Dinner Impossible

Yesterday my nephew graduated from 8th grade and my sister invited lots of family to celebrate the occasion. Arriving in NJ, at my sister's house, the scene was chaotic with her three kids, my siblings, and mom all talking at the same time. My strategy was to tune everyone out to save brainpower.

We all pitched in to get things set up, cleaning off the deck chairs and decorating with balloons and "Congrats Grad!" banners everywhere. My sister Maria expected about 20 people to arrive at 4:00 pm and she wanted the party outside - al fresco. My brother in-law set up chafing stands on a long table with Sterno and filled the trays with water. Maria is a very busy doctor, she works incredibly long hours and cooking for 20 people is not her idea of fun - so, she bought tons of prepared Italian food from a specialty food store.

The graduation ceremony was slated for 3:00 pm and out of simple curiosity I checked out the eight trays of food to see what my sister ordered for the party. Not surprising, the usual suspects prevailed, chicken parmigiana, baked ziti, eggplant parmigiana, stuffed peppers, foccocia pizza, stuffed zucchini, sausage and peppers and assorted paninis. The trays of food were ice cold and a little tremor of panic ran through me. It was now 2:45 pm, people were to arrive in little over an hour and the food needed to be completely reheated. I immediately flipped the oven on to 425 degrees, removed the foil covers and quickly decided what was going to take longest to heat up. The oven is pretty standard and small and I used every possible inch of space to heat as much as possible. The clock was ticking, I ended up not going to the ceremony and I was now officially in charge of the food.

As the on-call chef, I swapped out aluminum trays of Italian food to ensure everything was hot and ready. I was prepared to light the Sterno and get the food out to the table on the deck when it started to drizzle. It looked like a passing rain so I figured I'd wait it out a little longer. The rain started to come down harder, the helium balloons that were once dancing in the wind were now weighed down by the constant rain. It was time for a decision, I hustled the five chafing dishes into the kitchen and set everything up once again. At 3:45 pm I was almost ready to get everything into the chafing dishes. With just two things left to warm up I felt pretty good about what I was able to coordinate in such little time. Minutes later, a rush of family and friends flooded the house and they all had that hardened "feed me" look.

Pondering my own graduation from culinary school it's not always what you know but how you translate that knowledge in different situations. We celebrated my nephew's big day, Jersey-style, with more food than one family could possibly consume, way too many desserts and a good cup of cawfee.

Juicy Lucy

Philly has the cheese steak, Buffalo has its wings, and the cream pie for Bostonians - but the Minnesotans have the Juicy or Jucy Lucy. My new gal pal and fellow foodie, Heather, played culinary matchmaker by introducing me to Ms. Jucy Lucy. In its simplest form a Jucy Lucy is a hamburger stuffed with cheese. The ordinary burger is transformed with a molten center.

To bring things up a notch, I purchased brioche rolls, Tillamook cheddar, cremini mushrooms and onions. Hours earlier Heather talked me through the process, she having lived in the land of 10,000 lakes knew something about this regional phenomenon.

When dinner rolled around I caramelized some sliced onions, then sauteed some cremini with leeks, and thyme. I split the soft brioche rolls and made the cheese stuffed patties. The grill pan heated. The burgers sizzled.

Topped with onions and mushrooms the stage was set. Juicy, meltingly satisfying... those Minnesotans had something there. The only thing that would have made it better would have been an iced cold pop.

On the Farm

There are some nights after work where the inspiration to make something for dinner is not as strong as the allure of take-out or going out. Tonight was one of those nights. I didn't have a protein defrosting in the refrigerator which means either going to Greene Grape Provisions or take-out.

With Marc leaving tomorrow morning for Florida we decided to treat ourselves and go out. At first we decided Italian, then mid-way we changed direction at a whim. Marc thought Flatbush Farm & Barn sounded even better. It's the kind of restaurant that is unpretentious but stylish. The high ceilings, large windows facing the street, and long bar opposing the row of tables that nestle next to darkly painted wainscot have a very Brooklyn vibe.

We settled in, reviewed the menu, ordered a cocktail and debated what dishes to order. Drinks arrived, a Belvedere on the rocks and a pear martini for me. After some discussion we ordered Grilled Iceberg Lettuce, Caesar Dressing, Tomato Confit Crostini and the Spaetzle with Kabocha Squash, Wild Mushrooms and Pesto.

I was leery of grilled iceberg and was really happy to get the spaetzle. The spaetzle with a bite of mushroom had an earthy flavor. The deeply flavored pesto and squash rounded out the whole dish.

For dinner, Long Island Duck Steak, Duck Confit, Dried Cherry, Kabocha, Sprout Leaves, Creamy Polenta and NY Strip with Broccoli, Bacon and Herbaceous Sauce. When the entrees arrived I looked at my duck and turned the plate 180 degrees to face me and knew that's how the chef would have preferred it be presented. My entree was subtle, delicious, the duck demi-glace had that stocky, deeply caramelized and sticky smack of richness. It was so good I didn't even want to try any of the NY Strip, I was happy with what I ordered and enjoyed the creamy polenta and pieces of duck confit hidden under the sliced duck breast. All the flavors melded, it was a flavor-story in every bite. We both had a glass of French "Chateau du I don't know" that complemented the food perfectly.

I forced the last bite and finished stuffed to the gills. Why on Earth we ordered coffee a cappuccino and a Warm Chocolate Cake with Banana Chip Ice Cream and Chocolate Sauce I just didn't know. I couldn't fathom dessert after all the savory notes I enjoyed throughout the dinner. Oh, I remember, I ordered the cappuccino because the waiter said he makes a really good one and indeed once the espresso was brewed the luscious roasted coffee smell set me at ease.

My spoon sunk into the warm chocolate dessert and brushed the banana chip ice cream for fun. The meltingly decadent spoonful was the first of many jabs at that dessert. I thought to myself why I hadn't blogged about this place. I've dined here half a dozen times. I knew it was time to share this place, a gem of a restaurant that hits many notes.

Dog Eat Dog

I know, I've been a bad bad blogger - it's been tough I have to say - with work, life, love - I think about blogging and the time slips away. A week later I think "oh, I shoulda blogged about X,Y or Z. Well, with dinner out of the way and a French Martini keeping me company I really was inspired to write about my experience at a new eatery we discovered in Brooklyn.

I've been planning a painting project for a few weeks now and trekked to a hardware/paint store on Flatbush Ave and Bergen Street. Marc and I are trying to find the perfect color to paint an accent wall in our kitchen. The counters are a mottled gray lava-stone and I want to make a bold color statement to play off of the pretty, albeit drab counter tops. Weeks ago, I looked at Restoration Hardware paint colors - all are soothing and sophisticated and I found a color that resembles charcoal.

Now, I love to paint, I've probably painted more apartments in my time than I'd like to remember. I've been in the new place for just over a year and I am itching to drag out that brush and painters tape to get in some practice. The trip to the paint store was quite successful - mulling over paint chips and examining them with my mind's eye of what I "think" is the most appropriate color, I bought paint supplies and took home about a dozen paint chips to examine them in different light.

After a process of quick elimination, Marc and I both decided Benjamin Moore's "Day's End" will be the perfect shade to make that bold if not "wow" statement. Leaving the paint store we decided to walk down this short stretch of Bergen Street where cafes and restaurants are one-named like "Melt" and "Bark" curious for a small quaint street. Makes me wonder if one place was trying to upstage the other.

My dear friend, Aimee, mentioned a hot dog joint called "Bark" and when Marc and I passed it I felt an immediate affinity to the place since I had word-of-mouth accolades of its existence - from a vegetarian none-the-less!

We passed by and I mentioned that we should try it. We continued down the street looked at Melt and immediately turned around and agreed, we need a hot dog!

Walking into Bark, as in any new place, my inner foodie tried to figure out the joint as soon as possible. It was an order at the counter, sit down at the communal tables and listen for your name to get your food-kind-of place.

This place is all about the humble dog, sausage, wurst, what have you. A simple, straight-forward place that states exactly who they are and what they do. I totally appreciate that - it shows passion and direction. Now, gimmie that chili-cheese dog!

Marc ordered a wurst made of veal and pork served with sauerkraut, rye bread and grainy mustard. My chili cheese dog was brought to me in a humble, baseball park-like cardboard package. We devoured our "dogs" with gusto. The flavors and fresh ingredients struck a gastronomic cord. Topped off with a vanilla shake that was speckled with real vanilla bean we were we pacified like a puppy with a new toy.

Storm Troopers

The weatherman warned of the coming snow days before our trip to Michigan. We planned to leave mid-week and stay through the holiday weekend. The day before our trip I was headed into work, earphones on and the latest song I downloaded from iTunes. Cruising down West 34th Street I was just a few stops away from my office and then my phone rang. It was Marc on the other end, I could here him speaking to another person on the line and then he says, "our flight is already canceled for tomorrow and Delta can get us on a flight today that leaves at 12:47pm." I stuttered for a second not really be prepared to leave in a mere three hours and said OK, let's go! I rushed onto the office, grabbed my laptop, spoke to my boss about the flight and tore out as quickly as I came in.

The clock is ticking, I need to get back to Brooklyn, pack, and get the dog over to my mom's house. I jumped into a cab and couldn't stop looking at my watch every 5 minutes. I was fairly optimistic that we could pack our bags, get Zachary together and drop him off in NJ and make it in time to fly out of LaGuardia. Finally, at home, I raced up to the apartment to see Zach's stuff piled up and some luggage partially filled with clothes. Marc was reciting all the things he packed for me and I stared dumbfounded at the clothes hanging in my closet trying to decide what to take. I knew we had "cottage clothes" up at the lake so I scrambled and grabbed some jeans and sweatshirts.

It became obvious that there was no way we could get Zach to my mom's house and we started to go back and forth with other options. We called our driver, Rafi, to pick us up and asked him if he could make two trips. "Rafi, can you bring us to LaGuardia, and then take Zachary to Anthony's mother's house in NJ?" Rafi was more than happy to oblige so we hurriedly finished packing and waiting for him to arrive.

Marc, Zachary and I were piled into the back seat of a town car with luggage between us. I was excited to be up at the lake house in the winter as I've only been there in summer and fall. Arriving at LaGuardia, I kissed Zachary on the head, made sure he was comfortable in his bed in the backseat, thanked Rafi and walked into a very crowded terminal. Checking in wasn't too bad but the security line was so long it wrapped around a corner so we couldn't really tell where it ended. We trudged to the end of the line and waited patiently to get up to security. Almost immediately, two women behind us started to fight over who knows what and their truck driver-inspired comments to each other were shocking! I kept my distance from these burly gals as we slunk up to the security checkpoint. Finally at the gate we were ready to board.

As I sunk into my seat, I finally had a chance to catch my breath and relax with my venti iced two-pump vanilla non-fat latter from Starbucks. Happily, we were on our way racing against time, weather and brash women.

Whatever, Alexis!

I'm blogging live at the Martha Stewart show today for a special blogging show! I've lapsed in my weekly blogging and hope this will kick me in the ass and get motivated once again to keep writing.

I'm so excited that Martha has her daughter on the show - the tension is palpable between the two of them.

Martha is now making Pad Thai - and I know what I want for lunch =) The studio is filled with the scents of tamarind, palm sugar and nam pla! The audience is going to receive The Foodie Handbook, a book written by a foodie named Pim Techamuanvivit - she and Martha are just about making the Pad Thai from Pim's book.

After a commercial break we are back with Martha, Alexis and Jennifer (the Whatever Martha girls) it is becoming more irritating that Alexis is being so short with her mother. If she didn't want to be on the show then why torture us with your lackadaisical attitude.

Anyway, as the show wound up I was excited to be a part of the blog-0-sphere today. Everyone was tweeting every moment from their seats - check out #blogshow on Twitter.

I was out of the studio by 11:30 am. It was great to be a part of the audience - it is also so amazing to watch a live show. There's no room for error and Ms. Martha is a champ behind the camera!

Talkin' Turkey

Thanksgiving went by so quickly that I felt like I didn’t really get my fill of the holiday. Up in Michigan, we celebrated Thanksgiving with Marc’s family at the lake – his aunt and uncle put out an incredible table of traditional dishes to satisfy anyone. My task was to roast the turkey – an important job nonetheless but I was confident I could pull it off.

Now for any chef, working in an unfamiliar kitchen is always daunting – you never have everything you need so one must improvise. For the big holiday, the turkey was simply seasoned with thyme, sage, paprika, black pepper, garlic, onion, oregano and celery salt. These were the spices I had at my disposal so I had to make it work – for extra flavor I added strips of bacon over the breast to help self-baste the bird while roasting. I also like to baste every 30 minutes as well to add to the juiciness.

I was more than amused and curious when Marc called out to me to check out the group of wild turkeys walking through the side yard. Not the most attractive bird, the gawky, grazing birds where an apropos addition to our holiday. The snow started to fall outside and the ground was speckled white.

Hours later, our turkey emerged from the oven with crisp, golden brown skin and the bacon was extra crispy and delicious. Thinking about that festive meal, I wanted to repeat those savory flavors and make it all over again.

Last night, I prepared a hotel-style turkey breast in very much the same style to how I made it for Thanksgiving. As the turkey convection roasted I made a quick cranberry sauce. Made with 1 cup of water, 1 cup sugar and a bag of fresh cranberries - the sauce starts by dissolving the sugar in the water as it comes to a boil. Once the sugar dissolves, add cranberries and stir on low heat for 10 minutes. Cool sauce and chill.

A savory dressing made of corn bread, onion, celery, and sausage were prepped and ready to combine. Time passed and the scent of Thanksgiving filled the apartment. I can't get enough of that comforting aroma. As the turkey rested before carving, I used the pan drippings to make a creamy, deeply flavored gravy.

When we sat down to eat I was grateful for a quiet weekend at home, for the family and friends in my life and for the opportunity to cook for someone special.

Shrimp & Bay Scallop Risotto

Creamy, comforting and so incredibly versatile, risotto is one of my favorite one-dish meals to cook when the weather turns colder and the leaves disappear from tree-lined streets. With friends arriving for a Saturday night dinner, I ventured out to the market to purchase sweet delicious bay scallops and sustainable Caribbean white shrimp. For color, texture and layered flavors I added red pepper, fresh spinach, Vidalia onion and shallots to my shopping list.

Back in the kitchen, I had about 3 to 4 quarts of chicken stock simmering and on another burner some diced onion slowly sautéeing with the addition of crushed garlic and finely chopped shallots. When the aromatics were beginning to caramelize I added a pound of Arborio rice. The key here is to sauté the grains of rice until their edges become opaque – this activates the starch in the rice to produce a creamy end result.

Slowly adding ladles of hot stock little by little, the risotto needs constant attention, adding more stock once the rice has absorbed most of the previous pour and constant stirring. The process takes about 20 to 30 soulful minutes, ah, the Zen of preparing comfort food. When the risotto was close to perfection, I sautéed bay scallops, shrimp and red pepper with bacon lardons. A splash of white wine deglazed the pan with a squeeze of lemon – spinach, minced garlic and dash of red pepper flakes complemented the shellfish.

Carefully mixing all the components together with a handful of shredded Gruyère and this simple Italian rice dish can transform simple ingredients to extraordinary heights.

What’s in a name?

As much as I love to cook at home I find dining out equally as enjoyable. Sharing food with friends and family at the communal table is comforting and rewarding.

Our hip Park Slope friends invited us to meet them at Franny’s on Flatbush Ave for dinner. The restaurant was unfamiliar to me – and being somewhat all things food snobbish – my initial reaction to the restaurant’s name conjured up unflattering images.

We arrived a little early and the line of patrons that ran outside the door surprised me, especially for a Monday night! We edged our way in to get our name on the ubiquitous list. The airy space was filled with gorgeous scents of garlic, basil, tomatoes and baking bread. Looking at the menu the fare is simple, Italian, pizza, a few pastas, uncomplicated appetizers and salumi. The concise menu reminded me of the few days I spent in Rome and Florence where unadorned cafes served some of the best food I’ve ever had.

Back out on the sidewalk, waiting for Beaux and MaryKathryn to arrive, Marc whispered to me and told me that Maggie Gyllenhaal was also waiting for a table with her husband, actor Peter Saarsgard and their young daughter. Fellow Brooklynites, I figured, just out for a casual dinner with their friends – just like us. Like good stalwart New Yorkers no one flinched at the celebrity sightings and it was business as usual.

With the arrival of our friends, we immediately ordered cocktails, wines and some food to start. The Crostino of wood-roasted pancetta and herb butter and the Fried eggplant with cherry tomato and Parmigiano Reggiano that arrived from the open kitchen were deceptively simple, constructed of just a few ingredients. The crostino of Italian bacon and melted herb butter on thickly grilled bread was rustic and savory.

We choose the Rigotonicini with pork sausage, rapini and Provolone piccante and a brick oven pizza made with Buffalo mozzarella, tomatoes, red pepper and yes, more sausage. The pizza had that wonderful crispy char from baking on hot stone in the oven. It reminded me of the pizza I had in Rome, so I closed my eyes and imagined hearing Vespas sputtering around cobble-stoned streets. The pasta was perfect, really al dente the way I like it and the wilted rapini and piquant sauce flavored with sharp Provolone were enticing.

It just proves that the best quality ingredients in the right hands can create a soul satisfying experience. As for the name…I’d forgotten about those unflattering images after sharing a bottle of complex, earthy Sicilian wine.

Je me souviens (I remember)

I stole away a Friday afternoon to have a cozy lunch at L’Ecole – the restaurant at The French Culinary Institute. It was wonderful to be back in the neighborhood but strange not to head straight to the kitchen but instead escorted to a table for two.

The seasonal lunch menu, prepared by FCI students, features three courses. The restaurant was buzzing with activity as I imagined the kitchen was too. It is astonishing to think about the shear number of people that must interact and work together to just please one guest. From expeditors to senior chefs from culinary students to other food stations from waiters to the maître'd from dishwashers to bussers. A tightly manufactured piece of machinery where the weakest cog can easily bring down the house. All of this crossed my mind even before the bread arrived.

After ordering cocktails, Marc and I took a serious look at the menu. After some slight debate and wheeling and dealing such as “if you order the tartare I will get the cavatelli and then we can share both” scenarios we decided on our courses. The Arctic Char Tartare with Walnuts, Stilton and Yorkshire Pudding and the Cavatelli with Rock Shrimp, Fava Beans and Ricotta Salata were speaking to us as "must-haves." The char tartare (say that fast three times) was silky and we both agreed the Stilton could have had a stronger presence. As for the cavatelli (the pasta nemesis from my own FCI final) was well balanced and had a good sampling of flavors.

We were eagerly excited about our main courses: Seared Duck Breast and Braised Leg with Fingerling Potatoes and Sour Cherry Sauce and the Pan-roasted Lamb Loin with Goat Cheese Polenta, Asparagus, Figs and Lamb Jus. I reminisced about the duck and lamb even before it approached the table – thinking about my own student experience preparing similar dishes at L’Ecole not so long ago.

When our entrées arrived my lamb was perfectly pink surrounded by a gorgeous pool of lamb jus – one taste and it brought me back to the wondrous and deeply flavored sauces I learned how to make as an FCI student. To say it was satisfying and nostalgic would be too sophomoric – let’s just say I was proud to know where I had come from.

Ribbed

Memories linger from my 4^th of July holiday in Michigan and interfere with my “back to work” reality. Lazy days at our lake house are now replaced with the daily grind that is NYC. Happily over the long weekend I was able to cook casual meals for us to enjoy al fresco.

We all had a hankering for ribs, so I reached for my iPhone to reference some recipes on BigOven – my latest app obsession. List in hand we headed to a supermarket. I loaded up on all the necessary spices and ingredients to satisfy our current craving.

Back at the homestead, I mixed together a dry rub of smoked paprika, garlic, chili and onion powder, cayenne and white pepper, salt, and sugar. I generously applied the dry rub to the meaty ribs and let them relax in the refrigerator for two hours.

After kicking back on the pontoon boat for a leisure putt-putt around the lake I returned to preheat the oven to 300 degrees and to start making the saucy glaze. Equal parts of cider vinegar, brown sugar and Dijon mustard are slowly heated in a saucepan and reduced to a thick syrupy sauce. Taste testing along the way, I added more brown sugar to balance the acidity of the vinegar.

With two racks of ribs in the oven I basted them every half hour for the next three hours. The house was filled with the scent of aromatic spices and the zing of cider vinegar.

To keep my stomach distracted and my head occupied I focused on building the evening’s bonfire. S’mores are traditionally on the dessert menu and there’s really nothing like a fire-toasted marshmallow, melted chocolate and graham cracker treat.

Every visit to the oven door was in anticipation of dinner. Fresh corn on the cob was prepped for the grill with silks and husk removed. Each cob was nestled in a foil blanket with pats of butter, salt and cracked black pepper. With the grill heating up I removed the ribs from the oven and placed them on the grill with ears of corn outlining the two beautiful racks. Basting once more helped the ribs attain a crispy caramelization and I rushed them to a serving platter. The ears of corn were sweet, buttery and the kernels were slightly charred and meltingly tender.

And the ribs,… meaty, succulent, sweet, spicy, smoky, and fall off the bone perfect accompanied by sticky fingers and smiles. Memories like this will just have to sustain us until we return.

Fort Greene with Envy

Each time we walk through the doors at No. 7 Restaurant we wonder to ourselves – why go any place else? The restaurant, perched right above the Lafayette subway station, is located at 7 Greene Ave in the Fort Greene neighborhood of Brooklyn. Fort Greene is home to the Brooklyn Academy of Music, known to locals as “BAM” and to a diverse mixture of people. The neighborhood exudes a bohemian, earthy, liberal air – no wonder French Culinary Institute Alum, Chef Tyler Kord, has dug his heels into this eclectic enclave.

My partner, Marc, and I settled into one of the tables in the back of the restaurant guided by a chic but approachable hostess. The room is filled with culinary hipsters, first dates, flirty gay couples, chatty women and the like.

I love that point in the evening during dinner service where you can feel the electricity and excitement in the air – it’s usually when the house is packed, the kitchen is running like a well-oiled machine and the wait staff never misses a beat. Everyone falls into this mesmerizing groove of sorts – having worked back of the house I feel that nervous thrill as dishes are being knocked out one by one and the intensity of the environment fuels every drop of adrenaline in your body. A feeling I miss from working at L’Ecole – the restaurant at FCI.

As we settle in with a cocktail, we peruse the concise menu sitting in anticipation to listen to the specials of the day. The wait staff is friendly, confident and sexy and our waiter tempts our palates with the chef’s daily selection.

We started with a snapper sashimi over Galia melon dressed with a spicy peanut, jalapeno and cilantro sauce. Each bite was savored and the various flavor notes were absolutely harmonious.

For main entrées we had the boneless pork chop that was slowly braised in a ginger broth then seared on the grill – served over Sardinian pasta called fregola the juicy chop delivered savory bites. I love their crispy breaded chicken, it is incredibly moist, rolled into a cylindrical shape – it’s a must have! The contemporary American cuisine has hints of Korean influence with pickled vegetables and kimchi pierogies.

Sitting comfortably in our seats my eyes wander to check out the bustling bar scene and the busy yet tiny exhibition kitchen. No. 7 is the kind of restaurant I would love to own someday, it’s cozy, sophisticated and always a welcoming place to dine.

The night winded down, I sip an after dinner coffee, and slide further into my chair. My body almost limp from feeding off the adrenaline rush, sated... we saunter into the night.

Doin' the Charleston

I love New York, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I just need to escape the city. So, I made plans to go to Charleston, SC – a place I’ve been wanting to visit for many years after listening to natives speak so lovingly about their home. I was ready to explore the city and most importantly dine on low country cuisine. We arrived in the afternoon and we parked ourselves at Pearlz Oyster Bar on East Bay Street and sampled oysters while drinking cold martinis. Sitting at the front bar, we were perfectly perched to enjoy the parade of Charlestonians and tourists alike as they passed by. The oysters were silky, briny, salty and fresh. The addition of a little mignonette or cocktail sauce complemented the plump treats.

I’m always open to recommendations so when a local suggested Jestine's Kitchen – a quirky unpretentious restaurant on Meeting Street - I rushed over. It serves the kind of comfort food you would expect in the South; crispy fried chicken, mac n’ cheese, collard greens, and more. I just couldn’t pass up these favorites and finished my soulful dinner with a peach and berry cobbler... delicious!

But I really wasn’t going to be satisfied until I had shrimp and grits, and I was lucky to enjoy them at Virginia’s on King. The shrimp sat atop creamy grits mixed with smoky sausage. I savored every bite and daydreamed about making the same dish back home with my own variation on the theme. Low country cuisine well suits the laid back gentility of this city where the air is perfumed with the scent of delicate jasmine flowers. The architecture and lush gardens are a wonderful canvas for any visitor to enjoy while dining or walking off a grand meal.

We spent languid days shopping, eating and sightseeing. Tall palmettos swayed in the breeze and mornings were spent on the loggia with freshly brewed coffee and toasted sweet black bread.

We were lucky to spend our downtime at the Joseph Aiken Mansion and sleep in one of the oversized bedrooms in “the big house." Built in the Greek Revival style in the late 1840's the stately mansion took us back to a time when proper manners and good family names were de rigeur.

My memories of Charleston and its food will linger with me like the sweet scent of jasmine hanging on the breeze.

Foraging for Food

Settling into my new neighborhood (Fort Greene, Brooklyn) I’ve discovered new restaurants, grocery stores and other specialty shops.

Last weekend the weather brought everyone outside, the sidewalks were crowded with weekend shoppers, hipsters were hanging out at cafes, every dog owner had their sidekicks in tow, you could just feel the energy of the neighborhood burst out from its winter clothes.

We took the dogs out for a long walk around the ‘hood and headed to Fort Greene Park. Frederick Olmsted and Calvert Vaux designed the public green space in the 1860s. The thirty-acre park is also the site of a fort and a monument to Revolutionary War prisoners, who were imprisoned on ships by the British under unbearable conditions. Both Brutus and Zachary love to explore the park and get a good workout on the footpaths up to the monument. There’s also a farmer’s market every Saturday that I plan on visiting very soon.

Our walk winds back down into the heart of the neighborhood passing my new favorite green grocer, Greene Grape Provisions located at 753 Fulton Street. Here I can find the freshest fish, seasonal vegetables and organic foods. They also carry D’Artagnan products such as fresh duck breast and duck confit.

I’ve prepared duck a few times at my new digs and I’ve followed a recipe borrowed from a Parisian restaurant that I’ve frequented on previous trips to Paris. Some people are not huge fans of duck because of the thick layer of fat that accompanies the breast. Culinary school has taught me how to tackle this issue quite simply. To render the duck fat it is vital to score the skin/fat with a sharp knife making diagonal cuts across the fat. Be sure not to cut through the meat. Once the fat is scored, sauté the breast fat side down in a preheated pan. The duck fat will melt away and will leave the skin crispy and delicious.

My favorite part of this recipe is an onion jam or confiture de l’oignons. I caramelize cipollini onions under low heat until they are translucent; I deglaze the pan with vermouth and add fresh thyme, salt, pepper and some confectioner’s sugar to boost the jammy sweetness. The crispy duck served with sweet onion jam takes me back to that little café on the Left Bank every time.

On Sunday we entertained friends for brunch and I made a strata for the first time. The strata, similar to a Spanish frittata has the custardy consistency of a quiche.

I buttered a soufflé dish and sliced brioche rolls into 1 inch thick slices. I lightly toasted the buttery brioche slices and set them into the soufflé dish. In another bowl, I mix together eggs, milk, cream with a dash of salt, freshly cracked pepper, a pinch of nutmeg and a splash of Tabasco. In a sauté pan I crisped up some pancetta and set that aside.

For the strata, I crumbled the pancetta on top of the bread slices, added diced tomatoes, crumbled goat cheese and shredded fontina. I poured the custard mixture over the top and scattered chopped basil over the mixture. Allow the bread to soak in the mixture (about 10 minutes) afterwards I baked the dish at 350 degrees for 40 minutes.

The strata emerged puffed, golden and perfumed with kitchen with Italian goodness. I served the strata with baby field greens dressed with a simple vinaigrette – the dish received rave reviews. It’s an easy brunch dish that can be transformed with a multitude of ingredient combinations.

Entertaining friends at the new apartment has been a wonderful way for me to become more comfortable with my new neighborhood – as I search out ingredients and places to shop I feel more connected to the Brooklyn vibe week after week.

P.S. Here are some articles about Fort Greene, both appearing in The New York Times.

Read about the Fort Greene neighborhood

Read about the new wave of food artisans

Life after culinary school

Is there life after culinary school? As the days and weeks passed after graduation I mourned the passing of a wonderful experience. What was I to do now with my newly acquired skills? I knew that I would go back to work full-time at my marketing job and that I would somehow find a way to work in the food industry in some capacity.

Soon after graduation, I received requests to come back to FCI to judge midterms. Also, fellow culinary colleagues asked for my help on catering jobs that they’ve secured. It was good practice and a nice reminder to get back into the kitchen.

I missed blogging to be honest, and I’ve had some good food stories and experiences that I’d love to share since my last posting. The question remains what to do with www.anthonymanuelramos.blogspot.com? Yes, the culinary school experience is over however, what’s next could be as entertaining and as interesting to those that have followed me.

I’m thinking of expanding the blog and reinventing it to become “A Day in the Life of a New York City Foodie,” what other city’s food scene is more vibrant? So much is going on in food and drink in NY and I’d love to capture it.

Please join me on the continuation of a journey into food, read about the latest restaurant experiences, newest foods, trends, hidden gems and life through the eyes of a Chef. As always, thank you for your interest and support.

Yours truly,

Chef Anthony

With Honors

It has taken me a little while to write about graduation day – a day that I won’t soon forget. When school finished that week, I had some foot surgery that I’ve been putting off. Standing in the kitchen for the past nine months has exacerbated pain in my feet, specifically my toes. Although I had a pair of fantastic Dansko Euro clogs to wear at night, it was during the day that my feet would feel crunched wearing dress shoes. So, I needed to have my toes fixed.

I went back to work full time at Wildlife Trust – in the evening time when I would find myself home at 6:30 pm I would experience an overwhelming sense of loss, not being in the school’s kitchen was so odd to me. I was meant to be there, I thought to myself, it’s 6:30 pm I should be prepping for service. It was a strange transition, leaving the professional kitchen made me long for it even more. Troubling!

But back to graduation day, mind you, that was the day after our food final. We assembled at school in the late afternoon and had our class picture taken with our tall chef’s hats. It was amazing to see everyone dressed in chef whites and tall toque.

Family and friends assembled in the culinary theater waiting for us to appear. Happily my mom, brother and two sisters were present for the ceremony. It meant a lot to me that they were there.

The soon-to-be graduates sat in the front row of the theater and our Chefs from different Levels stood up front. Chef Candy welcomed everyone and spoke about the accomplishment in graduating from the FCI. Chef Candy introduced our Chef-Instructors and one-by-one they spoke and gave us sage advice.

Chef Candy asked us to line up so we could officially receive our diploma and toque. Once called you were met with Chef Phil, our Level VI Chef who presented the diploma and then each of us would go down the line to thank our other Chefs including, Chef Nic, Chef Veronica, Chef Janet, Chef Laura, Chef Wanda, Chef Candy and finally Chef Marc.

With diploma in hand and toque proudly perched on my head, I went through the line and thanked all my Chefs before I headed back to my seat. Next, the presentation of awards.

Two of my fellow students received awards for never missing a class – unfortunately travel plans had me out of the kitchen twice. Awards for honor students was next on the agenda, Marcela, Michal, Sasi and I were called up to receive an FCI pin to affix to our jacket signifying that the four of us graduated with honors. I was thrilled to have the privilege to graduate with honors and stand up there with my fellow students. A round of applause and we were ready to head back to our seats when the Director of Student Affairs asked me to stay up on the dais.

A little bewildered, I didn’t know what to quite expect but I could see a Chef’s knife on the granite table in front of us. The Director went on to present me with the Chef’s knife inscribed with “Graduated Top of the Class” it was an emotional moment for me. The past nine months I’ve worked hard to excel, become better at my craft and to prove to myself that I could do it. Before I received the knife I was asked to make a speech. I could see my family in the audience, my fellow students in front of me and I grabbed for the appropriate words.

In short I said something like, I wanted to thank my family and fellow students for making this journey so incredible. Each of them have enriched my life in a different way, and I am grateful for that. I remarked that going to culinary school has been a long-time dream and at the age of 39 it was the best decision I’ve ever made. Lastly, I said that the wonderful thing about food is that it tells a story and has a rich history and all I could ask my fellow graduates was to continue telling their story.

It has been an incredible nine months of my life, as for my next move, I’m not sure yet. What I do know is I will never approach food and cooking the same way ever again and for that I’m proud.

The Grande Finale

Everything hinges on this one exam – walking into school I am apprehensive about the dishes I will have to cook for my final. Once we’re all settled in we take a written exam and are tested on the ingredients and procedure for a dish we’ve prepared over the past few weeks in the restaurant. I’m hoping we will be tested on the Porcini-flavored Consommé with Seared Squab and Butternut Squash since it is seared into memory.

Chef Phil hands out the exam and we have 20 minutes to complete it. I use every minute of the time allotted to describe all the details (it was the consommé!) of the dish and I complete the exam feeling good about it. Next the “fun” part – each of us takes a piece of paper with a corresponding letter/number combination from a stainless steel bowl that is passed around – here’s where our fate lies! The numbers correspond to the dishes we will have to make and present to the judges.

Out of all the combinations, no one wants the cavatelli and duck since those dishes are the most labor intensive. I grab my number and hope for the best…but luck was not on my side and I was stuck making the dreaded two dishes. I took a deep breath and headed into the kitchen to start what I knew was going to be a stressful and long night of cooking.

Getting set up I knew I had to make the pasta dough first as it needs to rest for at least 30 minutes. I hate making dough of any kind, it never comes out right – dough is my nemesis! As I kneaded the floury mess I gauged how much water to add all the while thinking, I gotta get this right. After about 15 – 20 minutes of kneading Chef came by and checked out my dough and gave me the eye letting me know it looked done. My gut said to add more water but I didn’t and thought the consistency was alright with Chef then it should be fine.

Next I tackle the crustacean broth cleaning the lobster and crab bodies and chopping the mirepoix to get the mixture on the stove so it could simmer for an hour. This broth is served with the cavatelli along with crabmeat, sea urchin, scallions and seasoned breadcrumbs.

After that the spicy duck broth is my next recipe to tackle then time to make the pasta. I took my dough out and started to shape it in long strips. At the hand-cranked pasta machine my worst fear was once again realized. The dough was a little dry and the machine was not curling the pasta into the familiar cavatelli shape. I’d crank out 4 or 5 pieces of dough and then 1 or 2 salvageable cavatellis would emerge. I made the best cavatelli I could knowing that the pasta was not perfect but hopefully passable.

With my first dish only about 20 minutes away from being plated I raced to cook the pasta, make the seasoned breadcrumbs, pick through the crabmeat, strain the crustacean broth and prepare any last minute garnish. I cooked the fresh pasta probably a minute too much – now two strikes against the pasta. I seasoned, tasted and plated thinking the flavors were there. At 8:57 pm I raced my four exact dishes of cavatelli down the hallway to the judges hoping for the best.

With one dish out of the way a wave of relief washed over me but that was only for a mere moment. Chef came into the kitchen and told me there was a hair in my pasta! I was so aggravated that I didn’t see it and I know it wasn’t mine. With that piece of news I refocused to get back on track for my next course to go out – Braised Duck Leg and Seared Breast in a Spicy Broth. I had 45 minutes to execute the final four dishes for the judges. My spicy broth was strained and degreased, the legs were seared and braised, the duck breast was cooking in the circulator and my focus was on the garnish of broccoli rabe, ham, cilantro, mushrooms and carrots. With time winding down I plated my four duck plates without a moment to spare. Racing down the hallway to judges table I handed over my tray of food and my adrenaline wave crashed.

It was over…my nine months comes down to this…three well-respected industry judges will taste all the food I’ve prepared and at the end of the night give me my final critique in front of my peers. Except for the hair incident, and the pasta debacle I felt good about everything. Immediately, I knew what I could have done better and would probably be criticized on.

I trudged back to the kitchen to clean up, hug some of my fellow students and drink some water. At this point in the night, none of us have eaten or taken even a bathroom break. Chef gave us some time to compose ourselves and some students still had dishes to get out the door. I had to brace myself for the last part of the evening I felt my cooking was mediocre at best and that I could have done so much better. You can imagine I am highly critical of my own food and even worse when it comes to dining out. I guess it comes with the territory – we are trained to cook, to taste, to judge and be consciously critical about what is presented on the dish.

Split into two groups, we marched into the judges’ room, meeting our jury for the very first time. On my panel, we had a senior chef from the venerated Lutèce Restaurant - the famed French restaurant in Manhattan that operated for more than 30 years before closing in 2004. The two other senior chefs were from Saks 5th Avenue and the Food Network.

One by one, they reviewed each dish we presented, critiquing every minute detail: flavor, temperature, presentation, and balance. I faired better than I expected and took their advice to heart as I hung on every word. Sitting there I reviewed the night’s play-by-play and felt I did the best I could – having never lost my cool throughout the stress was by far one of the things I could be proudest of.

The night drew to a close with a round of applause, Marcela turned to me with a look of shock on her face and said, “it’s over.”

Calm Before the Storm

After a long holiday weekend trying not to stress about the final exam I spent some time on Sunday reviewing my recipes and writing some notes. Going in to the final we know what to expect. We will pick a number that corresponds to two dishes – a fish and dessert or an appetizer and meat dish that will be presented to judges.

One thing that works to our advantage is that we already know how the dishes are paired for the final we’ll have to make the consommé with the lamb, the cavatelli with the duck, the bass and the tart, or the tuna with the chocolate bread pudding. All of the pairings are pretty reasonable but the most dreaded is the cavatelli and the duck. No one wants that combination and neither do I since it is the most labor intensive. Not only would you have to make the fresh pasta, but at the same time the crustacean broth has to be made and a spicy duck broth immediately following. There’s a lot of room for error and on the night of the final there’s no time for mistakes.

I review my recipes and write down all the ingredients and ratios to prepare 4 – 6 dishes. We are required to present 4 identical dishes of each course and timing of the dish must be exact. I’m trying to keep calm and go into the kitchen tomorrow night with a knock out list, a steady hand and a clear head.

Giving Thanks

Walking into the kitchen tonight I immediately become nostalgic. The people I see around me are all familiar faces that I have worked with for the past couple of months. We’ve joked, laughed, gotten in each other’s way, pissed each other off and shared an intensity that only a kitchen environment provides.

Tonight, the evening before Thanksgiving, the restaurant is booked up so I am anticipating a busy night. Ashley couldn’t make it tonight since she was traveling and Spencer and I are in charge of the Saucier station. Happily, Michal came over from the fish station to help us out to become reacquainted with the duck and lamb dishes.

The night of service was without any drama, all the food went out perfectly and we were more than organized and experienced some downtime occasionally. My fellow Level VI students seemed quiet, pensive, all concentrating on this last night of service before our final cooking exam on Monday after the holiday.

Come close of service, pictures were snapped, hugs given, pats on the back and the team disbursed to get ready for a holiday that I think was made for Chefs and the people that love them.

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays – I love the flavors and food combinations. I make an easy homemade fresh cranberry sauce that I just love. Growing up my mom would break out the solidified canned cranberry sauce – and I would just look at it and pass it up. Hey, that’s what was common for T-day dinners in the 80s. Something about that wiggling, jellied, cranberry-colored, can-shaped blob just didn’t appeal to me. I think aesthetics has a lot to do with food as most of us eat with our eyes before our palates.

Leaving FCI that night, I was thankful for my nine months at school, I was thankful for the Chefs who taught me and the students I’ve bonded with over this time. Realizing what we are thankful for puts everything into perspective.

The French Culinary Diet

Why don’t the French get fat? With all the butter, eggs, cheese, bread and pastry that is consumed one would think that French people should be obese. On the contrary, studies have shown that the French diet is something quite special. French gastronomy is an enigma of sorts – have you ever seen a chic French woman in a plus-size Chanel – it’s just not the case.

Going in to culinary school I feared my regular diet and the addition of French food would pack on extra pounds that I didn’t want! Somehow, I’ve miraculously lost about 15+ pounds while at school. How could this be? Maybe I should write the next diet book, “The French Culinary Institute Diet” and the subhead would read, “How becoming a Chef will shed the pounds!”

Seriously, losing weight by attending cooking school is probably short of a miracle for some. Somehow I did it, lugging my heavy 40lb. bag over my shoulder day after day filled with my knife pack, uniform, books, etc., walking all over the city and going up and down subway stairs and the stairs at school helped me drop excess weight.

Now for the eating part, I simply ate smaller portions, lots of protein and veggies and also indulged in ice cream, sweets and anything chocolate. For me working around food for hours at a time, I just lose an appetite to eat a large meal, taste testing and sampling goes a long way and the desire to have a huge meal vanished.

Many nights my dinner would be the end cuts of lamb and duck, some salad and not much else. Tasting food is part of the job as a Chef, making sure the food you serve is the very best makes for lots of little bites here and there. Spoonful after spoonful of a spicy duck broth or decadent lamb sauce goes a long way and as a Chef I’ve learned that moderation in any diet is really the key to success.