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Author Archives: chriswardpress

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...

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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 →

I was younger back then….

25 Monday Aug 2014

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I was young and innocent…then I became a cook
This photo of me in my brand new chef’s whites was taken just before I started working as a dishwasher at La Table des Agassins, while I was in the throes of trying to escape from the horrible traiteur in Nimes. It didn’t stay this white for long.

Book availability

23 Saturday Aug 2014

Posted by chriswardpress in The Book

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Eat Sleep Cook School! is now available for your Kindle from Amazon in the UK, http://amzn.to/1tr4QVW Amazon France, http://amzn.to/1tDzRnU and Amazon USA and many other countries, http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MYWU976

Published!

22 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by chriswardpress in The Book

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Published!

 Now officiaScreen Shot 2014-08-22 at 23.30.30lly available for purchase online in the e-book format of your choice from Smashwords!https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/469523Through them it will, in a week or so, be available also from Amazon for your Kindle, from Apple via iBooks for your iPad and many more. Buy one for yourself and a few more for your friends!If anyone would like to review the book for their blog, website, Twitter or Facebook page, drop me a line at eatsleepcookschool@mostxlnt.co.uk and I’ll be happy to send you a copy in the format of your choice.Cool. 

Recipe: Pommes Dauphine

20 Wednesday Aug 2014

Posted by chriswardpress in Recipe

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boiling oil, Choux pastry, Pommes Dauphine, Potatoes, Simples

Ingredients250g mashed potato (see purée de pomme de terre recipe after chapter 22)250g choux pastry (see Choux Chantilly recipe after chapter 29)1 vat of boiling oil (optional)MethodFirst, don’t make your mashed potato too wet – hold back on the milk, add perhaps half the regular amount of butter and keep it stiff. Chaps.Next, don’t add the sugar to the choux recipe. Sugar and potatoes don’t go together so well.This recipe is simplicity itself. Mix the potato and pastry together in equal quantities and then cook dollops of it in oil at 180C. Alternatively if you’re on a health kick (sorry but you may be on the wrong track reading this if that’s the case) you can pipe the mixture onto baking sheets, brush them lightly with butter or even olive oil and bake them in the oven for about 15 minutes at 180C.And that’s all there is to it. Simples.

Recipe: Choux chantilly

20 Wednesday Aug 2014

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Chantilly cream, Choux buns, Choux chantilly, Courage!

Ingredients250ml water5g salt10g sugar (or none if you’re making savoury buns)80g butter cut into small pieces125g plain flour4-5 eggs depending on size – see methodFor the Chantilly cream you’ll need:60cl thick cream40g icing sugarA couple of drops of vanilla extractMethodChoux pastry has a reputation for being very hard to make. It isn’t in fact the case, provided you follow the instructions, weigh everything twice and don’t panic. And, most importantly, cook your choux buns for longer than you think necessary. Be brave! If I’d been braver I’d have had a extra point on my final cookery exam when I qualified.OK, boil up the water, salt, sugar and butter in a saucepan to emulsify them. Away from the heat add all the flour in one go and mix vigourously with a wooden spatula. When it’s well mixed, return it to a gentle heat and keep stirring to dry your mixture. This is quite important – the choux buns will rise because of steam from the water trapped inside, but if there’s too much water they’ll be soggy. So, clench your flat-ended wooden spatula in your fist and ‘chunk’ the mixture off bit by bit, dragging it across the bottom of the saucepan until it steams no more.Remove from the heat when you get bored doing this and add the eggs one by one. After adding four check the consistency – it should be ‘dropping consistency’, i.e. it should drop from your spatula not too quickly, but quite easily. If it’s too stiff, add half your fifth egg, test again, and add the rest if necessary.OK, hard part over, hardest part coming up. Using a piping bag or a plastic bag with a corner cut off, pipe the mix onto a baking tray in regular quantities. Leave room between them for them to expand. The hole in your bag should be 1-1.2 cms in size and they should be about 3cms high.When you’ve piped them all out, use a damp fork to flatten the tops evenly and then put them into a 200C oven for 25-30 minutes. The temptation will be to take them out after 20 because they’ll look cooked, but the insides will still be moist – and that’ll lose you a point or two in your exam. So be careful.Also, professional ovens have ‘ouras’, vents that can be opened to allow steam to escape from the oven. You can achieve a similar effect by cranking up the temperature to 220C and slightly propping open the oven door with a teatowel or spoon or whatever for the last five minutes of cooking. Be brave.When they’re done – they should sound hollow when tapped underneath and the insides shoudl be dry – put them to cool while you make your chantilly cream.A good tip for whipping cream is to keep everything as cold as possible – put your mixing bowl and cream into the fridge or even freezer before starting, although you want the cream to still be liquid so don’t leave it too long.Add the sugar to the cream and whisk it – on crushed ice if you like, every little helps – until it sticks together nicely.Then you can either pipe the cream into the base of your choux buns or open them up and spoon it in. You may have to lick your fingers a lot using this method.Sieve some extra icing sugar over the top and there you go – an exam-winning dish.

Recipe: Chicken Chasseur

20 Wednesday Aug 2014

Posted by chriswardpress in Recipe

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Brandy, Brown stock, Chicken chasseur, Monter au beurre, Mushrooms, Traditional recipe

Ingredients1 chicken, about 1.2 kilos100g flour80g butterHalf a litre of brown chicken stock (see recipe after chapter 17)For the sauce you will need:2 shallots, finely chopped250g button mushrooms, half of them chopped the rest – smaller ones – whole5ml brandy10ml white wineA little of your chicken stock20g butterA little tarragon – a couple of stalksA little chervilSalt and pepperMethodThis is a very traditional French recipe. I just managed to outrage my French wife by remarking that I haven’t cooked this recipe in ages, so guess what we’re eating tonight? Well, this weekend anyway.First, you need to cut up your chicken. In a professional kitchen, we’d cut up say half a dozen chickens and use the resulting carcasses to make the stock in this recipe, and if you have the time I recommend doing the same yourself. Start with the chicken side-on to you, breast uppermost. Using a sharp knife (I know, I shouldn’t have to specify but….) cut around the skin between the thigh and the body – you’ll find that there’s a gap there under the skin. Pull the thigh away gently and you’ll find the joint – cut through the tendons holding it together. Then cut the drumstick away from the upper thigh – two portions.Do the same with the wings, taking a little of the breast with them. Two more portions.Now with the breast uppermost, cut down from the pointy end towards the bum, until you get to the wishbone. A professional chef, or a culinary student, would already have removed this. Lazy chefs and students leave it in and just cut along it. Then insert your knife between the flesh of the breast and the ribs, with the blade parallel to and even lying along the ribs and cut down to separate the meat from the carcass. Cut each breast in half to give two portions. Go slowly and you’ll manage it, the first two or three hundred are the hardest.Or just by chicken joints. Your choice. Note, the official cook book allows 30 minutes for this procedure, but it is for two chickens not one and 15 minutes seems generous to me.Anyway. Salt and pepper the chicken pieces and fry them in hot butter and/or oil, until they’re nicely tanned – about 10 minutes. Then pop them onto a metal dish and cover with foil to finish cooking them in the oven at 180C for another 10-12 minutes. You may want to take the breast portions out a few minutes before the thighs, which need more cooking.In the pan in which you cooked the chicken, carefully pour off any excess fat and fry the chopped mushrooms for a couple of minutes, then add the shallots. Fry the mushrooms on the highest heat possible – the aim is to get rid of the water in them.Once the shallots are tender, add the cognac and flambé the mix. If you’re a steely-eyed professional chef you do this by tipping the pan casually to one side so the brandy slops onto the gas flame and sets fire to the whole pan. If you’re a wimpy civilian you point your blowtorch at it at arms length and shriek mightily when it catches light.Deglaze with the white wine – that means slosh it in and stir it round with a wooden spatula to pck up all the nice crusty maillard reaction bits from the bottom of the pan – and add in the stock and button mushrooms. Reduce it down ferociously to about half its starting volume then remove from the heat and whisk in the 20g of butter. This is called ‘monter au beurre’, to mount with butter. When your guests remark on the unctuosity of the sauce you can say, casually yet professionally, “Oh yes, it’s monté au beurre” and make as if they’d understand what you meant. Which they will if they’re French.Add in the herbs, lightly chopped, and nap it over the finished chicken portions. Note, the official recipe book require that, when you dress the plates, the points of the wings and drumsticks must point towards the centre of the plate.Etiquette. You may have heard of it?

Recipe: Omelette

20 Wednesday Aug 2014

Posted by chriswardpress in Recipe

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Butter, Eggs, nothing else, Omelette, Omlet, Salt

Ingredients3 eggsThat’s it, nothing else. Just three eggsOh yes, salt. A pinch of salt.But that’s all.Salt and eggs.Oh, a knob of butter too.But that’s definitely it. Really nothing else.At allMethodThe simplest recipes are the hardest to master. Take the earlier (after chapter 22) example of mashed potato, which has only three or four ingredients – potato, butter, salt and perhaps milk. It takes longer to write down the recipe than it does to cook it. Good grief.Same with omelettes. An omelette can, of course, have many more ingredients and many optional flavourings, but the corridor to hell is papered with false omelette recipes.So, first, put your omelette pan on to heat, and get it good and warm but not smoking hot. Your omelette pan will look like many other omelette pans but this is your omelette pan. Your omelette pan is your best friend. It is your life. You must master it as you must master your life. Your omelette pan, without you, is useless. Without your omelette pan, you are useless.Above all, NEVER let your spouse near your omelette pan. They will claim it is dirty and wash it, scour it and put it in the dishwasher. And then you will have a freshly-dug grave in the garden to explain to the nice police officer.Cast iron, conditioned according to the best advice you can find on the internet. Or non-stick. I’m afraid I’m actually agnostic on this point, what counts is the quality of the eggs and your technique.So, roughly beat together the eggs with a pinch of salt, using a fork. When the pan is nicely hot, add your knob of butter. When the foam has settled and just before the butter colours – you don’t want beurre noisette for goodness’ sake – pour in the eggs. Swirl them gently round the pan to make sure all the bottom is coated, then start drawing the already cooked mixture from the edges into the centre using the back of your mixing fork. Check and re-check the heat, you don’t want to colour the eggs at all, just set them.Keep drawing the mixture into the centre with the fork until it’s almost set all across, then tilt the pan at 45 degrees with the handle up towards your chest and encourage the top edge to fold over with your fork. The omelette should be ‘baveuse’, slobbery like a labrador, or ‘eek that’s not cooked’ if you’re my mother or any other English person, come to think of it.Ignore the shreiks and, with the pan still at 45 degrees, gently encourage it to fold over again and out of the pan onto your warmed, waiting plate. The omelette should be nicely yellow not browned at all, almost in a roll and gently leaking a little bit of runny egg from each end.Eat it immediately with the same fork you used to mix and then move round the mixture, especially if it’s you doing the washing up.If you are a heathen you may wish to add some chopped herbs just before the folding part of the event – chives, dill and parsely individually or together are popular I hear, down in the cheap seats where they like to call such things ‘fines herbes’. If you run a restaurant you’ll probably be obliged to add in cheese, ham and goodness knows what else. Do what they want, they’re paying to feed your plain omelette habit after all. They probably won’t even care if the outside is browned.Animals.

Recipe: Beurre blanc

20 Wednesday Aug 2014

Posted by chriswardpress in Recipe

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Beurre blanc, Butter, Shallots, White wine, White wine vinegar

Ingredients250g butter (the best you can get. Unsalted of course)150g – 200g shallots20cl white wine10cl white wine vinegar10-20cl cream (very optional)MethodCut the butter into 1cm cubes and put it back into the fridge.Now chop your shallots VERY finely. Very. 1mm dice. It’s easier, as I may have mentioned, when you’re on your 200th kilo of them.Put the shallots, wine and wine vinegar into a saucepan (sauteuse, if you want to be smart) and bring gently to a boil then allow to simmer. Reduce the liquid down to almost nothing – 5-10 minutes. Don’t do it too quickly, you want the shallots to absorb the flavour of the liquid and vice-versa. You can use the time to argue with any passing French person about the exact proportions of wine and vinegar you should be using, or even if you should be using wine or vinegar at all. This may get quite heated but you probably won’t need a knife, although you should keep one within reach.When the liquid has all almost but not quite gone, reduce the heat by half and start adding in the butter piece by piece, stirring it in with a whisk energetically. Don’t, whatever you do, show your chef the page in the official recipe book which suggests that the butter you use should be softened. Well, not unless you want to drive him into an apopleptic rage, that is.If you’re reet posh you may wish to strain the sauce, but most people prefer this sauce with the bits of onion in it so don’t bother. Unless, as I say, you’re posh.You should serve it straight away, or if you have to keep it at 45C-50C for a sort time. It can’t be made in advance and reheated, it will separate out and you’ll need to start over.Nap it over fish, as is traditional, or if you’re a daring radical think of adding some chopped herbs or vegetable purée (peppers, for example, or dill) and serve it with vegetables.This is my favourite sauce, I should note. Usually I have to make double portions because, as my wife puts it, ‘Je le mange à la louche’, I eat it by the ladleful.

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