No Mortadella. Sorry!

Well, I apologize for failing my first month at charcutepalooza. I just never got around to making my mortadella. I have spent the last few weeks preparing for the installation and replacing all of my kitchen appliances, as well as, flying my airline schedule. I just could not find the time to give the July challenge of making emulsified sausage its due effort. So, rather than a half-hearted effort, I decided to skip it. Now on to the new challenge for the month of August. This month's challenge (if you didn't guess form the picture above) is all about terrines. This comes at a good time because I'm eager to use my recently bought Le Creuset terrine mold pictured above. Stay tuned.

A Cook's Garden

In a perfect world every cook/chef should have his/her own garden. It's been years since I planted a garden. I have delayed, procrastinated, and at times been unable to plant a garden. I finally decided that another year lost would be simply unacceptable. I finally put in a garden this year. There is nothing more satisfying and calming as walking through my little patch each morning, inspecting, picking, and taking in the aromas of my own vegetables and herbs. As a cook, it's really gratifying to be able to select flavors from my own garden.

I am fortunate to have some space to plant a garden with decent variety, but you really don't need much space to plant herbs, or a tomato for example. In fact, you only need a couple of pots to plant your favorite herbs. I have always been irked when a recipe required me to buy a whole bunch of an herb for only 1 TBS. The waste! With a garden, I have the luxury to pick only what's needed.

Here, I have planted marjoram, oregano, spearmint, savory, basil, and cilantro all in the same pot.

If you cook, I really encourage you to plant a small garden or a minimum of a few pots outside your window filled with herbs. Basil, parsley, mint, and thyme are examples of herbs that are really simple to grow and require minimum care. You won't regret it.

Mortadella

The Charcutepalooza challenge this month is to make emulsified sausage. In short, this is the type of sausage that has a smooth paste texture like a hot dog. I did some research on the subject and have decided to make mortadella. Mortadella is an Italian sausage that hails from bologna. We have all seen it in the deli (I took the picture above from google image search.) In it's most traditional form it has a cross-section that shows a pinkish color, dotted with fat and pistachios. However, variations of the traditional can be made by replacing the pistachios with olives, or not using either. The meat is pork shoulder mixed with fat. I'll write more about the process when I make it in the upcoming week. Any suggestions are welcome!

Charcutepalooza

I recently following a "movement" called Charcutepalooza. It's a celebration of sorts. A celebration of curing, salting, and smoking meat. It's about reconnecting with how our ancestors approached meat before refrigeration. It's also a means to pass on the humane treatment of animals by learning to maximize the use of the animal to prevent a wasteful death, learning techniques of enhancing flavors, and generally reacquainting ourselves with a lost art. The group is comprised of food bloggers who are given a monthly challenge to prepare something using the above techniques and then writing about it by the 15th of the following month. As it turns out, I recently wrote about making sausage and curing duck to make duck prosciutto which coincidentally were two of the past challenges. The challenges are posted on Mrs Wheelbarrows Kitchen.
   
I invite you to join in or follow along and make any comments or suggestion to enhance my challenges. July's challenge is sausage emulsification which is the process that transforms a sausage into a smooth textured sausage as in a hot dog or bratwurst. I have never done this process, so it'll be fun for me to learn a new technique.

Food - The Ultimate Equalizer

I am in Miami for the day with my airline job. I am always in search of good food here and I am most often disappointed, not because of Miami, but because my layover location is not the best in Miami. It's not the trendy South Beach, nor is it Coral Gables, or Coconut Grove. I am staying near the Miami airport where my choices of decent dining are very limited. There are lots of strip mall style stores, cafes, and nondescript restaurants- all of them latin. Cuban food is king here. On this rather gloomy FL day, I went out for lunch and explored some of the less trodden, rather shady looking streets and came across a very authentic Cuban place, not very originally named "Havana Cafe.". This place was the real deal with the walk-up espresso window and not much evidence of the English language to be found inside. It was a local's hangout. I went in despite the not-too-friendly glares.

I lived in FL for many years. There has always been a divisive prejudice between the Cubans and the non-Cubans. Don't ask me who is at fault. I don't know. Today I felt that prejudicial eye as I sat at the bar and prepared to order. I was generally ignored, my order was taken without a smile, and all of my English was met with replies in Spanish. I ordered a Cuban Steak sandwich which was priced at an incredible $4.50! I could have actually been in Cuba with these low prices. My cafe Con leche came first. I have to admit, the Cubans have a great coffee ritual. As I drank the coffee, the cuban music filling the air, I remembered a passage in Julia Child's book "My Life in France" where she was annoyed with Americans who found things to complain about the French culture rather than embracing all of the wonderful qualities of the French. Maybe I can do the same here. My heartbeat slowed almost immediately at the thought and my anxiety level came down a notch.

My steak sandwich came. A very humble looking sandwich on a white bun in a plastic basket. With low expectations, I took a bite and was really rocked by how good it was. There was some sort of rub/marinade on the meat that gave it a great "tangy" flavor. Hmmmm. "This is pretty good" I though to myself.  After finishing my meal, I told the waitress that the steak was really good and asked if she knew how the meat was prepared. It was as if I had found the key to unlock the barrier between us. She smiled and responded in English that she would find out. She went into the kitchen and returned with the cook (an older Cuban woman) in tow. The Cook proudly explained, through translation by the waitress, how she made the marinade/rub. Truthfully, I didn't fully understand all that she said. I was too caught up in suddenly becoming an "insider". The graciousness didn't stop there. When presented with the bill for a whopping $5.45, I was told that I could not use my credit card unless I had a $10 minimum. Having no cash on me, I offered a tip of $4.55 to bring the total to $10. She refused and wanted to give me the meal for free! After a few back-and-forths, I finally won and paid the $10. I had gone from being a lowly non-Cuban stranger to being offered a free meal in a mere 30 minutes.

There are so many lessons to be learned here that I don't know where to begin. I'll just keep it relevant to this blog. Food.....We all need it. We all go about making it differently. Each culture celebrates their food differently.  Yet, in the end, it's the one thing that all humans have in common that can bring us together - our love for food. Food is the ultimate equalizer.

Cooking with Integrity

As much as I felt like a clutz last week, last night I felt like an old pro at the restaurant. Funny thing about the restaurant is that unless you screw someone over, mistakes are usually forgotten and forgiven with each new day. I had a clean slate today and I was determined to do everything perfectly. It was a very slow night, so everyone played catchup by stocking up on their mis en place for the upcoming week. It was a relaxed night free of the usual stresses of a fast paced kitchen. Everyone was in a good mood. There has been a reshuffling of the kitchen hierarchy and the new Sous Chef is an excellent people manager and I credit him for setting this relaxed tone. He gets the job done without intimidation.

As I walked in, I was happy to see the garde manger finishing up the herbs. No herbs for moi today. The Sous gave me a verbal list of assignments and the first on the list was artichokes. I can now say that I am not afraid of turning artichokes after turning 2 cases of them (approx. 40 large ones)!  I tried to do my best on each artichoke. Coincidentally, I had practiced turning about 20 French carrots at home in the morning, so my hands felt pretty gnarly and wretched after finishing the chokes.

Next on my list were some small tasks: cleaning chanterelles, bagging 40 qts of veal stock, drain and re-soak sweetbread with milk, etc..

"Mark, can you assemble the Mac and Cheese ?" was the Hot apps request. I had done this before and luckily I had taken notes (as I do for everything I do in the kitchen) 
because all the ingredients of this appetizer have to be weighed out on a scale in a very specific proportion.  It's officially a truffled lobster Mac and cheese. Expensive ingredients require that there is no waste, hence the use of scales. It was to be my last chore of the night.

Throughout the night, the same thought kept running through my head. Two weeks ago, I had approached the Chef with my news of getting the winery job and had asked him for advice. "Chef, do you have any words of wisdom for me"? He said "Keep your eyes open, take mental notes of everything, don't ask the same question twice, and cook with integrity". 
On the surface this seemed like generic advice, but in 
retrospect they were wise words.  Cooking with integrity. This means that when I turn 40 Artichokes , I don't accept mediocre results. Or if am assembling the Mac and Cheese, that I redo it if I mess up the proportion of the ingredients even though I am the only one who knows that it's done incorrectly. An easy concept, yet one that requires an immense amount of self discipline to apply to every little task in the kitchen.

How Can I Eat This Crap???

I have tried so hard not to become some uppety food snob. The past year has been a culinary awakening with my studies in Paris and my subsequent education both with practicing at home and internship at the Michelin restaurant. Add to this the fact that I live smack dab in the middle of the California wine country surrounded by organic farms, farmer's markets, every ingredient imaginable, foodies, and some of the best restaurants in the country. I love good food made with fresh ingredients. It doesn't need to be elaborate. It could be a hamburger as long as it's done with a little finesse using quality ingredients. Which brings me to this very moment:

Here I am at my real job in a 757.
"Ding Ding". "Hi, this is Katie, you guys ready to eat?"
"yeah, what do you have?"
"Well, we have........."

It really doesn't matter what she says next. It's going to be crap. Today's crap just happened to be a beef dish. I wanted to say "bring up whatever disgusting preserved food imitation you have", but instead I said

"Thanks Katie, sure, bring them up"

After all, it's not Katie's fault that the airlines have such low food standards.

I play with the food like a kid who delays eating in hopes of making the food miraculously disappear. Pushing the bits of food around my tray makes me lose my appetite even more. As I stare at the food my mind slips........

"Ladies and Gentlemen this is your First Officer. As a special treat, I am coming to the cabin to cook up a nice meal for everyone. As I leave the flight deck and enter the cabin there is an eruption of cheers and clapping. The passengers have thrown their food trays on the floor in revolt. There is a chorus of knives and forks banging on the tray tables as everyone chants "food...food..food". I put on my Chef's jacket and get to work.........pans fly, I am pulling out all the stops with my sauce making skills, reduction, etc...I have saved the day. YES! The flying chef has arrived.

The flying chef quickly vanishes as I am jolted back to the reality of the sterile present;

"American 272, contact Miami Center on 132.4"
"Roger, 132.4, American 272"

I look down at my tray. The food is now cold and looks even less appetizing than before. I feel bad that an animal had to die to create such a sad meal. What a waste. I cover it up and put it on the floor for its final burial. R.I.P. Some ceviche or rice and beans with plantains might be good when I get to Miami. Then again, I can't wait to get back home to California for some real food in my own kitchen.