Specials, Soup and Breakfast (file under I Popped my Cherry)

Waking up before even birds is doing a number on my system right now. I have always been a bit of a night owl. But now I guess I am the early bird. And following the analogy specials are my worms.

Yesterday I popped my special cherry. I put the first (of what will surely be many) specials up yesterday. I did a mushroom ravioli in a tomato goat cheese sauce with sugar snap peas, shallots, roasted garlic and mushrooms. It was absolutely delicious. As my first special it sold fairly well at lunch where I sold a not unimpressive six plus my usual daily grind of tuna clubs, penne primavera, spaghettini and chicken sandwiches. At dinner I sold another four and then another was sold after I left.

To make the sauce I first sweated the shallots and roasted garlic and then deglazed with white wine and set them aside. I then adding 35% cream to the now empty pan and allowed it to reduce. I then mounted the goat cheese into the 35% cream and then added roasted diced tomato. After that I removed from the heat and blitzed with the immersion blender.

To prepare the dish during service I simply heated a pan with a slight amount of oil and added some brunoised shallots. Hit that with a touch of white wine to deglaze. Add the mushroom and shallot mixture. While this is gently heating I add the ravioli to my blanching pot. Toss the sauce a few times. Remove ravioli from the blanching pot and combine with the sauce. From beginning to end it took about four minutes. It tasted divine and I am not just saying that because I am the one who made it. It was well received by everyone that had it.

When I woke up this morning it felt as if hell had frozen over. Perhaps I was still dreaming or maybe it was real but I am sure I saw the devil with icicles dangling from his chin. Or perhaps I am just being dramatic. It was brutally cold though. Yet I greeted the day with a smile and the knowledge that today was going to be another fantastic day.

I got into work at around 6:35 am and started prepping everything that needed to be prepped for breakfast. I also started thinking right away about what we had in house that could make a great special given the abysmal temperature outside. Though I must tell you it is always a balmy 35 degrees at my station so I warmed up with the elements, salamander, oven and grill pretty quickly.

Looking around I recalled making my Mother some French Onion Soup the last time she was in Toronto. I have always been a massive fan of French Onion Soup. Done properly it tastes like ambrosia while done inappropriately it tastes, to my palate, like sweetened cardboard. I have recently started speaking with my Mother more frequently. It might sound ridiculous to you but as I have mentioned here before my Mother and Stepfather live in Malawi and are doing great things for the people there. If you want to know more about what they are doing visit www.lifelinemalawi.com . I am extremely proud of though miss my Mother. To honour her I made a French Onion Soup that she would die for. When she reads this (probably next week) I am sure she will think about how much she would love a bowl. MOM, I promise, next time you are here I will make you whatever your heart desires. As I hope it will be winter due to C and I’s impending nuptials I would be thrilled to make you the French Onion Soup I made today.

Eric Ripert in “Return to Cooking” makes mention of the fact that soup is considered in some kitchens as the red headed step child. That somehow it takes less skill and finesse than sauces. However, he also points out that soup is temperamental and requires constant care and affection because as the soup matures in the pot it is constantly changing. This is very true of French Onion Soup.

To make the soup I did the following;

First I sweated off both Bermuda and Spanish Onions. I know that this is not at all traditional but I prefer the flavour of Bermuda onions when they have been sweated to just before caramelization at which point I deglazed with some red wine. I then added a little roasted garlic to the pan and let slowly sweat for about ten minutes. At the same time I took several large onions and added them to a soup pot and sweated them for a few minutes. After they were at the desired point I added some water and started to reduce. After it had reduced to the point that I wanted I added beef broth and more water and allowed to slowly simmer (and of course I added two shots of brandy, while I might not be drinking it doesn’t mean that the soup has to suffer). After it had reduced once, I added another two litres of water and the garlic and onion mixture that I had set aside. French Onion Soup as I mentioned can be temperamental (all soups can be to some degree) and as such I left all seasoning until the very end. I allowed the soup to mature for a couple of hours and then seasoned right before lunch service. It tasted brilliant. Of course I added some crusty baguette after ladling the soup into the traditional bowl and topped it with a generous amount of Swiss cheese a la minute with each order. I believe, though I am not sure that I sold twenty or more soups today and as the orders came in it felt like a massive personal victory.

While I was working on the soup I was again thinking of the weather, the fact that it was Wednesday and that people needed to get over the hump. What better way I thought that making my version of Penne Arrabiata. To do this I did the following;

I took the remnants of yesterdays Tomato Basil Bisque and added some more body to it as well as some water. I allowed this to gently reduce while I worked the other elements. I added some garlic and shallots and a heaping amount of chili flakes to a pan and gently sweated them off then deglazing with some red wine. While these two elements were working I cooked down the sausage and then added the shallot and garlic mixture to it keeping (as opposed to discarding) the liquid remnants in the pan. I allowed this to simmer for about an hour and then took off the heat and let sit. Once cool I put it into a deep third pan.

For service, this dish was fabulous as I could get it out in four minutes. I would place a pan on the heat and get it smoking hot. I would then ladle an ounce of water into the pan to cool it so as not to scorch the Arrabiata sauce. I would the add the sauce to the pan and drop the penne into the blanching pot. Add some fresh herbs. Toss, toss, toss. Season, remove penne from blanching water and add to pan, toss, toss, toss and Pasta special on the pass.

I sold a massive amount of this on a slow day and yet again fed the owner. All day (which is a term we use in the kitchen when there are multiple of the same order. ie how many Penne do I need? Four all day) I believe when I left this evening at lunch I had done thirteen, one while I was away and three more at dinner. I know this doesn’t sounds significant or might not anyway, but today we only did around fifty covers at lunch, of which I was responsible for about two thirds and dinner maybe another seventy of which I handled thirty percent.

All in all, a great day. All in all, I have broken my Special cherry and am currently thinking about what to do tomorrow.

So is this enough. NO! This morning I served my first three breakfasts. Three Eggs Benedict. My Hollandaise was less than stellar. But I will remedy that tomorrow.

I had a great day. And my spirit is reveling in the knowledge and confirmation that baby steps to the elevator (sorry for the What About Bob? Reference but it is true). A cook is what and who I am. Gleefully so.

Todd English once said; “I think a lot of people have a misconception of what the kitchen is about, but you know the grueling part of it is also the pleasure of it. That's why I think you have to have a certain mentality to understand what that is and be able to handle it.”

Today was grueling but as you can tell from this post was beyond pleasurable. Better than any drug or drink I have ever had. Many more of these days to come. Are you as excited as I am.

Are you dreaming big and inspired? WHY NOT?

A la prochaine

SDM

Printer Chatter (file under BEAUTIFULLY INCESSANT)

So as you all know I have now been at the new job for six days. And in those six days it feels as if I have come a long way and what’s more that I recognize and look forward to even more. It is exciting. Exhilarating. Fun even.

It starts almost with a whisper as the ribbon moves over. Tic. You then know it is coming. The glorious onslaught that is my purpose. My drive. My passion and now my life. My ears ever perked for that tell tale Tic. And then tic, tic, tic, tic, tic. One order in. Chef in his booming voice calls out the order and though he does this I find myself peeking at the printer to see what the order is. Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic. And now it really is on. Order after order. The beautifully incessant chatter of the printer. Letting me know that yes, we are in the thick of it. And not only that, but the show going on, is one that I can’t believe I had to wait to get to.

Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic. Order Penne Primavera, Edamame, Tuna Club, etc. Tic, tic, tic, tic. Two spaghetti and three penne all day. Drop six orders of fries. Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic. Drop six more. Two more Tuna clubs. Add to that another Primavera and it really is show time.

I furrow my brow for a moment. Thinking back in glee for a moment to the summer and the grill. Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic. Alright, now it’s really on. Three more Tuna clubs. A pan fried green. Chef calls out, drop some greens for pan fried. Keep your pans hot he says to me. Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic. Cajun times three. VIP table make it nice.

What a glorious sound as I surrender fully to the tic, tic, tic, tic, tic. Watching, listening, acting and reacting to the second most beautiful sound I think I’ve ever heard. The first we certainly can’t talk about here. But I’m sure you can imagine. Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic. And here it goes again. Constantly chattering. Constantly spitting out duplicate chits for table 1, 65. And then again, over and over and over.

Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic. By the time the rush is over we’ve served about one hundred and sixty people. 30 – 40 percent of which is coming off of my station. I wipe my brow and think to myself how enjoyable it is to have your ass handed to you. Not in the weeds. Just a regular old ass whooping and man is the pain glorious.

Mods are a whole different story. Modifications. The bain of my existence. As we can have any of twelve or thirteen different Mods. If you’re not paying attention it is easy to screw up the order and once you screw up one order you find yourself constantly trying to pull yourself out from it.

Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic and then nothingness. Seemingly without purpose as the last chit comes up. Coffee. Our first stretch of the day is over. Time for a smoke. Clean the line. And get ready to do it all over again.

I am unable to come up with the words to describe the pain pleasure experience of the line. Pain, when you fall behind, grab a pan without a towel, drop boiling water on yourself. Pleasure, because I am doing exactly what I am meant to do and doing it well. In fact better than expected and all in less than a week.

I do have a lot more way to go. As I said before I learned how to crawl and then walk. Now all I need to do is learn how to run. And I’m sure before long I will be Usain Bolt. Instead of World’s Fastest Man – World’s Fastest Pan.

Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic. OH It’s ON! And I’m ready for the show. Put me in coach I’m ready to play. Full blown agony and ecstasy for a combined total of about three hours a day. And unlike in the summer when I resented the grill trap that I was in. I now relish the pain. Welcome it. In fact. Come in, sit down and let my pain be your pleasure. As so too is my pain my pleasure and my destiny.

I must be a sadist in some way. Because the moment I get home I find myself longing not just for the love of my life, C and a tender embrace but also a good old fashioned beautifully incessant printer chatter ASS KICKING!

Antoine de Saint-Exupery once said; “Commonly, people believe that defeat is characterized by a general bustle and a feverish rush. Bustle and rush are the signs of victory, not of defeat. Victory is a thing of action. It is a house in the act of being built. Every participant in victory sweats and puffs, carrying the stones for the building of the house. But defeat is a thing of weariness, of incoherence, of boredom. And above all of futility.”

Are you dreaming big and inspired?

A la prochaine

SDM