We finally changed the menu after four grueling classes of Chicken Grand Mere, Consommé, Skate Grenobloise and Lemon Tart. Oh, woe is me…I survive solely on gourmet poultry and French pastries…but you don't understand. It gets really, really old after a while, especially when some dishes aren't done particularly well yet they're the only thing left in the class to eat. We do have one advantage, however, with the bread kitchens across the hall. By the time we have a free moment to think about dinner the Family Meal has been cleaned up downstairs and the artisan bread students have gone home for the night, leaving the day's baguettes and sourdoughs up for grabs. Considering we have an entire refrigerator dedicated to cream and butter, it's not hard to figure out our next step. So don't feel too bad, we don't go home hungry; I only go home with the sting of starchy regret coating my tongue.
My new dish for the night was a lobster bisque stew with barramundi filets, mussels and shrimp. The recipe is actually pretty challenging, considering that making the lobster stock comprises more than half of the night's work. However, if you'll remember from the beginning of the level, the lobster stock is surprisingly already made for us, something that I still don't believe. The rest of the recipe involves butchering the barramundi, de-veining the shrimp and reducing heavy cream and the stock. Once the bisque is made, the fish, shrimp and mussels are poached in the liquid, then all is served with a hefty dose of fresh herbs. Yummee – a recipe I would make for my loving husband if I could only find lobster stock…looks like I'll just have to continue enjoying it at school for now.
We met a new chef a few days ago, a very nice guy who is doing a trial at our school to see if he wants to be an instructor. Some people like him, some don't, but there's something very familiar about him – perhaps it's because he very, very much reminds me of my brother. While I'm not worrying that he's going to give me a knuckle sandwich or hide my teddy bear under his bed, I actually really respect him and the suggestions he gives. For example, he suggested that I use my shrimp shells, which contain a lot of nice flavor, to fortify my sauce. Genius! Maybe I'm just biased because he's the only one who asked me how my burnt hand felt, or maybe I'm just homesick for a good old fashioned brother/sister reunion. Regardless, he's very knowledgeable and I wish him luck as he potentially becomes an instructor at FCI. Ultimately, aren't helpful and understanding people the ones that make great instructors? I swear, if he starts passing gas in my vicinity and burping in my face I'll know for sure my brother's behind this; but for now, it's nice to have a fresh face around. My dish was delicious, and I got several "ooh la la"s when I presented it; I was even told I had the "best shrimp of the night!" As the midterm quickly approaches, I'm gratefully starting to feel much more confident.
And now, I'd like to start a new column within my blog, one I like to call:
ONLY IN NEW YORK
Seriously, I witness stuff every day that would make the average American either wince, vomit or move away ASAP. New York City is the kookiest place on Earth with the kookiest people on Earth, but not every experience is so bad.
On a lazy Saturday in the West Village, we found our way to a tiny storefront labeled "La Lanterna di Vittorio," next to a small sign that said "GARDEN OPEN." The 'G' word is one we don't often see in the city, so we immediately had to investigate. We were seated in a small, quiet and sunny garden filled with overgrown vines and flowing fountains that was surprisingly empty except for the large table of 10 near the back. They were carrying on, laughing like old friends. All of a sudden, laptop man grabbed his bag, clamored up the garden steps into the restaurant and ran out to the street, leaving his laptop behind. No one at the table seemed to really care, and the waitress was pretty nonchalant, so we continued with our prosciutto pizza and stimulating conversation. Twenty minutes later the whole group left, laptop man returned to the empty table and all was quiet again. A few minutes later a different large group entered the restaurant and alerted the waitress that they were "looking for someone." They approached the man on his laptop and he recoiled and started yelling at them to get away! At this point, Steve and I were straight up gawking – jaw to the floor and fork mid-air. The woman gently explained who she was and said, "Our friend is in the clinic and we're here to find out why." OhmyGod this is getting good. Laptop man reluctantly let them sit down, a round of drinks was brought to the table and they were all old friends again. All of a sudden he grabbed his bag, clamored up the garden steps into the restaurant and ran out to the street…AGAIN! Ok, what the heck; should we be worried? Is Vittorio going to come out and make us an offer we can't refuse? What the heck is going on here?? The "old friends" hung around for a short while then left and went on their merry way…JUST LIKE BEFORE! I suddenly had the serious thought that my worst nightmare had come through: I was stuck on Groundhog Day. Worse…Groundhog HOUR! Calm down, this didn't involve Bill Murray…it turns out the whole charade was part of Accomplice, an interactive "show" that involves groups of 10 participants visiting actors at various locations throughout Lower Manhattan to solve a mystery. Sounds like an amazing time, and it really sent us for a loop there for a few minutes. I was legitimately searching for the nearest escape route and keeping my eyes peeled for an angry Italian man, but then again that could happen anywhere on the streets of Manhattan.
Steve and I then decided to take a leisurely stroll through a neighborhood we don't often visit, the Washington Square area near NYU (where Will Smith lives in "I Am Legend" with the big replica Arc de Triomphe.) As we approached University Place we heard loud, booming music and noticed cops blocking the street. Oh great, another Spring/Summer street fair that clogs the streets and stinks up the air with burnt street meat. Oh no, dear readers, what we stumbled upon was a pure gem – the New York City Dance Parade 2010. That's right, a DANCE…PARADE. If you've never witnessed a middle-aged couple trying to swing dance and march at the same time in a matching sparkly uniform you haven't lived. Please know that I'm not trying to be mean, I absolutely 100% respect people who love what they do and do what they love and don't care what others think, and watching these happy people made me legitimately happy, but I'm not sure the NYC Dance Committee, or whoever thought this up, had really thought it through entirely. The dancers, from swing to modern, spent most of their time playing catch up to the float and doing that weird hop-skip instead of showing off their dance moves! The highlight of the day, however, was when we walked alongside a float playing Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York." Nothing beats walking down a beautiful New York City street on a beautiful New York City spring day with the love of your life as your city's theme song plays out loud, giving you the absolute authority to sing at the top of your lungs. The world around you momentarily disappears, and all you feel is that firm, familiar hand entwined in yours and the unmistakable sensation of pure happiness.
"It's. Up. To. YOU! New York…Neeeww Yoooorrrkkkkk…!!!"
Love that!!!!
ReplyDeleteWow!I wish I was there!
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