"What do you know about cheese? Not very much, I think."

What are the implications of a full moon whose rays never reach the ground? It's that time, and it's been overcast with clouds and fog.

The best thing about today: the man walking away from me in the crosswalk, carrying two full Trader Joe's bags by the handles, wearing long shorts and pink Converse high-tops.

We started class today with the inevitable description of Italy as "the boot," and Silvia said, "Maybe it's just me, but I don't see it."

My mother taught me that if I couldn't say anything nice, I shouldn't say anything at all. So I don't have much to say about today's class. Even the really slick pasta-making trick that Chef Alain shared was muted by the ill-tempered way he dismissed Andrea's efforts. She has an Italian heritage and grew up making homemade pasta, but there was nothing correct about the way she was manipulating the dough, as far as Chef was concerned.

[After rolling the pasta through the machine a couple of times, he squared off the edges and neatly attached the ends together with water while the dough was in the roller, making a loop like the never-ending towel in a gas station restroom. The advantage is that you can keep rolling the same loop through the rollers, decreasing the spacing as desired, until you reach the proper thickness, and you've never taken the dough out of the machine.]

This is my Charlotte Russe. The fillings are raspberry and vanilla bavarian cream.



And here's the fettuccini with vegetable sauce that I made with Andrea and Derrick.



We're counting down the days on this one.

"The Worst Day Ever"?

Andrea and Derrick said it simultaneously, when we got into the hall after Chef Alain finally excused us from today's class.

Instead of our scheduled lecture on the cultures and cuisines of Eastern Europe, we had an overview of herbs and spices, from A to Z. The presentation was lengthy, and the information imparted by the Chef was superficial: the kind of data you'd get from reading the side of the bottles in Aisle 8B at Albertson's.

And the food-making (the cooking, as it were) was disjointed and unfocused. "There will be anarchy," Andrea predicted. Jordan and Andy made a lovely hungarian goulash, but it clearly could not be served at the scheduled 11:00 am meal time, as it requires 4 hours of simmer time. Silvia went through all the instructions for tiramisu, the "correct way," then had to abruptly change gears when Chef realized that we were missing some essential ingredients, like mascarpone and amaretto. So she helped me assemble the Charlotte Russe with the ladyfingers I made yesterday. True to form, though, Chef got into the middle of the assembly, taking over even the process of whipping cream in the KitchenAid mixer. ("Do you know that we don't even know how to properly whip cream?" Andy asked.) Tashana and Marco AMAZINGLY did not know how to properly cut the parchment into a circle, before covering it with beans and blind-baking their tart crust. Most of our dishes were not completed today. We only had the little meat pies that Andrea made.

I think Chef Alain would be most comfortable in a demonstration classroom, where he could have students prepare his mis-en-place and then show the entire class the "correct way." As it currently stands, we're beginning to understand the real dilemma: if you ask Chef for input, he will commandeer the process. Asking for direction is tantamount to admitting total ignorance. On the other hand, if you gird your loins and proceed without his advice, you run the risk of becoming the recipient of yelling, often from across the room: "Did no one show you how to properly ____________?" [Fill in the blank.]

A parallel irritation, Dava disappeared for almost an hour during clean-up. When she returned, she looked around at the empty kitchen and asked loudly, "Where are my duxelles? Where are my duxelles?" Chef soon picked up the refrain, until Silvia said, "I didn't know what they were. They didn't look good. They weren't marked. I didn't know who they belonged to. I'll make them for you tomorrow." Chef changed his tune, directing us all to take care to properly put away our preparations and ingredients. As we walked out of the classroom, Andrea said, "Nobody's mopped the floor yet." And Tashana said, primly, "We saved that job for Dava today."

"Fantastic! Fantastic!"

Chef Alain likes his ladyfingers. Yes, he does.



That was my job today (in preparation for tomorrow's Charlotte Russe), and I also made crème anglaise (the CORRECT way), to accompany Andrea's Bread Pudding.



It was British Day in European Cuisine, and we talked a lot about some of the more well-known British traditions: the Big Breakfast. High Tea. Street food, especially Fish & Chips. Brits didn't have a tradition of making butter — clotted cream is practically the same thing, but not so useful as a pastry ingredient — they typically use beef suet instead. And they really, really like their condiments and sauces.

Silvia and Sarah made fish & chips, using the American ballpark variation: garlic fries.



Unfortunately, the Chicken Curry and Shepherd's Pie teams were way way behind, and the fish and chips ended up on the soggy side by the time the rest of the meal was ready. Chef Alain sternly lectured us (appropriately) about timing and teamwork.






Grades were posted today for Wine Studies and Intro to Business. That A- from Chef Joseph is really screwing up my GPA.

"AND YOU CALL YOURSELVES CULINARY STUDENTS?"

Well, we apparently don't have sufficient intellectual curiosity: no one could identify the origin of the sea eels which are caught by the Portuguese (they swim over from the Sargasso Sea), and none of us could tell Chef that solamine is the poisonous chemical in the green part of the potato. Furthermore, we couldn't relate the historical significance of Edward III, vis-a-vis Port wine production in Portugal.

Also, Chef Alain himself was a major influence behind the introduction of chèvre in California. And Alice Waters ate at his organic restaurant before she opened her own.

And, "French history is the most interesting history you will ever read."

We only had eight students in class today, and by the time we reached the first break at 8:30, we were all wishing that we'd played hookey, too. But we got underway with cooking, only to be visited by both of the school's executive chefs and a guest chef who may have been from Le Cordon Bleu Corporate. He was important enough to warrant a reconnaissance visit by the Dean before the entourage entered our classroom. Travis and Alex were instructed to put on hairnets (in addition to their commis caps). Travis went to the men's room, tucked his curls into his hat and returned to class; Alex went home.

While Chef Alain and the guest carried on an animated conversation in French, the remainder of the entourage watched us work. Andrea was closest and got the brunt of their attention. Chef Weller couldn't help but advise her that her pan-frying technique was wrong: she'd floured all the fish fillets in advance, and was cooking several at a time in hot oil. "The ones you cook last will have a gluey icky coating," Chef advised. "Of course, try it yourself, and tell me that I'm wrong." A different approach than "You must be an eed-jit."

But still, the food was wonderful. Today: "stone" soup, with puréed black beans; crab cakes, white beans with linguica, steamed clams with sausage and ham, pan-fried cod, and crème brulée. But seriously, the long weekend couldn't have come at a better time.

Rabbit Tastes Just Like Chicken

Actually, today's rabbit dish was chicken: the butchery department had no rabbits available.

Sadly, I forgot to bring my camera today, because we got to use the 36" paella pan. Then I got to clean the 36" paella pan. In between, Chef Alain did all the fun parts.

We're learning more about him each day and one thing: he likes to "demonstrate" (i.e. take over) the most challenging and entertaining techniques. Like the entire process of actually making the paella, once Andrea had parboiled and chopped the sausages and made the saffron stock and measured and washed the rice, and once Sylvia had chopped the bell peppers, tomatoes, green onions, garlic, parsley, and lemon, and once I defrosted and deveined the shrimp, cut up the two chickens, and sliced the calamari: then Chef was ready to take over the process, and he did.

I'll just have to make it again, at home, over the weekend. I'm "babysitting" my son's paella pan — the one I gave him for Christmas, the year he went to Spain — because he doesn't have room for it in his miniscule Manhattan apartment. So a major investment in saffron, and I'm all set.

We had a rice milk beverage made by Rudy and Julian, mimicking the Spanish horchata made with tiger nuts ("chufa"). Sarah created a wonderfully refreshing gazpacho, in the blended style, something I could eat every day. (Chef Alain said "It's Spanish V-8.") Andrea noted that gazpacho gets better over a couple of days, as the flavors meld, so it's another great long weekend recipe project that also fits perfectly into the "eating healthier" motif now in vogue in my kitchen. Andy made a roasted rabbit — really a chicken -- with allioli sauce made from ground hazelnuts and almonds, and we had another chicken dish, this one a stew with bell peppers ("piperade").

After class, I went to talk to Chef Judy about the best way to make and decorate a large number of cupcakes. She encouraged me to make buttercream roses: "It's a hundred, not a thousand!" The gauntlet has been thrown.

"The Correct Way to Cook Pilaf is IN THE OVEN" and other French rules

Andy got instructions today on how to properly dice an onion. I had to throw out my yeast/water/honey mixture as it was bubbling away, and begin again with a flour/yeast/honey mixture, only barely moistened with water, a "starter." Alex was scolded because his tomato sauce for the moussaka was not reduced enough. But the food warranted an "excellent" from Chef Alain, and we gave ourselves a round of applause.

We began class today with a lecture on the correct way to make french pâtes (doughs) and crèmes. We received recipes and techniques, rapid-fire, for brioche, short, and sweet tart doughs, for pâte à choux and crepe batter; for French, Swiss, and Italian meringues; for pastry cream, crème anglaise, crème chiboust (which is "the most refined kind of cream": pastry cream lightened with meringue), and frangipane; and for genoise, ladyfingers (biscuits cuillère), and madeleines. Then Chef was satisfied: "Now you all know what you should know and remember the rest of your life."

We are getting used to Chef Alain after three days: his bluster is rooted in passion, and he loves to teach, and to demonstrate. He pushes, but he is not mean-spirited. He reserves his comments about "idiots" for whoever in Purchasing decided to replace our blue cotton work towels with handi-wipes.

Today, we cooked Greek:


Avgolemono Soup...


Tsatziki and Pita Bread...


Moussaka and Dolmades


Sautéed Chicken, Greek Style

"I'm gonna call my mother."

Tashana was beaming as she strode into the elevator after class this afternoon. "I'm gonna tell her that I got yelled at by a French Chef! And I can handle it!"

It all started with the crème anglaise, made to accompany the apple strudel. Chef Alain started hollering when he saw Tashana stirring her bowl of cream and eggs over a double boiler. "What are you doing? Did no one teach you how to properly make crème anglais?" He made her start over, so that he could demonstrate the "right" way. She began by separating the eggs, cradling the yolks in one hand and letting the whites drain out, as Chef Judy had instructed us. From the other side of the room, Chef began yelling again. "NEVER TOUCH THE EGG WITH YOUR HANDS!" He said the "right" way is the juggling method, where you pass the yolk back and forth between the two halves of shell until the white drained out. We told him that, according to Chef Judy, the shell method was "housewifey." He began muttering under his breath. I swear I heard him say "Sacrebleu." For the crème anglais, you beat the sugar and yolks together, bring the milk to a boil in a saucepan, then temper the eggs and add them to the milk. You cook directly over the heat. "It takes two seconds," Chef said. None of this messing about with a double boiler.

Meanwhile, Julian was peeling apples the "correct" way. With a paring knife, you "spin" off the top and bottom peel, then cut strips of peel off between the top and the bottom, all the way around. Then you cut the apple in half, remove the core halves with a melon baller, then trim the stem and flower ends with a little V cut. I've peeled dozens of dozens of apples in my life. I've never once done it the correct way.

It was German day in European Cuisine, and we had a menu full of pork and starch. Soup was potato/bacon, with tiny diced carrots, celery root, potatoes, and bacon in a chicken stock. Andy, Andrea and I made veal schnitzel, breaded and fried ahead of time and then reheated briefly, garnished with chopped hardboiled egg whites and yolks, green olives stuffed with capers, and anchovies. We also made fried potatoes with sautéed onion and more bacon. Rudy was part of the sauerkraut/pork roast/ham team, the kraut simmering briefly in juniper berry-infused water in place of the preferable beer, then braised in the oven with the meats. Derrick made spaetzel, a process he compared to playing with playdoh, but without the star or moon shaped cutters. Julian and Tashana struggled through the strudel and crème anglais process, which reached another crescendo when Chef discovered that no clarified butter had been prepared. Regular melted butter has too much water in it; it makes the filo dough too wet.

"Of course, I'm not saying this for your benefit, because you are here," Chef said at 7am. "But if you are late three times, I will send you OUT. I will not tolerate this." There's a lot he won't tolerate. But we're hanging in there.

Le Poêler

Chef Alain is brusque, imperious, and tres tres French. He took the first 45 minutes of class to set up the A/V to his satisfaction. He spent the rest of the morning dismayed at how little we knew after six months of cooking school. We hadn't come prepared to class with either the syllabus or our Professional Cooking book. (We've only used the syllabus once, in Software; other chefs have emailed us prior to class to let us know what to bring on the first day.) He questioned each of us in turn about our Cooking book: "When was the last time you opened this book?" For most of the class, it was six weeks ago. I was able to say "Last Thursday," because I made another batch of tofu-fruit bars to share on test morning.

We were unable to whip off the seven methods of cooking: sauté, braise, grill, poach, roast, deep fry, and "poêléing," which is a white meat/game bird preparation sometimes called "butter roasting." (The meats are cooked in a covered pan, like a dutch oven, in butter and their own juices, on a bed of aromatic vegetables.) I must admit, that's a term I've never come across before, and it's one of the Big Seven!

Chef was aghast that he couldn't get a straight answer to the question "How do you cook a hardboiled egg?" After much discussion and the weighing of various techniques, we were informed that the correct answer is 13 minutes for a large egg, in simmering water. None of that "start from cold water" stuff. That's how you get off-center yolks. It's all about the science.

In class, we'll be having a lecture on a country or region, then we'll review the day's menu, then break into small groups to cook. We are urged to review the recipes in advance, in detail: "Have you ever seen a chef give a demonstration where he propped the cookbook in front of him? Non!! Such measurements do not exist in a professional kitchen." Today, we prepared Scandanavian dishes: Fish Soup, Halibut Sauté Belle Meuniére, Danish Pork Stuffed with Prunes, and Rice and Almond Pudding. Andy, Julian and I made pork, roasted tenderloin with a dried plum/port wine sauce. Everyone was delighted to be back at the cutting board and stove again, after our six week desk break. Even Chef was impressed by the final dishes, plated as we learned from Chef Vinita: one demonstration plating, with the rest of the servings presented family style. All garnished and beautiful and truly delicious.

While we cooked, Chef Alain taped together the various cords at his computer station until he was satisfied that it was neat and in order. Before we left, he handed out written project assignments. We have to prepare a three to four page report on our region, develop a four course menu with wine matching, and provide the recipes. Due a week from Friday. My area: Provence and the Côtes du Rhône. Field trip??

The Halfway Point

We're now halfway finished with our 12 month academic program; 40% finished if you include the three month externship. It's kind of amazing to think of how far we've come since the first day of Basic Skills in November, and to realize that we have that much more to learn and experience.

Chef Larry administered the final for Intro to Business in Chef Stazi's absence. Fifty questions, multiple choice or true/false, about business types, HR law, financial statements, alcoholic beverage regulations. I was finished, and excused, by 7:30. "Start your weekend early," Chef Larry advised. So I came home and made bacon and eggs.

Correction!

There are two whiskey distilleries in Tennessee: Jack Daniels and George Dickel (who call it "whisky" 'cause it's just as good as that Scottish stuff...)

Thanks to Ed for the info. He knows: he toured the place last week.

Good News and Bad News

We will be back at the South Campus next week. It's a more pleasant environment, both inside and out. Apparently there's a plan afoot to move more of the classes southward. I like it better. The commute's about four blocks longer but the parking is free.

But sadly, Chef Stazi was absent today. Apparently he and his Harley Davidson had a run-in with a car door and injury ensued. So we're unlikely to see him again, unless he ends up teaching us Culinary Management in about three months.

Chef Larry, dean of Academics, was the substitute. We took our daily quiz and had a couple of presentations, then saw a video about Ketel One vodka, and did a spirits tasting. Hard to be excited about whiskey at 8:45 in the morning. We tasted Johnnie Walker Red Label, Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, and Hennessey. Though they're all different (Scotch whisky, Kentucky bourbon, Tennessee whiskey, and Cognac), they are similar in quality so we didn't get any sense of what "the good stuff" is all about. And Chef Larry is not, by his own admission, a whiskey man, so he didn't really present the spirits with any degree of enthusiasm. In fact, he said they'd all go better with Coke. There's something wrong with that.

After break, we joined the Asian Cuisine class for a food and wine tasting. They'd prepared about a dozen different dishes and we "brought" four wines. A delicious buffet lunch, and then we cleaned up the glassware, and headed home to study for tomorrow's final.

Kreutzening

More history this morning, as we went back to Carrie Nation and the beginning of the temperance movement. Chef Stazi neatly oversimplified one hundred years of history to show how the issues of workplace safety and women's rights merged to create the avalanche that resulted in the ratification of the 18th amendment. In several more minutes, bootleggers and speakeasies were rampant and organized crime was beginning to affect the lives of everyday people. Then, the Noble Experiment was over. Somehow, NASCAR was the result, and so was the insane three-tiered liquor distribution system that exists to this day.

Chef Stazi delivered a long interactive lecture about "dram shop" liability, the laws which affect on-sale and off-sale liquor establishments. We discussed DUI and DWI laws and variances and the current California limits. A commercial truck driver can have his license permanently revoked for a BAC of .04 (half the legal limit), even if he is not driving his commercial vehicle. We talked about factors affecting blood alcohol level: most significant are rate of consumption and drink strength, but there are numerous others. We discussed the so-called "safe limits," and the fact that most drinks you get in a bar exceed those limits. With the first drink.

Then we switched perspective to talk about beer and spirits. Did you know that hops are in the same family as cannabis? That whiskey is essentially distilled beer, and brandy is distilled wine? When hops are added after the beer is fermented, as a flavor agent (like "dosage" in Champagne), it's called "dry hopping," or "Kreutzening." ESB is Kreutzened.

There are two types of beer, ale and lager; no, wait, there's steam beer also. Lager is cold fermented, yeast at the bottom, needs refrigeration. Ale is warm fermented, yeast at the top, doesn't require refrigeration. Most beers are made from barley (hefeweizen is made from wheat); most are made with brewer's yeast except Anchor Steam, which uses the same natural yeast that makes our sourdough bread so special.

If it's "whisky," it's from Scotland, and it's "Scotch". The barley is kiln-dried along with peat, and unlike beer, there are no hops added to whisky, or whiskey either. Kentucky whiskey is made from corn. Tennessee whiskey (of which there is only one kind: Jack Daniels) is filtered using sugar-maple charcoal, which gives it its sweet characteristics. Irish whiskey is the same as Scotch except for the peat and the "e".

Maybe the abstinence lecture was designed to keep us from over-imbibing. To guarantee it, for our beer tasting, Chef Stazi himself poured: two sips per cup. We tasted from light to heavy, of course: 3 lagers (Pilzner Urquell, Heineken, Sam Adams); Anchor Steam; Pyramid's Hefeweisen; Bass, Redhook ESB, and Sierra Nevada; then Anchor Porter and Guinness. No pretzels though.

"Bottom Line" = profit (or loss) = the low point?

The last few days of class have been long and draggy. Even though Chef Stazi is an organized and energetic teacher who makes a real effort to make the material interesting and relevant, we're discussing all of this at such a rudimentary level that I find it hard to stay engaged. Tomorrow and the next day, we'll be doing some tastings along with lectures, and our final is on Friday, and we move on to European Cuisine next week. I'm hoping that we've hit bottom.

We talked about three main topics today: food and beverage costing, equipment and property leasing, and finance. Chef Stazi defined "fixed" versus "variable" costs: it's not that "fixed" costs don't change, it's that they're not related to changes in sales. Chef repeatedly told us that the concepts we're learning now will come into play in our next business course, in ten weeks or so. Rumor has it that he'll be teaching us again. That would be okay. When he tells the class that we'll be creating our own proforma financial statements, the fear is palatable.

Most of the "meat" for this part of the class, for me, is the specialized F&B information that I'm getting. Things like contracts for (exclusive) soft drink dispensing. A typical expense sub-category, under Marketing, called "IHP," or In House Promotion: "giving away food is more impactful than a flyer." The number one reason for restaurant failure is undercapitalization.

It really is amazing, though, what you can learn in an hour and a half. Chef outlined the steps to take when starting a restaurant in order to determine your funding requirements. First, how much do you have? Calculate your personal net worth. Determine start-up costs: add together design and construction costs, permits, inspections, insurance, opening inventory, money to live on... the list is long. Figure out how much you need to stay in business for a year. Forecast sales volume: use your accumulated knowledge to make a best guess. Look at multiple scenarios. Prepare proforma P&Ls, Balance Sheets, and Cash Flow Projections. When you've done this, you'll know how much you need to borrow. Better yet, find investors.

"The Bank" is apparently a terrible place to go to borrow money, if you want to open a restaurant. (They're not big on risk, and a new restaurant is nothing if not risky.) If you borrow money from friends or family, it's important to document rate, term, and penalties for non-payment, and to have a decent interest rate, or the IRS will consider the "generous no-interest loan" a gift, and tax you accordingly. And there's an inverse relationship between low interest and the ease of effort in obtaining the funds. See: credit card interest rates versus prime plus one.

We ended the class with a discussion of alternate lending sources, most notably the SBA, and grant monies available through economic development and urban development projects. I liked the spirit of this discussion: the "win/win" that is implied when you locate your business in an area that needs you.

Tomorrow: two quizzes, several student presentations, two lectures (one on beverage law, one on beer and spirits), and then a tasting!!

Is "nuantial" a word?

I was sitting at my desk yesterday, cookbooks at the ready, pen in hand, and David asked if I was doing homework. "No," I said, "I'm making a grocery list." "It's the same thing," he noted.

Chef Stazi began class today by completing the lecture he began on Friday, on factors affecting labor costs. We talked about types of compensation (direct, indirect, and deferred). He gave some examples of ways to proactively affect labor costs, like maintaining the proper staffing mix (full-time, part-time, seasonal, on-call), staggering start times, reallocating duties, and taking full advantage of the features of your POS (point of sale) system. Some of the more sophisticated systems will "block out" employees who try to punch in outside the parameters of their scheduled shift, so that you have to override them if you truly do want the employee to begin working. Chef is a firm believer in overtime as a last resort.

We talked about the absolute need for budgeting and forecasting. During break, in talking with Andy, I compared it to taking a long car trip without a map. "If you don't care where you're going, or when you'll get there, just get in the car and drive."

We were introduced to the three major financial documents, the P&L, the Balance Sheet, and the Budget, which Chef Stazi refers to as "our cast of characters." In his cogent, plain-spoken way, he attached them each to a time period: "the P&L is about the past, the Balance Sheet is the present, and the Budget is the future."

He spent some time elaborating on the philosophy of revolving debt, and the buy-versus-rent decision, issues which you approach differently as a business owner than you do as an individual. "In business, it's all about the time value of money, and keeping your assets liquid, and minimizing tax liability."

And we started a discussion about the concept of the contribution margin, the profit margin for each good or service that you sell. In culinary terms, this would be the menu price less the cost of the item. In Software, we were focusing on food cost percentage: the cost divided by the menu price. Today, Chef demonstrated how an item with a higher (i.e. "less desirable") food cost percentage could actually be more profitable than an item with a lower percentage. To wit:

Entrée: Menu Price: $35. Cost: $15. Contribution Margin: $20. Food cost %: 43%.
Dessert: Menu Price: $12. Cost: $2. Contribution Margin: $2. Food cost %: 17%.

So, while the dessert item (creme brulée, in our discussion) has a lower food cost %, you have to sell two of them to make the same profit that you do off one entrée (aged New York steak with asparagus and mushrooms, in our discussion). Though it's somewhat counterintuitive, there's no direct correlation between cost and profitability.

"What's a 401(k)?" Chef Stazi asked. Jordan said it was a government sponsored retirement plan. "A common mistake," Chef said. He called on me. "A tax-deferred savings plan," I answered. "I couldn't have said it any better!" the Chef replied.

Andy said, "That's why we keep her around."

Who Needs Protection?

We had a uniform line-up today. Jim was sent home for wearing the wrong shoes.

Our class today started back at the time of the Industrial Revolution, which, according to Andy, was about the 1940s. Oops. Back up there a little bit, buddy.

Chef did an excellent job of summarizing the working conditions under the industrialists, which resulted in the rise of the labor union movement, which was formalized in 1935 with the Wagner Act. He succinctly led the class through a discussion of the work-related legislation introduced in the intervening years, including the Fair Labor Standards Act (1938), setting guidelines for wages, hours, and child labor; the Equal Pay Act (1963), mandating equal pay for equal work, regardless of gender; the Age Discrimination in Employment Act (1967), which protects individuals over 40, the Occupational Safety and Health Act (1970), and the Americans with Disabilities Act (1990).

Chef Stazi built a strong case for his point of view, which is that the time for labor unions has come and gone. These days, laws provide us with much of the protection we once needed from unions. Union regulations often preclude managers from firing any but the most egregiously incompetent employees. They also provide a level of benefits that set a benchmark within most industries.

We had a pretty open and balanced discussion about sexual harassment, much of it taken from the perspective of the employer, and the liability created by inaction. Unfortunately, the two worst offenders among our class just happened to be absent today.

As we walked down the hall during break, Silvia said, "What I'm learning in this class is how many times I've been screwed over on the job." "Those days are over," I told her.

We talked about the difference between exempt and non-exempt jobs. Chef talked candidly about management's need to convert as much staff as possible away from hourly to salary or shift pay, to keep labor costs lower and more predictable. "The worst job in the kitchen is the sous chef's," he said. "You have a lot of responsibility, you don't get the credit, and your salary, when averaged out to an hourly rate, is usually less than you made before you got promoted."

We have a guest Italian chef on campus for a couple of weeks, and we ended the day by watching him demonstrate an appetizer dish of foie gras with a sauce made from peaches. Molto, molto benne!

The Paradigm for Exaggeration

So, if you're going to say something outlandish, make it really outlandish: the most effective exaggeration is the most unbelievable. For example, "The World's Greatest Pizza" is a more effective claim than "The World's Largest Pizza."

We talked about menu planning and design, and Chef Stazi urged us to take a seemingly backwards view at restaurant development: plan your menu first. It will affect your kitchen design, your equipment, your design and decor, and your ideal location. Sort of a "start with the end in mind" approach.

The design and engineering of a menu are extremely important. As Chef reminded us, the menu is unique among marketing materials in that there is a 100% guarantee that it will be read. We learned that the NRA — "our" NRA, the National Restaurant Association — has established "menu accuracy guidelines," so that specifics like portion size, origin, and brand, when listed on a menu, are indeed factual. However, there is no such thing as the Menu Police.

This discussion reminded me of many conversations I had with my son when he was young. He was ready to phone the Menu Police many times. Similarly, he tried to convince me that it was "illegal" to have a "Beware of Dog" sign on our gate, when we actually had no dog.

We spent some time using a quadrant tool to analyze a theoretical menu, based on an X of increasing popularity and a Y of increasing profit. "Star" menu items are things like creme brulée and caesar salad, popular items where the food costs are low, and your mark-up is considerable.

After break, we jumped into The Employment Cycle: 10 steps (job description, recruitment, application form, interview, reference check, orientation, training, performance review, progressive discipline, termination). I was very impressed at the level of detail that Chef Stazi provided on these various steps. For many of my classmates, most of whom have only recent entered the job market, he set some very high expectations of the ways things are "professionally" done, while acknowledging that in actual practice, many employers gravely miss the mark. He especially emphasized the importance of a complete job description, reference checks, and training. He noted that "stealing" as a recruitment method is rampant in our industry, but he also reminded the class of the inevitability of karma. He warned against the "protected class" questions that can pop up on applications and in interviews, and gave useful tips on ways to avoid them, on both sides of the table.

Most impressively, Chef gave a in-depth example of a progressive discipline policy in action, using Andy's recurrent tardiness as an example. (Andy, of course, epitomizes responsible employee behavior.) As Chef went through the role-playing, what came through most clearly was his concern for fairness, both from the obvious CYA standpoint as well as from a concern for doing the right thing. I hope it was sinking in.

Aaron texted Tashana in the middle of The Employment Cycle: bye to all, he's dropping out.

After class, I met with Chef Stazi in his cubicle on the fifth floor. Not all the elevators even go to the fifth floor, so it was a new and exciting experience for me. We talked through my thoughts about post-CCA work, and he started by drawing an inverted pyramid and dividing it into quadrants, which he titled "Food Writing," "Food Development/Test Kitchen," "Teaching," and "Hotel/Country Club." He likes charts. I told him that I'd promised my husband that I wouldn't be adopting "chef hours," and I didn't have to explain any further. He took a red pen to my resume, which he said was "delightfully eclectic," and he told me to join the American Culinary Federation. We talked about next steps: research and pondering, and he dropped some names of people he can contact, "when the time is right." He said, "I'm very successful at this." You can tell that he appreciates being asked.

I have to give my oral presentation tomorrow. It's going to be on the Five-Second Rule.

A Mixed Bag

We spent half the morning on legal issues, then we turned our attention to marketing.

The emphasis in the law module has been to identify areas of possible liability, and minimize it. So we talked about contract law, and tort (criminal) law, the parts of a contract, defense against contract liability, and limited damages. (Your liability for breach of contract is limited to out of pocket expenses, and reasonably foreseeable losses, like lost wages.) Then we got into the whole area of tort law and negligence, the elements of negligence, defense against negligence, and unlimited damages. (Your liability for criminal negligance can include out of pocket and foreseeable losses, as well as "general damages," i.e. pain and suffering, and punitive damages, as in, Make Them Pay!)

Much of the terminology, and the class discussion, centered around the word "reasonable," which appears throughout the law. Chef Stazi perceptively noted that the debate over "reasonable" — a "reasonable person," "reasonable care" — is what brings so many cases to court.

During break, Chef Stazi "checked in" with a few of us to see how class was going so far. We had twelve students today, a 30% improvement over yesterday. Andy said he's feeling overwhelmed with the pace and the variety of the information being "thrown" at us. Andrea, on the other hand, is ready to pick up the pace. She's actually talking about trying to take some of her remaining classes concurrently, in both the morning and afternoon sessions, so that she can finish the program early. "You've had some school," Chef Stazi noted. "I can see by the way you take notes." She acknowledged a Master's degree in psychology. "And I know this isn't new to you," he said to me. I admitted to an MBA. "Uh oh," Chef said. He did offer to chat with me after class about post-culinary school opportunities. "I know some people," he said. "And I'd love to see your resume." It's all about the networking.

Derrick correctly identified the Venn diagram on the board, where Concept, Target Market and Location intersected to determine the Successful Restaurant. We talked about all the aspects that go into concept, besides the obvious "food": style of service. decor. floor plan. price point. hours of operation. music. lighting. uniforms. color. architecture. And about demographics, and how to determine the demographics of a particular location. One critical way: personal observation. And about location. (location. location.)

In the restaurant business, the waitstaff sells, but so do a lot of other people: the host/ess, bartender, chef, manager, bussers. Customers at the next table. Vendors on their way in and out. "You're not operating at your full potential unless everyone is selling."

We took an inventory of the Marketing Toolbox: Advertising, Merchandising, Public Relations, and Promotions. Chef Stazi spent quite a bit of time talking about the internet, where your presence is now expected. "If you don't have a website, your prospective customers wonder what's wrong." He talked about how opentable.com has revolutionized the restaurant business, as have urban delivery services such as Waiters On Wheels.

Chef Stazi also defined and demonstrated the S.W.O.T. analysis (an old friend, practically), which will help you clarify virtually any kind of situation and assist you in identifying, and then controlling, your controllables. It's really the business equivalent of the Serenity Prayer: "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

"The LLC is the perfect form of business."

Chef Stazi reviewed the topics for the next nine days [marketing, accounting, legal aspects of small business management] and noted, "Some people go to school for years to study this subject. How much of it do you think we'll cover in nine days? Just enough to try to keep you out of trouble."

Chef is soft-spoken and smiley, and began immediately in a much more interactive manner than did Steve, who was Lecturer Extraordinaire. As advised, he's very concerned with the uniform, but with a different spin: "Your uniform is the first impression that you make. What do you want people to think of you? After twenty years, I still take pride in getting dressed in the morning."

Class will consist of lectures and discussions, quizzes every day, and a final. Plus, we have to give a short presentation on any related topic, as an opportunity to do some public speaking.

Today, we talked about forms of business ownership, and Chef Stazi urged us all to march right down to City Hall and file as an LLC ($27.50). He talked about being a business professional in the same way that he talked about the uniform: a matter of pride, "the way I sleep at night." ["Do people do business under the table? You bet they do. Is it the right thing to do? No."] We talked about the benefits and disadvantages of sole proprietorships, general and limited partnerships, limited liability corporations, S-corporations, and C-corporations. We talked at length about the ways in which you can lose your liability protection (using Kenneth Lay as an example), and the importance of keeping your personal and business fund separate: co-mingling of funds is the most common way to lose your liability protection.

Chef Stazi emphazised, regardless of the type of business, the importance of a written agreement between business partners, "even if it's on a napkin."

We talked about the advantages and disadvantages of franchises, using Mickey D as the model. [Is it true that Justin Timberlake wrote the "I'm Lovin' It" jingle? I'm so out of the loop.]

We talked about the three types of law: statuatory, common (or case) law, and administrative law. [Meghan, you're official now: correct me if I get any of this wrong.] Chef Stazi went on a long digression about recent changes in the US Supreme Court and the lost "swing vote" of Sandra Day O'Connor. "Have any of you been paying attention to this?" he asked. He brought up Roe v. Wade, and I held my breath, then he seemed to settle subtly down on the side of the importance of maintaining the law, in that regard. Later, during a run through the list of civil rights and protected classes, he mentioned the protection of pregnancy and marital status. "And that includes lactation, too," he said. "And you can't tell me that the rest room is acceptable." He also brought up the way that "jacket and tie required" could be discriminatory to cross-dressing men. He's got the class thinking.

We finished up with a speedy definition of a Private Club (where you can discriminate!), then began discussing Contracts. "You mean providing food to the public is a contract?" Andy asked. "No, it's a warranty," Chef Stazi replied, "and we'll talk about that tomorrow."

There were nine of us in class today, out of eighteen on the roll sheet.

I spoke a couple of times with a prospective externship contact, and it was not as pleasant or as smooth as I'd expected. I'm feeling undertones of "over-qualified." Ageism? "You'll be supervised by people much younger than you." I don't think my expectations are unrealistic, but I'd hope that my externship relationship would be one of mutual satisfaction. I've got some rethinking to do about what comes next.

"MOG": Material Other than Grapes

It'll be in your cheap "champagne".

We wrapped up Wine Studies I today with an overview of the manufacturing processes used to make sparkling wines. We took our two-part final, then finished up with a celebratory tasting.

There are three methods used for making sparkling wines: "The horrible awful way, the not-so-bad way, and the right way." Horrible/awful is the "charmant bulk process," ("tanks that look like a refinery"), turning out finished bottles in about five weeks, using machine harvested grapes, and "the best you can hope for is that it won't make you gag." Think André. or Cook's.

The not-so-bad way is "the transfer process," where the wine is aged in a bottle and then filtered and re-bottled. The filtering process removes sediment and character. We don't find much of this in the US. Steve says it's a process commonly used for Prosecco.

"Methode Champenoise" is the right way, legislated in the AOC of Champagne (where the sparkling wine can only be made from chardonnay, pinot noir, and/or pinot meunier.) After primary fermentation and blending, the wine is bottled for two to four years. At the end of the aging process, the wine is riddled on an increasingly flattened rack, so that the sediment settles in the bottle's neck. Then the neck is frozen and the bottle is "disgorged," then topped off by a little bit of something (a closely guarded secret in many Champagne houses). The term "methode Champenoise" is restricted, within the European Union, to France, so you'll see "cava," "methode traditionelle," and "metodo classico" in other countries. They describe the exact same process.

Hot tip: Spanish cavas, like Codornui, Freixenet, and Segura Viudas, are best bets for inexpensive bubbles. The quality is very high and the price is reasonable.

Most champagne is produced by big companies: it's an expensive process, not usually undertaken by small wineries. Most champagne (about 85% of each house's production) is non-vintage or NV: this enables the winemaker to replicate the special blend of the brand, so that a Mumm's that you drink now will taste the same in two years, or ten. "Brut" is the typical designation, meaning that it's dry: the classic level for fine champagne.

Sometimes champagne is kept for a long time "en tirage" (or on the lees), and it might be designated as "recently disgorged" or "late disgorged." Champagne of this type has an especially yeasty flavor. Bollinger is a notable producer of RD champagne.

The first part of the final was analysis of six wine labels. ("Tell me everything you know about this wine.") Then we had to sort a list of twenty wines, as they'd appear on a wine list, into categories: i.e., California Red, White Burgundy, Alsace, Dessert Wine. The second part was short answer and multiple choice ("Which of the following are red grapes: Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Riesling, Zinfandel, Cabernet Franc?")

After the final, we were excused while our classmates finished, and several of us congregated down the hall in the library. Our next instructor, Chef Stazy (Stanislav), is a known stickler for uniform, among other things, and Andy mentioned this to Jordan, who's sporting black fingernails and orangish hair today. "Hey, he has to give us some notice!" Jordan insisted. "He can't just crack down!" Andy looked at me and rolled his eyes.

We started the tasting with Cook's (made the "horrible awful way," and "definitely containing MOG"), and moved up the quality ladder immediately to an Iron Horse "Classic Vintage Brut." Then we tried an Italian version, from Franciacorta (in the Lombardy district, near Milan), made by Bella Vista, "one of the best producers," according to Steve. Bubbles on good sparkling wine are so wonderful — sometimes they're perky, sometimes creamy, but always, "they leave your mouth so happy!"

And we ended the class with some authentic French champagne. The real deal: a Laurent-Perrier Brut that was as sophisticated as a little black dress, and then some beautiful Veuve Clicquot Brut Rosé that hung out in your mouth for such a long time, you'd want to sip it slowly, to enjoy every bit of it.

Cheers. Something tells me we'll be changing gears in a big way tomorrow.

"Dead people can make chardonnay."

"It's that easy to grow." Pinot noir and viognier, on the other hand, are a little tricky.

We did the tour of California today, metaphorically, but first Steve talked about some publications that we should know about. The Wine Advocate is the home of the 100 point scale as defined by Robert Parker, Jr. "You may not agree with him," Steve said, "but you sure as hell need to know who he is." Steve likes his reviews of French and Italian wines, but with regard to California, "I usually don't know what he's talking about."

The Wine Spectator is "the most powerful publication." The news is timely and useful but the reviews: "not very good." Apparently their writers like the "country-western school of wine writing: fifteen words, arranged in various ways."

The International Wine Cellar is a journal published by Stephen Tanzer: "our" Steve thinks he's got a critical eye, and his bias is clear, so you can soon decide where you tend to agree with him, and where you don't.

Of course, he had to mention his own publication, The Connoisseur's Guide to California Wine (we received a complementary copy of the current issue, which focuses on cabernet sauvignon.)

And most of all, he likes Decanter, from England. "They've always had the best professional wine writers there."

We reviewed the significant ("backbone") California whites (from light to full: pinot gris, chenin blanc, riesling, gewurtztraminer, sauvignon blanc, viognier and chardonnay) and reds (gamay, pinot noir, sangiovese, merlot, zinfandel, cabernet sauvignon, syrah, and petite sirah). In the 60s and 70s, new vintners would buy land and plant a little bit of everything, but we're beginning to see, after over 30 years of experience in some places, significant focus in particular areas on the grapes that do well there. It's all about the dirt!

Our goal is not to memorize "good" and "bad" producers but to begin to identify the significant wine regions of California, so that we can begin to make "educated guesses" on the basis of a wine's place of origin.

So, not to oversimplify the situation, but Carneros is good for pinot noir, crisp chardonnay, and sparkling wines. Napa Valley is becoming increasingly focused on cabernet sauvignon and merlot, with the sharper wines (the ones that need some age) coming from the colder, harsher "mountain" appellations.

Sonoma's most significant areas are Dry Creek Valley, for sauvignon blanc and zinfandel; the Russian River Valley, for crisp chardonnays, sauvignon blanc, and "truly spectacular" pinot noir; and Green Valley-Sonoma, for sparkling wines.

In Monterey County, the Santa Lucia Highlands are producing world-class pinot noirs and chardonnays. Paso Robles, in San Luis Obispo County, has "extraordinary" zinfandels as well as Rhone-style reds, and the Santa Maria Valley appellation in Santa Barbara County is home to "very reliable" pinot noirs and chardonnays.

Basically, we're learning to associate varietals with places, as we did with our study of France.

We started our tasting session with "a good example of what we can do with viognier," from RH Phillips (Dunnigan Hills in Yolo County), a versatile, accessible rosé ("Vin Gris de Cigare") from Bonny Doon, and a pinot noir from Bethel Heights in the Willamette Valley in Oregon ("pick your pork"). Then we had a Quivira zinfandel from Dry Creek Valley, which, according to the label, is "a real wine made by real people in a real place."

We finished up with a great lineup of heavy hitters: a Shafer Napa Valley merlot, a Turnbull Napa Valley cabernet sauvignon, and a Tablas Creek Paso Robles syrah, all "pretty serious" wines but each made with distinctive and recognizable grapes. It seemed a shame to settle for a few sips of each, but I'm the designated driver.

Steve has apparently arm-wrestled our business instructor for another day of Wine Studies. Consequently, we'll talk about sparkling wines and champagnes on Monday, then take our final, then "guzzle, or rather, judiciously taste" some representative bubbly. I volunteered to bring snacks.

Homework: browse a wine store

"You'll verify what you've learned." Steve tells us that labels that would have stumped us a week ago are now full of useful information. But man, I wish I knew then what I knew now. In the 90s, I visited many wineries and attended large and small wine-related events and trade shows as part of my job, and it's all making so much more sense now, even after only four days.

The hot tip of the day: If you get a chance to talk to the winemaker ["and in this business, you will, I guarantee you"], ask him about canopy management. You'll be his new BFF.

For clarification:
About the Chateauneuf-du-Pape: the "Côtes du Rhône" is the general winemaking district, and Chateauneuf-du-Pape is the specific town, and there are dozens of producers. The wine is a red blend, predominantly grenache, and virtually all of it is wonderful, according to Steve.

And about the ranking system in Bordeaux: the "first growth/second growth" applies only to wines of the Medoc region, on the western side of the river. The other areas of Bordeaux, Graves, St. Emilion, Pomerol, Sauternes and Barsac, have their own classification system.

And about the Nouveau Beaujolais: well, it's gamay beaujolais wine, made by a process called carbonic maceration: the wines are not crushed, but put as whole clusters into the fermentation tanks; the resulting wine is almost still grape juice, very fruity and perky. The tradition around it, that it is released on the third Thursday in November (by law — only about six weeks after it's bottled) and no other wine can be released until the following January (by law), is the result of heavy lobbying by Georges du Boeuf (the guy with flowers on his labels) and other Beaujolais producers: it's all about the marketing. A party for party's sake, and buy a case, while you're at it.

We did Rhône, and then a quick history of California wine production. Rhone is in southeastern France, very close to the Mediterranean. The northern Rhône is home to syrah, "Côte Rotie" and "Hermitage" are the most notable AOCs, and the wines are distinctively spicy and powerful. There's also Condrieu, where they grow viognier, a full-bodied tropical and floral white wine, difficult to grow, that was recently all the rage in California vineyards. Apparently that fad is fading but the varietal is still noteworthy. From the southern Rhône, we get blended wines, primarily grenache, with Chateauneuf-du-Pape being the most famous and typical example of the style. Both the southern and northern Rhône wines have been models for many California winemakers. Steve said that Randall Grahm at Bonny Doon was one of the first to try to make grenache in the Rhône style with his "Le Cigar Volant". There's a long story that went along, having to do with a law prohibiting the landing of flying saucers in the vineyards of Chateauneuf-du-Pape, which I won't relate here.

We've been regularly reminded this week of the long-standing traditions which surround viti-and viniculture in all the important winemaking regions of France. California winemakers shook it all up beginning in the 1970s, and we got a real quick history lesson to get us up to speed. While grapes were planted alongside every mission that Junipero Serra established, they weren't vitis vinifera, the wine grape. California winemaking in the European style began after the Gold Rush ("because wine is part of the 'good life'"), but along with French cuttings, we brought phylloxera to California. Replanting was required in the 1880s, the concept of resistant rootstock being firmly established, but there was a depression in the US, along with the beginnings of the temperance movement. As Steve said, a winemaker would look around and say, "The economy sucks, there's bugs in the vineyard, and we're all going to hell. Where's the incentive in that?" So most vineyards were abandoned.

After WWI, there was a large influx of Italian and other Southern European immigrants to California, and they brought an agricultural focus to their wine production, especially in the Central Valley. Wineries like Gallo, Rossi, and Cribari were established, and they made huge volumes of relatively low quality wine.

Steve attributes the explosion of winegrowing in the Napa Valley and vicinity to the Baby Boom generation. "The best educated generation anywhere, at any time" began to rediscover Europe: a cheap vacation spot made more attractive by the fact that their parents never wanted to hear about it again, having lived through WWII. European literature and certainly cuisine became the hot topics, and wine goes right along with that. And the American producers were free of the shackles of thousands of years of tradition. The way grapes were grown, the way wine was made and bottled, were revolutionized by American innovation.

Stainless steel tanks. The manipulation of fermentation temperature. Styles of cultivation. We're influencing the Old Masters now, in many ways.

The Paris Tasting of 1976 rocked the wine world. It was a shocking event where French judges tasted California and French wines, side by side, blind, and voted the California wines best. It put us on the map.

Today we tasted seven Rhône wines, beginning with an "off the beaten path" white Chateauneuf-du-Pape, a Guigal Condrieu ("one of the great names in the Rhône valley"), and "something pink," a Taval rosé, "the way rosé is supposed to taste." When we taste our wines, we smell first, describe what we sense, and at Steve's word, pick up our glasses and taste. With a mouthful of wine, he makes the universal sign for "crazy person," spinning his finger in the air around his ear, but what he really means is "Swirl it around in your mouth."

We had three reds: a "Côte du Rhône," a negociant wine that Steve said poorly represented the typical wine of the region; a Chateauneuf-du-Pape that was "classic" in size, body, weight and tannin, and a Crozes-Hermitage, a spicy syrah that begged for leg of lamb. And we finished up with a Muscat de Beaume de Venise ("Every country does something with Muscat"), another dessert wine but much lighter than the Barsac from yesterday. This would work with biscotti, berries, and a fresh triple-cream cheese.

In the middle of the wine tasting, we got off the track and talked school politics. We've received several notices recently about changes in policy (new standards for prerequisites, discontinuation of the cafeteria program), all with the caveat of "in the ongoing spirit of change," or something to that effect. Similarly, Steve mentioned the reconfigured schedule for wine then business, for which we are the guinea pigs, apparently. "What actually are these changes we keep hearing about?" I asked. And it turns out that we have a new school President, and a new Vice President. Steve was surprised that we were unaware of these changes, saying, "They've done a great job of keeping senior staff in the loop." He added, "Now understand, I'm a pessimist, but I think that these changes are going to bode well for you in the long run. Our new administration is concerned with improving the reputation of the school." I asked how the current administration was different from the previous one. "The former president was an accountant," he said.

Say no more.

"Wine gets more sublime after you've tasted the ridiculous."

We started with a brief review of yesterday's "wine countries": The Loire Valley and Alsace, and Steve introduced the concept of "premier cru" and "grand cru," common in Alsace and in Burgundy. A grand cru is a vineyard with some distinction, the "best," if you will, and "premier cru" is "better than good." But in Bordeaux, the rating system is entirely different: the legendary "first growth/second growth" ranking of chateaus, a ranking from 1855 which remains the standard to this day. It's another reminder of just how long this winegrowing and winemaking business has been going on in France, and how little time we've actually been doing it here.

We focused today on Burgundy and Bordeaux. Burgundy is a relatively small region in southeastern France, and it contains Chablis; the Côte d'Or (not "the gold coast," but short for "Côte d'Orient," or "eastern slopes"); Chalonnais, Macon, and Beaujolais. Steve says Beaujolais is a step-child and shouldn't be classified with the rest of Burgundy, as it has its own peculiarities (most notably, the gamay grape, Georges du Boeuf, and Nouveau Beaujolais: "'Fun' is the operative word here."). Burgundy is home to red wines — always pinot noir — and white wines — always chardonnay — each in a variety of styles. To generalize, red wines from the northern regions tend to be bigger bodied and more tannic, becoming more rounded, lush, and accessible as you go south. We spent a great deal of time talking about the Côte d'Or ("This is the place!") because of their reputation of producing the best pinot noirs and chardonnays (in the buttery Meursault style), the wine styles that are the inspiration of winemakers internationally.

Steve showed us a fancy trick of the pen to divide the Bordeaux region — home to the world's best Cabernet Sauvignons and Merlots — into four significant areas. The river valley, "Entre Deux Mers," is too wet and fertile to make wonderful wine. The western area below the city of Bordeaux is home to Sauternes and Barsac ("essentially the same"), where the boytritis mold reliably turns the semillon and sauvignon blanc grapes into magnificent dessert wines. The remaining areas in the west, Graves, Medoc, Haut Medoc, are significant for magnificent red blends: Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Malbec, and Petit Verdon, with Cabernet Sauvignon playing the starring role. Across the Garonne River to the east, the grapes are the same, but Merlot is typically more prominent.

SO MUCH TO LEARN! In Bordeaux, wineries are called Chateaux. Typically, a chateau makes one wine, period. They've developed their own specific style and they strive to maintain it from year to year: consequently, a ranking received in 1855 truly does have contemporary value.

On a bottle of wine from Bordeaux, you want to see the (exact) words: "Mis en bouteilles au chateau." That means the wine was made by the grower. Otherwise, you're getting a negociant wine made from the worst Bordeaux has to offer. And Steve was kind enough to give us the opportunity to taste for ourselves.

Today, we tasted seven wines: six French reds, and a Barsac. We had a Moulin-A-Vent from Georges du Boeuf, a bottle with flowers on the label. One of the first things David ever told me about wine was "Never buy wine with flowers on the label." As far as I can tell, that advice holds true. This is wine "that you drink from a big glass, while you barbecue." But seriously, there's a place for that. We had a Chinon (from the Loire Valley), a light red wine made from Cabernet Franc that tasted like "chewing on a twig," according to Steve. But he meant that in a good way.

The first of our splendid wines was a Gevrey-Chambertin Premier Cru, "a balance between power and delicacy," a wine that got increasingly more fragrant and delicious the longer it stood in the glass. We did a comparative tasting between three Bordeaux products: a "generic" Mouton Cadet ("Where's the pleasure in that?"), a Chateau Charmail from the Haut-Medoc, with dark fruity flavors, and a "legendary" 2000 Chateau Petit Bocq that Steve brought from his home cellar (a half bottle). It filled the glass up with aroma. This was a Serious Wine.

Topping it all off (and you couldn't go back: one sip of this ruined your taste for any of the previous wines) was a 1996 Chateau Coutet from Barsac, the sweet dessert wine. The initial aroma was odd and chemically — "like brand new shower curtain," Steve said, and he was right. That was some mustiness from the mold, and from years in the bottle. But that soon faded away, leaving honey intensity that was shocking in its sweetness. Cheese. Nuts. Long conversation. Bring on the cake, if you must, but much, much later.

"Resist the urge to take the intellectual shortcut."

Steve barrels right into French wines at 7am. Forgive the pun, but he gave us an even worse one: "There are some good sommeliers out there, but as a group they whine too much."

There are five main wine growing regions in France: The Loire Valley, Champagne, Alsace, Burgundy, and Bordeaux. The wine business is strictly regulated in France since about the 1920s, and most of the regulation is geared towards maintaining quality standards. [In California, according to Steve, the great majority of our wine-related laws are about tax collection or the preservation of public morals: i.e., not allowing pictures of naked women on wine labels.] We learned that there are four basic quality designations: "Appellation d'Origin Controlee" (AOC), "Vin Delimité Qualitie Superieur" (VDQS), "Vin de Pays," and "Vin de Table." We're only going to discuss the AOC wines (about 40% of French production, about 500 unique areas in France) because "this is what you'll be using." To qualify as an AOC wine, there are four strict requirements: the use of place name is restricted to grapes grown in that region; your wines must conform to the area's varietal regulations (for instance, to be called "Chablis," the wine must be 100% chardonnay), and you must follow strict growing and winemaking regulations, such as yield limits and minimum alcohol levels.

Steve said "Phylloxera," then looked at his watch. I'm sure the subsequent fifteen minute lecture was the short version. He's bursting at the seams with knowledge and information, and he hands it over casually, without referring to notes, but he bubbles over with enthusiasm. I didn't know that phylloxera, a root louse native to the US, practically wiped out the French viticulture industry in the 1860s, until it was discovered that resistant root stocks could be grafted with the desired varietals and thereby remain immune. "Phylloxera changed the course of European history," he said, and I want to read that book, for sure.

You've probably heard about malo-lactic fermentation. It's an induced process whereby the malic acid (present in all grapes, giving them their "green apple" aroma) is converted into lactic acid (giving them their smooth, buttery qualities). This is part of the winemaker's bag of tools, and it's used often as a way of pumping up chardonnays.

We learned how to read a French wine label. You look for place name, which will tell you the varietal (except in Alsace. They're a special case, "schizophrenic" because of decades of border disputes between France and Germany). You look for the winemaker's name, and the words after his name, which will tell you if he grew the grapes ("proprietaire" or "viticulteur") or if he bought them ("negociant"). You look for the vintage year, the year the grapes were picked. Then you know so much!

[Vintage years are much more important in Europe than in California, because their weather is much more volatile and their growing season is shorter. In California, according to Steve, the only "bad" years we've had in the last 25 are 1972 and 1989. I think that's what he said.]

We traveled through the Loire Valley (major grapes: pinot blanc, chenin blanc, sauvignon blanc; major towns: Muscadet, Vouvray, Sancerre) and into Alsace, where the important varietals are riesling and gewurtztraminer. Each of the grapes has specific characteristics that you can rely on from those regions, because of the rigorous AOC requirements.

Today we tasted French whites, and Steve added two chardonnay-based wines, a Chablis and a Meursault (both from Burgundy) to the wines mentioned above. We start with the lightest wine, smelling then tasting as a group, discussing what we observe, and comparing between varietals. Several times, Steve described the wine we were drinking as "textbook" or "as representative as it gets," and with each wine, we talked about what foods we would serve it with. "It's always in the context of the meal," Steve said. "These are not cocktails. Wine is part of the meal. Would you spend eight hours in the kitchen and then pour a diet coke or chocolate milk?"

The standouts today were the Sancerre: a grassy sauvignon blanc ("pick your shellfish") and an amazing gewurtztraminer from Alsace that seriously smelled just like the Double Delight roses that grow in our side yard. But the biggest tread of the day was the Meursault (2004 from "Les Gruyaches" vineyard; Jean-Philippe Fichet, negociant): a BIG white wine, buttery, nutty, mouth-filling. Meursault is the model for the oaky chardonnay style popular in California wines, and this one was delicious.

For the first time, as Steve was talking about the wine service we'll provide in our restaurants-to-be, I began thinking, "Should I be thinking about when I have my own place?" I want to do more with this knowledge than just pick up the right bottles at Bev-Mo.