I've realized that I'm going to miss production a lot, especially the company of our fearless and understanding leader. Only two more classes left, then we move on to the buffet station. We've been asked to come up with a theme as a group and bring in ten recipes per person by Wednesday: seven dinner ideas and three desserts. We've toyed around with a few ideas, such as New York Street Food or Cuisine of South America, so we'll see how things work out.
For now, we're enjoying our last few days in production. Our suckling pig had been brining since Wednesday, so we took our baby out and dried him/her off to remove the extra liquid. I butterflied the huge pork loin twice, opening it like a pamphlet into four panels, and we stuffed it with rosemary, oregano, sage, dried apricots, cranberries and cherries and lemon and orange zest. It was then rolled up like a Little Debbie Swiss Cake and placed nicely and politely inside our piglet friend. The piggy's torso was then sewn up, and the whole thing was placed in the low-temperature cooker, where it will sit at 62˚C until Monday. I still haven't decided whether or not I'll be eating it…only time will tell. I've had a pretty good no-gag week, so I think if I keep my stomach under wraps I'll taste the pig.
I was tasked with portioning the veal again, only this time I had it completed and over to the chef in just 10 minutes – I was quite proud of myself! When I approached her and said, "Chef, where would you like me to place your veal?" she looked surprised and waved her hand in the general direction of one of the back tables. Could I have exceeded her expectations? Probably not, but I had a smile on my face on my way back to the production kitchen. I jumped in to finish up some hanger steaks, which are an OCD girl's worst nightmare. The slab, which is full of sinewy tendons and fluffy fat, must be broken down into two pieces and all of that fat and sinew must be removed. I had to decide pretty quickly not to let my perfectionism take over, and was surprised at how OK I was with leaving a little fat pocket here and there. We were allowed to put a few aside to take home to experiment, and I made a nice mushroom/red wine sauce for Sunday dinner. The hanger steak is not the best cut of meat, but I always love the feeling of consuming something that I have seen from practically its original form to its final puddle on my dinner plate. Its blood may still be staining my fingernails, but that sucker tasted delicious with a mushroom and wine reduction.
Our smoked bacon and Canadian bacon were ready to cut and distribute, so a classmate and I volunteered to take them up to the Level 3 kitchens to use the industrial meat slicer. (Why it's up there, I don't know.) The minute we entered the bustling, frantic kitchen we were hit with the familiar wall of self-satisfied and exhausted heat, taking us back to our lives a few weeks ago. I couldn't help but spend a few minutes looking around at the students, wrapping up their fourth day of Level 3. I wanted to pull them to my bosom, smooth back their hair and whisper reassuring words in their ears. You'll make it, don't worry. Don't over-think these recipes, just follow your instinct. Yes, it's going to get harder and faster so stop mouthing off and get rid of that attitude. When I was done gawking, I had to follow protocol and ask the chef's permission to use the slicer. I made my way through the students and approached the chef's table…and who did I see? None other than my dear friend Chef Marc. "Excuse me chef, would you mind if we quickly used your slicing machine?" He looked up from the dish he was tasting, where he had been no doubt breaking a student's self esteem mere moments earlier, and said, "Yes." Yes, he minds, or yes it's ok?? Crap; what do I do?? He looked back down, clearly dismissing me, so I ran to the back and gave my classmate the go to get started. I figured that if I had misinterpreted him I'd rather face his wrath than cut a side of bacon by hand…this is what I've come to.
We finished the bacon and Canadian bacon, slicing each into thick yummy breakfasty slices, and cleaned that machine like it had never been cleaned before. We quickly gathered our things and ran from the kitchen to escape the sense of helplessness and self deprecation that was coursing through the air. Boy am I glad to be done with Level 3.
As we made it back down to our kitchen (our cool, happy and relaxing kitchen), we noticed that chef had pulled out four huge salmon fillets, each about 2 feet long. We were told to break into groups of two and come up with a unique cure for Gravlax! (Just to clarify, Gravlax is a horribly deadly disease that is ravaging the west coast of Africa. We're humanitarians and cooks. J/K its cured salmon.) We hadn't done anything like this since Level 1, and we didn't even get to really do anything ourselves, we just witnessed it and tasted the final product. My partner and I decided on a tropical drink theme, using vodka, lemon, lime and grapefruit peels, mint, brown sugar and salt. We crusted our entire filet, both skin-side and top side, and wrapped it in parchment paper and foil, in which it will rest in the refrigerator for a few days. Other students made a tequila chipotle cure, a sake ginger cure and the final fillet, which no one claimed, was done in a classic aquavit liquor and dill cure.
You might be wondering how we have easy access to all kinds of ingredients, spices, vegetables and fruits. Our kitchen happens to be next door to the huge school storeroom, which is run by two very nice guys who are probably really tired of me running up to their window asking for a single lime. I've gotten a few peeks inside their lair, and can only imagine the secret delicacies that are hidden within their walls. I once caught a glimpse of a jar of black truffles, which apparently can only be signed out by a chef instructor. I wonder what else one might find behind the industrial caged window of this world of wonders. Maybe I should attempt to make friends with the storeroom guys; then again they probably get a lot of unwanted solicitors.
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