31 May 2012

As I type this, I am eating my fifth mini chocolate eclair for the day (calm down mum, they really are mini). Turns out choux pastry is not actually that difficult to make and a little goes a long way. In fact one batch makes 18 mini eclairs and 20 churros ... do not make these when you are home alone because they are irresistible and you will eat them all and your partner will arrive home to find you bloated, flatulent and moaning on the couch 'La Grand Bouffe' style (unless he's Mr Creosote and is polishing off his seventh of the day. Hypothetically of course - Ed). 

After mastering the choux, I filleted a rather grumpy looking Brill. One of my grandfather's many careers was as a fishmonger and I feel that I did him proud today - I cut and skinned four rather fabulous fillets in no time (actually it was over half an hour, but hey, I'm a learner). These fillets then became goujons, and those goujons then became the Editor's lunch - personally delivered to the dining room by moi (with spicy salsa and coriander aioli... My death row last meal has a new starter - Ed). 

I don't know if you can see his face, but he is seriously grouchy.

Fillet 1 - I know, Its gorgeous. 

Skin removed in one piece! Hoorah!

4 little fillets, waiting for their turn in the deep fryer...

A lunch fit for an Editor - Goujons with salsa and coriander aioli. 

This afternoon we were shown to cook: Parmesan custards with anchovy toasts, Wild garlic custards, Goats cheese croquettes with rocket leaves roast pepper and tapenade oil, Fish curry, Ling/Pollock with tomatoes and fresh spices, Olive dough, Pilaff rice, Homemade noodles, Green salad with cider vinaigrette dressing, Beetroot and carrot salad, Chocolate/Lemon curd profiteroles, Strawberry profiteroles, Lemon curd eclairs, Choux puffs, Caramel salambos (caramel topped choux pastry ovals filled with orange cream) and Creme Patissiere.

After demonstration I got to make cheese with a few other students. Within minutes of walking into the dairy I was elbow deep in 50 litres of lukewarm whey breaking up chunks of curd with my fingers. Kind of gross, but also kind of amazing. We then drained the whey and packed the curd into perforated containers which were topped with weights. We were informed that the cheese needs to be turned after 15 mins, 30 mins, 1 hour, 2 hours, then tomorrow morning, lunch and after-school and then every day thereafter. It seems to be good practice for having children. I had no idea dairy products were so needy.  

The first turning of the cheese.

Tomorrow I am making croquettes, beetroot and carrot salad and making a second attempt at my white bread which was was not co-operating today and turned out more like a doorstop than a loaf. Thank God tomorrow is Friday... Gin and Tonic beckons....

30 May 2012

If you read yesterday's blog you will recall that I was convinced I would dream about food last night as my hair had rather alluringly taken on the smell of roast meats (If you are new to this blog you are now either curious, or concerned for my mental health). Well, I did indeed dream of kitchens! But that's all I can remember (there may also have been a unicorn).

I decided to 'wash that beef right out of my hair' before class this morning lest any of the school's dogs find me irresistible. Turns out I needn't have bothered as today's demonstration was mainly dedicated to cooking meat! Roast rib of beef, Short ribs, Stuffed breast of lamb, Braised neck of lamb (I cannot get my head around eating necks) Braised lamb shanks, Cassoulet, Yorkshire puddings, Parsnips, Hummus, Dukkah, Basil pesto, Pitta bread and various marmalades. 

I only started eating red meat three years ago. Learning to eat meat was a slow process starting with bolognaise and stews and then moving to lamb chops and finally steak. Three years ago, I could only eat a streak if it was cooked beyond well-done to carcinogenic, but these days I can handle medium. Today's roast beef was what Nigella would describe as 'Nothing a good vet couldn't bring around'. Not for me, thanks. I also tried a Yorkshire pudding for the first time today. I know this might be a a bit controversial but I don't see what the fuss is about - batter cooked in beef fat? Does anyone need that?

Shhh ... If you listen carefully you can hear him Moo.

In this afternoon's wine lecture we were visited by a 5th generation master cooper who showed us how barrels (casks) are made - really very fascinating stuff. We also were given an example of a wine that had corked so that we couldn't learn to recognise the distinctive smell - described by the Sommelier as 'musty damp cardboard'. For me the smell evoked a memory of a certain furry blue towel in the bathroom of a share house that a certain Editor lived in when I first met him. It was permanently slumped in a corner, resigned to its own stinky uselessness. Everyone knew that if you dried yourself with this towel you would in fact defeat the entire purpose of the shower you had just stepped out of, so we left it alone. So, now I will never forget the smell of corked wine.

Hes not in the barrel, he's behind it.

 

Last week I was concerned that I had tasted six wines before lunch, today my concern was tasting six wines immediately before a Pilates class. Murphy's law dictates that because I was feeling just a tiny bit dodgy, there was an extended number of exercises that involved laying on our stomachs with our faces pressed into mats which smelt like other people's feet. Fabulous. I have had to continue drinking now that I am home.

Tomorrow I am making chocolate eclairs, white bread, sole goujons and coriander aioli ... and The Editor is coming for lunch. Stay tuned.

29 May 2012

My day started at 8am with stock duty. You wouldn't necessarily think this was an ideal way to start the day, but it's actually a lot of fun ... you get to massacre meat carcasses with a cleaver before throwing them in the stock pot. It's quite a cathartic experience - just think of something you're not happy about and THWACK! Much better.  

Today's cooking was all about breakfast. I made a grapefruit, orange and mint cocktail which involved segmenting two of each fruit - one of those skills which looks effortless in demonstration but actually takes hours and all your patience in real life. 

Another doily (oh, and some fruit)

I also made some oatmeal porridge, which I cooked for a little too long so it started to resemble wallpaper paste until I cunningly disguised it under a heavy layer of milk, brown sugar and toasted almonds. I was meant to fry some kidneys (which delightfully involves wrestling them from the sack of lamb fat they are snuggled in) but sadly there were none left by the time I got to the meat trolley. Quelle Dommage. 

Finally, every student had to make what is known as a full Irish breakfast. This usually consists of an egg, rashers (that's bacon to you fellow Aussies), sausage, roasted tomato, black and white puddings, and sometimes a roast mushroom and a mini potato cake. There was a prize for the best breakfast in each kitchen, which was really the last thing on my mind as I struggled to have eight items concurrently hot and edible. So it was a real surprise to have my name called as one of four winners at the end of today's demonstration. My design inspiration was the Swedish midsummer maypole dance - the egg is the maypole and the fried meats and vegetables are the happy dancing children*.

Today in demonstration we were shown: How to fillet a flat fish, Monkfish goujons with harissa and coriander mayonnaise, Spiced goujons of sole with coriander aioli and chilli salsa, Basic fish stock, Chilli con carne, Avocado sauce, Colorado sauce, Tortilla chips, Provençal bean stew, Cannellini bean salad, Steamed rice, Choux pastry, Chocolate/ Coffee eclairs, Beignets with cinnamon sugar, Hot chocolate, Cheese Galette (delicious cheese pastry cake) and Marshmallows.

But the day did not end there; after school I went to the hotel restaurant down the road for an evening in a professional kitchen. I didn't actually get to cook anything, but I did get to do some quality control (quietly munching on bits of food thrown to me by the chefs and then nodding my approval). The kitchen was surprisingly calm and quiet, in fact apart from a brief whizzing of the food processor, the noisiest thing in the kitchen was probably me (I am reminded of my primary school reports which always said that I was a good student but it would be nice if I shut up occasionally ... not a chance). Anyway, it was a fantastic experience and I am now going to fall into bed where I will likely dream of food ... I was standing next to the carvery all night and my hair smells a little bit like roast beef (Must not dream of Sunday lunch, must not dream of Sunday lunch... - Ed).

*This is clearly a joke, readers. My design inspiration was 'As soon as I plate this food I can eat it'. The parsley was a reluctant afterthought.

28 May 2012

There are 2 types of people in this world, those who love oysters, and those who who screw up their faces in disgust at the mention of oysters. I fall into the second group. I have tried many times to like them, but my attempts usually end with me not-so-discreetly spitting a half-chewed salty slug into a napkin. Even the memories are disgusting.

So, lucky for me, one of the things on my menu today was a plate of Irish shellfish, which included the dreaded oyster. You don't need to cook them, but opening them is likely to be the most dangerous thing you could do in the kitchen (second only to getting between me and a creme caramel...grrr).  

Step 1 is to take your tea towel and wrap tightly around your fingers to form a 'Yasser Arafat hand-puppet'. This is an important step as the force required to push the oyster knife (small but deadly) into the begrudging bivalve is considerable. 

Once you have penetrated the shell, you then need to carefully pry it away from the meat ... and the oyster does not go down without a fight. The battle was on - in the blue corner, Plumpcious (armed with oyster knife), in the red corner - the Monstrous Mollusc. The fight lasted a gruelling seven minutes but in the end, Plumpcious was victorious! (And managed to keep all of her fingers! Hooray!) 

The oyster then joined some clams and mussels (which are very co-operative creatures who throw themselves open when heat is applied) on a plate with some homemade mayonnaise, a wedge of lemon and a few fennel leaves.  The oysters went out to the dining room for someone else to enjoy. 

Seafood done, I could turn my attention to what I was really excited to cook today ... the Parsnip cake. The name does not do this cake justice. Two delightfully moist, nutty, spiced cakes sandwiched together with marscapone and maple syrup ... it is yummy beyond belief, which is why I have creatively renamed it 'Yummy cake' and also why half of it came home in my handbag. (It's bloody spectacular - Ed.)

Today's afternoon demonstration was all about breakfast: Buck's Fizz (A sissy's drink - champagne and orange juice. If you really want a wake up call, try champagne and vodka), Orange mint and grapefruit cocktail, Breakfast fruit salad, Freshly squeezed juices, Smoothies, Spotted dog (fruity bread), Stripy cat (chocolately bread), Breakfast scones, Nut and grain muesli, Strawberry muesli, Granola, Oatmeal porridge. Breakfast kippers, Irish breakfast (remarkably, something called 'Irish' that doesn't contain whiskey - it does however contain black and white pudding which are sausages made of coagulated blood and offal), Fadge (potato bread) (Wha'? - Ed), Fried eggs with sage, Poached eggs on toast, Boiled eggs with soldiers, Scrambled eggs, Eggs Benedict (especially for Cormy K), Waffles with maple syrup, American buttermilk pancakes with crispy bacon and maple syrup, Blackcurrant jam, Rhubarb and ginger jam,  Kumquat marmalade, Ginger muffins, Raw apple muffins, Blueberry muffins. 

I have been munching Yummy cake whilst writing this entry, so I had better go and clean the crumbs off The Editor's laptop ... 

25 May 2012

I don't know if I have mentioned this before, but there is no shower in our cottage (gasp!). I have particularly long hair and I can't tell you how delightful it is to wash it under a running tap whilst hanging my head upside-down (this is a particularly nauseating exercise the morning after a pub visit). As if this task could not be more challenging, this morning I had the added pleasure of barely being able to use my right arm after kneading bread and hand-squeezing lemons for homemade lemonade. My right arm was not taking orders from my brain, and as such there has been a patch of shampoo behind my left ear all day. Ugh. 

Today I made Irish stew and buttered cabbage (yes, I have discovered yet more things you can add butter to, and yes, it does make things more delicious). There is nothing interesting to report about either of these dishes - they are as you expect them to be. I did, however, have some spare time as my stew stewed, so I decided to try making something new. Considering I could barely wash my own hair this morning, I am not sure what I was thinking when I chose to make homemade mayonnaise. Let me explain the process - take two egg yolks, add a touch of vinegar and salt and then very slowly pour in 600ml of oil as you whisk furiously. That's right, it involves FURIOUS WHISKING. Let me tell you how I made my mayonnaise - add a little oil, whisk vigorously for 5 seconds, walk away from the bowl, return and whisk left-handed for 5 seconds, take a break, try holding the whisk between different fingers, discover that doesn't make any difference, more left-handed whisking, realise you're actually making audible whimpering noises, give yourself a pep talk, muster all your strength, whisk furiously for 90 seconds, OH MY GOD something is actually happening in this bowl!, excitement wears off, whisk some more, voila - mayonnaise. Next time I will use a food processor. 

Buttered cabbage, the mayonnaise that nearly killed me, Irish stew

Today we were taught to cook: A plate of Irish shellfish with homemade mayonaise, Casserole roast chicken with marjoram, Spatchcock chicken, Verdura mista, Carrot's vichy, Broccoli feta and cherry tomato salad, Carrageen moss pudding (a sweet milky mousse made of Irish seaweed ... sounds vile but tastes great), Irish coffee sauce (tip: whenever you see the word 'Irish' in a recipe, it generally means there is a high whiskey content), Poached apricots with sweet geranium leaves, Green gooseberry and elderflower compote, Gingerbread, Porter cake (traditional Irish cake, contains half a pint of stout), Banana bread, Carrot cake, Coconut and lemon loaf, and Parsnip and maple syrup cake. 

I am aware that Parsnip cake sounds especially horrid, but it was actually the best cake I have tried during this course and I am greatly looking forward to baking it on Monday. But for now, I've had enough of cooking ... The Editor and I are off to the pub for some chips. 

24 May 2012

Another crazy morning in the kitchen. It was all going so well until 9.35am when the giant wall clock I rely on to time all my recipes... stopped. It turns out I wasn't mad when I thought time was standing still as I kneaded my bread dough for what felt like an eternity - I had in fact been kneading for 20 minutes and had almost lost all feeling in my right arm.

Then came the Classic lemon meringue - a recipe which sneakily involves making three separate recipes - shortcrust pastry, lemon curd and meringue. The pastry could've been better, but I went with it anyway (my theory is after kneading, chilling, rolling and blind baking, you don't start again unless its inedible). The lemon curd looked a little lumpy, but it was nothing a good whisking wouldn't fix and who would see it under the meringue anyway? Which brought me to the final step - the meringue. Technically quite simple, but today the egg whites had chucked a tantrum and were not co-operating. I tried a few batches of mixture, I even tried a few different mixing machines, but nothing was working.  The teacher assured me "It's not you, its the eggs"... it was my first kitchen break-up. Finally, I got something which almost resembled stiff peaks, wrestled it into a piping bag and used what little arm strength I had remaining to squeeze out some little meringue mountains. Rather miraculously, I ended up with a half-decent looking pie, assisted greatly by my patented 'nana method' - when in doubt, use a decorative plate and a pretty flower - it draws the eye away from the imperfections.  

The white bread was my first time using yeast and I have to say it turned out rather well, despite taking over three hours to make. I called on my Hellenic heritage and made my dough with olive oil instead of butter, I figured now I don't have to feel guilty when I put butter on it. 

Today we learned how to cook: Sorrel tarragon and chard broth, Moroccan spiced lentil soup, Chunky vegetable and bean soup, French peasant soup (they may be poor, but they are still fussy about their grub), Breadsticks, Sunflower bread, Fougasse provencal flat bread (a bread with slit-like holes that make it look like a halloween mask ... creepy), Irish stew, Tagine of lamb, Couscous with apricots and pistachio nuts, Buttered cabbage (if you can grow it, we can butter it), Foragers salad, Asian savoy cabbage salad, Pear sable with warm caramel sauce, Shortbread stars with strawberries and cream and Fudge. 

For dinner this evening I decided to show off this week's accomplishments with a little sample plate of Irish farmhouse cheeses, my handmade butter, my strawberry jam, my adorable mini bread loaf, some spiced apple chutney (kindly given to me by another student) and a tomato and basil salad - followed by a generous slice of my lemon meringue pie and another Eurovision semi-final! The Editor is opening the wine, which is my cue to turn off the computer... 

23 May 2012

Wine for breakfast, cake for lunch, pilates for dinner. Just an ordinary day at cookery school. 

This morning we had our first proper wine lecture. I would love to share what I learned, but unfortunately I don't remember much and my notes don't really make sense (although I did draw a lovely little border of wine bottles around the page). We tried our first glass of wine at 10.30am and had another five before noon. There was a small tea break at 11am where we loaded up on coffee, biscuits and scones so that by lunch students were either hyperactive, drunk, or both. I managed to bypass tipsy altogether and just went straight to the sleepy stage. 

This afternoon we had an afternoon tea and cakes demonstration. There were scones, sponge cakes, coffee cupcakes, Barmbrack, lemon cupcakes, butterfly cakes, ribbon sandwiches, meringue kisses, crystallised flowers and then, the most spectacular thing I have ever seen ... THE PICNIC CHEST.

Take a loaf of bread and cut a 'lid' on the top, leaving a hinge along one side. The next step is to remove the interior of the bread in one large brick-shaped piece. Don't even asked me how this happened - I am still in shock and awe. I actually watched this demonstration with my mouth open ( I think I may have even been drooling slightly at one point). You then cut the bread 'core' into slices, make those slices into ribbon sandwiches and then put them BACK IN THE CHEST!! Seriously! Where has this been all my life?! Open the lid and angels will sing.  Its a portable, self-contained, fully edible piece of heaven.  Hallelujah.

22 May 2012

I arrived at the dairy at 7.30 this morning clad in the obligatory green wellington boots (of course mine have giant bows on them) and wondering exactly why I was up so early on a drizzly Irish morning. Growing up in Melbourne, I had never milked a cow before, in fact, my only prior experience with cows was pointing at them from the car window on country drives, or as spaghetti bolognese.  

Milking cows in not as simple as turning up and squeezing an expectant udder. First, I was given a long stick (a makeshift shepherd staff) and led to where three cows were leisurely grazing. One of them mooed at me, to which I replied 'Good morning' - it seemed the polite thing to do. The first job was to herd the cows and coax them towards the dairy. What actually happened was the farmer did all the prodding and herding and I stayed back a safe distance quietly encouraging the cows with my mind. Unlike country folk, I do not possess the ability to whack a disobedient one-tonne bovine with a stick - if they dont want to mooove, just leave them be. 

Bovine behinds

No thanks to me, the cows obediently made their way up the slope to the milking station and took their places. I got to pull and squeeze the udders of Bovine 1 and 3 to check the quality of the milk and then attach futuristic looking suction devices which helpfully did all the milking for me. Bovine 2 presented a small problem. She had recently had a calf and was not too keen on humans getting at her milk.  Because of this, my job was not to attach the suction machine (as I may have been kicked in the head) but to 'distract' the cow by standing in front tof her and patting her head. If you have not ever experienced six minutes of uninterrupted eye contact with a grumpy cow whilst two feet away, I can tell you it is very surreal. A few grouchy moos and a dozen kicks later, the milking was done, the cows were set free, the milk was separated and I was on my merry way. 

Today in the kitchen I made strawberry jam, cabbage soup (no resemblance to the vile slop you may know from the infamous diet which smells as bad going in as it does coming out), and scallion champ, which is mashed potato with spring onions and/or chives. Unfortunately none of these things really leant themselves to pretty presentation, so I really had no choice but to whip up some butter balls. Once you start rolling, you just can't stop! My name is Plumpcious, and I am a butter ball addict ... 

Today in demonstration we learnt to make: Chicken liver pate, Melba toast (no comparison to those tiny  toasts you buy for $2.00 at Coles), White yeast bread, Pan-grilled fish, Sauce Vierge, Fish in fresh fig leaves with nasturtium and parsley butter, Hot mackerel salad with beetroot eggs and horseradish, Horseradish mayonaise, Simple cooked chard, Rocket and cherry tomato salad, Radish cucumber and mint salad and Classic lemon meringue tart.  

I must go now as the Eurovision semi-finals are on (once hilariously described by Terry Wogan as 'rhymes against humanity'). I thought it was bad when Montenegro wheeled a giant wooden horse onto the stage, but the Greeks have just misused the word aphrodisiac, which is a Greek word. Bravo.  

P.S. I would like to say a big buttery thank you to you, dear readers. This blog has now had over 1000 views! And lucky for you, merely reading about this food won't make you fat. 

21 May 2012

Who are you calling butter ball? ...

No, I haven't finally burst out of my chef pants ... I actually made butter today. It's an interesting process which involves washing, draining, kneading, chilling and then fashioning the butter with chilled wooden bats into either a traditional block or these charming little butter balls. Aw, aren't they cute? (And their adorable similarity to Gaelic footballs has not gone unnoticed. Mmmm, Mayo... - Ed)

I think there were a few people in the kitchen this morning (moi included) suffering from 'Monday-itis'.  I twice walked to the larder to get ingredients and then forgot why I was there (perhaps there is a type of sugar and butter induced amnesia which affects students of cookery schools?). All three dishes I had chosen to cook this morning were to be made last minute so I killed some time making marzipan-filled dates rolled in pistachio crumbs (how posh does that sound, Daaarling?!). I have always thought I hated marzipan, but it turns out it was just because I was eating crappy marzipan. The homemade stuff is more subtle in flavour and really quite delicious. 

Today's menu had a bit of an egg theme. I made a classic French omelette (which literally spends about 30 seconds in the fry pan before being artfully hurled towards a warmed plate) and a frittata with roasted cherry tomatoes and summer herbs. I also put together an heirloom tomato salad with honey and olive oil dressing. Drizzling honey over tomatoes felt like offering the first warning sign of mental illness, but it actually tasted okay. I am just not sure about the amount of vegetables we seem to be turning into desserts...

Today in demonstration we learnt how to cook: Spinach and rosemary soup, Spring nettle soup (warning- you need to wear gloves when preparing this as the nettles will sting you!), Wild garlic soup, Savoy cabbage soup, Glazed loin of bacon (a simple recipe - take a slice of pig, smother it in brown sugar, bake), Scallion champ (mash potato with spring onions), Pizza with peperonata, Cabbage pineapple and onion salad (tastes much better than it sounds), Piquant beetroot, Strawberry jam and Rhubarb tart. 

Tomorrow I have volunteered to milk a cow at 7.30am, so I'm heading to bed early. Moo xx

18 May 2012

There were 6 winners of today's cake competition ... and one of them was yours truly.

My inspiration for decorating my four-layer orange cake with orange butter cream and orange glaze was the clock on the kitchen wall which I was staring at in disbelief as three whole hours ticked by whilst I painstakingly constructed each layer of this delicious fat attack (do you know how long it takes to cream butter by hand?!) The name of the cake is "Stuff-your-face-o'clock".

My cake hanging out with other winning cakes

Today in demonstration we learned to cook: Mushroom soup, Wild mushroom soup (a crazy unpredictable version of the earlier soup), Cheese and chive soda bread, Provencal terrine with tomato sauce, Classic French omelette, Egg white omelette (why bother?), Tomato and wild garlic pesto omelette, Cheese souffle omelette, Tansy omelette, Kidney omelette, Oaxacan omelette, Omelette Arnold Bennet (yes, the chickens at the Palais de Poulets have been busy!), Peperonata, Roast cherry tomatoes, Frittata with oven roasted tomatoes and summer herbs, Frittata with oven roasted tomatoes chorizo and goats cheese, Smoked salmon dill and leek frittata, Italian green salad, Tomato salad with basil olive oil and honey, Marzipan apples, Marzipan dates, Caramelized walnuts and Chocolate and Marzipan balls.

And so concludes another week at cooking school. The Editor, The Cake and I wish you all a happy weekend.

17 May 2012

Theory day. Today a guest speaker came to talk to us about making money from our food. I will not bore you with all the details but the day was surprisingly entertaining (I tend to dread all-day lectures as my mind tunes out and my bum falls asleep). The day started with an episode of Gordon's Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares - always entertaining - and then went on with various role plays and case studies.  But the real highlight for me was an exercise we had to do after lunch. We all chose a menu (from a real restaurant) and then analysed it from the point of view of how easy it was to read, the paper, the font, the contents etc. I randomly selected a simple laminated menu for a little cafe in Tipperary. It served standard cafe food but what caught my eye was their descriptions of the coffee... 

• Cappuccino - A chance for your favourite barista to show off. Really? Is Ricky here in Ireland? And is he moonwalking on the bar again? Seriously, isn't this person just doing their job?*

• Caffe Mocha - French chocolate conspires with Italian coffee to seduce your palate. Hmmm ... do I want to drink the result of an international sleazy tag team? I have images of greasy over-cologned coffee beans called Guido sauntering up to your taste buds and saying 'Ciao Bella', all under the command of a cocoa bean called Pierre in a striped T-shirt and beret. 

• Caffe Latte - An Irish Italian marriage made in heaven. What was Ireland's contribution to this beverage exactly? The milk? They have that in Italy too, where cafe lattes were invented incidentally. 

Strangely enough, these odd descriptions actually made me want to visit this place. So perhaps in a few weeks I shall be writing to you as I sip my multicultural marriage in a glass!

The Editor and I are now off to explore our adopted village - we are trying out a local restaurant which has come highly recommended. I will try my hardest not to deconstruct the entire menu and guess every flavour of every dish I eat - I fear I will be a real pest to dine with by the end of this course...

*Its fun to apply this to other professions:
Eclairs - a chance for your beloved baker to show off
Smoothies - a chance for prefered blender-operator to show off
Heart attack - a chance for your dearest cardiologist to show off
... and the list goes on. Please feel free to post your own variations!

16 May 2012

Important Lesson #2 - How not to cook a chicken. 

Do not start with a semi-frozen 3kg beast of a thing and expect that the regular cooking time applies.  The recipe said 'put in a moderate oven for approx 1hr 30minutes'. My chicken (or Gigantor, as I christened him) had 3hrs 5mins snoozing in 200 degree oven and still some parts were dubiously pink (or what I like to call 'salmonella coloured'). I eventually got to carve the creature (with a chainsaw) by which time everything I had made to accompany it was in a sorry state - the potatoes had spent so long in the oven keeping warm they were like rosemary scented bags of flour and the gravy had had a fight with itself and had rudely separated into layers of fat and stock. Damn you Gigantor!!

The morning's triumph were some biscuits I had chosen to make to fill the time while Gigantor was lazily marinating in his own juices. I decided on cinnamon fork-biscuits (so called because you press a fork into them to create a pattern before baking) with a chocolate butter icing to sandwich them together. Once again, I summoned my inner octogenarian to decorate the plate. Brightly coloured plate? Check. Doily? Check. Edible flowers? Check. Faint smell of camphor? Thankfully no, but it would have undoubtedly added to the authenticity. By coincidence, just as I had perched the last biscuit on top of the biscuit mountain the head of the school sauntered past, bit one, declared they were delicious, and voila ... my day was made. Plumpcious was a very happy little cook. In fact, even as I write this there is a second batch in the oven because I decided to make some especially for The Editor. Sadly there are no doilies in our cottage so he is just eating them off the cooling rack - how barbaric!! (And is now covered in delicious crumbs. Om nom nom - Ed.) 

Today we learnt to cook: French onion soup with gruyere toasts, Vietnamese chicken salad, Chilaquiles Verdes o Rojos (essentially a very fancy Mexican way to say 'nachos'), Crunchy chicken and mushroom filos, Chicken and Mushroom Pie with herb mash (there is a lot of extra chicken in the kitchen after today), Spring green salad with vino cotto dressing (Maggie Beer's vino cotto), Pam's chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream icing (a delicious heart attack), Coffee cake, Aunt Florence's orange cake, Lemon curd cake, Chocolate twirls, Broad beans, and we learnt how to cure port to make your own bacon. 

Tomorrow is a theory day where we will be learning about starting our own businesses. On Friday, I am making 'Aunt Florence's orange cake'. There is a competition in the school as to who can decorate the best cake ... and inspired by my biscuit success, I am feeling a little competitive.

P.S. Although the food at school is utterly delicious, sometimes I just crave something simple and familiar.  For that I reason, I could not have been more delighted when I arrived home after pilates this evening and found that a package had arrived from Australia with one of my favourite munchables.  Thanks Mum xx

15 May 2012

This morning I met one of the school's gardeners at 8am to pick fresh herbs for the day's cooking. It was such a lovely way to start the day. Later that morning I would realise I should have paid closer attention to what some of the herbs were, instead of getting distracted by all the other fun things on the farm ('Look! piglets!!').

Today I had to make a shepherd's pie, which involved making the minced meat sauce and Duchess potatoes (a fancy mashed potato with butter, milk and egg yolks), a chard gratin with gruyere, a salad of summer fruits and the raspberry sorbet that I didn't get to finish yesterday. We have three hours to cook but today I ran out of time. In the end the gratin became blanched chard with a topping of cheese and toasted breadcrumbs (I call it "low fat gratin'). My sorbet was delicious, but unfortunately one of the other students managed to drop it on the floor and shatter the dish it was in (Sorbet should be smooth, not crunchy with broken glass). Luckily the girl who dropped it had already taken a scoop, so I got to serve it ... decorated with chives. Some of you may not know this but chives have the most gorgeous little purple pompom flowers which I thought would look very sweet next to the deep red of the sorbet. Aesthetically lovely, but onion and raspberry are not a culinary match. But there was one triumph this morning: my shepherd's pie. You know you're getting a bit 'chefy' when you put mashed spuds in a piping bag. I mean, I doubt there are any shepherds out there decorating their pies with arty squiggles, but how pretty is this? I had never used a piping bag before, but now we are friends.

Today in demonstration the teacher made: Caesar salad, Warm salad of bacon and poached egg, Traditional roast stuffed chicken, Roast guinea fowl with potato and parsnip chips, Cranberry sauce, Bread sauce (literally a sauce made of milk and breadcrumbs ... sounds strange but its actually quite yummy), Redcurrant sauce, Game chips (potato chips, not casino chips), Parsnip crisps, Creamed celery, Turnips with caramelised onions, Rustic roast potatoes, Great grandmother's butter sponge (Victoria sponge), Summer pudding and Summer blackcurrant pudding. 

Correction from an earlier blog - I had previously stated black-eyed beans were called 'black-nosed beans' in Greek. The Greek words for eye (mati) and nose (miti) are similar, so actually, I have just been mispronouncing the name of these beans my entire life (special thanks to my uncle for correcting me). Anyway, I still hate them. And if black-nosed beans existed, I would probably hate them too. 

14 May 2012

Important lesson #1. If you walk into a kitchen after only four hours sleep, disaster will likely ensue.

We returned from our weekend away at 2am this morning. I got to sleep at 3am. When the alarm went off at 7am I pretended it was just a dream. Finally, at 7.30am I begrudgingly dragged myself out of bed, got dressed, put on two similar-yet-different earrings, burned my bagel and proceeded to put two spoonfuls of loose leaf tea in the coffee press (believing it to be coffee) and then complained that it was 'a funny colour' and 'tasted weird'. Luckily The Editor kindly drove me to school because I was in danger of trying to start the car with my house key. 

After miraculously getting to class on time, my first task in the kitchen was the pre-heat the oven to make soda bread. I shuffled towards the oven like a zombie, turned it on, reached in to move a rack and BURNT THREE OF MY FINGERS!! The pain was hideous. But, now I was awake! Rather fortuitously, the next thing on my menu was raspberry sorbet, so I managed not to look too suspicious as I desperately clutched a bag of frozen fruit whilst waiting for my fingers to return to life. So, lesson learned ... sleepy cooks are a hazard. 

Bread and sorbet made, I had to make a salad of roasted red peppers with parmesan and olives.  I am not sure why I chose this dish ... I really don't like peppers. Also, to me a few pieces of pepper, olives and cheese are not a salad, they are items on an antipasti platter or toppings on a pizza. Anyway, I tried my best to make it look like something somebody would pay for. I'd value this at about $1.50.  

Today in demonstration we learned to cook: Dublin bay prawns (Langoustines) with mayonnaise, Prawn bisque, Mayonnaise, Brown yeast bread, Russian village bread (an ordinary loaf of bread wearing a knotted scarf and pulling a plough), Greek moussaka (which was nice but bore no resemblance to my Grandma's traditional version), Shepherd's pie, Garlic butter (which believe it or not is just a blob of flavoured butter that apparently goes with the pie ... since when was butter a side dish?!), Mushroom ketchup, Baked potatoes, Greek green salad (no comment), Chickpea and aubergine salad, Mangoes in lime syrup (there goes that syrup again), Summer fruit salad with sweet geranium leaves and Apple and tomato chutney. 

Tomorrow I would like to avoid starting the day with a kitchen accident - so I'm off to bed. Good night x 

Rainbow taken from the Rocket House window

11 May 2012

The Editor came for lunch. This inspired a little extra creativity in the kitchen ... instead of making an ordinary loaf of bread, I made a cluster of caraway-studded bread rolls arranged to form a pretty flower shape. The creativity ended there.  

Also on the menu - fluffy lemon pudding (a magical batter that separates during cooking to form not only a spongy lemon cake but also a thick layer of lemon curd sauce).  It was the kind of old-fashioned  pudding that could only be serve one way - nanna style.  Spoon into bowl, add cream and foliage, voila!

Then (sigh) I made quesadillas. Quesadillas are the Hispanic equivalent of a toasted cheese sandwich. You literally throw a tortilla (shop bought) on a pan, load with cheese, bung another tortilla on top and wait till the cheese melts. There is no trick to cooking these, unless you consider ‘not burning things’ as a talent. Luckily, there were many other things on the lunch menu to impress The Editor. (Editor's Note: There were indeed. Particularly the spicy chicken, tandoori chicken legs and cabbage salad. And I don't care how easy they are to make, the quesadillas were dang tasty. And the Plumpcious pudding was, of course, spectacular.)

In the afternoon demonstration we were shown how to butcher a lamb. Half a headless carcass was plonked onto the butcher's block – beside it were a saw and a collection of very sharp knifes. The sight and sound of the saw grinding through the creature's bones put a chill in the air … but things were about to get creepier. The butcher went along identifying various cuts and finally arrived at the fillet, which he described as a prime piece of meat. A small hand shot up in the back row – a question from a young softly-spoken girl that nobody was expecting – ‘Do humans have fillets too?’ There was a stunned silence followed by nervous laughter. It turns out the answer is yes. So now I am attending a cooking school with a potential serial killer who has access to her own set of professional knives and has been taught how to butcher an animal. Gulp.  

Once the panic had subsided, we were shown how to cook: Salad of blue cheese with chargrilled pears and spiced candies nuts, Salad of roast red and ellow peppers with parmesan and rocket, Tapenade toasts, Brown soda bread and scones, Lamb roast with rosemary, Mint sauce, Rustic roast potatoes, Haricot beans with tomato and rosemary, Glazed carrots (to me, cooking something in butter and sugar makes it a dessert, not a side dish), Blackcurrant leaf sorbet, Lemon balm sorbet, Ruby grapefruit sorbet,  Strawberry sorbet, Raspberry sorbet (10 points if you spotted the sorbet theme) and Fresh raspberry popsicles.

This weekend I am catering for 10 crazy people (including The Editor) who are partaking in the Connemara Adventure Challenge – an insane 31km triathlon which involves running through a bog (Aussie readers - that is not a cute way of describing an emergency dash to the toilet, it’s a field of soft turf), kayaking 2km and cycling 17km. Considering the amount of eating I have done in the past fortnight I probably should be competing, but conveniently, I am needed in the kitchen. Besides, stirring a giant pot of spaghetti sauce is a real workout.

10 May 2012

When Plumpcious met Chicken.

Sorry kids, it's not a love story. Its started like this ...

And then there were a few firm but tentative cuts with a filleting knife ...

And it ended with a giant meat cleaver. And no, I have not morphed into a deranged psychopath. You need to cut up the remaining carcass so it fits in the stock pot (or at least that's what I'm telling people).

The rest of the morning was slow. I had two salads and a chicken dish to make, but they were all last-minute affairs, so for the first time I found myself with nothing to do. So I washed up (so she is learning new skills - Ed). And then I tidied my bench. And then I baked a tray of raspberry coconut slices just for a laugh. Actually, they turned out quite well (by the way I sneakily reduced the sugar content by a third and nobody even noticed). And I even garnished it 'a la purple-haired octogenarian' i.e. on a doily and with edible plants. Move over grannies, there's a new kid on the block.

I am starting to get the hang of the presentation aspect of cooking. Coming from a stereotypical big fat Greek family, I'm used to dinners where all the food is piled high onto plates in the centre of the table and then everyone just helps themselves. As such, I dont always have a clear concept of 'ONE PORTION' (the above plate of raspberry slice is actually just for me). I also prefer a minimalist approach when it comes to styling the plate. Why can't it just be a bowl of spaghetti? Do we have to coax the pasta into the shape of a volcano and have the sauce erupting from the summit? Can I just put my soup in a bowl, or must I harass it into a champagne flute? Turns out, you can keep it simple and still achieve a classy looking plate. I decided to garnish my chicken and mushroom dish today with wild garlic leaves which are stylish and edible! Alternatively you could throw them out, or use them to tickle your cat. 

In demonstration today we were shown: Quesadillas with tomato salsa and guacamole, Tomato and coriander salsa, White soda bread and scones, Spiced chicken with almonds, Spiced chicken legs, Cucumber and yoghurt raita, Banana and yoghurt raita, Poppodums, Cabbage salad with raisins and mint (why must people put raisins in salad?! Its wrong people, wrong!), Chocolate fudge pudding and Fluffy lemon pudding (I very much enjoyed eating these last two). 

Tomorrow I am cooking the quesadillas, bread and Fluffy lemon pudding and I will be aiming for perfection ... The Editor is coming to lunch.

9 May 2012

This morning we were shown how to make butter, cream, yoghurt, buttermilk, cream cheese, paneer, labneh, cottage cheese and Gouda. It's amazing how many things you can make with milk!

The heart-shaped sweet cheese in the back left corner is called a Coeur a la Creme, a traditional French dessert. The teacher suggested it might be something you would serve if you wanted to 'bring on a marriage proposal'. Alternatively, as it is made with cream cheese, whipped cream and sugar, it might be something you serve to an elderly person you have grown tired of ('bring on an ambulance'). 

This afternoon we were shown how to make flavoured oils, vinegars and preserved lemons. We also made about a dozen different types of biscuits and slices. For this reason, I have now started attending a Pilates class. I have also started doing squats while watching tv and lunges as I wait for the kettle to boil. You may ask why I just don't stop eating all the food at school? ... It's too delicious.  Tomorrow I may add a few sit-ups before the toaster pops so that I don't start wobbling like a creme caramel.

It is now nearly 11pm and I need to get a good night's sleep so that I may face tomorrow's first challenge with a clear head ... I have to joint a chicken, and as much as I would like to take a running leap at it with a cleaver yelling 'Haaaa-Ya!!' in the style of Miss Piggy, it's probably best not to. Stay tuned for the photos of the carnage.