit up in green and red neon along the front of the store you can watch them mix the batter, drop the soft dough onto trays, and put them in huge rotating-shelf proof boxes to rise. After 20 minutes or so they drop the doughnuts into this lazy-river style trough of sizzling oil. Halfway down the line a little paddle comes up out of the oil and flips them, and at the end they're flipped again onto a wire conveyor. As they round the bend for the home stretch the doughnuts glide under a silky curtain of vanilla flavored sugar glaze, and then right to the box and into the hands of lusting customers.

You can watch it all right here...Krispy Kreme on YouTube

You can easily down a half-dozen of those suckers before you realize what happened. The glaze doesn't even set up if you do it right, and you need a stack of napkins and a garden hose before you can go to your car. They just kind of dissolve in your mouth and you don't know it until you come up for milk. This is what GQ Magazine called "The Appalachian love child of the soufflé and croissant", and this is what I wanted.

So I found this recipe that turned out not being batter, but a very light dough that claimed to mimmick Krispy Kremes.

Here's a link to the one I used...Doughnut Recipe

Texturally they ain't Krispy Kreme, but with the right amount of vanilla in the glaze they're actually pretty close flavorwise. The recipe says it makes 2-3 dozen. I think I got about 640 from the looks of things, and the feeling I have in my tummy some 8 hours later.

Maybe next I'll write a blog about the dangers of obsession.

Quality, Not Quantity

2008-12-11T21:37:00.000-08:00

When I started into this crazy career in the food business I was encouraged to move around and experience different things. “Learn as much as you can from different chefs”, they said. “You can learn something from everyone…even the dishwasher”, they said.

What they never told me is that at some point you need to stop that foolishness and stay put for awhile. They never told me that someday I would be judged by my personality and who I had worked for—how few jobs I’ve had and how long I stayed at them. No one ever let on that it really doesn’t matter how talented you are in this business, only how well you are liked and how stable you look on paper.

Now you might already be saying to yourself, “What’s this gonna be about?” Mainly it’s about standards.

I’ll tell you up front. I’m having a hard time finding a job I like. One I respect and can stay at. And one at which I am respected for the time I’ve put in, the dues I’ve paid, and the knowledge I’ve accumulated. Guess what…I never will. That’s what I’ve learned as the boiled down distillation of a 25 year career.

A quote from the revered chef Fernand Point stuck with me very early on; “The difference between a good restaurant and a great restaurant is the sum total of a lot of little things done well.” Fernand Point has been called one of the greatest chefs in the history of modern gastronomy. In the early to mid-1900’s he trained some of the most famous French chefs on record—Paul Bocuse, Alain Chapel, and the Troisgros Brothers to name a few. He is also credited as integral in the creation of nouvelle cuisine.

When I say nouvelle cuisine I don’t mean the minute portions and the artsy-fartsy, fancy-schmancy presentations that TV commercials lampoon and diners rebuke. That’s not at all what nouvelle cuisine is about. Look it up. Anyway, I digress…

The first real chef I worked for, and still the greatest influence in my career, was a guy who rather than attending culinary school, served an apprenticeship at world renowned Greenbrier Resort in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia. There he learned, from the ground up, the ends and outs of true 5-Star dining at its best. If something was not perfect it wasn’t served. I’ve eaten there. It was perfect. Every bite.

A few years later I had the opportunity to work for a guy in a small French restaurant who couldn’t cook his way out of a paper bag with a sharp knife and a blow torch, but he had some great stories about training in France. He could talk for hours about the staff of 35 in a restaurant that only sat 50, most of them getting paid little or nothing. You’d start out as a young “commis” peeling potatoes, and if you stick it out and show potential you might in a few months or a year learn how to cut one of them into frites. The chef screams constantly. The best you can hope for in a day’s work is that the chef says nothing to you.

If your food isn’t perfect—your pommes puree is pasty, your sauce tastes flat or doesn’t have a shine to it, or your fish flakes, you have to do it over. It may be a good idea to duck as well, because the plate may be headed your way…airborne. If the chef catches your mistake before it gets to the plate he may raise the baton he carries and give you a whack with it. You may even get a set of knuckles across the mouth if he’s in a bad mood. But if you want to be successful this is what it takes. You put up with it, and you get better.

This is the culture of people who produce arguably the world’s most talented and respected chefs.

In many American cities we have few if any restaurants that would make in a city like Paris or New York. We have a climate of corporate engineered mediocrity. We have food critics that compare rather than judge, and in small towns they can’t be honest or they’d really screw up the economy of the local industry. Truth is most of these people have never experienced excellence. They don’t know that they’re not getting it.

I have been very fortunate to have received excellent training, as well as to have experienced amazing food. If you have never eaten at a 4 or 5-Star restaurant, you don’t know what it’s all about. You can’t. It’s kind of like an orgasm. Until you’ve had one you can’t possibly understand what it’s all about. All the reading, talking, listening, even watching cannot prepare you for it, and it can’t be duplicated or imitated.

I got to eat at Lutece in New York back in the 80’s when Andre Soltner was at the helm, and his restaurant was considered the best in America. It was mentioned in movies. Anyone in fine dining in the U.S. knew the Lutece name. I remember the menu well. It was simple. Rudimentary dishes following the classical menu style and syntax. Caviar, crabcakes, roasted lamb loin with turned vegetables fondant style, salmon stuffed with a pike mousse and wrapped in puff pastry, Grande Marnier soufflé, and a layered terrine of raspberry and blackberry ice creams.

I could have made it sound more exciting, but the truth is that’s what we had. Simple.

I can’t dress it up anymore than what it was, but I can tell you that the flavors, smells, and textures were ethereal. Like nothing I’ve ever had before or since, and I’ve had all of those items many times. If you weren’t there you couldn’t understand.

The next great American restaurant that I remember was Charlie Trotters in Chicago. Five stars as well. Been there. Just the bread alone was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever eaten. Small, round pillows of chewy French bread; the surface covered with tiny bubbles of air encapsulated in crunchy layers of dough that exploded against the palate with each nibble. Kind of like the gastronomical equivalent of popping bubble wrap! I hated to keep asking for more of them, as we chefs usually pick out the level of refinement in diners by their inclination towards bread, but I couldn't stop eating them.

As for the rest of the meal, the freshness, skill, and passion that was put into every plated morsel was unbelievable. This, a restaurant that serves no beef, no chicken, and no broccoli. [Regrettably C.T. does have some foam in his repertoire] Dinner was around 15 courses, each consisting of about 3 bites of perfectly prepared and properly presented fresh ingredients. The service, impeccable. No less than five expertly professional staff members attended our table of two during the 3 hours that we were there.

Hubert Keller’s Fleur de Lys in San Francisco. Four stars. I had cauliflower mousse with a potato chip for an amuse when I first sat down. I can still taste it today, and I’ve never quite been able to duplicate it. I hate cauliflower, except Hubert’s. The dessert I had was the most creative, most perfectly designed and executed plate of food I’ve ever experienced. And I can’t begin to tell you how simple it really was. Merely done well, with immaculate attention to detail.

The au poivre sauce on the magret at Jean Louis’ place in Vegas, to die for. Le Cirque, Vongerichten's Prime, Michel Richard's Citronelle, New York's Union Square Cafe and Aureole, and Charleston's Restaurant Million. All amazing examples of culinary excellence and unwavering standards.

I could have worked at any of them at one point early in my career, and in fact was given the opportunity and declined. I had a chance to work at Le Cirque during the Boulud era, but I folded and headed for my own idea of success, a decision I kick myself for daily. I was offered positions at Gotham Bar and Grill (a new place in NYC that I had never heard of), and at the infamous Rainbow Room. I was offered an introduction to a chef named Jean George Vongerichten at an unassuming little place called Lafayette in the Drake Hotel. Never heard of him. Less than two years later he was the hottest young chef in America, and still today everything Vong does ends up being front page news somewhere in the world. Who knew?

One year I was honored to go to a fund raising event in Charleston, SC where there were 15 or so of the most celebrated chefs in the southeastern United States hawking their wares, signing their books, and showing off their stuff. Honestly, most of it was crap. Too contrived. Too much effort to “wow” the folks and not enough passion and mechanical integrity. Just one man’s opinion.

Emeril Lagasse was beginning to become a household name through his books, but he hadn’t made it to the Food Network yet. Nice enough guy, but his dish was just this side of disgustingly inedible. He was there glad-handing those hoping to say they’d met him, and scooping out this awful crawfish pie that looked like lumpy mud and tasted like salty, mahogany colored papier mache.

In contrast, the then Asian executive chef from the Greenbrier was quiet, humble, and proudly dipping up the most incredible stuff in the room. I remember ham and wild onions (ramps) in a cream sauce ladled over something else. Chicken I think. Simple, but well prepared and excellent in every dimension.

My parents, like most parents, always said, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all”. I had a therapist tell me many years ago that this is one of the worst things we tell our children. I get it now. This is exactly what breeds mediocrity.

Recently I worked for a guy who told me a story about a chef in New York City who sent him to the basement for several weeks to peel and tournet potatoes. Though young in his career, he thought he should be on the hot line makin’ it happen. He thought the chef was an arrogant jerk and swore that he’d never be that kind of chef. The only thing good about the basement to him was that he got away from the chef screaming and throwing things.

My thought upon hearing this story was, “Yeah, but I’ll bet you got pretty good at turning potatoes didn’t you?”

Then I thought, “You’re the prick. You’re the kind of guy that creates an atmosphere of mediocrity!” “You’re the guy that thinks everyone deserves a chance and that there is no such thing as a mistake…just gentle little learning experiences.” [puke]

If someone is not standing over you screaming at you, pushing you to be better than you really are, how the hell are you to ever reach excellence? Will you always just be satisfied with what you can accomplish on your own—what someone tells you is good to keep from hurting your tender feelings?

Well, that guy and I parted company in a short time. We just couldn’t see things the same way.

Seems that I have a talent for pissing people off with my inability to conform to standards that are lower than my own. I think that it’s not so much my difference of standards, but my utter lack of discipline in keeping them to myself that gets me in trouble.

I was reading the story behind Thomas Keller, and how he came to be the chef and owner of what is considered by many today to be America’s greatest restaurant, The French Laundry. Seems that Tommy had a hard time playing well with others too. He went through a string of bad situations where he thought that his boss’s ideas and standards were mediocre at best, and that he could do better. After getting fired over his attitude and living on credit cards until the family was nearly bankrupt, he stumbled upon this charming little building in the middle of nowhere. He got the place for a song, fixed it up, and the rest is history. I’ve never been to the Laundry, but I’m told you have to plan that trip about 6 months out or better. Aspiring young chefs camp out on his doorstep to beg for a chance to work there for free.

I wonder if Thomas Keller, during his European training, was coddled and told, “Your consomme garnish is not uniformly cut, but we’ll serve it this time.” Or, “That sauce tastes scorched, but maybe no one will notice.”

Bourdain tells a story in Kitchen Confidential about screaming at a line cook for the risotto, and the cook just ignores him and keeps cooking risotto. Doesn’t matter to him how long the customer waits—that the rest of the table is in the window. The rice is going to be perfect, and you ain’t gettin’ it ‘til it is. Now that’s what I’m talking about!

When I started out I wanted to be the best I could be. I figured out pretty quickly that I had natural talent, and after a little exposure to “real” cuisine I developed passion. I went to the best school that I could. And I’ve spent the rest of my career resting on the laurels of prodigious knowledge and innate skills. I needed a job so I went to work for the first guy that would hire me—a guy that was happy to serve shit food to avoid pissing off the staff. Then I just repeated that scenario over and over. That’s the secret to my success.

Companies have hired me because they wanted my skills and experience to “take the business to a new level”. What they always fail to realize is that they are the reason the place isn’t operating at the desired level. It isn’t skill, or talent, or even passion that they lack. It’s personality. It’s truth! It’s authenticity. It’s the drive to achieve something that no one else is achieving regardless what other people think or feel. The weak ones will leave, yes, but they will be replaced by strong ones who will be driven to achieve excellence every day.

If the doors open in 20 minutes and the staff has screwed up everything except the frangipane and the coffee, then guess what—you serve goddamn frangipane and coffee. Maybe you fire them all and start over tomorrow (keep the pastry chef).

Disagree? I don’t blame you. It’s a drastic and oppressive way of looking at things. The government will fine you. You’ll spend months in court settling with damaged and offended, frail ex-employees. I understand. It’s tough in our country today with everything run from a remote corporate office, and upper management that has become so sensitive to the needs of the people that they have become functionally ineffective. But just know that this is one reason why there are only seventeen Mobil rated 5-Star restaurants in the U.S. as of December 2008, and only 140 with four stars.

So 25 years later I can say that I have learned something from everyone I’ve worked with—even the dishwasher. And the thing I learned best from the dishwasher is that washing dishes for a living when you’re really young and starting out is okay. It’s a beginning. But when you can’t even get a job washing dishes after pouring your heart and soul into the cooking biz for a quarter of a century…you fucked up, dude.

By the way, those colorful little guys at the top of the page are perfectly cooked baby beets from my buddy's first food show competition! The judges loved those things. And the splash of magenta color on the plate behind them...beet foam. My idea [God bless it].

No matter what, ya don't send it out 'til it's perfect.

Lady Justice & A Shot Of Tequila

2008-09-18T20:43:00.002-07:00

“Everyone is crying out for peace, yes,

none is crying out for justice” -Peter Tosh

Turns out that this blog isn’t just about food. It’s also about injustice.

Our business is a unique one. When I was coming up in the food biz in the eighties and early nineties the back-of-the-house in a restaurant was a wild place to be. And fun too. There was always a raging battle going on between the hardcore beer and tequila swilling cooks in the trenches, and the prima donna waitstaff in their pressed shirts and ties with pockets full of cash and cocaine. At the end of the night though all bets were off, all hostilities forgiven, and we were a happy (drunken) family that would close down the closest bar together. Sometimes we’d go home together, sometimes alone. But we’d live to do it again another day—always. And a talented cook or waiter could get a job anywhere, anytime.

Those days are gone. Our world has changed and left no one unaffected. Corporate politics have taken over every facet of our lives and careers. Good for some, not so much for others. I am “others”. The story I need to tell here is a controversial one—the one that no paper will print and no news anchor will recite.

I got fired—again—this time for sexual harassment. A close friend got fired for sexual harassment within a couple weeks of my fiasco. My previous job I lost for ethnic harassment. Truth is that neither of us did anything that merits what our employers’ solution caused, and will continue to cause for the rest of our careers. And we are not alone!

According to the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC), in 2006 employers in the U.S. paid out over $48.8 million in damages for sexual harassment claims. $59.8 million was paid out for non-sexual types of harassment. Between the two categories there were 35,059 grievances filed with the Commission. Of those thirty-five thousand plus claims 18,991 were found to be without merit. That’s over half. Those are the folks whose stories are never heard—until now.

In early 2007 I was hired for a lesser position by the largest foodservice company on planet earth. I was to be promoted to a reasonably prominent position within a few weeks but I never was. I was given the responsibilities of that position because there was no one else to take them, but I was never given the title or the salary that went with them.

I was left to manage a demographic of people who refused to rise to the level that was expected of them. They didn’t have to. They had been there for years and would inevitably outlive me or any other manager that passed through. They knew this. And they also knew that the laws of political correctness and human resources would always be on their side. Never mind that our labor costs were soaring, our sanitation grade was plummeting, and our bottom line always had a little dash to the left of it. These people had jobs for life. And they had my boss’s phone number on speed-dial.

The boss figured out that business was rapidly changing for the worse and that I should never have been hired so I was transferred to another property. Now I didn’t want to be there, they didn’t need me, and things just didn’t go well. Accusations of being difficult to get along with followed me and soured the relationship with my new supervisors immediately.

We had in this new location a lovely young administrative assistant from Mexico. She spoke mediocre English, had absolutely no sense of humor, spent the day in her office sending Spanish instant messages to her friends and shopping online. She embellished our financial records and she refused to utilize the time clock to record her hours. She was the person who prepared our payroll and typically paid herself for forty or more hours when she was usually only there for 25 and only worked for 6 of those. Yet, you guessed it...job for life...no matter what!

Each month we received a packet of training materials that we were to present to our staff in a brief round-table forum. This particular month the packet we got included only the Spanish version of the materials. It was this same week that we were extremely slow and bored. And I had decided to quit smoking. This never goes well for me.

Now, I love the Mexican people. I’ve never had a problem with Latin people on any level, but I thought that it was hilarious that we had gotten these posters only in Spanish. I thought, “Heck, I guess that not only is our country going Spanish but so is our company.” I saluted this concept and took a moment to honor my Hispanic friends’ culture. I taped the posters to the wall above the stove. On either end of the line of posters I proudly displayed the flag of Mexico which I had printed off of the internet. And I thought, from my travels in the southwestern states, that no display of Latin heritage is complete without the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe (a specific rendering of the Holy Virgin Mother). Apparently this was not remotely amusing to...well...anyone. Pity.

Three weeks later, long after a formal apology was made and accepted, I was called in to my boss’s office and fired for “creating a hostile work environment”. I was never asked to tell my side of the story. I was never approached by anyone from Human Resources. I was not given the opportunity to face my accuser—in fact I was not allowed to know who my accuser was.

Nearly a year of my life washed away as if it never happened. A job I wished I’d never taken turned into a job that I can’t even list on my resume, lest I have to try to explain this to the next person who won’t hire me because I’m a liability. Twenty-five years in this business...

Reminds me of the poor guy that builds bridges his whole life, yet no one will call him a bridge builder.

But suck just one...

Well, you get the point.

Before long I found myself in another position that paid better and was the most fun job I’d had in years and years. My first day I hired a female server, and a week later our chef hired her live-in boyfriend. She had confided in me that he was abusive and had quite a few personal problems that affected their relationship. We talked a good bit and became friends. She made it known that she had interest in becoming more than friends. I was flattered. I entertained the idea somewhat, but nothing ever happened between us. We had some brief but racy text message exchanges on two occasions but nothing else. She initiated both of those.

All of a sudden one day I was asked by my boss about some comments that I had allegedly made to her. I couldn’t deny them, but I also couldn’t conceal that they were solicited by her. She had called me a couple days before and said that the boyfriend had beaten her badly, and she wouldn’t return to work as long as he was there. He had caused other problems at work so we gladly let him go. Then she shows up with no signs whatsoever of being abused, and accuses me of sexual harassment.

The boss took my side. After he spoke with her and told her of my response she recanted her accusations in writing, admitted that she initiated the dialog between us, and said that she enjoyed working with me and had no intention of carrying this matter any further.

Two weeks later she made another statement that I had done several things that made her feel violated. Not one of those things had I done. Not one! She told my boss that she wouldn’t return to work as long as I was there. He again took my side and advised her that I would not be removed and that all measures would be taken to ensure that she and I were never alone together. The next day that she was scheduled she contacted me to say that she would not be back.

A week later I was fired for sexual harassment. I was not notified of what the reason was or who my accuser was. I was not given an opportunity to defend myself. I was told to turn in my keys and leave the premises immediately.

Two or three weeks later my best friend, who was very successful in his position of over 4 years in a large company, was terminated for sexual harassment. He was not asked to give his side of the story. He was not offered an opportunity to defend himself. He had made a harmless comment to a female coworker a few days before—a comment like thousands that were laughed off regularly in the kitchens of every restaurant I’ve ever worked in.

I got a new job pretty quickly and within a month a tenured (though unreliable and anti-productive) minority employee quit and threatened to sue me for creating a hostile work environment. That’s called harassment. I haven’t heard anything else about that one yet.

Do my friend and I see that we were immature, unthinking, and inappropriate in any of this? Hell yes! But listen, this guy has a wife (who understands his personality and supports him, thank God), and a mortgage. He had a career position for a span of time that can’t be ignored on his resume. He will have to spend the rest of his life explaining this little faux pas to every potential employer that reviews his otherwise unflawed background. To pay his bills he has had to take a job that is unchallenging and pays less than half what he had become accustomed to. And my case is not different.

Is this justice? Have the right people and the right causes been championed?

One legal definition of harassment requires that the harasser be told that his or her conduct is bothersome and asked to stop. At such point which the conduct continues it becomes harassment. With the figures listed at the beginning of this article it is easy to see why corporate America has altered the definition to eliminate any chance for liability.

I guess I just miss the good ol’ days—the days when people looked each other in the eye and settled their differences amongst themselves like adults. If someone is intentionally and repeatedly made to feel uncomfortable or threatened by some asshole with no ethics whatsoever, then that person should take action. Does that person deserve the opportunity to ruin someone’s life because of their inability to communicate their needs and boundaries? Do they deserve a financial reward? Should there be a question on a job application that asks, “Have you ever in confidence filed an exaggerated complaint against a coworker that resulted in their termination, and then hid behind your rights as a minority while you sit on your butt and suck the time clock dry”?

I don’t know the answers to these questions. I’m just asking on behalf of the 54% that are the victims of unsubstantiated claims. These folks will spend the rest of their lives looking for the forgiving employer that will give them the chance to feed their families.

Their accusers will continue punching in at the same old clock year after year, filling a quota, stirring the pot, and wishing they'd have gotten that settlement.