Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Thursday, December 22, 2005
put a little english on it
Man, nine and a half hour shift today--I haven't been home since 8:00 this morning because I had to go straight to work from school.
School was awesome today though. I woke up, felt incredible, and stopped at the Starbucks at the end of the block where all the employees know my name. They didn't even charge me for coffee today. People here are so damn nice. I love Pittsburgh. But school was great. I took the cooking practical yesterday (I'll save that for another post), so I was supposed to be deep-cleaning the kitchen today, but I ended up doing prep for the chili we're having on the last day. I weighed the 18 pounds of meat we ended up with for the recipe, and using mathematical skillz, adjusted the rest of the recipe in proportion to that. It came out to be 25 bell peppers (sm. dice), five pounds of onion (sm. dice), 6.5 tablespoons of serrano and jalapeno peppers (mince), 20 garlic cloves (crushed and minced), as well as 30 ounces of chili powder, 20 ounces of cumin, and ten bay leaves that I had to toast in a rather large saute pan.
The high-volume prep was fun (and ironic, with me recently making fun of Emeril's incredible ability to make a few portions of a meal in an hour) and yielded me a big 2-inch hotel pan full of trinity. Tomorrow the meat will be seared in a tilt skillet, and then all the junk I cut up will be sauteed with it--this is done with a boat paddle. About six gallons of veal stock will be added, and over the course of several hours it will turn into the stuff dreams are made of.
Work has made me angry lately. Someone is stealing things (mostly meat--a whole striploin among other things) and there was a big heavy locked door installed at the top of the staircase. Every time we need to go downstairs to get something, we have to get a manager with a key.
But work was also cool today because I worked alone for a few hours, and banged out a nine-dish ticket (to go, which is not as easy as it sounds) all on time by myself. I remember when I first got here and worked Mondays by myself, I would get orders for, say, a filet mignon and mashed potatoes, and maybe calamari at the same time, and I'd freak out because I didn't know how to come up with a plan (or grill things properly). Now I know the menu like the cracked and bleeding back of my hand, and I know exactly what to do first, what to do simultaneously with other things, and what to fire last and instead of burning myself repeatedly in the middle of a clumsy nervous breakdown, it's second nature to rotate or flip things on the grill while cutting bread for sandwiches or taking stuff out of the fryer/oven/broiler/low-boy coolers. I believe that, today, I began to put a little English on the plates.
~you can come stay at my house
School was awesome today though. I woke up, felt incredible, and stopped at the Starbucks at the end of the block where all the employees know my name. They didn't even charge me for coffee today. People here are so damn nice. I love Pittsburgh. But school was great. I took the cooking practical yesterday (I'll save that for another post), so I was supposed to be deep-cleaning the kitchen today, but I ended up doing prep for the chili we're having on the last day. I weighed the 18 pounds of meat we ended up with for the recipe, and using mathematical skillz, adjusted the rest of the recipe in proportion to that. It came out to be 25 bell peppers (sm. dice), five pounds of onion (sm. dice), 6.5 tablespoons of serrano and jalapeno peppers (mince), 20 garlic cloves (crushed and minced), as well as 30 ounces of chili powder, 20 ounces of cumin, and ten bay leaves that I had to toast in a rather large saute pan.
The high-volume prep was fun (and ironic, with me recently making fun of Emeril's incredible ability to make a few portions of a meal in an hour) and yielded me a big 2-inch hotel pan full of trinity. Tomorrow the meat will be seared in a tilt skillet, and then all the junk I cut up will be sauteed with it--this is done with a boat paddle. About six gallons of veal stock will be added, and over the course of several hours it will turn into the stuff dreams are made of.
Work has made me angry lately. Someone is stealing things (mostly meat--a whole striploin among other things) and there was a big heavy locked door installed at the top of the staircase. Every time we need to go downstairs to get something, we have to get a manager with a key.
But work was also cool today because I worked alone for a few hours, and banged out a nine-dish ticket (to go, which is not as easy as it sounds) all on time by myself. I remember when I first got here and worked Mondays by myself, I would get orders for, say, a filet mignon and mashed potatoes, and maybe calamari at the same time, and I'd freak out because I didn't know how to come up with a plan (or grill things properly). Now I know the menu like the cracked and bleeding back of my hand, and I know exactly what to do first, what to do simultaneously with other things, and what to fire last and instead of burning myself repeatedly in the middle of a clumsy nervous breakdown, it's second nature to rotate or flip things on the grill while cutting bread for sandwiches or taking stuff out of the fryer/oven/broiler/low-boy coolers. I believe that, today, I began to put a little English on the plates.
~you can come stay at my house
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
woooooo, woo.
Whoa, it's nine degrees outside right now. That's how many degrees there are. Nine. The wind chill is -3. It was a really, really good idea to take that hot cafe au lait with me.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Don't feel like making a long post, so here's what's goin down:
Going home Saturday. Can't wait to see people.
Got paid Friday for a whole bunch of hours. Nice.
Cooking practical is this week. I'm totally stoked.
That party on Thursday was really great. I met some awesome people and didn't drink alcoholic beverages.
Going home Saturday. Can't wait to see people.
Got paid Friday for a whole bunch of hours. Nice.
Cooking practical is this week. I'm totally stoked.
That party on Thursday was really great. I met some awesome people and didn't drink alcoholic beverages.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Man, that speech went splendidly. Taking the time off to prepare more thoroughly definitely payed off. I also brewed the best pot of coffee in the world using the knowledge I gained through my research.
For many years, I have been making bad coffee.
The simple fact of the matter is that, while I always insist on meticulously cleaning my equipment to rid it of old oils, storing my coffee in an airtight container away from light and heat, and never buying one of those pain-in-the-ass coffee machines, I just didn't use enough coffee to make coffee. It's 2.5 tablespoons to 8 ounces of water, man. More is fine, less is really bad. I always just "filled it up to that little line" in my grinder and dumped the talcum powder that 15 continuous seconds of pulverizing yielded into the filter--the result was always overextraction. After a certain point, all the oils were extracted from the grounds, and as I continued to pour boiling water over them, there was nothing left to flavor the water with except the more bitter elements present in the bean. Today when I used 14 tablespoons for 6 cups, ground my Gold Coast beans into the consistency of granulated sugar, and used not-quite-boiling water, I created the nectar of the gods; a full-bodied brew that had a bouquet like a seventy-dollar Cabernet Sauvignon. It was sweet without sugar, and smooth without cream, though it possessed a light acidity and subtle black currant overtones. It was not that bitter, pungent motor oil, desperate for dilution, that is consumed unhappily by millions every morning for power. It was pure, triple-distilled joy. After my speech, during which my classmates enjoyed some of my stuff from Dixie cups and a 1.5 quart carafe I found at Le Gourmet Chef, Alex told me he used to do a lot of coke, but that this shit was good.
Oh yeah, and the speech went well. People said I knew what I was talking about!
For many years, I have been making bad coffee.
The simple fact of the matter is that, while I always insist on meticulously cleaning my equipment to rid it of old oils, storing my coffee in an airtight container away from light and heat, and never buying one of those pain-in-the-ass coffee machines, I just didn't use enough coffee to make coffee. It's 2.5 tablespoons to 8 ounces of water, man. More is fine, less is really bad. I always just "filled it up to that little line" in my grinder and dumped the talcum powder that 15 continuous seconds of pulverizing yielded into the filter--the result was always overextraction. After a certain point, all the oils were extracted from the grounds, and as I continued to pour boiling water over them, there was nothing left to flavor the water with except the more bitter elements present in the bean. Today when I used 14 tablespoons for 6 cups, ground my Gold Coast beans into the consistency of granulated sugar, and used not-quite-boiling water, I created the nectar of the gods; a full-bodied brew that had a bouquet like a seventy-dollar Cabernet Sauvignon. It was sweet without sugar, and smooth without cream, though it possessed a light acidity and subtle black currant overtones. It was not that bitter, pungent motor oil, desperate for dilution, that is consumed unhappily by millions every morning for power. It was pure, triple-distilled joy. After my speech, during which my classmates enjoyed some of my stuff from Dixie cups and a 1.5 quart carafe I found at Le Gourmet Chef, Alex told me he used to do a lot of coke, but that this shit was good.
Oh yeah, and the speech went well. People said I knew what I was talking about!
Ugh, what a terrible day. My head feels like Hollandaise sauce. I donated blood yesterday and went to work about five minutes later, and closed alone (though I did have the best burger I have ever eaten, ever). I stayed up til 2 writing my speech on coffee and woke up this morning with this headache, and realized that I still haven't gotten little cups to serve coffee to the class in. So I'm skipping class to get those, be better prepared, and have more time to brew 1.5 qts of coffee to put in the stainless carafe I bought. I guess that's a fairly good reason, right? I'm doing really well in meats anyway, and I could grill flank steaks and make pico de gallo (on today's agenda) with my hands tied behind my back. I dunno. I use the available abscence days kind of liberally, but then again, I'm a busy guy and I never skip when I know there's something important--if I wake up already ten minutes late and feeling like I've been hit with a ton of bricks, but I know I'll be making tourne vegetables all day anyway, it's not really a big deal and I'm no worse a cook for doing it. I got competency signoffs for every cooking method weeks ago, so the biggest thing I have to worry about is the cooking practical next week before I go home. We're responsible for making one portion of a meat, a sauce to go with it, a starch, and we're given a vegetable and told to make it taste good.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Monday, December 12, 2005
listen to smashing pumpkins
People that have no idea what they want, who they are, or what they love bother me. I'm not saying I've got it all figured out or that I'm above hypocrisy, but a common theme among people here is uncertainty. There are lots of people that went so far away to be on their own with a life in cuisine as an excuse, but by the middle of the curriculum realize that they would never be able to do this shit professionally, so they just sit around the dorm on borrowed money, wasting away under the flourescent lights knowing they'll never amount to anything at this rate, but too lazy to really take control of their lives.
Most people slept through Chef Hunt's lecture on ACF certification and levels of skill in our industry. Hunt (one of the pioneers of the American system of apprenticeship and the recognition of cooking as a profession in the 1970s) talked about the Chaine des Rotisseurs, a 600 year-old organization devoted to perfection in gastronomy. I mean, Jesus, people, by putting on the whites every morning we belong to an international society that predates Christianity! There are only 67 master chefs in the country, and only 12 master pastry chefs! There is so much to aspire to in this field aside from making boatloads of money and associating with TV cooks who couldn't do high-volume cooking if their lives depended on it. Sure, Emeril can probably make a hell of a jambalaya. But so the fuck can I. I would truly love to see him make it that well for the Superbowl, because I bet you he wouldn't say bam while dumping buckets of trinity and speed racks of medium-dice tasso into a row of steam-jacketed kettles.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
I have to clock in in five hours.
1) My uncle once: drove me to school in a loud truck.
2) Never in my life: will I not like pancakes.
3) When I was five: I thought I would be a comedian.
4) High School was: total bullshit but a lot of fun. It truly didn't end up making a damn bit of difference that I didn't get the best grades and didn't study for the SAT, which I got a Goddamn 1225 on anyway.
5) I will never forget: how to make rice pilaf. That recipe is etched into my eyelids.
6) I once met: Jesus Christ. I beat him at Mortal Kombat.
7) There's this person I know who: I just gave flowers to.
8) Once, at a bar: I dropped off the clean glasses.
9) By noon I'm usually: cleaning up Chef Panzera's kitchen, or in deep, deep REM sleep, depending on what day it is.
10) Last night: I was drinking coffee several miles away from my house in the snow.
11) If I only had: made out with that chick at region choir.
12) Next time I go to church/temple: I'm going to wear a Bad Religion t-shirt.
13) Terri Schiavo: was far too publicized to incite a legitimate debate on the issue of euthanasia. But Jesus, man, that woman was not alive.
14) I like: a girl.
15) When I turn my head left, I see: bottle of Alviero Martini cologne and some kind of apple torte that Sara gave me.
16) When I turn my head right, I see: computer case, blank wall.
17) You know I'm lying when: I say anything positive about Good Charlotte.
18) In grade school: I was never really motivated.
19) If I was a character written by Shakespeare, I'd be: Mercutio.
20) By this time next year: I'll be a hell of a cook.
21) A better name for me would be: Johptimus Prime
22) I have a hard time understanding: religious people.
23) If I ever go back to school I'll: study liberal arts.
24) You know I like you if: I say I like you.
25) If I won an award, the first person I'd thank would be: myself.
26) I hope that: my roommate pays me for the last three month of cable bills soon.
27) Take my advice: and get the hell out of the South.
28) My ideal breakfast is: cinnamon motherfucking toast crunch.
29) A song I love, but do not have is: Rainbow in the Dark.
30) If you visit my hometown, I suggest: visiting the Starbucks on Spring Cypress. Because my God, you will see the most beautiful woman in the world.
31) Tulips, character flaws, microchips, & track stars: are unrelated.
32) Why won't anyone: question the government's actions?
33) If you spend the night at my house: I will cook you a sexy meal.
34) I'd stop my wedding for: a lobster roll. Shit, I'd stop anything for a lobster roll.
35) The world could do without: God.
36) I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: work with slow cooks.
37) My favorite blonde is: Jenn Rensel.
38) Paper clips are more useful than: onion roots.
40) And by the way: I drink black coffee. But sometimes, if I don't feel like doing that, I put heavy cream in it.
41) The last time I was drunk, I: got a nasty email from my liver and never drank again.
42) My grandmother always: makes pecan pie.
2) Never in my life: will I not like pancakes.
3) When I was five: I thought I would be a comedian.
4) High School was: total bullshit but a lot of fun. It truly didn't end up making a damn bit of difference that I didn't get the best grades and didn't study for the SAT, which I got a Goddamn 1225 on anyway.
5) I will never forget: how to make rice pilaf. That recipe is etched into my eyelids.
6) I once met: Jesus Christ. I beat him at Mortal Kombat.
7) There's this person I know who: I just gave flowers to.
8) Once, at a bar: I dropped off the clean glasses.
9) By noon I'm usually: cleaning up Chef Panzera's kitchen, or in deep, deep REM sleep, depending on what day it is.
10) Last night: I was drinking coffee several miles away from my house in the snow.
11) If I only had: made out with that chick at region choir.
12) Next time I go to church/temple: I'm going to wear a Bad Religion t-shirt.
13) Terri Schiavo: was far too publicized to incite a legitimate debate on the issue of euthanasia. But Jesus, man, that woman was not alive.
14) I like: a girl.
15) When I turn my head left, I see: bottle of Alviero Martini cologne and some kind of apple torte that Sara gave me.
16) When I turn my head right, I see: computer case, blank wall.
17) You know I'm lying when: I say anything positive about Good Charlotte.
18) In grade school: I was never really motivated.
19) If I was a character written by Shakespeare, I'd be: Mercutio.
20) By this time next year: I'll be a hell of a cook.
21) A better name for me would be: Johptimus Prime
22) I have a hard time understanding: religious people.
23) If I ever go back to school I'll: study liberal arts.
24) You know I like you if: I say I like you.
25) If I won an award, the first person I'd thank would be: myself.
26) I hope that: my roommate pays me for the last three month of cable bills soon.
27) Take my advice: and get the hell out of the South.
28) My ideal breakfast is: cinnamon motherfucking toast crunch.
29) A song I love, but do not have is: Rainbow in the Dark.
30) If you visit my hometown, I suggest: visiting the Starbucks on Spring Cypress. Because my God, you will see the most beautiful woman in the world.
31) Tulips, character flaws, microchips, & track stars: are unrelated.
32) Why won't anyone: question the government's actions?
33) If you spend the night at my house: I will cook you a sexy meal.
34) I'd stop my wedding for: a lobster roll. Shit, I'd stop anything for a lobster roll.
35) The world could do without: God.
36) I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: work with slow cooks.
37) My favorite blonde is: Jenn Rensel.
38) Paper clips are more useful than: onion roots.
40) And by the way: I drink black coffee. But sometimes, if I don't feel like doing that, I put heavy cream in it.
41) The last time I was drunk, I: got a nasty email from my liver and never drank again.
42) My grandmother always: makes pecan pie.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
dozen roses in one hand, cup of coffee in the other
Well, I haven't a whole lot of time before work, but here's what's been going on:I participated in a snowball fight the other night. There were five inches of snow on the ground. I rolled down hills, made snow angels, and did all kinds of awesome stuff.
The game rotation ended Wednesday, and we've been doing the second poultry rotation Thursday and Friday. It is good. I'll get a huge photodump up along with the menus when I have time.
Been getting plenty of hours at work, and things have been going fairly well there. Today's another Saturday when I open and close, and tomorrow's another Steeler's home game, so I've got to be in at nine.
Overall, life is good.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
woo
Hey, I got my camera back. So this is what I look like with super dark hair. Also, I have a blurry picture of snowy stuff that I took from a moving car. Expect better wintry-type photography as time goes on though, as it hasn't been above freezing in quite awhile, and thusly, when it snows, it just kinda stays on the ground forever.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
don't you drop that yellow cake!
It's really funny seeing people up here trying to move around when there's an inch of snow on the ground. Everyone looks the same on the Southside at 1 A.M. The girl has high heels, a pair of ripped up jeans, and some terribly low-cut top on. Maybe one of those short denim jackets. The guy wears the pair of designer jeans and the dress shirt that he wears every time he goes clubbing, probably because his girlfriend, or a girlfriend in some point in time, said it looked good on him. He tries to look tough as he helps his girl up every time she falls on her ass, but the truth is that he is suffering from hypothermia caused by vascular dilation from all those shots he had, and will need serious medical attention soon. It really is a hilarious sight. People who have lived here all their lives still have no idea how to dress in December.
On nights like this, when my still-wet hair crystallizes as soon as I walk out of the dorm, I'm decked out in a pair of thick canvas Hot Topic cargo pants, merino wool socks and my trusty pair of combat boots, two sweaters, a big full-length wool overcoat, a lambswool scarf and a pair of cashmere-lined leather gloves. And, of course, a cup of piping hot coffee. It felt really nice outside tonight. I also had a rollicking good time sliding down hills on the worn-down soles of my boots. The entire city is covered in powder snow--Market Square is a big white sheet untouched by human feet, and heavily salted sidewalks make miles of cement look like giant Icees.
Pretty chaotic day at work. I opened and closed the place, and an hour after we ignited the kitchen the dining room filled up and we had tickets coming out for a 16-top among others. Not one of those nights where the grill is an unintelligable field of caramelizing protein, but not an easy dinner rush at all. At one point when I was searing an Ahi steak in sesame oil, I flipped it over and caused a quick grease fire that sent a giant fireball into the hood and made enormous flames wrap around my entire right arm--not even burning me but certainly supplementing my imagination later on while I continued reading The Inferno.
It was just me and my two buddies in the kitchen, but we kicked some ass and banged out a pretty creative and prep-intensive special at the same time. I think we ended up calling it a Horseradish-Crusted Flounder Fillet with a Lemon Dill Beurre Blanc and Risotto. The other night I took an old 16-inch sauteuse we lovingly call the Millenium Falcon and completely decarbonized it with steel wool and really corrosive chemicals so I'd be able to make the Risotto alla Parmigiana in a batch triple what I did when creating our recipe for it.
At the same time as all the stuff happening today, we were getting heavily prepped for tomorrow--there's a Steelers home game and as I probably mentioned earlier, we're on the way to the stadium. I fabricated ten pounds worth of hamburgers out of ground sirloin, emptied the oil out of both the fryers and cleaned them (a rather exciting process since if you spill the 350-degree oil on your hands while taking the giant stock pot of it out through the iced-over alley to the giant drums of spent grease, you can pretty much expect to need amputation), made a bunch of salad dressings and sauces in the blender, and when I should've been clocking out, I refilled a bunch of shit on the line as best I could and pulled scores of IQF meat and fish items, as well as a big tub of calamari, from the freezer to thaw overnight. My knees are going crazy from the 70-pounds-of-fry-shortening trips up and down the stairs and I'm starting to see grillmarks on everything.
And I have to be at work again in another six hours.
This is probably closer to the level of work I'll be doing once I get out of school. I know it. My job is a pretty sweet gig right now; the kitchen in a place where food is only half the attraction doesn't get too slammed on Friday nights, and walking down East Carson street tonight gave me a reminder of how nice that is. As I walked past the windows of several popular dining spots, I could see burnt-out sous-chefs with their jackets half unbuttoned and the callouses seared off their hands, already writing notes on prep sheets for tomorrow. And I knew that it really is like that every night, and the fact that I feel like I should have tongs and spatulas instead of hands right now is only a taste of what I'm going to experience in my career.
And I love it. I was thinking on the way back home tonight that I really don't regret anything I've ever done in my life. Except for not making out with Andrea Oncken at region choir--that was a pretty stupid move. But the whole professional cooking thing is definitely for me, as well is the school I'm going to (despite my hatred of the related classes this cycle), the place I moved to, and just the way things are going in general.
On nights like this, when my still-wet hair crystallizes as soon as I walk out of the dorm, I'm decked out in a pair of thick canvas Hot Topic cargo pants, merino wool socks and my trusty pair of combat boots, two sweaters, a big full-length wool overcoat, a lambswool scarf and a pair of cashmere-lined leather gloves. And, of course, a cup of piping hot coffee. It felt really nice outside tonight. I also had a rollicking good time sliding down hills on the worn-down soles of my boots. The entire city is covered in powder snow--Market Square is a big white sheet untouched by human feet, and heavily salted sidewalks make miles of cement look like giant Icees.
Pretty chaotic day at work. I opened and closed the place, and an hour after we ignited the kitchen the dining room filled up and we had tickets coming out for a 16-top among others. Not one of those nights where the grill is an unintelligable field of caramelizing protein, but not an easy dinner rush at all. At one point when I was searing an Ahi steak in sesame oil, I flipped it over and caused a quick grease fire that sent a giant fireball into the hood and made enormous flames wrap around my entire right arm--not even burning me but certainly supplementing my imagination later on while I continued reading The Inferno.
It was just me and my two buddies in the kitchen, but we kicked some ass and banged out a pretty creative and prep-intensive special at the same time. I think we ended up calling it a Horseradish-Crusted Flounder Fillet with a Lemon Dill Beurre Blanc and Risotto. The other night I took an old 16-inch sauteuse we lovingly call the Millenium Falcon and completely decarbonized it with steel wool and really corrosive chemicals so I'd be able to make the Risotto alla Parmigiana in a batch triple what I did when creating our recipe for it.
At the same time as all the stuff happening today, we were getting heavily prepped for tomorrow--there's a Steelers home game and as I probably mentioned earlier, we're on the way to the stadium. I fabricated ten pounds worth of hamburgers out of ground sirloin, emptied the oil out of both the fryers and cleaned them (a rather exciting process since if you spill the 350-degree oil on your hands while taking the giant stock pot of it out through the iced-over alley to the giant drums of spent grease, you can pretty much expect to need amputation), made a bunch of salad dressings and sauces in the blender, and when I should've been clocking out, I refilled a bunch of shit on the line as best I could and pulled scores of IQF meat and fish items, as well as a big tub of calamari, from the freezer to thaw overnight. My knees are going crazy from the 70-pounds-of-fry-shortening trips up and down the stairs and I'm starting to see grillmarks on everything.
And I have to be at work again in another six hours.
This is probably closer to the level of work I'll be doing once I get out of school. I know it. My job is a pretty sweet gig right now; the kitchen in a place where food is only half the attraction doesn't get too slammed on Friday nights, and walking down East Carson street tonight gave me a reminder of how nice that is. As I walked past the windows of several popular dining spots, I could see burnt-out sous-chefs with their jackets half unbuttoned and the callouses seared off their hands, already writing notes on prep sheets for tomorrow. And I knew that it really is like that every night, and the fact that I feel like I should have tongs and spatulas instead of hands right now is only a taste of what I'm going to experience in my career.
And I love it. I was thinking on the way back home tonight that I really don't regret anything I've ever done in my life. Except for not making out with Andrea Oncken at region choir--that was a pretty stupid move. But the whole professional cooking thing is definitely for me, as well is the school I'm going to (despite my hatred of the related classes this cycle), the place I moved to, and just the way things are going in general.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
december-snow shower-kiss
That's pretty much the only picture I have of myself with the black hair (which I need to touch up today). And my roommate took it with his phone, so it's not so good/makes me look kind of unfriendly. Once I get my camera back from Ashley's place I'll start taking pictures of all the awesome things I see every day again.Finished the second pork rotation today, and the game lecture and fabrication is tomorrow. After that it's three days of venison and duck and things of that nature. God, that's going to be good. I know a thing or two about sauteed medallions of venison backstrap, as anyone at my dinner party will probably remember.
Dumb cook got fired at work, so I've got some of my hours back. And the funny thing is, even though I've got more hours, we've been so slow lately that one of the two cooks in the kitchen has to leave before nine every night. The idea is to not pay us to sit around idly.
Going to the Southside today with Sueann to Angry Moon, her tattoo place; she's getting some new ink on her arm themed around Bush's song Glycerine--something like a guy lying in strawberry fields looking up at the clouds. Awesome.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
tasty adventures
Man, here's to red bell peppers, cremini mushrooms, garlic, onions, and tomatoes with eggs at 2:30 A.M.
Friday, November 25, 2005
yeah yeah, cook stuff
Had lamb chops with a roasted garlic-infused balsamic molasses reduction tonight. It sounds fancy, but it's evidence of what you do in college dormitory cooking; deglaze your pans and infuse your oils with whatever the hell is on top of the fridge. A two-dollar lamb shoulder chop just happened to be in my freezer, and when I took my saute pan out of the oven to remove the medium-rare chop, I just happened to see some molasses and balsamic vinegar. It turned out very nicely despite the ugly brown color; fresh roma tomatoes, bell peppers, and sweet yellow onions accompanied it. I would've had a starch but everything has been eaten.
On that note, I actually bought two lamb chops but when I looked in the freezer tonight, one of them had been removed from the package. Whoever did this didn't seal the other one back up and it got freezer burn, which is why I cooked it with tomatoes and vinegar. Amazingly, a lot of moisture ended up going back into the product that way. I sauteed the vegetables, then made an empty space in the middle of the pan where I put tomato slices, and then the chop on top. I finished the whole thing in the oven, and then made the sauce on the range. I figured if I elevated the meat from the oil, it wouldn't sear and get crispy but rather get kind of steamed from the tomatoes.
Sorry, this was really cool-looking, but I left my camera at Ashley's place this morning. I have to get pictures of the saute pan I used for this up here, too--it's a brand new Calphalon ten-inch tri-ply stainless with an aluminum core. It was only 30 freaking dollars. I feel like a consumer whore for buying housewares on Black Friday, but damned if it wasn't worth it. You'll agree once I get some before/after pictures of what I cooked on before--ancient teflon-coated saucers that you could probably fly like a kite.
On that note, I actually bought two lamb chops but when I looked in the freezer tonight, one of them had been removed from the package. Whoever did this didn't seal the other one back up and it got freezer burn, which is why I cooked it with tomatoes and vinegar. Amazingly, a lot of moisture ended up going back into the product that way. I sauteed the vegetables, then made an empty space in the middle of the pan where I put tomato slices, and then the chop on top. I finished the whole thing in the oven, and then made the sauce on the range. I figured if I elevated the meat from the oil, it wouldn't sear and get crispy but rather get kind of steamed from the tomatoes.
Sorry, this was really cool-looking, but I left my camera at Ashley's place this morning. I have to get pictures of the saute pan I used for this up here, too--it's a brand new Calphalon ten-inch tri-ply stainless with an aluminum core. It was only 30 freaking dollars. I feel like a consumer whore for buying housewares on Black Friday, but damned if it wasn't worth it. You'll agree once I get some before/after pictures of what I cooked on before--ancient teflon-coated saucers that you could probably fly like a kite.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Dyed my hair completely jet black today. Looks pretty neat.Won't be moving to the Northside after all. One of my potential housemates has been forbidden by her overprotective parents--they think she'll get shot/raped/robbed by the vicious criminals that live next to the grocery store. I don't know what's up with people; you've got to fucking live a little to live, and right now I'm living in a windowless, overheated, flourescent-lit chicken coop.
But it's not really all bad. I'm really enjoying life up here, and all this means is that it'll keep on going the same way. Except now there's snow and Christmas and awesome holiday shit. It's going to snow tonight and tomorrow. I've got the weather channel bookmarked so I can know exactly when it starts because I want to see these "snowflakes" falling out of the "sky" that the natives here speak of.
I bought some cheap lamb shoulder chops at Giant Eagle tonight. As I lack a grill, I will probably pan-fry these in one of my nice cast-iron skillets. I might debone them and tenderize them a little bit too, but I'm not sure yet. Either way, something really hardcore awesome is going to happen Saturday, my (first and probably last ever) day off, and it's going to involve lamb chops.
I gotta find out who's doing this graffiti. It's just awesome.Closing again tomorrow. Friday is going to be a rough night. It's the annual "Light-Up Night" at Market Square and 50,000 people are supposed to watch this event where they light up all the Christmas decorations at once, effectively beginning the winter season. That's nice and all, but at the restaurant we are going to get absolutely hammered. And I just know, somehow, that the crowd will not be the easily-satisfied burger and fries football crowd, nor the after-show crowd that comes in for dessert and lots of alcohol. Our customers will probably consist of suburban families that drive the suburban downtown n'at once a year--it's the crowd that thinks they know something about food when they order their well-done filet mignon and the "Homemade Mashed Potatoes" which we receive in solid frozen brick form from a big truck that comes once a week with gravy ladeled right out of a dusty #10 can. Anyway, tomorrow and the next day are going to be tough, but for the first time in months I'm going to have an entire weekend during which I will be responsible for doing absolutely nothing.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
All hope abandon, ye who enter in!
Work in 20 minutes. Damn the Steelers and their "football". I wish to have nothing to do with the dilly-dallying of Pittsburghers on their way to the Big Game. But I must--we're open on home game Sundays, so I have to put in five hours on my usual day off. But it's all good, because I've got next Saturday off. A whole Saturday. It's never happened.
We got slammed yesterday at work, but handled it pretty well--nothing thrown against the wall, no one's job lost. Today will probably be worse anyway. This place is truly a sports town with a drinking problem and Olive or Twist is literally on the way to the damn stadium.
I've been delving into Dante's Inferno (the Longfellow translation) lately and greatly enjoying it. It's wonderful to be able to just read a classic without rending it to pieces for extra credit. I'm truly glad I didn't have to read this in AP English, because I think it would've been ruined for me. Also, I got a sweet-azz hardback copy for eight bucks at Barnes and Noble. The thought of being called an Arch-Heretic after death is pretty sweet, I must say. I think after work I'm going to the Southside as I too often do to read more about hell.
~si est dolor, meus.
We got slammed yesterday at work, but handled it pretty well--nothing thrown against the wall, no one's job lost. Today will probably be worse anyway. This place is truly a sports town with a drinking problem and Olive or Twist is literally on the way to the damn stadium.
I've been delving into Dante's Inferno (the Longfellow translation) lately and greatly enjoying it. It's wonderful to be able to just read a classic without rending it to pieces for extra credit. I'm truly glad I didn't have to read this in AP English, because I think it would've been ruined for me. Also, I got a sweet-azz hardback copy for eight bucks at Barnes and Noble. The thought of being called an Arch-Heretic after death is pretty sweet, I must say. I think after work I'm going to the Southside as I too often do to read more about hell.
~si est dolor, meus.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
cooked some pigs
New uniforms. Allright. Way schway jackets with my name on em and new checks. It's amazing how fast you fuck up these chef's jackets--to have new ones for ruination is delightful. With my luck, I'll hack into an explosive beet tomorrow and look like I'm right out of Saw 2.Now check this out:
The pork rotation, consisting of:Proteins:
A - Grilled Pork Chop, Robert Sauce
Roasted Pork Loin w/ Honey & Thyme Glaze
B - Pork Bostonian
Sauteed Medallions of Pork w/ Apple and Caraway (my item of the day)
Entrementier:
A - Green Beans w/ Curry Emulsion
Small-Diced Beets w/ Horseradish Butter
O'Brian Potatoes
Barley Pilaf
B - Duchesse Potatoes
Angel Hair Pasta w/ Pesto
Tourne Carrots
Sauteed Spinach
Aside from fabrication of monstrous hunks of pork, I've been relaxing on my days off. I read Kitchen Confidential again, which is still about 60% of my inspiration to become a professional cook. Bought a hardback copy of Dante's Inferno today and started that. I cannot describe how nice it is to enjoy classic literature without picking it to death for extra points on your GPA. I can interpret the meaning of the poetry--whether it's a treatise on morals or theology or just an adventure in a really grotesque Hell with pointless Christian symbolism (like many a good anime)--any Goddamn way I want to.
So I've been at the Beehive in the Southside some more, and today I walked around Oakland, the university town. Pretty cool up there, but not my scene as much as East Carson. I went to Prana just to see if the regular coffee brewmasters were around, but it's changed into a local hiphop venue. It was destined for that, I think, due to it's location--right at the end of a row of really sleazy nightclubs. Ironically, I saw the chick who served me Kona at 2 AM awhile back at the Beehive, which is, I guess, just better.
Friday, November 04, 2005
holldandamnit
I hate Hollandaise. It is nothing more than pure liquid fat emulsified with cholesterol. The sauce tastes like its ingredients--barely-cooked egg yolks and clarified butter. A perfectly seasoned Hollandaise (with the traditionally complex flavors of salt, pepper, and lemon juice) still just tastes like glace de atherosclerosis to me. It makes okay small sauces like Bearnaise or Maltaise, but by itself it is truly disgusting--one of the classical French items I will never understand. I have thus far consumed the stomach lining of beef as well as tongue as a student of this school, and several varieties of inner-ripened cheese so powerful in flavor and aroma they can clean out your sinuses. But I'm just not a Hollandaise man. And it is a pain in the ass to make--add the butter too fast and you've got to start over again, and you've got to have forearms like George Foreman to stand making any more than about 12 ounces by hand. If I were creating a menu and absolutely had to have Hollandaise on a dish, I would get with the times and make it in a damn robot-coupe like any emulsified salad dressing. I mean, Jesus Christ. It's JUST MAYONNAISE WITH DIFFERENT OIL.
That said, meats class kicks ass. Observe:
The veal rotation. A three-day stage of this class consisting of a set menu:
Proteins:
A: Saltimbocca alla Romana
Sauteed Medallions of Veal w/Shiitake Mushrooms & Marsala Sauce
B: Pan Fry: Veal Romano
Veal Schnitzel, Vienna Style
Entrementier (side dish crew):
A: Asparagus w/Fucking Hollandaise
Tourne Carrots
Cauliflower Polonaise
Risotto alla Parmigiana
B: Cauliflower simmered in Saffron Chicken Stock
Julienne Snow Peas & Red Pepper
Oblique cut Carrots
Herbed Spaetzle
Each day, there are three teams of people: two protein groups, which are in charge of the four veal dishes, and an entrementier team, which handles the veg/starch menu. Yesterday I had the Veal Marsala, and today I worked entrementier, handling the risotto and asparagus. Risotto is something of a specialty of mine: I like to be an asshole and brag that I had the best one in soups awhile back, which was for no reason other than the fact that I have a hopeless cooking addiction and had been, for practice, stirring away at Arborio rice in the dorm weeks before we were ever taught the method. I am still an asshole. The one yesterday sucked, and today Chef grabbed some.
Every day there are thirteen display plates made through two assembly lines--three of each protein and one vegetable plate prepared by the sous-chef. The trick to all this stuff is time management.We come into class at 9:30, and if we're lucky, the people assigned to storeroom aren't hangover and have arrived early with the order. We fire up the kitchen and sit down for Chef to tell us our meal assignments, and then we break, aiming for service at 11:15, which means service--not getting shit out of the warmer and finding serving spoons. Plates should be on display for analysis at 11:15 sharp or there's no chance in hell of really eating anything we've made (and then we have to take the risk of foodborne illness in the cafeteria for lunch). This is a different style from the first two cycles. We don't stand around waiting for water to boil while talking about where the party's at this weekend, or put four starches and some chowder on the table and then sit down for a nice, relaxed meal. This feels like my job; plate presentation is emphasized, as well as nutritional balance (sort of, at least there's protein, starch and veg), and cost-effective conservation. As Chef says, eating is optional--tasting is mandatory.
That said, meats class kicks ass. Observe:
The veal rotation. A three-day stage of this class consisting of a set menu:Proteins:
A: Saltimbocca alla Romana
Sauteed Medallions of Veal w/Shiitake Mushrooms & Marsala Sauce
B: Pan Fry: Veal Romano
Veal Schnitzel, Vienna Style
Entrementier (side dish crew):
A: Asparagus w/Fucking Hollandaise
Tourne Carrots
Cauliflower Polonaise
Risotto alla Parmigiana
B: Cauliflower simmered in Saffron Chicken Stock
Julienne Snow Peas & Red Pepper
Oblique cut Carrots
Herbed Spaetzle
Each day, there are three teams of people: two protein groups, which are in charge of the four veal dishes, and an entrementier team, which handles the veg/starch menu. Yesterday I had the Veal Marsala, and today I worked entrementier, handling the risotto and asparagus. Risotto is something of a specialty of mine: I like to be an asshole and brag that I had the best one in soups awhile back, which was for no reason other than the fact that I have a hopeless cooking addiction and had been, for practice, stirring away at Arborio rice in the dorm weeks before we were ever taught the method. I am still an asshole. The one yesterday sucked, and today Chef grabbed some.
Every day there are thirteen display plates made through two assembly lines--three of each protein and one vegetable plate prepared by the sous-chef. The trick to all this stuff is time management.We come into class at 9:30, and if we're lucky, the people assigned to storeroom aren't hangover and have arrived early with the order. We fire up the kitchen and sit down for Chef to tell us our meal assignments, and then we break, aiming for service at 11:15, which means service--not getting shit out of the warmer and finding serving spoons. Plates should be on display for analysis at 11:15 sharp or there's no chance in hell of really eating anything we've made (and then we have to take the risk of foodborne illness in the cafeteria for lunch). This is a different style from the first two cycles. We don't stand around waiting for water to boil while talking about where the party's at this weekend, or put four starches and some chowder on the table and then sit down for a nice, relaxed meal. This feels like my job; plate presentation is emphasized, as well as nutritional balance (sort of, at least there's protein, starch and veg), and cost-effective conservation. As Chef says, eating is optional--tasting is mandatory.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
photodump time so you will all sit and wait painfully for my journal to load
Did I mention Ashley and I broke up? Not on the blog, I guess. We did, about a week ago, but it's all good because we're super awesome buddies anyway. I usually try not to mention sensitive topics like this on the Interwebnet but I thought it necessary before I write the following.
To sum up what's been happening this week, I met the cashier at The Beehive on Friday night who gave me a note recognizing my interest in coffee and suggesting that we indulge in such a bitter brew together. I thought it was a smooth pickup line--anyone who enjoys a cup of joe and decent conversation is cool in my book. Went to hang out with her yesterday but she was working again, so we only got to talk occasionally. Hoping to arrange a more relaxed rendevous sometime when, god help me, I'm not busy.
In other news, I've been having an absolute fucking blast at work, giving some love to otherwise ugly plate presentation:
I have also, of course, been at this "Beehive Coffeehouse", the men's room of which is pictured in the previous post. I have been riding the T:
Exploring the city I live in:
Rocking the local political scene and staying alert on the issues with my good friend the Post-Gazette:
Today I am fairly bored. I went on a psychadelic fun photography adventure for something to do. First I went to Point State Park to take the obligatory autumn leaf-changing photos, as well as some city skyline/Ohio river valley stuff.
See? I told you it's awesome. Once I'd seen all there is to see at the Point, I headed to the North Side to take some cityscape photos and take a daytime look at the place I'm hopefully moving into in late November.
I arrived at the future snack shack as soon as my camera batteries died. Check it out:
Okay, so it's not the Ritz-Carlton, but it's a decent neighborhood with a nice big park and a grocery store. And the house has windows, something that will probably not cease to amaze me for weeks and weeks and weeks if we land this deal.
To sum up what's been happening this week, I met the cashier at The Beehive on Friday night who gave me a note recognizing my interest in coffee and suggesting that we indulge in such a bitter brew together. I thought it was a smooth pickup line--anyone who enjoys a cup of joe and decent conversation is cool in my book. Went to hang out with her yesterday but she was working again, so we only got to talk occasionally. Hoping to arrange a more relaxed rendevous sometime when, god help me, I'm not busy.
In other news, I've been having an absolute fucking blast at work, giving some love to otherwise ugly plate presentation:
I have also, of course, been at this "Beehive Coffeehouse", the men's room of which is pictured in the previous post. I have been riding the T:
Exploring the city I live in:
Rocking the local political scene and staying alert on the issues with my good friend the Post-Gazette:
Today I am fairly bored. I went on a psychadelic fun photography adventure for something to do. First I went to Point State Park to take the obligatory autumn leaf-changing photos, as well as some city skyline/Ohio river valley stuff.
See? I told you it's awesome. Once I'd seen all there is to see at the Point, I headed to the North Side to take some cityscape photos and take a daytime look at the place I'm hopefully moving into in late November.
I arrived at the future snack shack as soon as my camera batteries died. Check it out:
Okay, so it's not the Ritz-Carlton, but it's a decent neighborhood with a nice big park and a grocery store. And the house has windows, something that will probably not cease to amaze me for weeks and weeks and weeks if we land this deal.
Friday, October 28, 2005
Bored. 25 minutes before work and nothing to do. Wasted as much time at starbucks as possible. The reason I've got so much free time? Purchasing agent certification test at 1:30 took me about 20 minutes.
This weekend should be nice though. I'm closing tonight, but like last night, I'm working with one of the new guys so I don't have to go it alone anymore. Tomorrow I get off early, and there might be some interesting nightlife. Might go to the southside tonight, since the Beehive, my new favorite hangout, is open til 2, and to be honest, I want to make some new friends who have some interests/perspectives in common with mine own. This weekend, Prana is having its halloween party with something like 35 bands. Promises to be much better than Hiphop night. Also, Ariadne auf Naxos is playing at the Benedum and I want to see it.
Me, John, Jenn, and Jess, my hopefully future roommates, are making progress on obtaining our new pad. According to the financial aid department, they only pay rent directly to a few places/organizations, but if we want to use our loans to pay for our place, we can get refund checks for our dorm rent (and probably the meal plan, because it sucks and I'm probably going to quit eating at the school). The thing is, the woman who spoke to use from the school was being kind of an asshole, so we're not really sure if they'll pay for it or not. Either way, we know we can get it done, whether we use our loans directly or indirectly (refund checks or through PCI). If we don't get refund checks in time, I make enough money to pay rent for awhile. I went to the place we're looking at the other night. It's not in a bad neighborhood, it's near lots of bus stops and it's by a grocery store. And it's big. And if we get it, I'm calling it the Food Shack because we're all cooks.
This weekend should be nice though. I'm closing tonight, but like last night, I'm working with one of the new guys so I don't have to go it alone anymore. Tomorrow I get off early, and there might be some interesting nightlife. Might go to the southside tonight, since the Beehive, my new favorite hangout, is open til 2, and to be honest, I want to make some new friends who have some interests/perspectives in common with mine own. This weekend, Prana is having its halloween party with something like 35 bands. Promises to be much better than Hiphop night. Also, Ariadne auf Naxos is playing at the Benedum and I want to see it.
Me, John, Jenn, and Jess, my hopefully future roommates, are making progress on obtaining our new pad. According to the financial aid department, they only pay rent directly to a few places/organizations, but if we want to use our loans to pay for our place, we can get refund checks for our dorm rent (and probably the meal plan, because it sucks and I'm probably going to quit eating at the school). The thing is, the woman who spoke to use from the school was being kind of an asshole, so we're not really sure if they'll pay for it or not. Either way, we know we can get it done, whether we use our loans directly or indirectly (refund checks or through PCI). If we don't get refund checks in time, I make enough money to pay rent for awhile. I went to the place we're looking at the other night. It's not in a bad neighborhood, it's near lots of bus stops and it's by a grocery store. And it's big. And if we get it, I'm calling it the Food Shack because we're all cooks.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
I caught your eye but I was studying wine
At left: bathroom at The Beehive coffeehouse on the South Side. At right: Converse All-Stars. Oh yeah.
~she's cute
in a stainless steel sort of way.
~she's cute
in a stainless steel sort of way.