Cake Cures All
Like all people, I have my up’s and down’s, but there’s one thing that I’m NOT good at, and that’s transition. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t fear the change, just the process into that new phase.
And it usually involves me spontaneously making a BIG decision … or the complete opposite, remaining stuck in my ways until the former happens.
So as an anxiety that change is upon me with graduation from school, the entrance of spring, my job search, etc., etc. I’m getting frazzled and moody. Granted, I’m aware that all these things are good, I just can’t wrap my head around how they’re going to turn out.
I’m a little type A, I like what I can control. What can I say?
So when these moods fall upon me, what do I do? Usually nothing. Literally, nothing. When you don’t know what to do, do nothing at all. And that’s exactly what I’ve been up to. Hard part is, when you write a blog about your everyday experiences, doing nothing isn’t an option.
But, just like all the great ideas that inspire me to JUMP into my new life phase and survive, often there are kitchen inspirations that surprise me …
Anyone in my class will tell you that I’m not the biggest “eater” when it comes to sampling our own desserts. Don’t get me wrong, many of them are good, but for me the point of dessert isn’t to shovel things in your mouth as you stand over the compost bin about to dispose of the day’s work. I like to sit, relax, and enjoy my dessert. And since there’s not much relaxing in the kitchen … I don’t eat many of our treats unless I’m at home.
But today’s cake shook me up.
Now, the types of desserts I like vary with season. Since my hands turn a lovely shade of “death” during the winter when I’m cold, my favorite option, ice cream, doesn’t seem like the logical choice. So, I opt for heartier, warmer options, one of them being hearty enriched breads.
Yes, I consider pound cake, muffins, cinnamon bread, etc desserts, NOT breakfast. So during the winter, I love cozying up to a bourbon apple sauce cake from Vesuvio or a warm sticky bun.
Today we made a Beaumes-de-Venise Cake which is a type of sweet wine cake made with olive oil, citrus zest, and grapes. Topped with granulated sugar, I enjoyed this cake during school AND after school. Having the best of both worlds.
So just like this “spring tease” that’s happening in New York, the thought of change is throwing me for a loop … but despite all this, it’s nice to know that a little piece of dessert can change my frown of confusion into a smile of happiness.
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Menu
One of the tasks that we’re given in the last unit of our pastry program is to design a pastry menu for a restaurant. This assignment is a way for us to show our creative side, since most of the time we’re taught the classical and traditional French way to make desserts. The focus of the program is on techniques, and by learning those techniques we can expand and design our own layouts.
If you know how to make a traditional souffle, you’ll know to make a ginger infused mango souffle with basil-mango sauce, right? Right.
So now that the last month is upon us (I know, I can’t believe it’s been 6 months already) we’re going full steam, and the first BIG assignment in the slew of work is the Menu Project, which was due yesterday.
The problem with the project was its’ vagueness … vagueness on how much you should or could do. Some people simply came in with a menu, some came in with large books, table layouts, business plans, and some didn’t come to school at all …
My restaurant theme was “Southern cooking prepared in an elevated and sophisticated manner.” The restaurant, Kitchen, was located in Gramercy (as to attract downtown and uptown clients, and profit from the happy-hour young after-work crowd living in the neighborhood).
The menu reflects what I love about dessert. When I get dessert, I don’t order sorbet. If that’s my option, I go sans dessert. I like dense, rich, decadent, and sinful. And the South is one of the few places that instead of covering up their obsession with butter and sugar, embraces it.
If I were to have a last meal, I’d eat my dinner in Northern California (completely organic, local, natural, filled with veggies and local meats), and then I’d fly to South Carolina and eat my dessert in the dirty-dirty.
So here’s my menu and an assortment of pictures from souffle day (cassis berry souffle) and crepe souffles. What would you get?
kitchen
Gingersnap Creme Caramel
Sweet Potato Whoopie Pie filled with Marscapone
Cast-Iron White Chocolate Hazelnut Bread Pudding
Poured warm toffee sauce
Coconut Creme Cake with Grapefruit Curd
Macerated Grapefruit and Rum Salad
Traditional Chocolate Turtle Torte
Cream Cheese Ice Cream
Vanilla Brown Butter Teacake
Mini Root Beer Float with Butter Pecan Ice Cream
Set of Three Beignets
Dusted Powdered Sugar and Cafe au Lait Sauce
Banana Creme Parfait
Toasted Marshmallows and Graham Cracker Brittle
Mint Julep Ice Cream
Served in 3 mini house-made griddle cones
Stuffed Roasted Dates with Caramelized Pecans
Served warm with Blue Cheese
The kicker is I have to make two of these for my final next week in plated desserts … and the chef picked the two I knew he would: Gingersnap Creme Caramel with Sweet Potato Whoopie Pies and Coconut Creme Cake with Grapefruit Curd.
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Boardwalk? Chinese Joint? Or Just Oil?
Want to know a fabulous way to catch the eye of the hot guy at the gym?
Run on the treadmill next to him and exude the smell of cooking oil from your pores. It’s even sexier that having your entire body wafting of butter.
You think I’m joking, but seriously I’m not. I did that today … FYI oil is NOT the new “it” scent. Nowhere near “musky” enough.
Today was “deep fry” day. That’s right, we deep fried EVERYTHING in the kitchen. I’m literally surprised with didn’t take the legs off the tables and fry them as well. Cookies, fruit, crepes, brioche … you name it, we fried it.
We fried it after watching the scariest most bizarre “safety” video I’ve ever seen in my life. It freaked the living day-lights out of me. Granted I can’t watch anything above PG and stick to the “Family” and “Romantic Comedy” sections of video stores, this clip was intense. The chefs were laughing. (If you’re curious, it’s on YouTube and probably can be found under “frying accident” or “Canada frying accident” or “girl in kitchen in frying accident” … but I warn you).
I couldn’t tell how badly I smelled until exiting the room. My hair, cloths, and body reeked of deep frying oil. My skin is paying the consequences of a grease laden day but none the less, important skills.
The smell was a mixture of a cheap Chinese restaurant and the Jersey Shore boardwalk. The former I loath, the latter I love. The smell was love-hate, as were my experiences with all things that came out of our frier.
Now I’m no Paula Deen, although I do love my Southern food, but I couldn’t imagine deep-frying anything without wearing all the protective chef gear (“steel” toed clogs, long sleeves or hat) while I gander to venture that many of my guy friends would attempt to deep fry a turkey on Thanksgiving wearing nothing more than mesh shorts sans shoes.
I think the video and the smell alone would drive me to wear a full body suit. O if for no other reason to cover the smell (somewhat) and avoid the awkward stares from attractive (or unattractive) men I might pass …
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I Need Your Help!
Like most starving artists in New York, I’m also starving to make a difference! Not literally because I’m a chef, and I’d chose food over pretty much anything from shampoo to mascara … BUT none the less I’m looking to make my mark.
In a city where everyone is talented, the greatest and fastest route to success is a combination of hard work, persistence and luck. In a short amount of time I’ve made a huge difference, but as school approaches a close and jobs are few and far between, I need your help!
Please check out my site at AuntieChef.com, this great interactive way for people to order food from professional chefs anywhere they live. Although the menu is basic currently I can basically make or figure a way to satisfy your every palate or request.
Please pass this along to anyone and everyone you know. I’d be forever appreciative! Let me be YOUR personal chef; for a meal, a dinner party, or a few times a week!
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Happy Olympics
Like everyone else, my teacher was caught up in Olympic frenzy and themed our 2-cake cake stand, “Vancouver 2010.” So after a week of pouring, pulling, and blowing sugar, when our hands were just blistered enough to weather ONE more project, we completed our sugar unit with these stands.
We were all incredibly bitchy. Who knows whether it was because it was our last day, because the project was challenging, or because as we pulled and blew fake Olympic sugar, the snowflakes of New York’s latest storm were gusting down hard – with absolutely NO chance of an earlier dismissal or cancelled class.
To release the stress of the day, (although I have to say that all our stand are really impressive considering we’ve only been working with sugar for SIX DAYS!), my friend Vanessa and I headed out into the winter wonderland to chase some pizza.
Pizza recently has gotten the press that burgers were getting last spring and this fall. In a city where there’s a pizza place on every corner, what makes something better than another? Is it the cheese? Nah, all cheese taste good. Is it the dough? Debatably. Is it the sauce? Possibly. Or is it just the flavor combination?
For me, it’s a little bit of all of them, with the focus on dough and sauce. As I kneaded my own dough the other day without as much success as I’d liked, I wanted so good pizza. We headed to Co., the west side artisanal pizza joint that just barely lost to Mortorino’s infamous spot in this year’s food buzz.
This pizza was PHENOMENAL. Out of this world. Vanessa is a food snob – more so than me – but not in a bad way. She just knows A LOT, and knows what she likes. So when her and I can both walk into a restaurant, whether it be for burger and beers or an eight-course tasting menu, and love everything about a pizza pie … that says a lot.
The Stracciatella Pizza was beyond. Beyond, beyond.
That, and we spent the entire next day drooling over it, thinking about it, and making plans to go back … that very day. And although we didn’t go, I’m sure there wouldn’t have been a moment of hesitation if I had said to her, “Wana go back when we get out of school?”
Hope everyone can learn to relax this lazy Friday, enjoy the snow, and embrace what winter is about. I know we’re all sick of it, but life’s too short, enjoy the day … and the snow! Maybe your nearest artisanal pizza place will still be delivering, worth a short right?
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Hump Day
The pizza dough was crunchy … a little dry I’m guessing, maybe too much flour? Edible, I mean come on it’s pizza, how are bread and cheese “bad,” but not my best. I’m going to test a couple more recipes over the next couple of weeks and keep you posted on the results. I will find one!
Day one of group sugar projects. We has to create, or shall I say, “recreate” a famous work of art. See if you can guess who did what?
Tomorrow’s challenge is (a. new groups) and b. to build a cake stand out of glass that can hold two six-inch cakes. Oh, and it’s Olympic themed …
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Knead It Outta the Day
There are so many comical things I could tell you (my readers) everyday about the idiosyncrasies of school life. These include:
The assignments that ask us to make sugar owls that end up merely resembling Liza Minnelli or a showgirl working the Main Stage in Las Vegas … or when we’re asked to create chocolate showpiece cake stands, because after spending thousands of dollars on a wedding cake a bride really can afford a decorative cake stand …
The teachers which for all intensive purposes are fabulous at what they do. They really are. Once I leave FCI, I will say that I went because of the instructors, because I did, but that doesn’t excuse their quirks, personalities, sense of style, or favorite says/songs/habits. They’re too easy to love/laugh at. But because a blog is “public” record, and not everyone has the same sense of humor as me (or my fellow classmates) my funny teacher puns are few and far between.
My fellow classmates probably give me the most comical stories I could write about. But like the former teacher comment, I don’t want to burn bridges with different ideas of what constitutes as humorous. That, and I’d like to have friends tomorrow …
But despite all of the odds and ends of my class room, today was on of those days where everyone’s “bad” was clashing. Not so great for class room chemistry, let alone kitchen chemistry. Did I mention that we’ve been working with sugar ranging in temperature of 300 plus degrees Fahrenheit that can burn through your skin? Not a good combo.
I’m usually quiet and removed when I’m angry in public situations. At home with my family, I’m the loudest thing since the morning rooster. But when it comes to friends, work, teachers? I’m mute, and simmering. Probably a habit I picked up from past boyfriends where fighting always got me into more harm than good … learned that lesson a little too late, but it seems to have helped me from fighting with everyone who crosses my path …
So today was a quiet day. A very quiet day. Except when I dropped my pulled sugar structures, popped my blown sugar, or set off the elevator alarm when I returned food items to the downstairs kitchen.
I wish I could say I was joking about the last comment, it’s completely true, and almost brought me to tears when the Spanish speaking maintenance man came running towards me. Suffice to say, I did not tell the teacher about that.
So when I got home after having a very long and aggressive run I decided to make home-made pizza dough. Hand knead the shit out of something and get my hands dirty. Most people wouldn’t attempt this feat, most culinary students wouldn’t attempt this feat, and I probably could count one person other than myself that finds cooking therapeutic after a day of hell. But what can I say this is my calling!
I made the recipe up, so I can’t help too much with exact measurements, but I know this, I used All Purpose Flour, not Bread, so I’m not sure how the end result will be once it’s baked but I’ll keep you posted.
All Purpose Flour Pizza Dough
1 packet of quick rising yeast (check the expiration date, often times they’re old in stores)
1 1/4 cup warm water (just when the faucet starts to feel “warm” your body is 98 degrees and the water should be about 110, you don’t need a thermometer, just don’t have the water HOT)
1/4 cup flour
Combine all these ingredients and all to stand in a bowl for about 10 minutes.
After ten minutes combine additional cup of flour and mix, the mixture will still be wet. Add another cup of flour and mix. Add 1/2 teaspoon of salt. At this point the mixture will be formed but very wet. Get dirty. Pull it out onto a floured counter and add 1 tablespoon additions of flour until it resembles a ball.
At this point you knead, and knead, and knead. Or stick it in a mixer with a bread attachment. Did I tell you I had a bad day? The kneading takes about ten minutes and grunt work, it’s not quick task.
You’ll know the dough is done because it will be consistent in texture and be able to “pull a window” which basically means taking a pinch of the dough and pulling slowing. The dough should break, it should puuuulllll apart.
Form into a ball and place in a oiled bowl. Cover and allow to rise for about an hour in a warm area of your kitchen. It should double in size. Punch the mixture down, allow it to rest about 5 minutes and then you’re ready to make a pizza!
I place mine the refrigerator overnight, I think it tastes better after allowing to rest. I’ll let you know how the results are tomorrow!
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You Better Forget Looking Feminine
That’s right, you heard me. Forget makeup, hair, perfume, dignity, identity … ok, a tad of an exaggeration, but trust me, you’re stripped of any sense of girliness the second you’re handed your whites.
That includes manicures.
I’ve NEVER been a mani/pedi/spa girl. Ever. Trust me when I say that free time during my youth was dedicated to team sports and homework, both of which gave my hands my wear than care. That’s not to say that I’ve never had manicures and don’t enjoy them …
But now I crave them. Partly because I need them and partly because I can’t have them.
But after standing in a kitchen for hours on end, dipping your hands in and out of the bleach bucket to clean tables and stoves, your hands take a beating. If a doctor were to look at my hands, and just my hands, I guarantee I’d be classified as a senior citizen.
This problem was present before our class started sugar work. Now, it’s even worse. And by worse, I mean in addition to the drying, cracking, and lack of polish, there’s an addition of scars, burns, blisters, bubbles, and hand-rosasea.
Generally speaking I’m usually freezing, but with sugar, I think that myself and most of my class has entered early menopause. The heat of the sugar exceeds 300 degrees F and can literally burn the skin off your body. It’s extremely dangerous. Our first rule is, “Safety First,” and damn you better be careful.
I’m not the most coordinated of people, so this has been a HUGE feat (so far) for me.
We’ve done poured sugar, pulled sugar, and blown sugar (tomorrow) all of which manipulates simple ingredients (water and sugar) into cake stands, baskets, ribbons, molds, etc. When it dries and hardens the mixture is similar to glass, breaks like glass and cuts like glass.
Nothing about sugar is safe, especially your hands.
My hands are so sore and blistered I don’t even think I could get a manicure; unless it including dunking my hands in cold water and wrapping them in cashmere. Which could be nice …
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I Like Everything Sweet
Like most things in my life, they seem to taste better when they’re sweet. The contrast in taste and texture for food is one of the most rewarding experiences about eating. Like nuts on a salad of smooth bibb lettuce or a sprinkle of fleur de sel on a sweet caramel candy, Most sweet foods contain salt and most savory foods (that are seasoned with salt) and balanced with a little bit of sugar.
So yesterday, I was antsy. What’s new? When you’re hung over, you’re supposed to milk-it, stay in bed, watch movies, and “veg.” The only thing “veg” about me is what I cook. Suffice to say in full morning after mode, unlike my friends who were watching marathons of TLC’s “Say Yes to the Dress” or Bravo’s “The Real Housewives of Orange County,” I made tomato sauce.
The great thing about tomato sauce that most people don’t realize is that it’s so easy to make. Granted, it’s easy to buy too, but often times those sauces are laden with extra sugar, salt, and artificial ingredients. Sorry Prego, you don’t make the cut. And most artisanal sauces can cost you up to $10 a jar.
This is what you need:
- A can of tomatoes, whole, chopped, crushed, whatever you like. Whole peeled San Marzano are my personal favorites.
- garlic cloves
- olive oil
- red pepper flakes
- nutmeg (optional)
- tomato paste
- mushrooms (optional)
- salt
- black pepper
- onion
- any other spices you might like to include, maybe oregano, basil, bay leaf, whatever you like and have on hand
- and … SUGAR, don’t get too excited, it’s just a pinch worth
Home Made Tomato Sauce
Heat olive oil in a large deep sauce pot and add an onion that you’ve thinly sliced and mushrooms if you’re using them. Allow the onions and mushroom to “sweat” on very low heat for about ten minutes. After the vegetables have wilted down add garlic, red pepper flakes, and salt and pepper until the garlic is fragrant.
Add the can of tomatoes and mash with a wooden spook or potato masher. Stir in tomato paste until you get desired consistency. Allow the mixture come to a boil and add a sprinkling of nutmeg, salt and pepper, other spices you might care to use. Lower the temperature and simmer the mixture for about an hour.
Taste and adjust as you see fit.
Now, there are no quantities listed above, you’re going to have to TRUST YOURSELF and follow your taste buds. Here’s the kicker. When you add the spices, add a pinch or two of sugar. Yes, sugar. This will counteract all the savory increments of the dish and enhance them. It also helps bring out the flavor of the tomatoes.
Cover pasta with it, use it on pizza, or simple eat it. I do!
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Meatball Madness
Just like cupcakes, pizza, and street food, meatballs relay a certain “comfort” that we all know and love. So when times got tough in New York and restaurants began revamping menus, cutting expensive items, and offering discounts, Daniel Holzman and Michael Chernow thought up a new idea …
Opening a restaurant that served just meatballs. Well, not just meatballs, but basically just meatballs. The new hotspot, The Meatball Shop on the corner of Allen and Stanton gives the city a taste of (in essences) mini-burgers with all the comforts of Italian-ish home cooking.
Venturing out last night with my city-girls, we were prepared for the lines, the wait, the snooty hipsters, and yes, meatballs.
Ironically in dire need to use the ground turkey in my refrigerator before it went bad, I made meatballs before going out. I didn’t eat them, but I had to make something fast and easy with the meat, so I guess great minds think alike!
The wait was “an hour to an hour-and-a-half” which in hostess terms means, “Thanks, but try again another day.” I love when subtle context clues start flying.
In a restaurant where the tables are closer than people on the subway, and the communal table allows your to rub shoulders with not-always-so-friendly beatniks it was hard to stand and wait.
But if the hostess didn’t want us, the owners sure did, and after meAting (sorry, I had to play on that pun) we were sure our wait would be less. And worth it.
Offering a splattering of meatballs such as vegetarian, beef, spicy pork, chicken, and a special (last night’s was lamb) that can be dressed in a “sauce” and/or sided, served under or “slidered.”
The best part of the evening is the atmosphere, the prices, and the family style food. Oh, and the sauces, which came to near perfection from simple tomato to parmesan. The meal is simple, delicious, and crowd pleasing.
Unlike other food bloggers at the restaurant (there were many, cameras in tote), I didn’t take personal pictures, but do not let that deter you from trying this spot. Maybe give it time to calm down, or go at an off hour, BUT go!
Ok, not the best meatballs in the city. Sorry, Locanda Verde’s lamb sliders still win despite the restaurants rising prices, pompous hostesses and long waits. Little Owl’s come a close second, and the Num Pang sandwich on 12th still takes the cake on the veal, BUT for what its worth this is the place to get meatballs if that’s what you’re hankering for …
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I believe that everything in life should be sweet. There is nothing better then watching someone bite into something delicious and be truly happy. I enjoy eating AND making all things delicious and sharing it with the people I love. As I galavant around New York City over the next six months I will be attending pastry school at the famed French Culinary Institute. Hell or high water, I plan on sharing all the details!
