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Author Archives: chriswardpress

Trilogies.

02 Saturday Jul 2016

Posted by chriswardpress in Uncategorized

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When I started working with Jean-Remy Joly at La Table des Agassins just outside Avignon, one of the first dishes I learned to make was this, the Trilogy.It’s layers of confited (dried or preserved) tomato, goat cheese and aubergine caviar, an assemblage of Provençal ingredients he put together when he first arrived in the region in 2000 as a tribute to the local gastronomy.It’s been on his ever-changing menu continually since then.Of course, I wasn’t allowed to make them at the start; I had to work my way up through the plonge, the dishwashing room and do my CAP cuisine qualification before he allowed me to do anything more than remove the stalks from the tomatoes, but it was a worthwhile education.Although the Trilogy appears very simple, it takes time to make and illustrates the biggest lesson you have to learn when you start cooking for others than just your immediate family: Planning. You can’t decide to eat this dish half an hour before you sit down at the table; you can’t even decide to eat it tonight if you’re thinking about your menu any later than first thing in the morning, since it takes some time to prepare.The longest preparation is for the tomatoes which need to be peeled, de-seeded and slow-roasted. In French this is called ‘Monder les tomates’ which means literally blanching them. You need to remove the skins to allow them to dry properly and not be too tough when they’re eaten; leave the skins on and they’re pretty chewy.To do this you need a saucepan of simmering hot water and a second of iced water. Start by removing the stalk and then cutting out the part of the tomato to which the stalk attaches. Do this by holding the pointy end of a small vegetable knife between your thumb and index finger and, with the tip of your thumb on the hard, green bit of the tomato push the point about half to one centimetre into the fruit. Use the tip of your thumb as the axis and cut a cone shape out of the tomato to remove the hard bit.Dip each tomato into the simmering water for 10-15 seconds – until you see the skin starting to peel – and immediately transfer them to the iced water. Do this with kitchen tongs, not your fingers. Then peel off the skin – I find it easiest with a vegetable knife, sliding the point under a loose bit of skin and pulling it off.Cut the tomato in half horizontally and pull out the seeds. Keep them and the fleshy bits around them to make a tomato sauce later, they’re very tasty. Lightly salt both sides of the tomato and add some dried Provencal herbs if you wish. Leave them open side down on a rack to drain liquid for an hour or two in the fridge before transferring them to a baking sheet (I line them with baking parchment or silicone sheets) and putting them into an oven at 80°C for three or four hours. Yes, as long as that. They will shrink but keep an eye on them after the 2.5 hour mark to make sure they don’t colour too much.While they’re drying you can make the aubergine caviar; cut off the stalk end and then cut your aubergine in half lengthways. Cross-hatch the flesh with the point of your knife quite deeply then sprinkle with salt and Provençal herbs, then add a good dose of olive oil. Note, when you’re cooking there’s no point in using the good stuff – heat denatures most oils and removes the taste to a large extent, so use some cheap stuff for cooking. Keep your sippin’ olive oil to pour lightly over food just before serving.Roast the cut aubergines in an oven pan with the tomatoes or if you need to do them separately, for an hour at 180°C. Pour boiling water into the oven pan so they don’t dry out – a few centimetres is enough, about halfway up the sides of the aubergines.IMG_3891When they’re cooked, scrape the flesh off the skin and squish it up between your fingers so there are no big bits. You’re looking for a fairly rustic effect here. The original recipe calls for sheets of gelatine to be added at this stage to firm up the caviar, but I prefer not to use it. Your choice – if you prefer firm aubergine caviar you should use two sheets per kilo of flesh.IMG_3910Take the tomatoes out of the oven when they’re dried enough.IMG_3869The last ingredient to mix is the goat cheese. Buy the youngest, freshest pelardons you can find, the fresher the better – I buy them on the local market at just 4 days old when they’re just starting to firm up and have a delicious, goaty flavour. (They’re delicious spread like butter with Vegemite on toast, too).IMG_3911Mash them up with a fork, a light sprinkle of salt and Provençal herbs and some of your sippin’ quality olive oil – just enough to bring the mixture together, you don’t want this to be liquid.Now comes the assembly. Put a small dribble of olive oil into the base of a silicone cupcake mold, then a tomato half. You will have two types of tomato halves, of course, one with a hole in the middle and one without. Serve your guests the pretty ones, obviously.After the tomato comes a dessert spoon of goat cheese mix, then another of aubergine caviar.IMG_3913Pop them into the fridge for at least an hour to allow them to ‘set’ a little before serving.While they’re in the fridge, make some basil sauce to serve them with. Strip the leaves from a whole basil plant and put them into a pot.IMG_3909Add in a small pinch of salt and a few glugs of good olive oil. Then, using a stick blender, mash them up into a pouring consistency liquid.IMG_3915Keep adding olive oil until you have the consistency required. A large basil plant will need something like 250-350mls of oil.To serve, place your Trilogy tomato side up on a plate (a soup spoon is a good utensil for persuading them out of the mold) and dribble over a dessert spoon or two of your basil sauce.IMG_4246These were so popular in the restaurant in Avignon that some customers would have them as a starter and dessert.Bon appetit!

Freaky

25 Saturday Jun 2016

Posted by chriswardpress in Recipe

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Whilst searching for something suitable as a subject for a dictation for my English-learning French students, I came across a new craze: Freakshakes.They’re milkshakes gone bonkers; milk, ice-cream, chocolate sauce, chantilly, sweeties, doughnuts, apple pies, whatever, all piled into and onto your glass.Miam, as they say in French.Once my daughters saw them, they wanted them for their ‘gouter’, their afternoon tea.So I made some chocolate sauce first. Just melt a bar of dark chocolate slowly in a clingfilm-covered bowl, then slowly stir in enough single cream to make it saucy but still quite thick – thick enough to stick to the inside and outside of your glass, as above.Coating the top of the outside of the glass allows you to stick on Smarties, fraises tagada and whatever other sweeties you like.Into the glass goes some cold milk and a couple of scoops of ice-cream, then a generous helping of chantilly cream on top.Add a few more sweeties and a giant straw and you’re ready to go.IMG_4071Smearing chocolate sauce around the inside of the glass gives an interesting effect and allows small children to keep busy scraping it off later with their sundae spoons.IMG_4079Total production time is about 10 minutes, less if you get your act together and have everything ready to go at production time.Give it a go. It’s as nice for grown ups as for kids.  

Lunch

19 Sunday Jun 2016

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Father’s Day today, so I get to have a day off from cooking and washing up.Ha ha ha ha ha!No seriously I enjoy food too much to leave my wife alone in the kitchen, so I’m cooking today.On the menu: duck breast with mushroom sauce, roast potatoes and asparagus with parmesan.The planning: The duck takes about 10 minutes to cook and 10 minutes to prepare; the asparagus 5 minutes to cook and prepare; the potatoes about 15 minutes to cook and 5 to prepare. And the mushroom sauce takes….well, as long as you can give it, really. The longer you can cook the sauce, the better it will be.The real art of being a good restaurant cook is getting every part of the client’s meal onto a plate and onto their table at the same time. It’s no good serving them the steak and sauce and then arriving five minutes later with the fries. This is what I spent a fair amount of time learning about when I became a professional cook – timing.U118A_1n8G0uiA-0MTOWC2Fnm9wob_c6b3bd_2014-cap-pa-tissier-ep2-8-ordonnancemThe first timing sheet is the sort of thing you’d get a commis to use when they’re learning how to cook one dish; the second is the type of sheet you’d be expected to use during a whole-day exam to show your timings in 30-minute slices throughout the day of the exam. This one’s just for patisserie – I did a general cookery course, not this specialised one.The procedure is fairly simple – at the bottom you’re shouting ‘Service!’ and the monkeys waiters turn up and carry the prepared plates out to the hungry customers. You work backwards from there for each dish – remembering to have separate serving times for your starter, main and dessert courses. You spread your time out, in this case including your compulsory breaks, back to now to see what you have to do first.The principles are simple – if I need the duck out of the door at 1pm it need to have spent two minutes being cut up, and have rested for five minutes before that, and have been roasted for five minutes before that, and been browned for five minutes before that, and been prepared during 10 minutes before that so I need to have started working on it, at the latest, at 12:33. Assuming I have nothing else to do.So in the case of the simple duck with mushroom sauce and roast potatoes, the thing which needs to start first is the mushrooms – the longer you cook them the better, so you start chopping them. Next I’d do the potatoes which simply need to be steamed at this point – later on they’re cut up into quarters lengthways and fried off in duck fat and, since the duck fat comes from cooking the duck, you need to cook the duck before you can fry the potatoes. Simples.Whilst the mushrooms are frying in a little olive oil and salt (the goal is to remove liquid from the mushrooms at this point, with the aim of concentrating their taste) I trim the duck breasts. IMG_3839This is what the duck breasts look like when they come out of their sous vide packaging. Note that in France these magrets de canard (nothing to do with maigret) come from ducks raised for foie gras and so may be larger than the duck breasts available in other countries where gavage is frowned upon.fish tweezersYou may find that there are a few stubs of feathers sticking into the skin side – if so use a pair of fish tweezers to remove them.They’re heavy-duty tweezers with a curved end, ideal for poking into fish and other types of flesh for pulling out reluctant bones and feather roots.Once you’ve finished de-feathering, turn over your duck breast and remove the traces of fat and, in particular, two areas of what in France are called ‘nerves’ but which are really veins and/or ligaments or some such anatomical things. You should remove them as carefully as possible, since if you leave them in they’ll feel like gristle in the eater’s mouth.IMG_3849Trim around the edges to make the fat level with the meat and chunk up the fat into a fairly small brunoise-size dice. Cross-hatch the fat so that it dissolves more easily and looks prettier when you cook it. You should have an odd number of cuts down through the fat just to the flesh – everything is done in odd numbers in kitchens because it’s more pleasing to the eye.IMG_3867Place the duck breasts fat side down in a very hot pan and sear them until they’re nicely browned just on the fat side. Don’t brown the meat side at all. You can see a slight incision in the lower side of the nearer duck breast – this is where I cut out the nerve/vein/whatever so my diners don’t have a mouthful of gristle.IMG_3873Here you can see the fat is nicely browned and quite decorative; the meat side isn’t coloured at all. When cooking time arrives they’ll go (fat side up) into a 180ºC oven for 4 minutes saignant/rare, 6 minutes à point/medium. Any more cooked than that and you’ll be in trouble with the taste police, proceed at your own risk.While the pan is still hot, throw in the bits of duck skin you cut into cubes (not the trimmings from the meat side – they’re basically inedible even to French people).IMG_3875They will colour quite quickly and you need to keep an eye on them to make sure they don’t shrivel up to nothing. But basically when they look cooked, take them out, put onto a serving tray, sprinkle with salt and try to resist the temptation to eat them all before dinner.IMG_3877Now you have the duck prepared the mushrooms should be nicely fried off – keep an eye on them while you’re preparing the duck so they don’t stick to the pan. Now it’s time to déglace/deglaze the mushrooms with the alcohol of your choice. IMG_3845I like to use Noilly Prat vermouth or, sometimes, Muscat wine. The latter is sweet and goes well with chicken and lamb sauces. The vermouth gives a nice grown-up taste a depth to your sauce. Déglacer/deglazing means using alcohol to scrape up the caramelized bits of whatever you’re cooking that have stuck to the bottom of the pan; you add enough to cover the bottom of your pan and scrape with a wooden spatula, and then leave this to reduce until the alcohol has almost disappeared. You can add a second round of alcohol if you like or, if not, some stock.I mostly use chicken stock because it is easy to make and, since we eat a lot of rotisserie chicken, I always have lots of chicken stock on hand. The secret – one of the secrets – to making a good sauce is not to add all  your liquid at once. So if you’re adding, say, a litre of chicken stock to your sauce then you add it a little at a time in four or five batches. Just enough to cover the main ingredient of the sauce, the mushrooms in this case, then reduce it down until it’s almost all disappeared then add some more. It doesn’t take any longer than reducing down the entire litre added at once but gives more flavour – the mushrooms or whatever aren’t simply boiled in the stock liquid.When your sauce is reduced to a decent consistency you can simply take it off the heat, ready to re-heat just before service.Your potatoes should have cooked by now, so when they’re cooled enough to handle cut into quarters.IMG_3885 Keep them somewhere safe where they can dry a little – on the chopping board is fine. The dryness and rough bits will become nice and crunchy. Last thing to prepare is the asparagus. IMG_3881Preparing asparagus is quite simple; hold it in both hands and snap it in the middle. It has a natural break point – the lower, root end is harder and will break off easily. This is the part that’s harder to eat but which is fine used in a stock, for example, so I keep and freeze these broken off bits to use in the future.The spears I line up on a baking tray and grate parmesan across them, then grill them under a very hot heat for two or three minutes. This works well with very fine spears of asparagus, if you like the thick ones or white asparagus you’ll need to go a more traditional steaming/boiling route.So by now you should have everything ready and five or ten minutes away from being served.Make sure the kids/butler have set the table then put the duck into the pre-heated 180ºC oven, put the potatoes into the pre-heated (maximum heat please) duck fat in the frying pan and the asparagus under the grill. In this order, too.After four/five/six minutes, take the duck out of the oven and set it to one side to rest for five minutes (meat should rest for as long as it cooks, generally speaking). Put the mushroom sauce on to heat and add in some cream if you like – I usually add a 200ml briquette of single cream. This should just heat up – if it boils it may curdle.IMG_3896When the parmesan has melted and is browned, take the asparagus out of the oven. Keep turning the potatoes until they’re browned on all sides.Put the potatoes on a serving dish and them and the asparagus go onto the dining table. Cut up the duck – diagonal slices down from the top looks nice – and arrange it on a serving dish, pouring all juices into the mushroom sauce. Send out the duck, put the sauce into a sauce boat and send it out. Have a drink. Sit down at table with your adoring family.IMG_3908

Simple bread

18 Saturday Jun 2016

Posted by chriswardpress in Recipe

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Tags

baking, Bread, Bread machine, Carpal Tunnel syndrome, Cheap, Ciabatta, Flour, Herbs, Hot hands, Jean-Rémi Joly, Simple, Slimy pastry

Bread is simple, simplicity itself; flour, water, salt and yeast and there you go. Well, almost – a certain amount of measuring and technique may well get in the way of your perfect loaf. Me, I’ve always had problems making anything that involved baking, especially if yeast was in the mix.Pastry I make is slimey or crumbly or sticky; cakes won’t rise and as for bread, well. Forget it.Hot hands? I’m an alien with strange bacteria on my skin that kill yeast? Who knows. Whatever the reason I never became a baker. And when I worked in professional kitchens I always avoided the patisserie as much as possible and stuck with starters, my preferred section.Then in Avignon under Jean-Remy Joly I had no choice; often there were just the two of us in the restaurant and we both had to do everything, and I found myself having to bake cakes.And it worked. His recipe for madeleines always came out right and it still does – I’ll show it to you one day. Pastry worked. Nothing failed following his rules to keep stuff as cold as possible and always work with just the tips of your fingers to avoid over-heating your dough.We never made bread though, and the few times I tried on my own it didn’t work. I invested in a bread machine and that would, usually, turn out something edible but no more than that. Sometimes it would be inexplicably heavy and, basically, inedible.Then I found some new all-in-one bread mix which contained the flour and yeast in the same bag, and it worked better than trying to mix the ingredients myself. It worked almost every time in the machine with good results.And then I read somewhere about the idea of using your bread machine to do the kneading but actually baking bread in a regular oven.One of the problems with many bread machines, in particular the cheap ones like mine, is that they don’t really get hot enough to properly bake bread; there’s no such problem in conventional ovens.So I tried it and, well, it works great. I put just 360 ml of water and half a kilo of the flour and yeast mix into the bread machine and allow it to do its mixing and proving cycle, which lasts 90 minutes.Then I put it on a baking sheet, kneading it just a little and allow it to rise a second time. During the kneading I add herbs from the garden, usually rosemary and sage, and a little olive oil. I sometimes sprinkle a little fleur de sel de Camargue on top too, for a little salty crunch.IMG_3982When it’s risen again – usually 20-30 minutes later – I put it into a very hot oven (220-230ºC) and bake it for 20 – 25 minutes, turning it 180º after a quarter of an hour to ensure even browning.And it makes a very light, ciabatta-style loaf. The whole process is very simple, it’s much easier to do than to describe in fact. I use a similar process now to make brioche buns, although in this case I usually use brioche flour and a separate sachet of special brioche yeast; the all-in-one packets of brioche flour and yeast don’t seem to work so well.The bread is very tasty – it’s no sourdough special but it’s very edible, lovely with some nice paté or cheese or just used for mopping up sauce or soups.The flour is a simple packet bought from Lidl, it costs less than a euro; a whole loaf costs under 50 cents.IMG_4012Once the bread is baked – test by rapping the underside with your knuckles, it should sound hollow – allow it to cool on a wire rack. If you just leave it on a worksurface, steam will turn to water underneath and give you a soggy bottom. Missus.If the loaf doesn’t get all eaten at once I slice it and freeze it, then can take out a slice or two at a time from the freezer. Makes great toast this way.

The simple things in life…

13 Monday Jun 2016

Posted by chriswardpress in Recipe

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Tags

Chicken, Ingredients, Perfection, Rotisserie, Simple

I recently came across something I wrote a while ago about omelets, which are pretty simple things really. Simple until you start mucking about with them, that is. Then they become complicated.Like the rib of beef I cooked a few weeks ago; brown it on both sides, pop it in the oven for a few minutes, rest, carve, eat. Job done.The devil, for omelets and rib of beef, is in the details, the provenance of your eggs and beef, the care the producer has taken over what her animals have eaten and, in the case of the beef, the care taken over the slaughter and ageing of the beef (which, incidentally, is not something generally done very well in France).Buy cheap eggs or cheap beef and, no matter how well your preparation and cooking go, you’ll end up with a meh result. Equally, buy the best products – and prepare them using your incredibly expensive knives and equipment in your multi-thousand dollar kitchen – using rubbish techniques, and you’ll still end up with a meh result; perhaps even more meh than the cooking goddess who starts with average products and applies great care and techniques.So to roast chicken. The bird above started out as a cheap supermarket Poulet Jaune, a yellow chicken so called because, duh, it’s yellow. The yellow comes from the corn it’s fed during its short one-month life.IMG_3954Then comes the application of a little seasoning – fine-grain salt all over and a large pinch of herbes de Provence – and the heat. In this case it’s cooked in a rotisserie oven. Which makes all the difference.Back in my professional life we’d roast a chicken for one hour; the first quarter hour on one thigh, then the second on the other thigh, the third on its chest and the final quarter of an hour on its back to crisp the breast. It’s a finnicky process because you have to set timers or have a good sense of time to keep on schedule, but it’s important to prevent whichever side is uppermost from drying out. You also have to baste your beast (as with any roast meat) using the juices in the pan.A rotisserie oven does all this for you, auto-basting the bird and ensuring that each side gets an even amount of heat, producing a far superior bird than even the most assiduously turned one.I’d like to say I carefully planned for and chose our rotisserie oven, but it was here when we moved in; and the first oven I bought in France had one too, so perhaps it’s just a Thing here. But well worth it for the difference it makes to roast chickens – I don’t use it for anything else, although perhaps I should.IMG_3972An hour or so later it’s ready, cooked to perfection. There’s a cooking pan underneath the chicken to catch the juices which I use to make a sauce. While the chicken is resting for 10-15 minutes, I put the pan on a high heat and deglaze with some alcohol – this time I used some muscat wine. Scrape up all the stuck on bits and reduce the liquid to almost nothing, then add in some chicken stock. Reduce this down until it’s the thickness you like and serve. It takes 5-10 minutes, and you can leave it alone to make a lovely sauce while you prepare your veg.And really that’s all there is to it, apart from carving the chicken which can be an art in itself. To do this properly you need to learn from a Maitre d’hotel who has learned at the side of another master, they will do it perfectly.Essentially, you remove the wings, then the legs which you divide into upper thighs and drumsticks. Then you remove the two breasts, cutting them each into two portions. In all you can make 8-10 (small) portions from a 1.5 kilo bird.Very simple. N’est-ce pas?

Transforming

09 Thursday Jun 2016

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 I was slicing some gravlax one mid-summers evening in a busy restaurant, when a thought occurred to me.Now, thoughts can be good and they can be bad when you’re working in a professional restaurant kitchen.Good thoughts are things like “Ah, the Maitre d’ just called another salmon so I’ll keep slicing this now rather than wrapping it back up and putting it away immediately.”Bad thoughts are things like “Ooh, Marilyn Monroe…” Distracting thoughts, in other words.The thought that came to me that evening back in the middle of 2008 was, “Blimey. I can slice salmon. Properly. Like they do in restaurants.”Well of course I could. By then I’d been working for the best part of five years in gastronomic restaurants and the homes of some of Europe’s wealthiest people. But still, it’s like the day when you realise you’re an adult now and no longer an adolescent – a bit of a shock, really.I was using my Special Knife, the one proper cooks use to slice things like salmon, but it wasn’t really a knife porn moment. Proper tool for the job, especially as I was slicing through 10 kilos of salmon or more a day.242700No, it was just that I had a momentary out of body experience, looking down on a Chef de Partie doing a good job, slicing the salmon thinly but not too thin, nice big pieces, covering the plate well. And it was me doing it.Blimey. A transformation from keen amateur to cool professional overnight. With just several years of training and experience to get to that overnight transformation.Blimey.  Transformation

Smoothly does it…

06 Monday Jun 2016

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So WordPress, being the kindly folks who host this place, invite me to write about Smooth….And as I’m here to answer your questions about cookery (like I used to about computers but now you can eat your mistakes), I’ll answer the one about how to make smooth custard.Crème anglaise, as it’s known in French, is an emulsion of egg yolks and milk; it’s dairy mayonnaise, if you like. Add in sugar instead of salt and, voilà. Vanilla pod scrapings give it a bit of flavour and added poshness.OK, right. Egg yolks. So the quickest and easiest way is to crack the egg and allow the white to drain through your fingers. Unless the health inspector’s watching. Keep the whites for the future recipe on making meringues.Well. Like all simplest things, there’s a lot to go wrong and when making custard it’s too easy to make it lumpy – the heat is too high, the egg yolks attract other bits of egg yolks and the fat content in the milk and there you go, custard like Grandma used to make.So, do this. Use 10 egg yolks for one litre of milk (full fat, or a mix of full fat and cream is good). Split the vanilla pod and scrape the seeds into the milk and then add in the pod itself. Top tip: the flavour’s in the pod, mostly, not the seeds. Bring the milk to the boil while whisking together the egg yolks and the sugar – 100-200 grammes, depending on how sweet your tooth is.While it’s heating, whisk the yolks and sugar until they reach the ribbon stage – all this means is that when you lift your whisk and waggle it over the surface of the liquid, it leaves a trail for a few seconds. Faire le ruban, they say in French to impress your friends. It won’t take long, a minute or so – less time than the milk takes to boil especially if you forget to cover the pan with a lid.So, as the milk/cream comes to the boil pour it gently onto the yolks, all the time whisking the yolk mixture. Keep whisking. Then pour the whole lot back into the saucepan and keep whisking it, turning the heat down to about half the maximum possible.Change the whisk for a wooden spoon or spatula and stir in a figure of 8 to make sure you get into all the corners, and don’t stop.Keep this up until the liquid will coat the back of your spoon/spatula thickly, and when you drag your finger across it (don’t forget to lick your finger clean) the trace stays clear like Moses parting the Red Sea.Put the custard into a cool recipient and keep stirring. If your custard hasn’t already gone lumpy, this is when it will choose to do so. In professional kitchens we sometimes did the cooling down giraffein a cold bain Marie or even an ice bath to hurry it along.So if, despite all this, you get lumps like grandma made, get out your stick whisk mixer,the one you use to make soups smooth inside the saucepan. The giraffe, we call it in French restaurants as it has a long neck. And just mix the hell out of your recalcitrant custard.If you have an evil and mean chef on your back you can instead choose to force the lumps through a fine sieve. This takes longer. Much longer. It also makes evil, mean chefs cackle a lot.So, there you go. Smooth.   

Miam, as they say in French

05 Sunday Jun 2016

Posted by chriswardpress in Recipe, Uncategorized, Vignette: A slice of m...

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The cooking is really simple; all the complicated bit is done by the farmer who raises your rib, the butcher who chooses, ages and cuts it and then you who buy the right one. IMG_2017Once you’ve done the hard bit, fry off your rib of beef just to colour it – the outside looks lovely, the inside remains essentially raw. This will take about four or five minutes. Top tip: wipe the surface of the meat to get it as dry as possible; if you leave it moist this will produce steam and stop it attaining maximum heat to produce the essential Maillard Reactions. Second tip: salt the surface of the meat with fine (table) salt just before putting it in the pan; if you salt it before it’ll draw moisture out of the meat, and if you don’t salt it it won’t taste as good.Don’t be afraid to turn up the heat to maximum, since you’ll be paying close attention to it and not letting it burn.IMG_2020Once the rib is browned, put it into the oven at 180°C for, well, as short a time as you dare really; the one you see here had 7 minutes to come out ‘saignant’, rare. 12 minutes will give you medium. 3 hours and it’s ready for my dad.It’s very important to rest your meat for as long as you’ve cooked it – so another 7 minutes in this case. It won’t go cold, although you can cover it with some tin foil if it makes you feel happier. Resting allows the juices to return inside the cells – it’s not scooping up the juice that flows out (that you should add to your sauce), it’s making the meat itself juicier inside.Then slice and serve it.Traditionally this would be served with oven roasted potatoes (roasted in duck fat, obv.), seasonal vegetables (or just a little salad) and mushroom sauce (recipe later).

Book Review: Sous Chef by Michael Gibney

10 Wednesday Sep 2014

Posted by chriswardpress in Review, The Book

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America, Brigade, Gibney, Line cook, Michael Gibney, Sous Chef

souschefSo you’re undoubtedly a good cook. Maybe even a good chef, but that means something different where you live than where I live and work(ed). Here in France, a Chef is a Chef, the top person in the kitchen. Everyone else is a cook. They may be a Sous-Chef, a Chef de Partie, a Chef Patissier. But they’re not a chef. And when the Chef’s on his day off and the Seconde – not usually called a Sous-Chef – isn’t called Chef. He’s called Christian or Jean-Pierre or whatever his name is. Only Chef gets to be called chef. You, you’re not Chef unless you’re THE Chef.And there you also have the second problem. You’ve written this whole book in the second-person voice, and to you that sounds very strange. You do this and then you do that? No, no I don’t. You may have done, but I didn’t. I really don’t get this way of writing, it grates and grates like a large-hole Microplane against my mind’s eye every time I see it used. So, that’s why I give Sous Chef 4 stars instead of 5. I seriously thought about just 3, but there’s lots of good stuff to make up.Because Michael Gibney has lots of interesting things to write, and just as gratingly as using You instead of I, he spends a lot of time NOT being self-effacing, which is what English people do. Even when he makes a mistake we understand he’s not really at fault and that, in fact, he’s really a hero. Ahem.But both these things are American, and we forgive that young nation a lot of faults because they can bring so much to the party, not least energy. And Michael Gibney appears to have lots of that. Then again he’s young. I’ve never worked in big restaurants like he has in a big city, so I assume it’s different. But I don’t know of any chefs who work all day and then party all night before starting over again. Although like Gibney I’ve read Bourdain so I know it goes on. I just can’t do it.Another difference with what I’m used to is the sheer number of staff working in American kitchens. Like when I watch Gordon Ramsay hollering at Americans in Kitchen Nightmares, I simply can’t get over how many staff it takes to cook something there. How do they manage to pay 10 people to cook 50 meals at silly low prices? It couldn’t be done here in France, that’s for sure. Here, I’ve worked in restaurants that did 80 – 100 covers per service with three, perhaps four staff. The most I’ve seen was in a restaurant that did banqueting too and we had 7 staff for 150-250 covers, no more than 80 of them a la carte. But in that 7 there was an apprentice and two part-time dishwashers. I’ve done all the prep AND the service for a 150-person banquet on my own. Gibney works in a restaurant where they have three people just to do the plating-up! I’ve turned out 80 covers of a similar gastronomic quality with JUST those three members of staff.And talking of grating, I get that American restaurants are largely staffed by Spanish-speaking staff from central and south America. I understand that this means that a lot of Spanish is therefore spoken in those restaurant kitchens. What I don’t understand is why on Earth he’d imagine that all his readers are so conversant with Spanish that there’s no need to translate the regular half-pages filled with it for the benefit of those that aren’t conversant.And also explain the French terms you use – and mis-use – as you go along. Sure, there’s a glossary but, especially when you’re reading on a Kindle, you’re not going to keep flipping back and forth. Also: Pretentious? Toi?But as I say he writes lots of interesting things and I see a lot of familiar actions and occupations in what he writes. If you’re interested in seeing what goes on inside the kitchen, this is an interesting read and will tell you lots.

Recipe: Chips, or perhaps I mean fries. Frites, anyway.

25 Monday Aug 2014

Posted by chriswardpress in Afterwards, Vignette: A slice of m...

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

boiling oil, Chips, French fries, Frites, Mandoline, Pommes frites, Secret

Now that I have two daughters who speak French most of the time with each other and their mother, but English with me and then American when they watch Disney cartoons there’s plenty of possibilities for misunderstandings.As in, “Would you like some chips for tea?”In French, this would be thinly-sliced discs of potato fried in hot oil. In American, too. But in English, which is what I speak, it means small fingers of potato. Fried in hot oil. French fries. Pommes frites. Pommes alumettes almost, in fact.The Bron Couke Professional Mandoline. Can also be used by amateurs.Almost but not quite – pommes alumettes, matchstick fries, are a little beyond the capabilities of my Bron Couke mandoline, like this one here. If you’ve ever set foot in a professional restaurant kitchen in France, you’ll have seen one of these beasts, sitting on the same shelf it’s been kept on for the last 10, 20, 30 or more years. Some ‘modern’ chefs (you need to hawk and spit after pronouncing it for the full effect) insist on using new-fangled Japanese mandolines which can cut your potatoes, carrots, radishes and cauliflowers into instant Geraniums or Giraffes instead of slices or, well, chips. Real chefs snigger at them.Also, note that my Professional mandoline doesn’t have the widget that sits on top to hold your vegetables and automatically save you from cutting off the tips of your fingers. Real chefs don’t need the tips of their fingers and have lost them years ago anyway. Continue reading →

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