Monday, 6/14/10 – Level 4 Day 5 (Production)

Since we're getting faster at completing our To Do list for the restaurant at the beginning of class, we have more time to mess around and do some very cool specialty projects.

I finally got to butcher the halibut, a monster flat fish that yields four huge fillets. Simply manipulating his large body was difficult, but the fillets themselves were pretty standard and easy to remove. It took a while, but I eventually shimmied out the meat, de-skinned each and ran them next door to the restaurant kitchens. While each of my teammates was completing their respective task, chef handed me a pile of fatty pork scraps that had been marinating in soy sauce, curry powder, garlic and sesame oil. We fired up the grill and threw each piece on to get that nice "backyard taste" (as she put it). Fifteen minutes later, after I had sliced the pieces into little bites of juicy goodness, we had a platter of pork scraps that would have been normally thrown out but now tasted incredibly delicious. One of my teammates had taken some arctic char and salmon scraps, chopped them very finely and mixed them with mayonnaise, sriracha hot sauce and ginger and placed little piles on cucumber slices – our own little spicy salmon rolls! Another teammate was busy rinsing and slicing our Gravlax for each of us to taste (and portioning out the huge fillets so that we could each take some home), so we had quite the gourmet buffet going. Soon, word spread to the Level 5 and 6 kids, and they slowly started to filter through to taste our offerings. "Hey guys, for the low price of $14.95 you can have unlimited tastes of the table!" I announced to the line; I got a few chuckles…apparently they don't appreciate sarcasm. It did, however, help me get over my fear of the "older" kids, and it felt nice that they were so impressed with our skills. As the Gravlax was being distributed in little take-home packages, I noticed that my tropical drink themed salmon was missing. I suddenly got really nervous, imagining a pile of rotten salmon fillet with fat, greedy flies circling the mold patches. I worried that a memo had gone out to the weekend students, warning them not to come within five blocks of the school until the fire department had cleared the classrooms from the infestation caused by a poorly cured Gravlax. Crap, I've really messed it up now haven't I?? I timidly asked chef what had happened to the Mojito Gravlax – I had seen the Dill, Chipotle and Asian ones but not my own. "Oh, good news and bad news. The Garde Manger chef took it to make canapés for the restaurant. At the end of the night, however, you're welcome to go over there and ask him if there are any leftovers." Wow, how cool! I'm not even mad! Update: I forgot to ask the chef if there were leftovers, so alas, I never got to taste my delicious Mojito Gravlax. I did get to take home a crap ton of the other flavors, though.

A couple of people throughout the night had been working on reducing the citrus glaze for our piglet. It needed a lot of time to reduce, so we put it in a huge pot, turned the heat up and let it sit, taking turns stirring it and adjusting the heat. We broke for Family Meal, which happened to be awesome on Monday – pasta sauce with sausage, bowties with a delicious cheese cream sauce, fruit salad and a nice tossed salad. They also made an unreal fromage blanc mousse, which is sort of like a subtly sweet fluffy delicacy; I'm not ashamed to say that I took two full scoops. We were sitting around chatting, enjoying our dinner, when chef walked past. "What was in this pot?" she asked, and pointed directly at our citrus glaze, which was now a stock pot with a charred, smoldering crust at the bottom. "Don't tell me that was the glaze…please don't tell me that was the glaze!" Um, chef that was the glaze. We scrambled to clear our dinner plates, got to work scraping the char off the bottom of the pan (we didn't want to be jerks and hand that mess to the pot washers…) and quickly tried to assemble the ingredients for a newer, quicker glaze. The problem was that we had started the glaze with a reinforced pork stock, which we had made with some pork bones and scraps last week. Someone had taken a ton of time juicing a bunch of oranges and endlessly zesting; it was all lost, reduced to a pile of dry ash. At least this was just a special project and not for the restaurant…

The piggy had been cooking sous vide in the low temperature cooker for a few days, and was now done. He/she was greased up with some oil (baby oil?), and the skin was browned in the oven. Before we knew it, it was time to cut into our baby. The slices were incredibly thick, but the pattern inside was beautiful – a pinwheel of red dried fruits and pale pork, surrounded by the pink meat of the pig's torso. No, I didn't try it on the spot, but I did take home a slice and it's currently sitting in my refrigerator. To eat or not to eat…

In the last part of class, we prepared our meat sticks (or was it beer sticks…I can't remember), which are basically like little sausages that are dried and cured into a jerky consistency. We ground the meat (equal parts lean pork and lean beef), added some seasonings and bactofirm, which will ensure that the bad bacteria are kept out and the meat dries and cures appropriately. We used lamb casings (intestines), which are freakishly long and slimy. I'm not even kidding, they are so long it is shocking. Each one is fed onto the stuffing machine (Side note: there are several incredibly inappropriate and immature young gentlemen in my class [including me]…who found this incredibly hilarious), and the meat mix is slowly pumped into the casing. We tied the ends, and twisted the filled tube into 3"-long segments and set them aside. They'll sit in room temperature air until Wednesday, then will be hung in the drying cabinet.

I enjoy working out at the gym, and Lord knows I need to with this diet, but I've always found it incredibly boring – perhaps that's why getting up to go to the gym is like driving myself to the dentist for a voluntary root canal. I have a very active imagination, and often find myself fantasizing and creating stories in my head as I'm working away at the stationary bike or treadmill. I always seem to be at the gym at the same time as the Mount Sinai Cardiac Care rehabilitation group, which consists of about three physical therapists and a gaggle of octogenarians who get some low-intensity exercise and a chance to socialize three times a week. Now, this normally wouldn't be a big deal; they're very nice, and only reserve a few of the machines for their activities. I have found, however, a great source of amusement in these older men and women, although they'll never know how much joy they bring me. You see, my choice of workout music is a mix of really ghetto rap and Broadway musical soundtracks (I never said I wasn't weird). It is incredibly hilarious to watch Ethel walk on the treadmill while "Shawty getting' low, down to the floor" plays in my ear, or "There is nothing like a dame! Nothing in the world…." while Walter pumps the 10-pounders. It makes one wonder what they were like then they were younger, or perhaps before they had the cardiac trouble that has brought them to this group at this gym on this morning. Did they go out to clubs on Saturday nights? Are they married? Children? Do they listen to rap? My life would be fulfilled if one day Marian said "For realz" or Lawrence shouted "Damn girl! Those shorts is hawt!" I'm just happy to see them getting some physical exercise after an apparent traumatic episode. Life is short…sometimes you've gotta crank the Lil Wayne.