Archive for the ‘French Culinary Institute’ Category

Come From a Place of Yes

Filed Under: About me, French Culinary Institute, Workon May 12th, 2010

This will sound very Oprah of me, but it’s true; if you want something, you have to constantly be thinking positive thoughts and creating an ora of acceptance. If you open yourself up to the universe and keep saying, “yes” you will reach your goals.

I read this great quote, and I can’t remember who said it, but it goes something like this, “Cynics are just failed romantics.” I think I’m both at times!

Despite my cynicism towards the job market the last couple months, I’m trying to look at things in a positive way. I’m trying to “open myself up to the universe” and let things come my way. Granted, lots of hard work, sleepless nights, and a do-anything attitude are needed to have things come my way. The best part is, I don’t mind working hard for a goal, I just have to keep reminding myself to say, “yes.”

Yesterday was one such instance where I was given the opportunity to say “yes.” A marketing employee from The French Culinary Institute was having a baby shower, and at the last minute I was offered to be the chef to cater the event.

By last minute, I mean I got the email at noon and I had to be there at four.

But what did I say … yes! Duh! Not only do I need the money more than the Greeks, but I’m always looking to network.

Low and behold when I show up, the party is being thrown by a very important, high powered, and incredibly lucky woman, who by chance used to work for one of my idols … an idol I’m struggling to get an interview with.

I passed out my card, did the best I could, cleaned the apartment until it was spotless, and PRAYED to God that this woman liked me. Best case scenario, I can connect with her later on. Worst case scenario, I got to cater another night and walked out with a little cash.

Not too bad for such a little word as “yes.”

I’m Officially a Chef

Filed Under: French Culinary Institute, Life, New York Cityon March 28th, 2010

For my one-hundredth and one post, I’m entering a new era … as a legitimate Chef. A classically trained culinary star … well kind of, but yes, it’s official.

The last week was the most grueling and intense experience of my life. Emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Instead of changing one aspect of my life with the transition from “pretend chef” to real chef, I also indulged in too much drinking, eating, and drama. But again, that’s my extreme personality.

So after the wedding cake. After the four days of finals and the wrath of blog haters, I finished on Thursday afternoon, and promptly treated myself to the mani/pedi/massage I needed. And then to champagne.

One of the reason I love my friends so much is because they share the same extreme traits I do, the edge-0f-your-seat, no-judgement fun zone we encompass ourselves with on a daily basis in New York.

So after I became official, a few friends and I had a midnight dinner at the new restaurant Kenmare in my hood (same owners at The Little Owl) and preceded to order almost everything on the menu  and drink more than our body weights. The gnocchi, the lamb, the meatballs (obvi) and the halibut were all phenomenal.

By the end of the evening, I was causing drama and my girlfriend was running away from her date … literally. So after pulling a fast one of her date while he was in the bathroom (no joke), we realized that our idea of “getting crazy” that night would be nothing more than a good story … that we’d hope to forget. Suffice to say, the restaurant, the food, and the company (for most of the evening) were fantastic.

Friday was graduation, and the thought of drinking a champagne toast upon commencement was nauseating. With my parents in full support, and my mother’s obsession with ground beef leading the way we headed to the old-time Bar Farnelli down the block from me and indulged in burgers and beers to cure hangovers and celebrate being official.

If the hangover wasn’t bad enough round one, it wasn’t better round two, especially after the ideal thought occurred to take Tylenol PM before passing out drunk, so that I could “sleep later than 6 am.” Suffice to say it did NOT work.

Saturday lead to a Num Pang stop, afternoon drinks and Easter bar crawl spotting at The Blind Tiger and dinner at my favorite Italian hole in the wall, with my favorite guy in tote. A spot I won’t even reveal because I like that it’s my spot and unfound. Sorry …

For the third year in a row my girlfriends have thrown their legendary birthday bash. It usually involves very drunk (ex)sorority girls, lots of dancing, and fabulous outfits. Check, check, and check, and this added to yet another night of celebration that left me emaciated in the morning.

Suffice to say, I celebrated. I mean, I deserved it!

All I can say to everyone who reads my blog, is a sincere “thank you.” Thank you for being part of my daily life while at school and for giving me an outlet to vent and share. This blog is NOT over, stay tuned for things to come, it’s only going to get BIGGER and BETTER. Only thing that’s different is that I’m warranted to give out these “insightful” tidbits …

Take it or leave it. Now go get yourself a piece of cake already!

Stirring the Pot … Is almost over

Filed Under: French Culinary Institute, Life, New York Cityon March 24th, 2010

Yes, it’s almost time. Instead of a cap and gown I’ll be dressed head to toe in chef’s whites and steel toed clogs. Sexy huh? Almost as good as a flowing gown and tassel hat, but I guess I’ve been there, done that …

This last week has by far been the hardest experience of my last six months, both physically and emotionally. Tempers are on edge and everyone’s emotions are not only on the table, in the ovens, AND in their final pieces but flying around in the air. We all look exhausted.

Suffice to say, my blog posts have gotten a lot of heat. And granted, I’m confronted about this when many things (other than school) are weighing down on my mind. But, hey that’s Murphy’s Law, right? I wish I could say that I was sorry for what I’ve said, but I’m not, take it or leave it. I’m sorry if people took things I’ve said wrong, as I never meant to hurt anyone, but this is what the blog is for! Getting down and dirty and yes, a lot of it is dirty, and I’m not just talking about the chocolate units.

But as hump day closes, I’m starting to feel a little less stressed about the week and a little more nostalgic. This has been an incredible experience that has taught me more than words can express in a blog … and more than my pieces can show. Everything I made, I only made ONCE. Technique wise, we repeated ideas, but actual showpieces, pies, cakes, etc. were only done once. So I’m just getting started in my artistic and culinary capabilities!

Tomorrow we must be done by 11:30 am and then will be judged by four unknown food people. Writers, bakers, wedding cake decorators, chefs, are selected to judge us anonymously. The verdicts still out but I have a feeling (unless maybe Gael Greene or Ruth Reichl) is there I won’t care very much how the judging goes, more that it’s over.

And there is no question where I will be tomorrow afternoon at 2:30 pm. I’m thinking a massage, a much needed manicure and pedicure, and a large bottle of Veuve Clicquot … that I will most likely pop, brown-bag, and suck out of a straw as I walk home along the beautiful streets of Soho to my apartment. After all isn’t this why I’m here to begin with?

Up Close and Personal with my Cake

Filed Under: French Culinary Instituteon March 21st, 2010

Here are some closer up shots of my cake. I will never take for granted how beautiful these cakes look and taste, wedding cakes are a beast onto themselves.


When it Rains, it Pours

Filed Under: French Culinary Institute, Life, New York Cityon March 20th, 2010

This week has been insane to say the least. I operate on two speeds, lightening or snail. It’s either all day 5 am to 2 am or in bed at 8 pm. I’m not good at moderation. This theme reigns true for everything from work, to travel, to boys.

And when it rains it pours. As the infamous Carrie Bradshaw says, “The only thing a girl needs to get a date, is another date.” And it couldn’t be more true. And for someone with an obsessive personality, it takes its toll.

One of the skills of a good ballet dancer is the ability to keep their eyes focused on a steady point. Without it, they lose their balance and fall of kilter … hardly graceful. And since I’ve been blessed with such amazing grace … errr … I have trouble and lack a steady point. As a 20-something girl living in Manhattan on a limited budget, the notion of a “home base” is as elusive as Prince Charming.

So this week, my second to last of school, crunch time began. Attitudes are flying, tempers are roaring, and more cuts, bruises and scrapes have occurred in four days than in the last 5 1/2 months. And with the conclusion of school nearing, the hunt and interviews for jobs piling up, and my inability to do anything in moderation, what did I do? I went out every night, barely slept, ran way too man miles, spent way too much money, and thought about nothing.

Because if I thought about anything I’d have to think about decisions. More than think about decisions, make decisions. How to decorate a cake? What job to take? etc. And if you just keep ignoring the decisions you have to make, they eventually make themselves …

or … the cake bakes itself, shapes itself, and gets build, you get through it, and in the end it doesn’t turn out half bad.

Excuse the pictures they’re from my phone, better ones to come later.

Our wedding cake was due today at 1:30 pm. The theme: nautical, the outcome … hmm fishy? No, wait, that was the methods behind the cake’s construction …

Cheating? You bet.

I hate short cuts, back cuts, and people who take them when it comes to producing an “original” product. Grow a sack, make your own shit. (Pardon the language, but yes I was that mad inside).

If I could explain how incredibly ODD everyone in my class is, I would. Let’s just say this, some cheated, one burnt caramel (did I mention we weren’t even making caramel? or sugar? why someone was making sugar I haven’t the slightest clue), another swore she pulled a muscle in her forearm and used a cake mold (from the freezer) as an ice pack on her arm WHILE decorating her cake, and the list goes on …

Some cakes were good, all were okay, and none were bad. Mine … was okay. Instead of a classy yacht club wedding, my cake looked more like a 1st grade Sponge Bob birthday party cake. My sugar paste flowers were good though.

So on top of constructing the cake, half the battle was taking the cake home. The cake was bigger than my Soho kitchen … So I had to give away some tiers. So on the one day New York decides to be 75 and HOT, I wear a wool blazer and Timberland boots. Carrying my 25 lb cake up Broadway in broad day light to my friend’s office at BroBible to drop off a layer … I looked like an idiot.

To give you a visual. I had a large J. Crew dress on. The kind that can be either a beach cover up or a boho dress. I was (trying to) pull the latter. Carrying two large cake tiers, and wearing sunglasses that my sister Kellie would think were way to big for my tiny head. Suffice to say Broadway was packed at 4 pm on the sunniest day we’ve had in weeks. Walking in any piece of sidewalk I could, I was struggling to mingle through the crowd.

Now generally speaking I hate walking over grates. Maybe it’s a fear of falling through, or maybe just because I’m usually wearing heels and the thought of ruining shoes or getting stuck is embarrassing enough. Oh, and because it’s not classy to pull a Marilyn Monroe pose …

Yep, full skirt around my hips, hands full with cakes. Thank GOD I was wearing underwear. Boy-shorts, phew, even better. Yep, panties out for Broadway. Best part, no one even turned a head.

No wonder I love New York so much, everyone is as fucked up and self obsessed as myself, not even a little afternoon butt cheek shocks anyone …

Then I went to the new Bowery hot spot Pulino’s for pizza and bubbly, enjoyed the sun and well you know “life,” because as confusing as life is, there’s always cake, there’s always sun, and there’s alway champagne, even if there are job-problems, school-drama, or boy-confusion.

Happy first day of spring!!

Cake Cures All

Filed Under: About me, French Culinary Instituteon March 9th, 2010

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.

Menu

Filed Under: French Culinary Instituteon March 5th, 2010

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?

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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.

Boardwalk? Chinese Joint? Or Just Oil?

Filed Under: French Culinary Instituteon March 2nd, 2010

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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).

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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.

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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.

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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 …

Happy Olympics

Filed Under: French Culinary Institute, New York City, Restauranton February 26th, 2010

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.

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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.

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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.

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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?”

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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?

Hump Day

Filed Under: French Culinary Instituteon February 24th, 2010

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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!

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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?

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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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