Week Fifteen: Cakes

My hectic schedule combined with summer weekend get-aways has left me a bit behind on my postings.  I hope you don't mind me going quickly through this week, as it is a bit difficult to remember every detail two weeks later.

 

During this week, we began decorating cakes individually in class.  With a little guidance from our chef-instructor on the desired thickness of layers, we are allowed to create our version of the cake, decorating as detailed in the instructors or by ideas we have personally.

 

The first cake we decorated this week used the lemon-scented white cakes we made last week and held in the refrigerator over the weekend.  I chose a lemon-raspberry flavor combination for finishing: raspberry jam striped in between layers of lemon butter cream.

I was pleased with the evenness of my layers and final look of the cake.  My rosette-piping skills need some honing, but I was still pleased with my first effort.

 

Tuesday's class during this week was cancelled due to the fact there was no running water at the school.  I was thrilled to have the evening because Mike found out earlier that day he passed Level One of his CFA exam.  Instead of getting covered in buttercream, I was able to celebrate with Mike and his father over wonderful food and wine at a nearby Italian restaurant.

 

We returned to class Wednesday for another night finishing cakes, this time a chocolate layer cake.  Before we started doing this, we made up the baked almond frangipane cake which would be cooled, layered and held overnight for tomorrow's class.

 

I used a rich ganache as the filling between the two layers of chocolate cake and then iced it with a coffee buttercream.  I became a bit more creative in my finishing this evening, creating the cake I had envisioned all day at 

I used semisweet chocolate shavings on the sides and then equally spaced twelve chocolate covered espresso beans around the top.  I was again pleased to find the layering was equal and the cake was gooey, chocolatey and delicious.  I was so excited to take the cake home to share with Mike; so imagine how disappointed I was to find the cake was destroyed somewhere along my trip home.  There was one small, salvageable piece which I sadly served to Mike on our crisp white plates.  One bite and Mike suddenly seemed to sympathize with my disappointment.

 

I absolutely could not wait for Thursday night : petit fours!  All day, I sketched out a design each time I dreamed of these little confections.  My excitement grew as we cut out the cakes, two layers baked almond frangipane separated by a thin stripe of raspberry jam, into bite-sized portions.

I chose the gels for coloring the melted fondant: sky blue, mint green and white.  And that is where my excitement for petit fours stopped.  The melted fondant would only coat the cakes if it was exactly the right temperature.  Too hot and it would seep into the cake, too cold and it would become a thick glob on top of the cake.  Needless to say, it was frustrating. 

They were also incredibly sweet - which coupled with four hours of frustration led me to decide I would never make petit fours again.  At least not willingly.

Week Fourteen: Introduction to Cakes

We had Monday evening off from school this week, which was a nice treat after the stress of last week.  Mike and I made reservations at Blue Smoke, a BBQ place we had been wanting to try.  The food was a bit of a disappointment, the quality didn't seem to match the prices they were charging.  Due South BBQ in Christiansburg is a tough place to beat. 

 

But the company was enjoyable and it was nice to have an evening together that didn't involve me traipsing home at 11 PM, debating whether or not I had enough energy to clean the coffee pot and immediately falling asleep.

 

On Tuesday it was rainy and chilly and the weather reflected my mood.  I was still wishing the past weekend could have been longer and, after the blow-up in class last Thursday night, let's just say I was not bubbling with excitement to return to class.

 

Before class began Tuesday evening, one of the administrators and our chef-instructor talked with the class about last week's events.  My friend, the girl who made the mistake of standing-up for herself and thereby catching a lot of the grief, decided to take a break from the program and join up with another class in September.  The administrator was furious with everything that happened and I was embarrassed that he had to speak with a group of "adults" about their childish behavior.  I was embarrassed to be associated with a group of people who is radiating that image.

 

The evening proceeded quietly and awkwardly.  Given what happened last Thursday, combined with the fact that our class is now down to only six members, our Chef Gerri told us all to work around the same table for the evening (the class is normally spread out over two large tables).  To my surprise, but not disbelief, her request was met with groans from several people in the class.  But I thought it was a good idea - mostly because after my trail, I felt like I needed to practice working quickly and efficiently in a small work space.

 

The third module of the program is focused around cakes and cookies.  While I am a bit of a cookie feign (how else do you think I acquired the loving nickname "Cookie Monster" from both my Dad and Mike?), I realized last night that I had surprisingly little experience with cakes.  The first cake we made was to become a double-layer chocolate cake, but the cakes had to be held in the refrigerator overnight before we could frost them because they had a very fudgy texture.

 

The second cake for the evening was carrot cake.  This particular cake was ruined for me by my loving grandmother when I was quite young at the Festhaus at Busch Gardens.  All I could see of the slice of cake was the frosty, white icing, which Mum always used to frost chocolate cake.  "Oooohh, is that chocolate cake?" I squealed.  To which my grandmother assured me it was.

 

Wrong.  It was carrot cake.  Imagine being seven years old expecting to take a big, unhealthy bite of gooey chocolate cake with sugary icing and instead getting a mouthful of dry, spicy cake with foreign shreds of carrots.  "What...is...this?" I choked.  "Well, I was a little confused as to why someone who hates carrots would choose carrot cake," my Dad laughed as he pointed out the little iced carrot on the top of the cake.

 

I successfully avoided carrot cake for the next sixteen years, so I was not especially thrilled to bring this streak to an end.  We baked the cake in a half sheet pan, placed the two halves together and placed globs of cream cheese icing on top for the finishing.

 

I did try a piece of carrot cake.  It was not as bad as the version I have forever embedded in my mind.  But it was not that good either.  If I'm going to eat cake, it's not going to have vegetables in it.  And I like vegetables, now.

 

We also made muffins.  I come from a family where if you can't make good blueberry muffins for Sunday morning brunch, you might as well just stay in bed.  The family muffin recipe is right up there with pancakes and biscuits.  Since blueberries were quite pricey, and not always that tasty in Virginia, I took the family recipe for the muffin base and added coffee cake crumble.  This is when I was in middle school.   So, let's just say that when it comes to muffins, I have high expectations; which is why I usually make my own.

My partner and I made lemon poppy seed muffins.  They looked nice, but were seriously lacking in the flavor department.  They were plenty lemony, but they were not sweet enough, which is saying a lot since muffins aren't that sweet to begin with.  Another team made fig and orange muffins, a flavor combination I really liked, which would be far superior in a decent muffin base.

 

Wednesday night we moved to high-ratio cakes: financiers and pound cakes. 

The financiers were cute and compact and it was easy to see how they had received their name: the dessert is a good size and texture for financial workers to eat with one hand.  I wish Mike liked berries, because it would be a perfect dessert for him.  But the doormen were happy to take the extras off my hands.

Then we made what turned out to be one of my favorite recipes of the program: ginger pound cake with lemon glaze.

This pound cake was simply incredible.  The taste was so fresh and light, it made you forget you were actually eating something not exactly healthy.  Sweet without being sickening, spicy without being hot; all combined in a melt-in-your-mouth base.  Pure heaven.

On Thursday, we created a traditional pound cake which uses mace.  It was not good.  While it had a nice crumb, the taste was just not appealing.  

We also made a sour cherry crumble, which I thought was very tasty.

I am not usually a big fan of cherries, but I guess the loads of buttery-sugary crumble on top of the cherries tricked my taste buds into enjoying it.

We also made muffins for the second time this week.  After the disappointing, but not unexpected, results of the first creation, I did not hold much hope for the second batch.  My partner and I set about making bran muffins, only to find the school had run out of bran.

So we decided to make banana muffins.  I love banana bread, but I do not like banana muffins (strange I know).  This recipe did not change my mind.  The mushy bananas in the muffin reminded me of baby food.

Another team did, however, make a wonderful muffin - lemon raspberry.  These disappeared quickly, so I really only got a little taste.  But I know they would be even better in Nana's recipe.

Sunrise Run

Monday morning, the morning Mum was heading back to Virginia, came far too quickly.  We spent three care-free days exploring the city: shopping, eating, gossiping and enjoying each other's company.  It's always funny to me how quickly days like that go by, but yet other days (for instance, today as I sit at my desk wondering how only two minutes could have passed since I last wondered how far away 5:00 PM was) can seem like an eternity.

 

Since my Mum and I live rather far apart and both keep busy schedules, there is always a lot of catching-up to do when we finally are together.  So I was shocked and incredibly proud when she announced that she had started running - and wanted to complete a 5K in the fall!  Having already worked up to running 2.5 miles without stopping (and this on the hills in Christiansburg, mind you), I think she will be ready well before she thinks.

 

She needed new running shoes so I took her to get properly fitted at New York Running Company.  I was excited for her as she tried on each pair, remembering the same new-runner enthusiasm I had shown last fall.

 

But I was beginning to feel a little guilty about my recent slacking on my running.  Between my work and school schedule and either being too exhausted or too busy on the weekends, I haven't been able to enjoy much running.  Even during my lunch hour, I dread my treadmill runs.  For me, running on a treadmill is a means-to-an-end; I do not find the same feeling of freedom and relaxation emulated on the treadmill.

 

I was up early this morning to see Mum off to the airport.  After I couldn't see the taxi anymore, I headed back up to my apartment.  5:23 AM.  I knew I wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep.  I could do some housework, but that seemed a rather depressing way to start off an already sullen Monday.  So I went for a run.

 

I ran the 3.75-mile course I had taken Mum for a walk on Saturday morning.  In the park, if I looked over my shoulder, I could see the pink sun starting to rise uptown, reflecting its light and color on the reservoir next to me and waking the skyscrapers downtown.

 

I thought about how different this year's good-bye had been from last summer's.  I was in tears before I made it back up to my apartment last summer.  I crawled back into bed and cried because I was so miserable.  I hated my job, hated the city, hated being so far away from my family.  My relationship with Mike was having lots of ups and downs and most weekends I found myself alone, lost and lonely.  I had no idea what I was doing in Manhattan or why I thought I could make a life for myself here.  Mike thought I was going to move back to Virginia; I had stopped trying to convince him that I wasn't.

 

This year was a little different.  It was still difficult to say good-bye, it always is.  I've been sad today because I know time together is so rare now; I want to go home and spend time with my family.  But I do like the little life I've carved out for myself over the last year.

 

I still hate my job, but I'm taking classes to pursue a career in a field I am truly passionate about.  I don't love the city all the time, but I do like it most of the time.  Mike has been a tremendous support as I've taken on a hectic schedule and, now, the only thing I wish is that we had more time together.

 

The one thing that hasn't changed is that I hate being so far away from my family.  But I find it a little easier to deal with that now that I feel like I've found my little niche, no matter how small, in the city.

 

By 6:10 AM, I was back in my apartment.  It was the kind of run that reconnected me, both to the city and myself.  That's the kind of running I miss.

Week Thirteen: Laminate Doughs and Exam

Last week is a bit of a blur.  I woke-up Monday morning to found I had lost the week long battle with my head cold.  I suspect the stress from my trail at Blue Hill the previous evening played a major role in the way I felt, but it was bad enough that I called out of work for the first time ever.  I rested up most of the day and headed to class Monday evening, even though I still wasn't feeling very well.

 

We finished up puff pastry that evening, working to create palmiers and cheese straws.

The palmiers I created were much smaller than the versions I have seen in bakeries, but I wanted to make a miniature version.  These little treats were just puff pastry dough, rolled out with sugar instead of flour and then, after forming and slicing, dipped in more sugar.  I quickly became addicted to these, taking a couple the next few mornings to enjoy with my coffee.

The cheese straws were also quite tasty: the filling was Parmesan cheese and paprika.  The recipe was definitely a good base to play around with other savory flavors in the future.

 

Tuesday evening was another night focused completely on making dough that would be held in the refrigerator overnight and be used during the following class.  We individually made and rolled our croissant and danish doughs, anticipating the flaky treats which would emerge from the ovens Wednesday night.

 

It was worth the wait.  Wednesday night we formed and shaped our croissants, pain au chocolats and several danish forms.  Once they had proofed long enough, they were gently egg-washed and placed in the oven until they reached their desired golden tone.

 

The longest part of the evening was waiting for the fresh croissants to cool just long enough that I wouldn't burn my mouth on it.  It was flaky, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth perfection.

 

I was a little disappointed with the interior of the croissant; I was hoping it would be a bit flakier.  Our chef-instructor told us this was a good recipe, but that the layers wouldn't be as flaky and they wouldn't hold their crunch very long.

 But the pain au chocolat (chocolate croissants) stole the show.  I was lucky enough to also have one of these straight from the oven, with the gooey chocolate blending seamlessly with the butter from the surrounding croissant.  For those who were lucky enough to try one, they seemed to be a new favorite.

 

Thursday night marked the end of the second module.  The format of the exam was the same as before: an hour-long written examination followed by a practical.  Even more than usual, I couldn't wait for the exam to be over - Mummy was coming for the weekend!

But I made myself focus on the task at hand.  I completed the written exam and felt happy with my performance.  Then it was time for the practical portion, which was made-up of two tasks: the first was soft roll dough, the second was classic puff pastry.  The chef-instructor had to evaluate each step of our performance, which left ample opportunity for points to be deducted.

 

The kitchen was extremely hot and humid, which made working on the puff pastry dough particularly challenging.  I was nervous and ready to have the exam be over, but I just kept thinking how relaxed I would be tomorrow walking around SoHo.

 

Then, it was over.  Chef Gerri said she would meet with each of us individually to give us our grades and feedback.  We would go alphabetically by last name, so guess where that left me?  Bottom of the list.

 

My clean-up was finished and I waited nervously for it to be my turn.  Then, tempers which had been brewing since the beginning of program finally boiled over with, presumably, the stress of the last few hours.  Classmates started screaming at each other, accusations flying about slacking on kitchen responsibilities coupled with too personal attacks.

 

I stood, watching in horror and disbelief as adults acted like hormonal, immature teenagers.  I was literally caught in the middle of a shouting match and all I could do was look nervously at the table and fidget with my tools.  There were things I wanted to jump in say, people I wanted to defend, but when it came down to it, I knew it would only make it worse.

 

After what seemed like an eternity, it was finally my turn to meet with Chef Gerri.  After calling me her "little perfectionist" and informing me I had received a 99% (maintaining my 4.0 GPA), she complimented my work and assured me I would not only do fine in the industry, but that I had the "skills, talent and speed" to go after anything I wanted and be successful.

 

It was a perfectly-timed compliment.  I walked back into the kitchen where tempers were still fuming and the tension was enough to take your breath away.  Without a word, I collected my tools and headed upstairs to change.

Trail: Blue Hill New York

Last Sunday I had the opportunity to trail in the kitchen of one of the top restaurants in New York City: Blue Hill New York.

I remember seeing its sister restaurant, Blue Hill at Stone Barns, on a episode of last season's Top Chef.  I was intrigued to see this reemerging idea of "farm-to-table" in action.  The restaurant's ingredients are supplied only by what is grown and raised on the Stone Barns farm.

I was thrilled to find there was a Manhattan location for this restaurant, aptly named Blue Hill New York.  When our career advisors asked us to start brainstorming locations where we would like to trail, this restaurant was at the top of my list.

Needless to say, I was more than a little nervous about my first trailing experience being at one of the places I most wanted to pursue an externship.  

The trailing started at 1 PM, but I arrived in the area around noon.  I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to find the restaurant.  I passed the hour sitting in the shade in Washington Square Park, finishing up my book while listening to a two-person jazz band.

Upon entering the restaurant, I was happy to meet Molly, an ICE student in the culinary program, who was also trailing that evening.  The sous chef, Michael, greeted us both and showed us downstairs, where we could change into our uniforms for the evening.  Come to find out, Molly had trailed a few other times at Blue Hill, so she prepared me for the small kitchen size.

She was right.  I couldn't believe how tiny it was - or maybe I was more amazed by how many people they managed to fit in the kitchen!

The next few hours were all prep, as dinner service began at 5:30 PM.  I sorted blackberries, hulled and sliced strawberries and made a peanut butter sorbet and chocolate ganache foam.  

At 4:30 PM, the pastry chef invited me to join them for staff dinner, an offer I was happy to accept.  There was a fish soup, seasoned rice, zucchini salad and fresh bean salad.  The food was absolutely wonderful - simple, fresh and perfectly seasoned.

After the staff meal, it was a bit of a waiting game for pastry.  I helped wipe out glasses and sort them for service.  I picked through the tiny flowers used for presentation and placed them in containers on wet paper towels.  Then I felt like I was just in the way.

Including me, there were four people in the kitchen who were either trailing or interning.  The intern had been assigned to pastry for the evening, so he was working closely with the pastry chef, Joel.  And when the pastry counter is no larger than a cutting board, it's tough to squeeze your way between two guys.

But Michael quickly offered to let me stand with him as he called out the incoming orders to the hot kitchen.  I was able to watch him precisely plate each dish and taste everything as it came off the stove.  I even tried pig snout.  Not kidding.

I could still see pastry over my shoulder, so I could also watch Joel work and plate each dessert.

I was also able to try several of the desserts, which were phenomenal.  They were exactly the reason I was so excited to be at Blue Hill - not only were the ingredients seasonal and fresh, but they were organic, straight from the farm.  

The raspberries actually tasted like the raspberries I remember getting from farmer's stands in Maine.  The strawberries were actually strawberries - only the size of a raspberry, but juicy and sweet beyond belief.

The night ended around 11:30 PM, but not before I was able to speak with Michael and Joel about my experience.  I was thrilled to not only be invited back for future trails, but also to complete my externship, if I chose.  Needless to say, I was quite excited.

So, the night was a success.  I learned a lot during my shift, mostly about how to move in that kitchen without making anyone upset.  And that was pretty important.