If I were a stone, I would be: obsidian
If I were a tree, I would be: a live oak
If I were a bird, I would be: a mexican eagle
If I were a machine, I would be: a motorcycle engine
If I were a tool, I would be: a wooden spoon
If I were a flower/plant, I would be: chervil
If I were a kind of weather, I would be: snow
If I were a mythical creature, I would be: atlas
If I were a musical instrument, I would be: a fender telecaster
If I were a land animal, I would be: a cougar
If I were a color, I would be: crimson
If I were an emotion, I would be: lust
If I were a vegetable, I would be: broccoli
If I were a sound, I would be: rain on a tin roof
If I were an Element, I would be: fire
If I were a car, I would be: an MGB
If I were a song, I would be: born to be wild, steppenwolf
If I were to trade places with another person for a day, it would be: a soldier
If I were a movie, I would be: waking life
If I were a food, I would be: daube de boeuf bourguignon
If I were a place, I would be: sixth street bridge
If I were a material, I would be: iron
If I were a taste, I would be: espresso
If I were an object, I would be: a french knife
If I were a word, I would be: military-industrial complex
If I were a body part, I would be: a hand
If I were a facial expression, I would be: squinty and serious
If I were a comic/cartoon character, I would be: batman
If I were a shape, I would be: a triangle
If I were a number, I would be: 1
If I were a month, I would be: january
If I were a day of the week, I would be: tuesday
If I were a time of day, I would be: five o'clock
If I were a direction, I would be: north
If I were a piece of furniture, I would be: a dining room table
If I were a sin, I would be: lust
If I were a historical figure, I would be: dwight eisenhower
If I were a liquid, I would be: rum
If I were a method of death, I would be: shot on the street
If I were a planet, I would be: mercury
If I were a scent, I would be: mussels steamed in white wine
If I were a sea animal, I would be: a yellowfin tuna
If I were an insect, I would be: a mantis
If I were a language, I would be: french
If I were a country, I would be: germany
If I were a body of water, I would be: a river
If I were a Greek god/goddess, I would be: hephaestus
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Monday, October 09, 2006
marca verde
So aside from musing on the meaning of alcoholism and drug addiction, I've been up to a lot lately. Last Thursday I worked a huge catering gig downtown--a 500 person fundraiser for the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust. It was a pretty smooth (and surprisingly easy) operation until it came time to clean the place up. Imagine doing dishes for such an event in a cold alley with no running water, stacking wire racks of plates and glasses up on wooden platforms for extraction by the rental company in the morning.
Today I woke up earlier than usual to go read the paper at Starbucks (quite possibly one of my favorite things to do, ever, in the world). Also, I walked through Whole Foods and found unusually cheap blue Stilton. Exquisite.
Earlier in the week, I played a new sport called Frisbee Golf, which involves frisbees, and adheres to golf-like rules. It's golf for hippies. Hooray! I became stuck in Schenley Park with no ride as a result of this sport, and was an hour late to work.
Earlier, yea, even earlier than that, I went out to meet friends for a grand scrabble tournament. When only my friend, the server Jacque, showed up at the meeting-place, we had a lovely chat and proceeded to look for a scrabble board for ourselves. When that proved unsuccessful (American society is breaking down, and bookstores no longer sell Scrabble), she taught me the fine art of soapmaking in her Victorian home North of the city. I learned that chemical burns from lye are bad, and I was convinced to join the fan club of an amazing cat.
Today I woke up earlier than usual to go read the paper at Starbucks (quite possibly one of my favorite things to do, ever, in the world). Also, I walked through Whole Foods and found unusually cheap blue Stilton. Exquisite.
Earlier in the week, I played a new sport called Frisbee Golf, which involves frisbees, and adheres to golf-like rules. It's golf for hippies. Hooray! I became stuck in Schenley Park with no ride as a result of this sport, and was an hour late to work.
Earlier, yea, even earlier than that, I went out to meet friends for a grand scrabble tournament. When only my friend, the server Jacque, showed up at the meeting-place, we had a lovely chat and proceeded to look for a scrabble board for ourselves. When that proved unsuccessful (American society is breaking down, and bookstores no longer sell Scrabble), she taught me the fine art of soapmaking in her Victorian home North of the city. I learned that chemical burns from lye are bad, and I was convinced to join the fan club of an amazing cat.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
hooray, cooking!
Forgive my literary hiatus, but I've been busy making dinner for thousands of people. It is sad, also, that these days it is a challenge to conjure up anything at all to write. Mostly I come up with, "Today I worked for the greater part of the day, came home and drank tea, then went to bed." But then again, I enjoy the seemingly mundane. I woudn't be doing it if it were monotonous.
Tonight I went down to the bar for a bit after work. As usual, the whole restaurant crew was there, singing and celebrating and unlikely to remember any of it the next day. I had a drink and chatted with some colleagues for awhile but didn't stick around long. It was, in the most literal sense, not my scene. Not that I don't get along with my co-workers or that I haven't had my share of drunken revelry (Ole!), but it's no secret that I'm not a big drinker, and I don't do marijuana. There are those who seem to live merely to be drunk, high, etc, or only seem happy when they are. It really saddens me that some people live to experience that, a state of mind that's simply different from what they usually feel like, as if the everyday isn't worth really living through. Not to mention I'm a smart motherfucker, and I'd like to stay that way. Whether it's a six-pack of Coors Light a or a bottle of vodka, it will destroy you. There are men who have taught me this.
Don't get me wrong. I love my wine, my beer, my spirits (though perhaps in more of an Epicurean sense), and perhaps in some cases it is true, as the Marquis de Sade said, "Conversation, like other bodily functions, goes better with lubrication." But I don't drink to escape my life. I drink because a good Chardonnay, a Straub or a nice bottle of rum are wonderful parts of my life. Despite the obvious physical pain, occasional anger, arguable social isolation that what I'm dedicated to brings me, I'm rather fond of it and if it ever becomes something I merely have to get through every day in order to feel better afterwards, I'll quit.
Tonight I went down to the bar for a bit after work. As usual, the whole restaurant crew was there, singing and celebrating and unlikely to remember any of it the next day. I had a drink and chatted with some colleagues for awhile but didn't stick around long. It was, in the most literal sense, not my scene. Not that I don't get along with my co-workers or that I haven't had my share of drunken revelry (Ole!), but it's no secret that I'm not a big drinker, and I don't do marijuana. There are those who seem to live merely to be drunk, high, etc, or only seem happy when they are. It really saddens me that some people live to experience that, a state of mind that's simply different from what they usually feel like, as if the everyday isn't worth really living through. Not to mention I'm a smart motherfucker, and I'd like to stay that way. Whether it's a six-pack of Coors Light a or a bottle of vodka, it will destroy you. There are men who have taught me this.
Don't get me wrong. I love my wine, my beer, my spirits (though perhaps in more of an Epicurean sense), and perhaps in some cases it is true, as the Marquis de Sade said, "Conversation, like other bodily functions, goes better with lubrication." But I don't drink to escape my life. I drink because a good Chardonnay, a Straub or a nice bottle of rum are wonderful parts of my life. Despite the obvious physical pain, occasional anger, arguable social isolation that what I'm dedicated to brings me, I'm rather fond of it and if it ever becomes something I merely have to get through every day in order to feel better afterwards, I'll quit.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
I have seized this day.
So, after a much-needed vacation, I'm back to the daily grind at the restaurant. I'm figuring out the wok, but slowly--maybe if PCI's Chef Bailey had taught us to stir-fry authentically and not in a large rondeau, my learning curve wouldn't be quite so skewed, but that's neither here nor there. Work is very, very gratifying.
Also with regards to my job, my six-month review was today. I won't go into heavy details, but let's say that I'm a very valued member of the team, I'm a cook's cook no matter my age or experience level, and I no longer live in terrible, indentured servitude-like poverty. Today made me align myself more consciously with what I have thus far stood behind: I have a responsibility to this kitchen and the food that comes out of it, and nothing can stop me.
But moving on, my time in Austin was very, very well-spent. I think I cooked every night, affirming either my committment to my craft or my total insanity. The company, as well as the food, was wonderful. It won't be so long before I'm back down South again, of that we can be sure of.
Every night's a party (venison burgers).
In Texas, we do our French cuisine outdoors.
Just a lovely bite: sauteèd Sockeye salmon and swordfish with Sauce Bercy, turnip rissolè, sauteèd asparagus with homegrown basil, heirloom tomato.
Also with regards to my job, my six-month review was today. I won't go into heavy details, but let's say that I'm a very valued member of the team, I'm a cook's cook no matter my age or experience level, and I no longer live in terrible, indentured servitude-like poverty. Today made me align myself more consciously with what I have thus far stood behind: I have a responsibility to this kitchen and the food that comes out of it, and nothing can stop me.
But moving on, my time in Austin was very, very well-spent. I think I cooked every night, affirming either my committment to my craft or my total insanity. The company, as well as the food, was wonderful. It won't be so long before I'm back down South again, of that we can be sure of.
Austin, kept weird.
Every night's a party (venison burgers).
In Texas, we do our French cuisine outdoors.
Just a lovely bite: sauteèd Sockeye salmon and swordfish with Sauce Bercy, turnip rissolè, sauteèd asparagus with homegrown basil, heirloom tomato.
Monday, September 11, 2006
it is what it is.
Mise for my hobby. The diced up meat of a chuck cross cut (no one buys this because they don't know what the hell to do with it), heirloom tomatoes, etc.
Bread dough, rising off the humidity and heat made by my soup.
Roasting bones, to develop a richer flavor.
Yes, that pan is as wide as my stove. Sometimes you need twice as much heat.
I didn't finish photographing all that, but what I ended up doing is a veloutè based soup. I'll tell you how! Hooray.
Roast your beef bones in a cranked up oven--you want a nice browning, which will give you a rich, full flavor as opposed to a boiled meat essence. While that's going on, get plenty of olive oil almost smoking hot in a saucepan, stockpot, whatever will hold your soup. Add your meat, and move it around to get some nice caramelization on the outside. It's really important not to just dump all your meat in at once--even using a commercial gas range, all that mass hitting the pan will leech out all the heat you built up and cause the meat to release all its moisture, thus boiling rather than browning. Yes, cooking is just stupid highschool physics, except in a very high-stress environment.
Once you've got your meat a nice color, you've come to a choice. An important decision. The way I did this tonight was to brown the meat, then brown the vegetables and tomato paste (I did homemade tomato paste with the heirlooms for this), then add water, bones, and aromatics--much like the process you'd go through if you were making a big batch of stock. It's essentially the same method, but simmering those veggies for as long as it takes to tenderize the meat and release flavor from the bones makes for vegetable puree, overcooked indistinguishable pieces of carrot and celery that are mushy even by American family standards. When this had simmered enough for me, I picked the pieces of meat out and added them back into the liquid, after I had strained it. It sounds ridiculous, but I've actually done it before at the school and it's not as tedious at you might think.. Your other option is to tie up your vegetables in a cheesecloth bag and let that simmer in with your liquid, which will still release flavor, but prevent you from caramelizing the veggies first. It depends on what you're going for, I suppose. Maybe you could brown mirepoix and then put that in a cheesecloth bag; it seems like a bigger pain in the ass than picking out the meat.
Anyway, the soup has simmered with bay leaf, peppercorns, thyme, other dry herbs if you want, and meanwhile I've made a blonde roux--equal parts flour and oil, cooked together until evenly golden (and don't get that shit on you)--in a seperate pot. The liquid and the diced beef is strained into this hot roux. You have now made a veloutè. At this point, you can add the vegetables you actually want to eat. I'll be taking the pot of veloutè to work tomorrow and adding carrot, celery, onion, probably potatoes as well. Cook those to the desired doneness (anything with roux in it must simmer for at least 20 minutes in it anyway, to cook out the raw flour taste), season, finish with a pat of butter, and you're good to go. It should be thick, in my opinion, a nice nappè (to coat the back of a spoon)--anything less and it just doesn't have the same hearty, stick-to-your-ribs effect. Besides, a thin soup makes good bread useless.
So aside from my latenight cooking adventures, life is going on rather well. In fact, there is big news--Soba has decided to train me on the wok station! While not my original goal, I suppose it was only a matter of time before I started really doing some Asian cooking, and in any case, I will be a master of this restaurant's entire line once I get the hang of cooking with 90,000 BTUs.
Roast your beef bones in a cranked up oven--you want a nice browning, which will give you a rich, full flavor as opposed to a boiled meat essence. While that's going on, get plenty of olive oil almost smoking hot in a saucepan, stockpot, whatever will hold your soup. Add your meat, and move it around to get some nice caramelization on the outside. It's really important not to just dump all your meat in at once--even using a commercial gas range, all that mass hitting the pan will leech out all the heat you built up and cause the meat to release all its moisture, thus boiling rather than browning. Yes, cooking is just stupid highschool physics, except in a very high-stress environment.
Once you've got your meat a nice color, you've come to a choice. An important decision. The way I did this tonight was to brown the meat, then brown the vegetables and tomato paste (I did homemade tomato paste with the heirlooms for this), then add water, bones, and aromatics--much like the process you'd go through if you were making a big batch of stock. It's essentially the same method, but simmering those veggies for as long as it takes to tenderize the meat and release flavor from the bones makes for vegetable puree, overcooked indistinguishable pieces of carrot and celery that are mushy even by American family standards. When this had simmered enough for me, I picked the pieces of meat out and added them back into the liquid, after I had strained it. It sounds ridiculous, but I've actually done it before at the school and it's not as tedious at you might think.. Your other option is to tie up your vegetables in a cheesecloth bag and let that simmer in with your liquid, which will still release flavor, but prevent you from caramelizing the veggies first. It depends on what you're going for, I suppose. Maybe you could brown mirepoix and then put that in a cheesecloth bag; it seems like a bigger pain in the ass than picking out the meat.
Anyway, the soup has simmered with bay leaf, peppercorns, thyme, other dry herbs if you want, and meanwhile I've made a blonde roux--equal parts flour and oil, cooked together until evenly golden (and don't get that shit on you)--in a seperate pot. The liquid and the diced beef is strained into this hot roux. You have now made a veloutè. At this point, you can add the vegetables you actually want to eat. I'll be taking the pot of veloutè to work tomorrow and adding carrot, celery, onion, probably potatoes as well. Cook those to the desired doneness (anything with roux in it must simmer for at least 20 minutes in it anyway, to cook out the raw flour taste), season, finish with a pat of butter, and you're good to go. It should be thick, in my opinion, a nice nappè (to coat the back of a spoon)--anything less and it just doesn't have the same hearty, stick-to-your-ribs effect. Besides, a thin soup makes good bread useless.
So aside from my latenight cooking adventures, life is going on rather well. In fact, there is big news--Soba has decided to train me on the wok station! While not my original goal, I suppose it was only a matter of time before I started really doing some Asian cooking, and in any case, I will be a master of this restaurant's entire line once I get the hang of cooking with 90,000 BTUs.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
gas is back on
Pot of beans. Or should I say, 6-quart mirrored stainless steel Cuisinart sautoise of beans. I started these off by browning the diced scraps of the pork spareribs with onion, carrot, and celery. Using bay, chili powder, cumin, paprika, and various herbs (as well as all the excess drippings from the ribs during roasting), I simmered the beans for about three hours.
Pork spareribs and my own rub (containing, among assorted herbs and spices, ground espresso beans). Contrary to popular belief you don't need a big iron barbeque grill to do barbeque--you can do it in a tiny studio apartment, as long as the meat fits in your oven (this almost did not). Roasted these for two hours, mopped some sauce on 'em, and finished them in the broiler. The tenderness of this product was amazing especially considering how easy it was to prepare--I never in my life imagined that this could be accomplished with some spices and aluminum foil.
It's hard to make out, but you can see my little buddy, Renoir, in this picture (he does not like the flash). Here, he's eating a carrot. Currently he is inside my toaster, eating crumbs. He and I are very alike--adventurous, passionate about food, Led Zeppelin fans.
Today is not a great day for bread. The dry, cool weather made this thing proof outward and not up at all--in the end it collapsed a little bit. If I'd made baguettes it would've worked out better. I'll call it a foccacia--it doesn't matter what the hell it looks like, it's going to keep me extremely popular at work.
Today is not a great day for bread. The dry, cool weather made this thing proof outward and not up at all--in the end it collapsed a little bit. If I'd made baguettes it would've worked out better. I'll call it a foccacia--it doesn't matter what the hell it looks like, it's going to keep me extremely popular at work.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
"you're always killin somethin just by livin on this earth."
I'm sorry, but occasionally, vegetarians make me a little angry at humanity. It was suggested to me recently that we can end war on this planet forever if everyone started by not eating animals. "It's all the same, Junior. Killing people is just the same as killing cattle, chickens, pigs. It's all murder." I honestly don't know if the low amount of vitamin B12 in these peoples' systems makes them delirious, or what, but to think that stopping the inhumanity involved in foie gras production is more important than the war in Iraq or alternative fuel sources or global warming points to a very, very distorted sense of priority. In other words, quit dicking around spreading PETA pamphlets in trendy neighborhoods and stop the real bullshit that's going on in the world!