"Correct next time the problem with the carrots."

That was Chef Patricio's advice to Jordan and Adam. He said it while tossing a piece of diced raw carrot against the wall, so we could all hear the loud noise it made. "But no big deal," Chef added. "Next time you will blanch them, then julienne them."

It was a poignant day in Cuisine of the Americas. Apart from the carrot-tossing, Chef was eloquent in his kind and encouraging words. He said he didn't know whether to blame it on global warming or what, but the three weeks have gone by very fast, and he was sort of depressed. "Not like I would kill myself or anything," he clarified. I think most of us feel the same way. Chef Patricio is an excellent teacher, and we cooked delicious and interesting food. Not since Basic Skills have we as a class bonded so tightly with a Chef, and that class was six weeks long. And we were eager to leave it, since it was Christmas break. Ah, but we have to move on to Asian Cuisine, and J. Rich has to move on to Charlotte. Life goes on.

When I arrived in the classroom today, at 6:15, Chef was heated. His coffee water was not. The gas to the stoves was turned off, and he spent the next 30 minutes waiting for maintenance and trying to find the problem, muttering all the while. He told Andy and I about the time he lit an oven pilot light that exploded in a gush of flame, and burned off his eyebrows. "Did you work the rest of the shift?" Andy asked. "Of course!" Chef replied. Fortunately, our gas problem was rectified before the start of class.

Again, I acted as executive chef while teams prepared their dishes for review. Again, the atmosphere was low key and relaxed, yet everyone was focused on doing a good job. "You knocked one of my socks off yesterday," Chef said. "Today, I want to lose them both."

Sarah and Silvia made a trio of polenta napoleons, each in a particular culinary style, French, Mexican, Italian. Chef asked them what they thought about the plate. "I like my dots," Sarah said. Chef responded, "Are you selling dots?"Adam and Jordan made a strawberry-kiwi salad, subject of the carrot-tossing. "No big deal," Chef said. "You know now for next time."Andrew and Mario made a zesty (vegetarian) roasted tomato soup, which needed salt according to the Chef but I liked it just the way it was.And Andrea and Jim (when he finally arrived) worked on the entree, which featured a strip loin medallion and herb-roasted shrimp. Chef thought the plate looked over-stuffed, and that the proteins should have been displayed more prominently. Unfortunately, I don't have a photo of the sorbet trio presented by Alex and Meghan: tomato-basil, avocado-cilantro, and jalapeno. They were already melted before we had a chance to review them: freshly made sorbets and ice creams need a full day of freezing before they're really ready for plate presentation. Chef congratulated them on their inventiveness but felt that the sorbets would have been better as a palate-cleanser, between courses, rather than a final sweet treat. Andrea said, "If it's not chocolate, it's not happening."

As in Chef Vinita's class, we got hugs as we left the classroom.

Kitchen Management

Today was the first day of our two day final. I got to school a bit early today (no use waiting for the numbers on the clock to change, when there's work to be done), and worked with Chef Patricio to prepare the classroom for the day's activities. I set out cutting boards and bowls, all the power tools, and today's produce. We also received two salmon filets, some smoked duck, and two dozen oysters. Yesterday, the class had divided themselves into teams. Today, the teams reviewed our inventory, decided on a dish, cooked, and plated. (We made enough food for show plates, as well as for our regular class buffet.) My job was to keep people on track, problem-solve, make suggestions, find ingredients or equipment, and clean up all the time. Andrea said, "You must feel bad that you're not cooking," but I didn't. I cook almost every night, unlike my classsmates, and the supervisory/support role is one that I've grown comfortable in. Which is not to say it was easy: Chef Patricio has very high expectations, and he made sure everyone knew that the buck stopped with me. Everybody asked me for help and for advice. And everybody asked me to taste their food. I wasn't very hungry, by the time lunch came around.

Our appetizer was smoked duck tacos, thanks to Andrea and Derrick. The duck was easily prepared: sliced and seasoned, then heated up at the last minute. They spent most of the morning preparing the garnishes: an apricot/jalapeno salsa, guacamole, and pico de gallo. Andrea also made a cilantro cream sauce but she was unhappy with it and didn't use it for their final plating. They also fried the miniature taco shells, which was a bit time-consuming, but Jordan took one look at them and said, "Those are adorable!" Andy and Mario made a composed salad of mixed greens, artichoke hearts, blood oranges, and candied walnuts, all in a sesame-soy vinaigrette. Chef's only comment was that five blood orange sections is too many: "You're givin' them almost half an orange, and those blood oranges are expensive!" It was a really well-balanced salad, tart, sweet, and crunchy, and the artichokes added luscious body. Adam and Dava worked on butternut squash soup. I was somewhat concerned about this team, because Dava's been absent for a couple days and she's also quite slow; Adam is a believer in completing his mis en place before getting started, whereas I'm from the "Get the onions sautéing, then finish chopping" school of thought. But we had enough time for them to prepare their soup with time to spare. Chef showed them how to adjust the texture from baby-food purée to light and yummy, stirring in some non-fat milk and some butter right at the end.Jordan, Alex, and Meghan collaborated on the entrée, salmon with roasted red potatoes and asparagus in citrus vinaigrette. Alex whipped his salmon together in no time, baking it right before service, but Meghan seemed to take all morning to peel the asparagus, looking none too pleased about it all the while. But Chef complimented her on her fastidiousness ("The details are what sets you apart from the place down the street"), so no harm done. Jordan mixed his potatoes with grilled onions, bell peppers, and minced jalapenos before roasting them.
Silvia and Sarah presented a tart duo with vanilla ice cream. Sarah made apple-pear tarts with a walnut crumble topping, and Silvia's were raspberry and strawberry. Chef Patricio told the class that the berry pie was a bit tart for his taste, but he would gladly eat a second apple-pear one. After class, I told Silvia (truthfully) that I preferred the berry, and I thought it was just the Chef's preference and not a commentary on their quality. She looked at me and said, "He broke my heart." "I know," I said. "I could see it." She sighed and said, "I have to get better at hiding my feelings."

Not Like Cafe Du Monde

Tomorrow and Friday, we have our class finals, which involves a mystery basket; teams of two or three, each making a dish; and an elected head chef. That would be me. Derrick, the smart aleck, cast his written vote for Rudy, who hasn't been to class since early in European. I myself am feeling pleased, a là "You like me, you really really like me," but it also means supervising and dishes, as opposed to menu planning and cooking.

Today, with a minimum of fanfare or lecture, we cooked New Orleans style. Adam and Mario made Oysters Bingo, on the half shell with cheese and spinach sauce, then browned. The students who haven't yet developed a taste for oysters liked them this way, because they melted in to the delicious sauce. Those of us who like oysters agreed that we'd rather eat them sauce-free.

Andy and Derrick made shrimp and sausage gumbo. I know it looks pretty similar to the shrimp étoufée from yesterday, but it's completely different. The étoufée is buttery and rich, and the gumbo is more upfront and in-your-face. Though Derrick omitted the okra, following the wishes of the majority, gumbo has a funny flavor that I can only attribute to the filé powder (powdered sassafras). To me, it's a sort of dirty flavor which I find unpleasant. I do like root beer, though.

Silvia and Sarah made mashed potatoes, using (under Chef Patricio's direction) cream, butter, sour cream, and parmesan cheese. Chef made excellent chicken gravy, and some really delectable sautéed mushrooms (cremini and oyster mushrooms, cooked in butter, deglazed in brandy, and finished with cream), and we had collard greens, as well, all as an accompaniment to our FABULOUS fried chicken. Andrea and I did it, first cutting up five chickens, marinating them in buttermilk, then following that with the traditional flour/egg/spiced flour coating combination. We let the pieces sit in the refrigerator for about 30 minutes, to firm up the coating, before frying them until the color was right (about 10 minutes). Then we finished them off in the oven for about 20 more minutes, and that chicken was good.

Meghan fried up the beignets and really, they're not that great. I think it's one of those "only in New Orleans" things, sitting within a stone's throw of the mighty Mississippi, with a mug of hot chicory coffee.

The Best Cornbread Ever

Today and tomorrow, we're focusing on the American South and New Orleans. We talked about the difference between creole and cajun cuisine, creole being the "upscale, aristocratic" city food, using the wonderful bounty to be found locally; cajun is the product of the French Canadians who relocated in Louisiana in the 1700s, and the food is more rustic and country-style, using the wonderful bounty to be found in your own backyard. All of it is lively, spicy, and very, very rich. Chef Patricio told us that American Southern cooking is really the only US regional cuisine that has an international reputation.

So today, we had shrimp etouffee, creamy and succulent with a bit of a bite:

And of course, some blackened fish (rock cod, in this case), with some black-eyed peas and rice, and a vegetable ratatouille:

I was bakelady today, whipping up a couple of pecan pies before I took on the cornbread. Then I mixed up the dough for beignets, which needs to rest overnight in the refrigerator.

The cornbread is not like any you've ever tasted before, I don't think. At least, that's what everybody in class said.


You might like to try it yourself:

3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup cornmeal
1-1/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups buttermilk
1/2 cup cream
4 eggs
2/3 cup vegetable oil
4 ounces butter, melted
3 tablespoons honey
8 ounces butter, melted (additional)

Sift dry ingredients together. Combine wet ingredients. Combine wet and dry ingredients until just mixed.

Pour the 8 ounces of melted butter into the bottom of a cast-iron skillet. (I melted the butter in the skillet in the oven, while it was pre-heating.) Pour batter into pan.

Bake at 325 degrees for 30 to 60 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean.

The Great Boston Molasses Disaster

It was a tragedy! It really was. You really miss out on some critical American history when you grow up in California. Today, in memory of that sad day, we used no molasses in class, though it was a major New England staple.

We talked today about the hardships faced by the first Puritan settlers and the assistance provided by the local Indians, who taught them how to fish and grow corn. Chef Patricio said, "Some people say that this food is bland, but I prefer to think of it as 'simple.'" New England is known for seafood, baked beans, and blueberries.

We had a relatively small class today. Both Andrea and Derrick were gone -- her first absence, ever -- and Sarah and Meghan (new this session) weren't in class, either. Things moved extremely smoothly, to everyone's surprise, including Chef, I think. Jim was sous chef.

We started lunch with a marinated beet and frisée salad. I always think I don't like beets until I eat them, and then I do.

Andy and I made clam chowder, and it was truly the best I've ever made. Alex said it was the day's best dish. I don't know what it is -- the recipe was not much different from the way I've made it a hundred times. Perhaps the careful cutting of the vegetables had something to do with it. We also did two interesting finishing things. First of all, we added cream (tempered with some of the soup) right before serving, so it never got really hot (it can curdle). Secondly, we also added about a cup of minced parsley and dill, and the herbs made it fresh and lively.

Jordan and Dava made fish and chips (cod being a major economic factor in the Northeast). She actually made the tartar sauce all morning, and Jordan recruited the salad people to help with the fish and potatoes.

Silvia made a berry cobbler and Alex made a special trip down to purchasing for some vanilla ice cream and a baguette that we ate with our soup.

Chef was dismayed when he came into class today: apparently Friday's evening class, or someone over the weekend, had used the kitchen and left it in disarray. He called me into his little office adjacent to our kitchen and asked me to help him compose an email to the executive chef. "I don't want to complain," he said to me, "but this goes against everything I am trying to teach."

I must just have that "helpful" look about me today. As I was walking to my car, a casually dressed thirty-something guy came up to me and said, "You would know! Is there a Vietnamese sandwich shop around here?" I told him to go down to the corner and go up a block, to Little Saigon, and he asked me a few more questions about school, then wished me luck.

PS. I had a little accident over the weekend while mincing jalapenos. It's just a slice off the tip of my left index finger, starting with about 1/4 of the fingernail. Fortunately my knife is extremely sharp so it was all over in a flash. Thanks to David for bringing me back to this world when I was drifting off elsewhere. Let me know if you want to see pictures.

pinto beans, chilies, tortillas and cheese...

..the essential ingredients of Southwestern cuisine.

Today we focused on the Four Corners area, home to the great ancient civilization of the North Americas, the Anasazi. They occupied the area for about 2400 years, until long years of drought conditions apparently forced them to abandon their settlements. David and I just happened upon Mesa Verde Park during a long road trip three years ago; we made a left turn at the sign, after a night in Durango, and spent one of the most interesting days of our trip exploring the area and viewing, from a distance, the magnificent cave dwellings carved out of the side of the canyons. Long before Mexican or Spanish visitors, the Anasazi (ancestors of the Navajo and Pueblo peoples) cultivated corn, beans, squash, and chilies; they foraged for mushrooms, herbs, cactus and berries; they were proficient hunters and utilized every part of their catch, be it bison, buffalo, antelope, rabbit, deer, moose or birds.

Chef Patricio addressed the controversial topic of cannibalism (disputed by some scholars) by saying that "People go crazy when they are not having enough food, enough nutrients. They were not in their right minds. Who knows what we would do in the same circumstances?"

We cooked breakfast: a fabulous Southwestern breakfast with four kinds of salsa; two fresh fruit salads (mango and banana, papaya and strawberry, each dressed with honey, lime juice and a pinch of cayenne); scrambled eggs and cheese; fried potatoes with chorizo; tortillas, rice, and beans; and sopapillas. Derrick made terrific hot chocolate, and I'll have to use his method next Christmas, when we traditionally have Ibarra during the present-opening ceremonies: he heated non-fat milk, dissolved the grated chocolate in it, and added honey, sweetened condensed milk, and a roasted habanero, which he was careful not to crush or bruise.

Here's the demonstration plate that Chef put together, featuring a breakfast burrito:

After breakfast, we cleaned off all the shelves in the kitchen. Derrick, Andrea and I sorted the herbs and spices and took inventory. Others cleaned out the fridge and organized the bottles and boxes of ingredients. Chef made it clear that we're "kicking it up a notch" next week, as far as his expectations are concerned, and the week will end with two days of "compentency" dishes. But now, it's the weekend. I'm thinking about jerked chicken on the barbecue, and a mojito.

"Call the Chile Doctor!"

On Day Two of Mexico, we talked about chilies. Chef Patricio is a great believer in the "A Chile A Day" theory. "I always carry a chile in my pocket," he said. Most meals benefit from it, "except dessert." He says that chile eating becomes addictive, because of the endorphin rush that you get. They're definitely high in nutrients, especially vitamin C, and they have properties which assist in the absorption of iron from other foods, like beans and grains.

Chef talked about the medicinal properties of the chile, how indigenous people knew to use mashed chilies (topped by a fermented corn poultice) as a wound dressing. After respectfully acknowledging women for having to undergo the childbirth experience -- apparently he observed the home births of his three younger siblings -- he noted that women in labor would summon the local herbalist ("the chile doctor") to assist. Chile paste was used as a balm to induce numbness, and in fact, chile oils, capsaicinoids, are currently used in topical pain relievers.

Just remember that a jalapeno, smoked and dried, is a chipotle.

So another day of great Mexican food. Silvia was called upon to recreate the "perfect" rice from two days ago. ("We are having rice, and Silvia will be making it.") She also made Caesar Salad (first created in Tijuana), serving it in parmesan cheese bowls. Andrea and Derrick made crab quesadillas.Andy and I worked on the cheese enchiladas, starting from scratch on the red sauce. Silvia was impressed. Nothing like a plate full of cheesy goodness.

"To make a long short..."

Andy, Andrea and I discussed it all morning. Our comrade monopolizes the Chef's time, same as she has in every cooking class, and she's so slow. We joke about the five-day brioche from European Cuisine, and yesterday's dessert turned into a two day project that was barely in time for today's meal. Silvia said, "She's going to have a restaurant and call it the Three Day Café, because that's how long it will take to get your meal." Andrea said, "I know he just lets us do our own thing because he trusts us," but it's easy to feel ignored in the midst of such an obvious grab for attention. We'd pretty much decided to stay after class and talk with the Chef, when she announced, during lunch, that she's moving to the mid-day class rotation when this course is over. With an end in sight, we can move on. While we walked to the parking garage, Andrea asked, jokingly, "Now who will be the object of my scorn?"

Mexico! Mexico! It was a great day, food-wise, though Silvia was in need of some hot sauce. (Apparently we'll have no shortage of it tomorrow: Chef Patricio started a mole using 3 pounds of habaneros and 5 pounds of yellow onions.) Andrea and I made carnitas, and it was awesome. We cut up a pork shoulder, seasoned the cubed meat with salt, pepper, paprika, and cumin, and "sautéed the hell out of it" in a large pan. We took out the meat, drained off the oil, and deglazed the pan with beer (3 Budweisers). Then we added a quart of orange juice, dried oregano, cumin, and julienned jalapenos, put the meat back in the pan, and simmered it for about 90 minutes. In "real life," we would have let it go much longer, until the meat was falling apart. Then we took the meat out of the pan, reserved the juices and reduced them to make a sauce, and melted about 3 cups of lard in the pan. (Lovely lard, in a box, from Farmer John.) Then we fried the pork chunks until they were crispy. Silvia said that she realized yesterday that carnitas is really a lot like confit, and it's true that there's nothing new under the sun.

Chef made rice and beans. We had snapper a la Veracruz (in a piquant sauce made from onions, mild and hot peppers, capers, and green olives) and chile rellenos. The batter was oily so I knew that the frying oil was not hot enough. I am learning something. I really am.

"You make your own heaven. You make your own hell."

But we are at the mercy of the weakest link(s). "Timing, class!" Chef Patricio said. "You failed today at the timing!" And, in truth, only two projects were behind schedule, but that doesn't matter. One fails, we all fail. And we had no dessert.

Chef lived in the Caribbean for seven years, all told, and he loves it. His eyes light up as he talks about the Rastas in his neighborhood, and the deep-seated respect for ingredients that seems indigenous to the region. He talked about the sometimes difficult growing conditions, the challenges to obtain fresh water, the vagaries of the weather, the need to put food in storage in preparation for the uncertain future.

He also described the process of making those very delicious shrimp from yesterday: caramelize julienned onions in olive oil, along with a strip of thick bacon, some chorizo, a lot of smashed garlic, and jalepenos sliced into thin rings. Add some peeled and sliced tomatoes. When it's all well cooked, flambé with a generous amount of brandy. Remove from the stove and let cool to room temperature or slightly above. Add the deveined shrimp and let them marinate for an hour or so. Return the pan to the stove and quickly bring to a simmer, heating just long enough to cook the shrimp. Add the juice of several limes and oranges and a big bunch of chopped cilantro, and add salt to taste.

I cooked black-eyed peas and rice, and collard greens. The secrets to the greens are washing them well and cutting them into thin strips, cooking them in chicken stock with chunks of bacon and sausage, and tossing them with a lot of lemon juice once they're cooked. We also had pickled tomatoes, and some great pork roast, and Andy was sous chef so he took some time to practice his plating:

Sarah made "bolita di keshi," or fried cheese: a delicious appetizer simply made from cheese, eggs, cornstarch and breadcrumbs, then deep-fried. She served them with a spicy salsa.

We also had jerked chicken, and a seafood curry that ran long, and the dessert had to be scrubbed until tomorrow. Over lunch, we talked amongst ourselves about the delegation of cooking duties, and how some people should just be given the easy stuff, for the benefit of all.

Before I left town, I paid a visit to the principal's office. Actually, she's the President, and she's interested in hearing student perspectives. I gave her mine.

Ya, mon.

"Everyone does tamales"

This kitchen is the perfect environment for me. Andrea was sous chef today, which meant things were orderly, and Chef is present but not dominant. And he sings.

We talked about Central America today, the seven countries of El Salvador, Honduras, Guatemala, Belize, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, and Panama, as well as the Yucatan peninsula of Mexico, which shares in the culinary traditions of Central America. The indigenous Mayan influence is significant, along with that of the Spaniards, of course, and Africans. The area is geographically three regions: the Pacific Coast, the central highlands, and the Caribbean Coast.

Everywhere you find the "casamiento," the marriage of rice and beans. And corn. And a profusion of tropical fruit.

Today, I made a most interesting cake: "Quesadilla Salvadoreña," starting out with butter and sugar, creamed together; add eggs, flour, and baking powder; then (here's where it gets interesting) mix in sour cream and parmesan cheese. The top is sprinkled with sesame seeds, and the final product is dense, creamy, not too sweet, and delicious.

Silvia made Spanish rice and refried beans, just the way she wanted to, just the way her grandma taught her. We had tamales, and "pollo hondureñdo" and salad with hearts of palm, and a great sautéed pork achiote.

Every day, we also have wonderful frescas or smoothies, often made by Chef Patricio, full of fresh fruit and ice and sometimes yogurt.

I told you that green salads are not dressed: the oil, vinegar, salt and pepper are on the side, for you to apply. And in Central and South America, guacamole is avocado, olive oil, salt, pepper, and lemon juice. Period.

While we were calmly (dare I say 'proficiently'?) preparing our lunch, Chef stood at the front table and precisely cut the vegetables for an impeccable pico de gallo. He also oversaw the creation of a big platter of sautéed shrimp, giving Alex step-by-step guidance, and he confidently declared to the class, "These are the best shrimp you will ever eat!"

Happy Graduation, Allison Kate!

200 Varieties of Potatoes

Chef Patricio has it written on the board: "Greatest gift to the world from the Incas: Potatoes."

And purple food. We learned that the purple corn kernels were used as currency: "You would trade your gold for purple corn kernels." Kind of funny to think that when we eat blue chips, it's sort of like eating money.

And quinoa. Now there's a story. Quinoa (a seed, not a grain) was highly prized by the Incas, who instinctively understood its nutritional value: it has all the essential amino acids, it's a complete protein ("the vegan's dream food"). But the Incas, who considered their foodstuffs sacred, used quinoa in ceremonial rituals that the Spaniards deemed paganistic, so its production was "actively suppressed," according to Wikipedia. Chef said that all the quinoa fields were burned, and anyone caught growing it had their arms cut off. "Brutal, huh?"

But it's making a culinary comeback, if not a religious one, and I cooked it today, in a pot of boiling water, with some lemon zest and nutmeg. It takes about 20 minutes to cook, until the little "tail" unfurls from the husk. It's sort of a neutral ingredient, like couscous, and today, we gave it the Peruvian treatment: roasted corn kernels, pickled red onions, roasted and minced jalapenos, black beans, diced tomatoes, chopped scallions and cilantro; all dressed with olive oil, red wine vinegar, lemon juice, salt and black pepper. Tim, try this at home.


We also had a garlic chicken dish, and a wonderful ceviche made by Sarah and Silvia:

Chef gave an ongoing demonstration on the preparation of causa, a cold potato appetizer that he said is "a great moneymaker". He made two mashed potato preparation, with yukon golds and purple potatoes, using olive oil instead of butter, and adding lots of chopped jalapenos and lemon juice. Then he made a shrimp salad (but you can use any number of fillings). The potatoes are formed into a flat layer in a sheet pan and chilled. Then you cut them and layer them and make them beautiful, as he demonstrated:



We each took a turn at plating. I think this part of the class is going to be really beneficial to me. My plates tend to look like the school cafeteria lady plopped down the ingredients. Anyhow, this is Andrea's plate:


And this is mine.


Would you pay $8 for that?

Heating Up in the Kitchen

It was 88 degrees today in our kitchen. That's if you were standing near the windows, away from the stoves. This is the time of year to be in Butchery.

Hey, but we can cook! Colombian food today. Interesting how on a continent, the political and regional history can be so unique, and disparate. Colombia is a country of conflict. For much of its history, the people have been poor, the crime rate has been high, and the politics have been corrupt. The cuisine is heavily influenced by the indigenous foods (corn, beans, squash, chilies, yucca, potatoes and an abundance of tropical fruit) and Africa (coconuts, plantains, peas, palm oil.)

Andrea and I worked together on African Pork Peanut Stew. We sautéed diced pork in oil, then added spices: cumin, coriander, cinnamon, chili powder, cayenne. After those became fragrant, we added garlic and onions, some tomato paste, and chicken stock. That mixture stewed together for a while, and we added puréed roasted peanuts, which thickened and enriched the sauce. Surprisingly, it didn't taste peanutty. To finish, we stirred in some sautéed green peppers and diced tomatoes.

Silvia made rice with pineapple and coconut milk. It went perfectly with the spicy stew.

We started with arepas con camarones (shrimp cakes):

And finished off with a pineapple cake that Derrick made. It was reminiscent of a pineapple upside down cake -- the same kind of genoise-like texture, but all the pineapple was inside. Definitely worth trying at home.

But man, it was hot.

"Funkadelic. It's a culinary term."

Chef Patricio took a scheduled day off today and we had Chef Suzy for "Chile". She teaches the afternoon session, and she's been to our class for lunch, and her "resting" face has a sternness about it that had us a little wary. But she's a kick in the pants and a great teacher, and class today was as pleasant as any we've had so far.

First of all, she played CDs of contemporary Latin music, which was alternately hip-hoppy and trance, with some accordians thrown in. Great cooking music.

Did you know that the definition of "third world" is that a country's gross national product (GNP) is not sufficient to feed its population?

So Chile is like the US West Coast, only upside down, with "Alaska" at the bottom instead of at the top. "Think of what we eat. They eat the same things. It's trippy!"

The indigenous populations of Chile "hung in there," according to Chef, so their influence on the cuisine is much more pronounced than in other South American countries, where they were decimated by disease early on. The first choice of protein is fish and shellfish, they eat more vegetables than the Argentinians, for example, and starch is more of a "third place" food. There's a British influence, especially regarding sweet desserts and the whole "afternoon tea" culture. And a Moorish influence (they came to Chile to mine copper), apparent in ceviche and escabeche: "The Moors taught the whole world how to cook with acid."

We had great food today. I made fried empanadas de queso:



The dough was a little tricky (flaky) to work with, but they held together well in the oil and didn't leak cheese and they weren't greasy at all. We also had empanadas with ground meat, as well as a tomato/onion salad (with great marinated onions), arroz con saffron, escabeche de pescado (baked fish with tomatoes, onions, and chilies), and some fabulous banana ice cream that Alex made. You start by cutting up the bananas and searing them in an incredibly hot pan, which caramelizes them. Then you purée them and go from there.

Even more impressive was the "Pastel de Tres Leches" that Andrea made:



It was a pretty big, messy production to get it all together, but Chef Suzy walked her through it with encouragement and humor. "There you go, Mama!"

Grapevine Accuracy: 75%

Jim showed up in class today. He was late.

We studied Brazil today. The heart of Brazilian food is the intersection of indigeneous Guaranis, Portuguese, and West African influences, the West Africans of course arriving on the continent by force. But they brought palm oil, peanuts, rice, yams, plantains, and the cooking methods of deep-frying and pot-stewing. The Portuguese brought linguisa, salted cod, and, according to Chef Patricio, "crimes and disease."

I was sous chef today, which meant I checked in the produce delivery and put it away (with lots of willing help -- people are always eager to see what ingredients we have received.) I went to the butchery to pick up the protein order (a pork butt, 5 flank steaks, a 5 pound box of frozen shrimp, a ham hock, and 2 pounds of chorizo.) I fetched and washed up for my classmates, and then I worked on prep for tomorrow's class: I shucked 12 ears of corn and cut off all the kernels, then puréed them with basil. Then I cooked the mixture over low heat with chopped onions, lard, and paprika until it changed consistency, becoming dry and less sticky. It's apparently the basis for a Chilean tamale dish.

Today we had mixed greens; "feijoada completa," a much-simplified version of a classic complex dish of black beans and smoked pork; shrimp empadhinas, braised collards greens, rice pilaf, yucca chips and a cassava cake which was .... odd.

You can see that Chef Patricio is interested in plate presentation: in fact, he's the first chef since Chef Duffy (back in February) who is very concerned with presentation. He has a collection of homemade sauces and oils that are used strictly for plate decoration.

Here are the shrimp empadhinas, atop some shrimp sauce and fried taro:


And here's the feijoada, with rice, collard greens, yucca chips, and a cute little julienne of tomato:


Every day, three or four chefs come into our classroom right at service time, and they eat lunch. "You know why they come here?" Chef Patricio asked. "Because we make the best food."

After we ate, it was my job to make sure that the classroom was left in spotless condition, but again, it was easy. Andy, Silvia, and Andrea all stayed and helped with the final wipe-down, and to chat with Chef. He's really critical, but in a very encouraging and supportive way.

For example: Andy reached for something above his head, on top of the refrigerator, and inadvertently pulled over a sheet pan full of dried pink shrimp shells. As they rained down over his head and onto the floor, Chef said, "Oh, you've ruined my project! I'll have to start over. No need to pick them up! They go right into the garbage."

"I'm very sorry, Chef," Andy said.

"Oh, it's okay. Accidents happen. I wash those shells out, then put them into a low oven until they are dry. Then I grind them up with some spices, depending on what kind of cuisine we are making: nutmeg if it's French, or paprika and cumin, and I make a kind of a flour. Then you can stir a big spoon of it into the sauce you are making for a most delicious flavor."

No harm, no foul.

"I want you to get every penny's worth."

With that pledge, Chef Patricio set the tone for the next three weeks (Principles of American Cuisine). In so many ways, his class is a departure from last week's experience. The list was on the whiteboard when we arrived in class: ∅5x2. ∅Soda. ∅iPods. ∅backpacks. "5x2" means smoking breaks: according to Chef, you're wasting the 5 minutes that you're smoking, and each cigarette costs 10 minutes of life. No soda, because "our mission is to educate." No iPods: "This is not the mall." But he does have a little boom box, and he does turn it on, and it's tuned to KFOG, and that seemed to go over well with the class. And the backpacks -- that's a school rule.

Chef Patricio looks a little like a mid-career Tony Bennett, with a Hispanic (NOC) accent. He started our lecture talking about the four major civilizations of the New World: the Incas, the Mayans, the Aztecs, and ("...the one from this country. I love this question. No one ever knows the answer!") the Anasazi. And as we know, Colombus (Chef charmingly calls him "Colombe") and his merry men viewed indigenous peoples as "savages," whose goods and supplies they felt free to plunder. Foodstuffs were among their most valuable acquisitions: corn, potatoes, sweet potatoes, peanuts, tomatoes, papayas, pineapples, avocados, chile peppesr, cotton and cocoa.

Our first region of study is Argentina, so we talked a lot about cows, and meat, and gauchos. And Chef gave a little testimonial on the benefits of yerba mate. "the ancient drink of health and friendship." He piqued our interest, for sure, but Silvia said, "You don't have to drink it from the little straw, do you?"

We cooked: Mixed Baby Green Salad. ("You will never make salad dressing in this class. A dish of olive oil, a dish of red wine vinegar, salt, pepper, a bowl of lemon wedges.) Carbonada Criolla. (Stew with veal, pork and squash. Silvia, Andy and I made it.) Green Rice Pilaf. Grilled Marinated Flank Steak with Chimichurri. Marinated Grilled Vegetables. Honey Cake.

But my heart is heavy, friends. Tashana wasn't in class today and I called to check up on her. She, Julian, Travis, and Jim have all withdrawn from school.

Adieu!!

We came. We cooked. We went.

The morning's final exam (the only written test we've had in the class) was challenging, mostly because about 10 of the 80 questions required knowledge of french cheese (St. Nectare. Livarot. Crottin de Chavignol.) We traded papers and graded them in class (that takes a chore off Chef's list!) and when we handed them in to him, he recited our scores out loud. "Andrea! 72! Fantastic!" And the same with the low scores: "35! What happened to you?"

After the test we had a short lecture, in which Chef advised us that, no, he is not difficult to communicate with. He is teaching us the universal language of the kitchen. With it, we will be able to work in any kitchen, anywhere in the world. Then we started cooking.

Our assignment today was to make an entrée with sides. Extra credit for an appetizer or dessert. I made gougères (cheese puffs), Mediterranean sea bass, zucchini-potato pancakes, and raspberry clafoutis. We have two ovens and an 8-top range in our kitchen so it was a juggling act, but everyone was in great spirits, as Chef pretty much ignored us all morning. Well, he kept offering ingredients as he cleaned out the refrigerator. "Pheasant! Who wants a pheasant? Who wants some crème anglais?" When we were finished cooking, we plated one portion, and Chef evaluated.

Chef told me not to cover my fish with sauce, and that it should have been poached instead of roasted. He demonstrated using a cutter to turn my pancakes into perfect discs, "more elegant on the plate." He said my dessert was not a true clafouti, even though I got it from a book called "Paris Bistro Cooking," but more like a Spanish type of almond cake that can be found in an area of Spain near Barcelona. But he gave me all the points, including three bonus points for appetizer and dessert.

I practiced the dishes last night for dinner and it was totally worthwhile.

Chef didn't taste anything that anybody made.

As we were cleaning the kitchen, Silvia sighed and said, "This was the best day of the last three weeks."

Chef gave us a little goodbye speech. Andrea asked laughingly, "Aren't you going to tell us that we're your best class ever?"

And we filed out. Not surprisingly, the Chef has a grip of steel.

Now: 300 minutes remaining

So check this out: the answer to the final Jeopardy question yesterday was "What is the Sargasso Sea?" and I knew the answer, thanks to Chef Alain (that's where the Portugese eels come from).

Chef spent some time this morning giving us his personal rebuttal to the SF Weekly article yesterday. (By the way, Chef Afreen said, "I've lived in San Francisco for 25 years. Nobody takes that paper seriously. It's a tabloid. And the important thing is who you are.") Anyway, Chef Alain acknowledged that "students have the right to succeed and fail." He told us that he's mentored many a now-famous chef. "Here, you pay me. That means you are my customer. But in my restaurant, I used to fire people based on the thickness of a pancake. Out there, I would make you cry. It's not for my benefit. It's for yours." He reminded us that after 15 months of school, we will be in no position to call ourselves "chefs." And if we think otherwise, we are sadly mistaken.

On that note, let's take a look at this morning's lovely sunrise:



But back to the subject at hand. Once we learned about French chickens and oysters, we took control of the kitchen. I was signed up to make a foie gras dish today, but Chef overcooked our two beautiful lobes of Sonoma liver yesterday, and we didn't get more. (I found myself becoming quite perturbed about that, driving home today: one of the most expensive ingredients we have the good fortune to obtain, and no student put a hand on it, and it wasn't even edible.) Chef suggested I make some aspic. Instead, I assisted Andy with the preparation of stuffed quail, and isn't this the cutest thing you've ever seen??



We first made a forcemeat by combining shallots, ground pork, ground veal, an egg, seasoning, brandy and cream in the robocoupe. Then we stirred in some pistachio nuts. The quail came boned, thank goodness, so all we had to do was salt and pepper them, then fill their little selves with the stuffing mixture. It was sort of like blowing up a balloon, if a balloon had tiny wings and drumsticks. We wrapped them in bacon, tied them up, then roasted them in a hot oven on some mirepoix. Julian and Tashana made some scallopped potatoes as an accompaniment.



We haven't been eating enough greens, a situation that Andrea resolved to rectify, so she made an endive/walnut/blue cheese salad (I didn't think I liked endive, but apparently I do), and a classic frisee salad with poached eggs and bacon lardons. "Yummy!" proclaimed Chef Alain. And he ate it all up.

Today: "Used to think a cloud was a nightmare"

The day started splendidly. For the first time in weeks, the dawn morning was clear and unfoggy. I deposited my first paycheck on the way to work: compensation for a part-time job as a "cookbook project manager" for a woman who's compiling her family recipes. For me, it's a huge symbolic step towards my goal: making a living and doing what I love. Then I drove to work listening to the recently released Neil Young album, heavily evocative of "back in the day," and I found my throat lumping up during much of the drive.

With just the two of us in the classroom, Chef Alain asked me ("you have the most education of anyone in the class") what could be done to improve the course. I told him that it would be great if the syllabus matched his lectures, and if we had recipes that reflected his preferred ingredients and methods. He responded by going to his car and bringing back a 2" thick binder filled with lecture notes: "This is what I want to teach! This class is way too short!"

When Andrea came into class, she tossed me a copy of the new SF Weekly. "Check it out," she said. The cover article is entitled "Burnt Chefs," and it's a brutal critique of our very school. The article focuses on unethical recruitment practices and a deteriorating reputation in the local community, results of a "gimme the money" approach. While I have no personal experience with the recruitment end, my major complaints about the program, as you know, center around the lack of rigor and the ability of mediocre students to continue to perform poorly, yet remain enrolled. We buzzed about the article all morning. I'm sure they were doing the same thing in the teachers' lounge. The last line of the article: "Former student Matthew Jarvis...has another idea: "I've sometimes thought about going to the school on my days off with a picket sign: 'Don't go to school here, come ask me why.'""

Chef lectured about French cows and French cheese. Then he staged a rampage because he'd received frozen rabbits and pheasants for today's cooking. Mario and I set about making our tarte tatin, because we had all the ingredients we needed.



In the absence of their scheduled protein, Andrea and Andy made a great chicken dish, winging it to replicate a meal that Andrea had at Bouchon. They sautéed the chicken pieces, then finished it off in the oven in some chicken stock. Then they made a great sauce with mushrooms and caramelized vegetables. At tasting time, Chef asked them to describe their dish, then said it was inappropriate for them to serve a crispy-skinned chicken with a sauce. "It's either a braise, or it's fried chicken." Andrea had to leave the room.



And Silvia finished the poached pears that she and Dava began yesterday. "These are not cooked!" Chef said. Silvia just shook her head. Dava was the tester, yesterday, and she was absent today. "That's no excuse!" Chef said. "There is never an excuse!"

Too Much Talking!

And not enough cooking! That's what we had in class today.

By the time Chef finished telling us about our finals on Friday (a 60 to 80 question multiple choice test and a competency where we have to make an entrée, plus sides, and we'll get our "protein assignment" tomorrow), lecturing us on the culinary regions and history of France, and demonstrating the proper ways to attack an artichoke, a pear, and a lobster, we had only two hours of class time left. We had to dirty all the dishes and then clean them, in that time. Plus the eating.

As with the paella, Chef got right into the middle of the lobster preparation and had us all working for him. It was supposed to be me and Derrick. We started by making a court bouillon, or poaching liquid, using water, mirepoix, and bay leaf and thyme. And we diced up a bunch of vegetables as the basis for our sauce: onions, carrots, leeks, celery, shallots and garlic. We sweated those in a large pan and poached the lobsters. I couldn't stick the skewer through the live lobster (to keep its tail straight) — well, actually, I tried, and it jumped, and I screamed just a little, and Julian came to take over. I had no problem taking them all apart, once they were cooked. (By the way, Chef asked the class how to tell the difference between a male and female lobster, and Silvia said, "The males have blue rubberbands on their claws.")

We sauteéd the lobster shells with the cooked vegetables and that's when Chef Alain took over. He added brandy and flambéed it, then added tomato paste, some court bouillon, and rice. Twenty minutes later, the rice was cooked, and he finished the dish (which, by the way, is called Lobster Americaine. According to Chef, it has nothing to do with the United States; it's a bastardization of "Armoricain," after the old name of the French region of Brittany, Amorique, which is on the Atlantic Coast.)

When the rice was cooked, Chef blended the entire mixture, shells and all, using our giant immersion blender, then strained it through a fine strainer. He brought the liquid to a boil, added more brandy (and flamed it off), then cream and seasonings. He added the lobster pieces to heat them through, then proclaimed it "finished!"



We have leftover liquid in the refrigerator — it's essentially lobster bisque.

Also on the menu today: roasted artichokes. Alex made them, along with a reduced balsamic glaze.



Marco and Jim opened oysters and made mignonette, after a lengthy search of the school building to locate an oyster knife.



Andy and Andrea made a "Far Breton," an eggy apple cake almost like a Dutch Baby, if you know what I mean. Chef Alain says it's common to serve as a mid-afternoon snack.



Sara and Julian worked on the snails. They were drenched in garlic butter and served in little puff pastry shells. What's not to like?



More apples tomorrow: I've signed up to make Tarte Tatin.

"Pliny contributated tremensely"

... to our knowledge of ancient culinary trends...

Alex and I made potato gnocchi today, a dish that I LOVE and that I've never attempted myself. The store-bought gnocchi always turn out mushy and blah and David doesn't understand what all the fuss is about. When we were in Cortona, at the wonderful tavern Fufluns, I had the special of the day, "brutti e buoni Fufluns," which were tri-colored gnocchi made with beet, spinach and potatoes in a white cream sauce; they were obviously handmade and irregular and about 1-1/2" long and as big around as penne noodles, with pointy ends. Oh man.

I really want to try my friend Simona's gnocchi technique, but I didn't dare deviate today from Chef Alain's instructions. I baked the potatoes, then peeled them while they were still hot; then ran them through a ricer. Then kneaded them with flour, adding salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Then we added four egg yolks and kneaded some more, but with a light hand. According to the Chef, the dough must not be overworked or allowed to cool, so that the gluten does not begin to develop. Then we rolled them and sliced them into lumps, and rolled them over a fork so that they'd get some nooks and crannies to hold the sauce.



Alex made sauces: fresh pesto lightened with cream, and spicy tomato and sausage.



Andrea made a nice calamari dish: she started by making a fresh tomato sauce and a beurre blanc. Then, right before service, she sautéed calamari rings briefly in hot olive oil, then added the sauces. Chef didn't follow his own instructions (to pour out the liquid created by the sautéing calamari...) so the mixture ended up soupier than it should have been. But the calamari was tender and delicious.



Andy finished the osso bucco that he started on Friday, and it was tremendous.



Derrick was absent on Friday and today, he offered no excuse other than "I don't really like this class very much." Of course, he didn't say that to the Chef.

"I love you today!"

I don't know what happened between yesterday and today, but Chef said, "Today, I can go home smiling!"

He gave Andrea (and the rest of the class) his own special biscotti recipe, and when she told him that she hadn't added his recommended fennel seeds ("I took a poll," she said), he just smiled and said, "Hey, you are the boss." He also said, "I need two dozen of those to take home with me for my breakfast."



Tashana and I made two sauces and polenta and I can see why that stuff is comfort food. As good as mashed potatoes, practically. Ours was creamy with parmesan cheese and butter, but it would have been much better with homemade chicken stock instead of the canned Swanson's. We had a mushroom cream sauce and a sausage/bell pepper sauce.


The polenta was also delicious with the short ribs braised in wine that Alex made.



We had three kinds of pizza, with a nice flat crisp crust, and chicken saltimbocca, and minestrone...

A couple of people asked for (and received) extra time to work on their reports which were due today. But the rest of the class erupted in protest so we all got an extra credit point for turning it in on time.

So some successes. And it's Friday. What more could a girl want?