Most of the furniture arrived yesterday. The apartment is finally looking like a livable space.
Tomorrow I will ship back to Paris – already. Now that I am some what settled into New York. Life with James. I’m not completely ready to go back. Luckily James will be going with me. For a week, that is.
Finally. He will get a chance to meet my friends. Watch a Le Cordon Bleu class. And get a deeper understanding of what my Parisian life looks like. I can’t wait.
There are a few stokes in the fire. In terms of job-hunting. It is still a bit too early though. I need to set this task aside for now. And focus on my final LCB term.
Superior starts Monday.
Hold on. To your hats.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Which Way To Go?!!?
In terms of job-hunting. Most of my time has been spent wandering New York wondering. Imagining this type of job. Or that. Dreaming about doing that for a living. Or this. There has been a lot of exploration.
At the end of each day I am more confused than before. Times when I am convinced the traditional route – restaurant kitchen – is the way to go. Only to be led to a different path in the next moment.
When I started Le Cordon Bleu. I said that I didn’t know where I wanted to go. But that I expected the answer to come. Two-thirds into it and no answer blowing in the wind.
Perhaps I need a little more patience. Or a wider mind. I’m not sure. All I know is that my anxiety level is rising each day.
At the end of each day I am more confused than before. Times when I am convinced the traditional route – restaurant kitchen – is the way to go. Only to be led to a different path in the next moment.
When I started Le Cordon Bleu. I said that I didn’t know where I wanted to go. But that I expected the answer to come. Two-thirds into it and no answer blowing in the wind.
Perhaps I need a little more patience. Or a wider mind. I’m not sure. All I know is that my anxiety level is rising each day.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Job Hunt - Trail #1
It’s called trailing. How chefs and restaurants court.
Wednesday I spent 13.5 hours in the kitchen of Blue Hill in Stone Barns – a one star Michelin kitchen. Under the direction of Dan Barber.
Arriving at 11:30 a.m. I changed into my uniform. Was given the ten cent tour. And put right to work.
I was first assigned to Alex, chef de partie – grill station. Service didn’t begin until 5 p.m., so it was nothing but prep work. Alex had trimmed pork chops, chicken breasts and oysters – the little piece of meat just north of the thigh – and bellies of pork and lamb. My job was to put them in plastic bags, season with either olive oil or cream and fresh herbs. And hermitically seal. This was easy enough and slightly monotonous.
Finally getting my hands dirty. I prepared boneless chicken wings. Using garden-shear-type cutters I cut the mid-section from the wing. And pulled the bones out. Alex seasoned with salt and pepper. I added a bit of olive oil. Into a plastic bag. And sealed.
My final main task at the grill station – for the moment – was preparing calf bone marrow. Presented with a tray of over twelve feet that had been sawed in half – exposing the marrow. I was to take the bone out – with marrow in tow – and clean. Free of any attached ligaments, skin, or meat.
This was the hardest, and most physical, task that I have ever done. Alex needed twelve perfect bones. I felt like it took me six hours – it just might have. I cut. And scraped. And wiped. And pulled those pesky bones for hours. Barely surviving by the twelfth bone.
More plastic bag sealing. This time; clove, black peppercorn, salt, variety of dried herb marinated pork bellies. And lamb bellies that were simply seasoned with salt, pepper, and olive oil. I was just happy I didn’t have to go back to bone marrow.
As the night progressed I accomplished a variety of other tasks. Draining the day’s chicken and veal stock. Labeling bags. Dicing herbs. And cleaning. A good spectrum of what it would be like to work in fine dining.
By the time the 29 private party and 100 – or so – general guests left. The kitchen began to calm down. It must have been around 12:30 a.m. And Chef Dan Barber called the nightly meeting.
Chef with all his chef de parties discussed the evening’s happenings. Both good and bad. Smiling at the good. But focusing on the bad. Brainstorming how they could get better. More efficient. And cleaner. Chef was forceful and straightforward. He called chefs out for not living up to standard. But can you blame him? He has a serious kitchen to run – Michelin stars don’t come by easily. I respected him more and more as he led his troops.
A bit more cleaning of the stoves, counters, and floors. And by 1 a.m. I was walking out the door to head home.
It was an exhilarating day. I learned about cooking, but also about myself. I will admit that working in a fine dining kitchen is a lot harder than I expected. But I loved it. I loved having a knife in my hand. Wearing a chef coat. In the heat of it all.
Still unclear of my exact path after graduation, I want as many experiences as I can get. To help clarify my future.
Where to now?
Wednesday I spent 13.5 hours in the kitchen of Blue Hill in Stone Barns – a one star Michelin kitchen. Under the direction of Dan Barber.
Arriving at 11:30 a.m. I changed into my uniform. Was given the ten cent tour. And put right to work.
I was first assigned to Alex, chef de partie – grill station. Service didn’t begin until 5 p.m., so it was nothing but prep work. Alex had trimmed pork chops, chicken breasts and oysters – the little piece of meat just north of the thigh – and bellies of pork and lamb. My job was to put them in plastic bags, season with either olive oil or cream and fresh herbs. And hermitically seal. This was easy enough and slightly monotonous.
Finally getting my hands dirty. I prepared boneless chicken wings. Using garden-shear-type cutters I cut the mid-section from the wing. And pulled the bones out. Alex seasoned with salt and pepper. I added a bit of olive oil. Into a plastic bag. And sealed.
My final main task at the grill station – for the moment – was preparing calf bone marrow. Presented with a tray of over twelve feet that had been sawed in half – exposing the marrow. I was to take the bone out – with marrow in tow – and clean. Free of any attached ligaments, skin, or meat.This was the hardest, and most physical, task that I have ever done. Alex needed twelve perfect bones. I felt like it took me six hours – it just might have. I cut. And scraped. And wiped. And pulled those pesky bones for hours. Barely surviving by the twelfth bone.
As I was flaring my boning knife around. I thought, just don’t cut yourself. How embarrassing would that be? As I fatigued near the end I barely nicked my left middle finger. I held my breath and repeated in my head, please don’t bleed, please don’t bleed.
It bled.
Secretly wiping the blood from time to time I was able to get pass without any medical attention. Or even a band-aid. It was more a paper cut than anything.
Serving a general dining room as well as a private event space, the kitchen was buzzing by service time. Leaving Alex to grill and roast meats. I stepped over to the private event station.
First I plated small canapés for cocktail hour. Then assisted the other three chefs plate each course. Starting with roasted asparagus, candied apricots, and pistachios. Followed by crab salad with rhubarb and pink tapioca salad. And the main course was pan seared pork tenderloin, passed with sautéed bok choy. By the time they were plating dessert I was back helping Alex.
Serving a general dining room as well as a private event space, the kitchen was buzzing by service time. Leaving Alex to grill and roast meats. I stepped over to the private event station.
First I plated small canapés for cocktail hour. Then assisted the other three chefs plate each course. Starting with roasted asparagus, candied apricots, and pistachios. Followed by crab salad with rhubarb and pink tapioca salad. And the main course was pan seared pork tenderloin, passed with sautéed bok choy. By the time they were plating dessert I was back helping Alex.
More plastic bag sealing. This time; clove, black peppercorn, salt, variety of dried herb marinated pork bellies. And lamb bellies that were simply seasoned with salt, pepper, and olive oil. I was just happy I didn’t have to go back to bone marrow.As the night progressed I accomplished a variety of other tasks. Draining the day’s chicken and veal stock. Labeling bags. Dicing herbs. And cleaning. A good spectrum of what it would be like to work in fine dining.
By the time the 29 private party and 100 – or so – general guests left. The kitchen began to calm down. It must have been around 12:30 a.m. And Chef Dan Barber called the nightly meeting.
Chef with all his chef de parties discussed the evening’s happenings. Both good and bad. Smiling at the good. But focusing on the bad. Brainstorming how they could get better. More efficient. And cleaner. Chef was forceful and straightforward. He called chefs out for not living up to standard. But can you blame him? He has a serious kitchen to run – Michelin stars don’t come by easily. I respected him more and more as he led his troops.
A bit more cleaning of the stoves, counters, and floors. And by 1 a.m. I was walking out the door to head home.
It was an exhilarating day. I learned about cooking, but also about myself. I will admit that working in a fine dining kitchen is a lot harder than I expected. But I loved it. I loved having a knife in my hand. Wearing a chef coat. In the heat of it all.Still unclear of my exact path after graduation, I want as many experiences as I can get. To help clarify my future.
Where to now?
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Le Cordon Bleu - Butcher Time
One session near the end of Intermediate a butcher arrived. Whole lamb in tow.
He quickly, and systematically, segmented the lamb. Explaining to us where each cut originated. This gave us the chance to step backwards in the food chain. Mental reverse vertical integration.
Chefs always advise us to know our products. Where they come from. How they live. Who – or what – they eat. How they move. And this session drove the point home.
In general, but especially French chefs, have a holistic approach to ingredients. Respecting their origins and how they contribute to the planet.
More importantly. Understanding the how, why, what of animals helps a chef know what to do with it. The tenderloin, for example, is just that. A tender cut of meat. One that needs to be gently cooked and not for too long. The rump, on the other hand, is a muscle that is worked often and hard by animals. Long, slow braises is the only method that will make this though part edible.
Beginning with the whole lamb. The upper and lower sections were separated.
Excess fat and skin was trimmed from the upper section.
The left and right rib sections were sawed in two with the help of Chef Caals.
One by one. Each cut was prepared. Here the butcher is trimming a leg.
Frenching the racks.
Until each piece was cut. Trimmed. And prepared for sale.
He quickly, and systematically, segmented the lamb. Explaining to us where each cut originated. This gave us the chance to step backwards in the food chain. Mental reverse vertical integration.
Chefs always advise us to know our products. Where they come from. How they live. Who – or what – they eat. How they move. And this session drove the point home.
In general, but especially French chefs, have a holistic approach to ingredients. Respecting their origins and how they contribute to the planet.
More importantly. Understanding the how, why, what of animals helps a chef know what to do with it. The tenderloin, for example, is just that. A tender cut of meat. One that needs to be gently cooked and not for too long. The rump, on the other hand, is a muscle that is worked often and hard by animals. Long, slow braises is the only method that will make this though part edible.
Beginning with the whole lamb. The upper and lower sections were separated.
Excess fat and skin was trimmed from the upper section.
The left and right rib sections were sawed in two with the help of Chef Caals.
One by one. Each cut was prepared. Here the butcher is trimming a leg.
Frenching the racks.
Until each piece was cut. Trimmed. And prepared for sale.
Leg of lamb with bone.
Boned leg of lamb.
Shoulder with bone.
Boned shoulder.
Loin.
Chops.
And rack with tenderloin.
Boned leg of lamb.
Shoulder with bone. 
Boned shoulder.
Loin.
Chops.
And rack with tenderloin.
Now I just need to find a farm to watch these creatures. Walk, eat, and sleep.
Monday, May 31, 2010
New York Arrival
My arrival into New York could not have gone smoother.
Zero waiting on Paris’ tarmac delivered us to JFK 40 minutes early. Most New Yorkers left the city on Friday for the long Memorial Day weekend. Leaving the streets sparse. Thirty minutes from airport to apartment. Slick. As. Snot.
Marginally jet-lag. I was overcome with butterflies in the cab. My anticipation to see our new apartment was sending me through a tizzy. Most of all. I could not wait a second longer to see James.
E’Lane and I talked once of butterflies. And how we still get them for our loves. Even after all this time. It’s a fun feeling. But most of all reassuring. A reminder of love’s presence.
James arrived two weeks ago. Wanting to nest together, he has only purchased a bed and a chair. The place is expansive. And incredibly empty. Yet he managed to have a lone vase of flowers – where the entry table would be – to greet me.
Our reunion has been filled with excitement. I arrived into the city at 11 a.m. Dropped my bags and we hit the furniture-store filled streets. A full day created lots of ideas. Evaluated over our traditional first-night Thai dinner.
Here is a sneak-peak. Most of the furniture will arrive on the 9th of June – three days before my return to Paris. I wish it was sooner, but at least I will see most of the apartment filled out before I leave. I will have to wait for my next visit to see the two backordered items.
I already feel at home in our apartment and New York. But then again. It’s not the location. It’s my husband.
Zero waiting on Paris’ tarmac delivered us to JFK 40 minutes early. Most New Yorkers left the city on Friday for the long Memorial Day weekend. Leaving the streets sparse. Thirty minutes from airport to apartment. Slick. As. Snot.Marginally jet-lag. I was overcome with butterflies in the cab. My anticipation to see our new apartment was sending me through a tizzy. Most of all. I could not wait a second longer to see James.
E’Lane and I talked once of butterflies. And how we still get them for our loves. Even after all this time. It’s a fun feeling. But most of all reassuring. A reminder of love’s presence.
James arrived two weeks ago. Wanting to nest together, he has only purchased a bed and a chair. The place is expansive. And incredibly empty. Yet he managed to have a lone vase of flowers – where the entry table would be – to greet me.Our reunion has been filled with excitement. I arrived into the city at 11 a.m. Dropped my bags and we hit the furniture-store filled streets. A full day created lots of ideas. Evaluated over our traditional first-night Thai dinner.
Here is a sneak-peak. Most of the furniture will arrive on the 9th of June – three days before my return to Paris. I wish it was sooner, but at least I will see most of the apartment filled out before I leave. I will have to wait for my next visit to see the two backordered items.I already feel at home in our apartment and New York. But then again. It’s not the location. It’s my husband.
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