Time is speeding up. Each week has a pattern and a rhythm that I now know well. I suspect that time is going to keep going faster and faster until i'm off to the next adventure, the next challenge.
I handed in a sheet of paper yesterday stating my preferences for the type of restaurant i'd like to stage at. I wrote about local and seasonal cuisine, farms and farmers, cooking with heart and humility, food that is rustic, creative, and accessible all at the same time. I wrote about my desire to become an expert pasta maker.
I feel a gravitational pull towards the south of Italy, Puglia or Campania, we'll see if I end up there.
I worked with a whole octopus today, and then later a whole rabbit. And that sentence makes me smile, because of how completely comfortable and relaxed I felt all day long. I know that I would have felt differently six months ago. But today was simply business as usual, as I've already worked with both those animals before. The octopus got stewed with fresh tomato, garlic, and olive oil for over two hours. It released a lot of liquid during that time, creating a flavorful broth that tasted like fresh summer tomatoes, the sea, and garlic. I never needed to add any salt. Later, I butchered the rabbit (which, interestingly, didn't gross me out too much - rabbits have basically the same parts as pigs, cows, and lambs, and butchering a whole rabbit offers a good opportunity to learn how many of the animals we eat are structured). The rabbit meat was later seared and then braised in a sauce with fresh tomatoes and olives. The meat was delicious and tender. I remember being a little uncomfortable the first time I ever ate rabbit, but today I got very good feedback on my dish from our head chef and so then proceeded to happily eat the whole plate of food I'd just made.
I had a risotto that changed my life today. And I'm not sure how to begin explaining its perfection. Tons of tiny details that, when examined one at a time may seem inconsequential, but when taken together created something that should be used as a model for all other risotto. Our chef explained that the stars of the show should always be the rice and whatever other main ingredient or ingredients are being added. Often times, people cook their risotto rice in broth or stock, and so the true taste of the rice becomes masked. And our chef proceeded to cook his risotto using water instead of stock.
The risotto pot always had just enough liquid to prevent the rice from sticking and burning, and never more than that. He said the rice must always be dancing, and that this is how a maximum amount of starch gets released, allowing the risotto to be as creamy as possible.
At the end of the cooking process, butter and cheese are traditionally added off the heat. In Italian, this moment is called Mantecare, and it's a crucial step. But, the trick is to add butter without having the final product taste like butter, and to add cheese without having the final product taste like cheese. These ingredients are added to help bring the dish together, but not to overpower. The final product should taste silky, with a balanced melding of flavors. Our chef used a few drops of white wine vinegar to help balance the butter, and the acidity elevated the dish, and without leading to a final product that tasted like vinegar.
At the end of class today, I told our chef that he raised the bar for risotto as far as I'm concerned. He said that often times, when he tells a class that they will be preparing risotto, the reaction is a groan - everyone has cooked risotto before, why do it again. But, he said it is not about how many times you've cooked risotto, it's about how many times you've tasted the perfect risotto. He said that this is a taste that must be ingrained in your mind, just as the visual image of the risotto's creaminess should be ingrained in your mind. He said that risotto should ideally be cooked with a wooden spoon and with a copper pot. Everything counts, he said.
On monday we were back in central kitchen, and I did pasta with a lamb ragu for 200 people. I spent a lot of time de-boning lamb shoulders, trimming away fat, and then cutting the meat into tiny cubes. The final dish was really flavorful and delicious, and it was a cool feeling to know that every single little piece of tender, juicy lamb that was eaten that day was the result of my work.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
the good life
In the book i'm reading, a chapter is called, "All respects to heaven, I like it here." I read this and nodded my head slowly. I understand.
This chapter title rang true for me because the things I do with utmost casualness these days, with total nonchalance, are in actuality feats of supreme excellence that deserve their own parade. For example, my day in the kitchen the other day was fulfilling, eventful, busy. I could have gone home, read a book, gone to bed, and been quite content. But, upon returning home, a housemate decided to oh so casually take out a fantastic piece of cheese that she bought from the artisan cheese-maker we visited near the adriatic sea last week, and she took out some fresh green figs, and all of a sudden we were in the lap of luxury, eating a cheese that is both fantastic and utterly unique in this world with some of the most beautiful green figs i've ever seen.
And all of this made me think about the moment during my family's Passover celebration when we sing Dayenu. The word Dayenu literally means, "it would have sufficed." It's a song of thankfulness and humility, where great accomplishments are listed and after each accomplishment the whole table says, "dayenu!" And in my head i'm thinking, I get to go to cooking school - Dayenu. I have good friends and we feed each other using fresh local produce - Dayenu. We play soccer against the italian chefs, and even though we don't win, we play well and we don't lose by too much - Dayenu. And I could go on and on.
More examples - yesterday, after a long day of class, I ended up going out with friends for a quick snack of local Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese and local red wine. Why not, right? Then, we had a soccer game to play. After the game, back at the house, food was being cooked in honor of the Greek world cup team (which lost, but who cares). A fellow cook of Greek heritage grilled kebabs and served them with flat bread, homemade yogurt sauce, and a lovely salad. And, because yesterday was a holiday (the festa di san giovanni, I will explain more in a moment) we ultimately ended up leaving the house and heading into the middle of our tiny town in the middle of the night, where a party was happening. Although the party was not very exciting, the moon was out, and riding my bike for a few minutes into town felt very good after eating all that kebab.
The festa di san giovanni is a holiday that get's celebrated by eating tortelli with ricotta and fresh herb filling. There's some religious reason why this holiday exists, but i'm not sure exactly what it is, something about six months before Jesus was born. In any event, literally every restaurant in town had signs advertising their tortelli, and we even made a batch in class as it's considered good luck to do so. apparently, every family has their own slightly different recipe, and there is always great debate about whose tortelli are the absolute best. secret ingredients for the filling may include some combination of nutmeg, marjoram, tarragon, parmesan, marscapone, and who knows what else. I actually didn't end up eating any tortelli on this day, but I made some and froze them, so hopefully that's good enough.
This chapter title rang true for me because the things I do with utmost casualness these days, with total nonchalance, are in actuality feats of supreme excellence that deserve their own parade. For example, my day in the kitchen the other day was fulfilling, eventful, busy. I could have gone home, read a book, gone to bed, and been quite content. But, upon returning home, a housemate decided to oh so casually take out a fantastic piece of cheese that she bought from the artisan cheese-maker we visited near the adriatic sea last week, and she took out some fresh green figs, and all of a sudden we were in the lap of luxury, eating a cheese that is both fantastic and utterly unique in this world with some of the most beautiful green figs i've ever seen.
And all of this made me think about the moment during my family's Passover celebration when we sing Dayenu. The word Dayenu literally means, "it would have sufficed." It's a song of thankfulness and humility, where great accomplishments are listed and after each accomplishment the whole table says, "dayenu!" And in my head i'm thinking, I get to go to cooking school - Dayenu. I have good friends and we feed each other using fresh local produce - Dayenu. We play soccer against the italian chefs, and even though we don't win, we play well and we don't lose by too much - Dayenu. And I could go on and on.
More examples - yesterday, after a long day of class, I ended up going out with friends for a quick snack of local Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese and local red wine. Why not, right? Then, we had a soccer game to play. After the game, back at the house, food was being cooked in honor of the Greek world cup team (which lost, but who cares). A fellow cook of Greek heritage grilled kebabs and served them with flat bread, homemade yogurt sauce, and a lovely salad. And, because yesterday was a holiday (the festa di san giovanni, I will explain more in a moment) we ultimately ended up leaving the house and heading into the middle of our tiny town in the middle of the night, where a party was happening. Although the party was not very exciting, the moon was out, and riding my bike for a few minutes into town felt very good after eating all that kebab.
The festa di san giovanni is a holiday that get's celebrated by eating tortelli with ricotta and fresh herb filling. There's some religious reason why this holiday exists, but i'm not sure exactly what it is, something about six months before Jesus was born. In any event, literally every restaurant in town had signs advertising their tortelli, and we even made a batch in class as it's considered good luck to do so. apparently, every family has their own slightly different recipe, and there is always great debate about whose tortelli are the absolute best. secret ingredients for the filling may include some combination of nutmeg, marjoram, tarragon, parmesan, marscapone, and who knows what else. I actually didn't end up eating any tortelli on this day, but I made some and froze them, so hopefully that's good enough.
Monday, June 21, 2010
central kitchen
We cooked for real people today, and it filled me up with all the goodness of why I chose this life for myself. Bustling teamwork, excitement, a sense of urgency, finesse in the face of frenzy, a certain degree of improvisation in order to make things work - I was in the middle of making 16 liters of bechamel sauce (which is a huge quantity) while simultaneously trying to fine-dice 25 spicy red pepperoncino peppers, and I looked up and saw my fellow friends and cooks at different stations throughout the kitchen searing chicken, filleting fish, making fresh pasta dough, and doing who knows what else to get us ready to serve lunch for 200 people. And I smiled at my friend, and I said, "I love this." "Good," she said, "because this is why you're here."
We were in Central Kitchen today, cooking lunch for the entire school. It felt like all of our previous days in the kitchen were simply practice for days like today. Today is what we want to do every day. Feed people, feed them well, and have their food arrive exactly when it is supposed to. I was on pasta station, and we made a traditional lasagna with bechamel and meat ragu, as well as orecchiette in a broccoli cream sauce. In order to cook these dishes, we first broke them down into their tiniest parts. For example, even the simple task of blanching broccoli for the sauce, when multiplied by 200 people, becomes something quite significant. and so we all became responsible for tiny parts of each dish, and because we worked quickly and accurately, because we communicated as a team and helped each other out, all of those disparate parts came together smoothly to form dishes that were flavorful and of a very high quality. We've been practicing in a room somewhere for a while now, eating our own food, presenting dishes one at a time. And today we brought ourselves and all we have learned to the kitchen, and we cooked on a much greater scale then we ever have before, and we did well.
At the very end of lunch today, we sat down and ate the food we had cooked. we sat in chairs, at a table, and ate the food leisurely. and i realized that pretty much every dish i've cooked so far has been eaten while standing, rushing, cleaning, or continuing to cook another dish. It is very rare for me to be able to really sit and comfortably eat my own dishes. To be able to do that today, to really enjoy my own food, only increased my sense of triumph.
We had a slow afternoon of playing cards while waiting for a late wine class at 5:30 in the afternoon (we have classes to learn about regional wines). We play an Italian card game called Briscola. There's a tiny coffee shop on the grounds of our school, and this shop is always filled with old Italian men sitting around tables, drinking coffee, and playing cards. We show up in our chef's uniforms, we sit at a table off to the side, and we play cards too.
I was glad to come home today feeling hungry (which is fairly rare after a long day of cooking and eating) and also feeling like I wanted to do some cooking for myself (this dorm-style housing we live in has made me feel less inclined to cook). I sauteed eggplant with spring garlic shoots and basil, and topped it with spicy chili oil and grated smoked scamorza cheese (scamorza is somewhat similar mozzarella). I also made bucatini pasta with fresh garlic, tomatoes, black pepper, and stracciatella cheese (stracciatella is like shredded strands of fresh mozzarella swimming in cream, it's the filling for burrata cheese which i described in a previous post). It was nice to feed my friends. We climbed to the roof and saw sunset. I am very lucky.
We were in Central Kitchen today, cooking lunch for the entire school. It felt like all of our previous days in the kitchen were simply practice for days like today. Today is what we want to do every day. Feed people, feed them well, and have their food arrive exactly when it is supposed to. I was on pasta station, and we made a traditional lasagna with bechamel and meat ragu, as well as orecchiette in a broccoli cream sauce. In order to cook these dishes, we first broke them down into their tiniest parts. For example, even the simple task of blanching broccoli for the sauce, when multiplied by 200 people, becomes something quite significant. and so we all became responsible for tiny parts of each dish, and because we worked quickly and accurately, because we communicated as a team and helped each other out, all of those disparate parts came together smoothly to form dishes that were flavorful and of a very high quality. We've been practicing in a room somewhere for a while now, eating our own food, presenting dishes one at a time. And today we brought ourselves and all we have learned to the kitchen, and we cooked on a much greater scale then we ever have before, and we did well.
At the very end of lunch today, we sat down and ate the food we had cooked. we sat in chairs, at a table, and ate the food leisurely. and i realized that pretty much every dish i've cooked so far has been eaten while standing, rushing, cleaning, or continuing to cook another dish. It is very rare for me to be able to really sit and comfortably eat my own dishes. To be able to do that today, to really enjoy my own food, only increased my sense of triumph.
We had a slow afternoon of playing cards while waiting for a late wine class at 5:30 in the afternoon (we have classes to learn about regional wines). We play an Italian card game called Briscola. There's a tiny coffee shop on the grounds of our school, and this shop is always filled with old Italian men sitting around tables, drinking coffee, and playing cards. We show up in our chef's uniforms, we sit at a table off to the side, and we play cards too.
I was glad to come home today feeling hungry (which is fairly rare after a long day of cooking and eating) and also feeling like I wanted to do some cooking for myself (this dorm-style housing we live in has made me feel less inclined to cook). I sauteed eggplant with spring garlic shoots and basil, and topped it with spicy chili oil and grated smoked scamorza cheese (scamorza is somewhat similar mozzarella). I also made bucatini pasta with fresh garlic, tomatoes, black pepper, and stracciatella cheese (stracciatella is like shredded strands of fresh mozzarella swimming in cream, it's the filling for burrata cheese which i described in a previous post). It was nice to feed my friends. We climbed to the roof and saw sunset. I am very lucky.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
everything counts
sunday night, and it's raining in this small town of Colorno, Italy. I think I'm starting my fourth week here tomorrow? Who knows really. Time flies, very fast. The experiences I have on a daily basis seem enough to fill a whole week, and the experiences i have throughout a whole week are dizzying. I told my dad today (happy father's day, by the way) that in any given year i'm lucky to eat one or two food items that I can say are the absolute best versions i've ever had in my life. And in the past 48 hours I think I've had three or four specific foods that are the best i've ever had.
There is a lot that needs to be mentioned, so I'm gonna do it rapid-fire style. Tuesday, I walk into the demonstration room and there is an old woman with gray hair sitting in a wooden chair, patiently making orecchietti by hand. This old woman's daughter, chef Antonella Ricci, is standing in front of the stove, ready to represent the region of Puglia. We were treated to homemade cured meats and fresh burrata cheese (burrata cheese is like a bath of creamy mozzarella strands inside a pouch of shiny fresh mozzarella skin, or basically heaven). I had ricotta gnocchi on this day that may have changed my life. They were so soft and delicate, I feel like the stakes have been permanently raised as far as gnocchi is concerned.
Wednesday we were in the kitchen all day, and I feel like although this is the reason I'm here, I have hardly talked about it. The kitchen. Home. Our classroom. One thing that our chef-instructor mentioned over and over again in our first few days in the kitchen was "everything counts." He kept saying this, sometimes loudly, sometimes under his breath. He meant that there are countless distinct moments in the process of making a dish, and they all matter equally. We aim for perfection, which is never fixed, it's elusive and always changing. But with attention to every detail, we aim to achieve consistently excellent food. that's the goal.
Yeesh, I'm losing steam quickly and I've barely covered anything. A lasagna dish we made featuring tiny hand-cut pieces of seared tender meat, the best fritto misto i've ever eaten in my life (and it was made by me, a sole that I filleted myself, red mediterranean shrimp that are so fresh and sweet, artichoke, eggplant, tomato, sage and parsley leaves, all fried delicately in a very gentile rice-flour batter that barely clings to the food). Late night adventures in Parma with a visiting chef from New York and another head chef from Italy, 25 year old aged balsamic vinegar that is transcendent and beautiful and aged in wooden barrels. A master cheese maker in a tiny town near the adriatic sea. Hundreds of culatello hanging in the basement of Chef Massimo Spigaroli's castle... I need to stop. The Italian world cup game was this afternoon and the truth is i've been drinking wine since noon. I'll try and write more frequently. I'm dazzled, inspired, unable to fully describe all that i've seen and experienced, and now i'm gonna go to bed.
There is a lot that needs to be mentioned, so I'm gonna do it rapid-fire style. Tuesday, I walk into the demonstration room and there is an old woman with gray hair sitting in a wooden chair, patiently making orecchietti by hand. This old woman's daughter, chef Antonella Ricci, is standing in front of the stove, ready to represent the region of Puglia. We were treated to homemade cured meats and fresh burrata cheese (burrata cheese is like a bath of creamy mozzarella strands inside a pouch of shiny fresh mozzarella skin, or basically heaven). I had ricotta gnocchi on this day that may have changed my life. They were so soft and delicate, I feel like the stakes have been permanently raised as far as gnocchi is concerned.
Wednesday we were in the kitchen all day, and I feel like although this is the reason I'm here, I have hardly talked about it. The kitchen. Home. Our classroom. One thing that our chef-instructor mentioned over and over again in our first few days in the kitchen was "everything counts." He kept saying this, sometimes loudly, sometimes under his breath. He meant that there are countless distinct moments in the process of making a dish, and they all matter equally. We aim for perfection, which is never fixed, it's elusive and always changing. But with attention to every detail, we aim to achieve consistently excellent food. that's the goal.
Yeesh, I'm losing steam quickly and I've barely covered anything. A lasagna dish we made featuring tiny hand-cut pieces of seared tender meat, the best fritto misto i've ever eaten in my life (and it was made by me, a sole that I filleted myself, red mediterranean shrimp that are so fresh and sweet, artichoke, eggplant, tomato, sage and parsley leaves, all fried delicately in a very gentile rice-flour batter that barely clings to the food). Late night adventures in Parma with a visiting chef from New York and another head chef from Italy, 25 year old aged balsamic vinegar that is transcendent and beautiful and aged in wooden barrels. A master cheese maker in a tiny town near the adriatic sea. Hundreds of culatello hanging in the basement of Chef Massimo Spigaroli's castle... I need to stop. The Italian world cup game was this afternoon and the truth is i've been drinking wine since noon. I'll try and write more frequently. I'm dazzled, inspired, unable to fully describe all that i've seen and experienced, and now i'm gonna go to bed.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
settled
lots of days have gone by now, and this journal/blog has certainly not done justice to all that i have seen and done. not even remotely close. pesto made in a hundred-year-old marble mortar and pestle using a unique type of basil grown only in Liguria. A guest chef who butchered a lamb from his own farm in front of us and then served an 8 course feast featuring all the different cuts of meat. Another chef from Rome who served dishes that were so decadent and rich, I would feel guilty feeding such dishes to loved ones as i do not wish to do them serious harm (think risotto alla carbonara featuring multiple very fatty cuts of pork, butter, cheese, crispy sweetbreads, and on top of it all en egg yolk from a local chicken meant to be mixed into the risotto as the dish is served).
The kitchen is becoming familiar to me now. In my mind I can see my station exactly the way I like it, I can see where the cutting board is, my mise-en-place trays on either side, a few metal bowls in front, the salt, pepper, and olive oil always in the same place. Familiarity, confidence, rhythm, it's building now each day. We're learning regional dishes, and we're learning how and why these dishes came to be. The sailors in the port town of Genoa did not want to eat fish when they returned home from long trips at sea. They missed their homes and their gardens. And so even though Genoa is right on the sea, they are not known for fish, but for pesto and foccacia, herbs and bread, land and home after a long journey away. When a cook knows the story behind a dish, something meaningful is transferred to the food during the cooking, and the difference in care and attention paid to the food can be measured in the final taste.
this weekend we went swimming in the Mediterranean Sea and explored the five towns of Cinque Terre. Houses layered upon cliffs, gardens, flowers, winding roads like thin ribbons strewn over the mountains, and the sea. An absolute pleasure, many forms of transportation were used to get around (car, boat, train) and it all went smoothly.
I'd like to write more frequently, but who knows. Days feel so packed full, long and fruitful, but then time feels very elusive. Tomorrow we go back to work in the kitchen, and i'm glad.
The kitchen is becoming familiar to me now. In my mind I can see my station exactly the way I like it, I can see where the cutting board is, my mise-en-place trays on either side, a few metal bowls in front, the salt, pepper, and olive oil always in the same place. Familiarity, confidence, rhythm, it's building now each day. We're learning regional dishes, and we're learning how and why these dishes came to be. The sailors in the port town of Genoa did not want to eat fish when they returned home from long trips at sea. They missed their homes and their gardens. And so even though Genoa is right on the sea, they are not known for fish, but for pesto and foccacia, herbs and bread, land and home after a long journey away. When a cook knows the story behind a dish, something meaningful is transferred to the food during the cooking, and the difference in care and attention paid to the food can be measured in the final taste.
this weekend we went swimming in the Mediterranean Sea and explored the five towns of Cinque Terre. Houses layered upon cliffs, gardens, flowers, winding roads like thin ribbons strewn over the mountains, and the sea. An absolute pleasure, many forms of transportation were used to get around (car, boat, train) and it all went smoothly.
I'd like to write more frequently, but who knows. Days feel so packed full, long and fruitful, but then time feels very elusive. Tomorrow we go back to work in the kitchen, and i'm glad.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
so much
the air smells sweet like summer grass and flowers. the sun is gently warm, enveloping. june is my favorite month. it's basically been nothing but blue sky since we gt here.
me and a fellow cook biked to parma yesterday. we knew which general direction to go in, but had to wend our way through farm roads, small towns, and (unfortunately) a few roads that were not really safe to bike on. we made it though, and as we entered parma, a nice bike lane greeted us, and we were able to ride triumphantly into the center of town. the whole ride took a little more than an hour.
they had one of the finest markets i've ever seen. the farm stand selling fresh cheese was like a gift to me from the heavens. i'm not sure i've ever tasted mozzarella di buffala so good. in fact, the way we've been eating here, such a steady stream of fresh and delicious food, sometimes i dont even know what to do with myself. i'll feel the need to roll on the floor giggling with delight or squeeze my friends as tight as i can, and i dont know what tiny sliver of sanity prevents me from doing so. between the food our chef-instructor cooks, our own dishes at school, going out to eat, and the guest cook we saw last week (who cooked like 8 courses for us that day, absolutely fantastic, i promise i'll say more about this later), it's just unreal. And, imagine what 16 cooks in one house can do with fresh produce like this! we feed each other in our spare time, and we eat really, really well. thanks to the parma farmer's market, last night we ate fresh roasted porcini (i've never had fresh porcini before and it was AMAZING), black truffle risotto (with real black truffles, also a first for me), mozzarella di buffala, fresh summer tomato salad with fresh basil, grilled zucchini, tons of wine (always, yeesh), salumi, fresh bread, grilled pork, beautiful pasta. and think about the way we snack at 2 in the morning...
the bike ride home was fun. after leaving parma, we got hopelessly lost. the sun was setting, and getting home did not feel like a certainty. just as desperation and dejection were starting to set in, we saw a solitary motorcycle man, standing in the middle of a farm road, 100 feet away. who knows why he was standing there, but it was very lucky for us that he was. we biked towards him and asked for help. thanks to his directions, we ended up finding one of the most beautiful little roads i've ever biked on. we were next to a tiny river the whole time, winding through farms, the sun was setting. and we saw otters in the river, three of them!
it's hard to keep track of everything that has happened, and it's hard to believe we've only been here a week. i just wrote this whole post without even mentioning our last few days in the kitchen. so much to say. but it will have to come another time.
one final thing, a block away from our apartment is a very fine gelato place, where you can get 4 flavors for 6 euro. a group of us may or may not have eaten that for dinner on friday night. and it may or may not have been really, really good. you see how we live? woah.
me and a fellow cook biked to parma yesterday. we knew which general direction to go in, but had to wend our way through farm roads, small towns, and (unfortunately) a few roads that were not really safe to bike on. we made it though, and as we entered parma, a nice bike lane greeted us, and we were able to ride triumphantly into the center of town. the whole ride took a little more than an hour.
they had one of the finest markets i've ever seen. the farm stand selling fresh cheese was like a gift to me from the heavens. i'm not sure i've ever tasted mozzarella di buffala so good. in fact, the way we've been eating here, such a steady stream of fresh and delicious food, sometimes i dont even know what to do with myself. i'll feel the need to roll on the floor giggling with delight or squeeze my friends as tight as i can, and i dont know what tiny sliver of sanity prevents me from doing so. between the food our chef-instructor cooks, our own dishes at school, going out to eat, and the guest cook we saw last week (who cooked like 8 courses for us that day, absolutely fantastic, i promise i'll say more about this later), it's just unreal. And, imagine what 16 cooks in one house can do with fresh produce like this! we feed each other in our spare time, and we eat really, really well. thanks to the parma farmer's market, last night we ate fresh roasted porcini (i've never had fresh porcini before and it was AMAZING), black truffle risotto (with real black truffles, also a first for me), mozzarella di buffala, fresh summer tomato salad with fresh basil, grilled zucchini, tons of wine (always, yeesh), salumi, fresh bread, grilled pork, beautiful pasta. and think about the way we snack at 2 in the morning...
the bike ride home was fun. after leaving parma, we got hopelessly lost. the sun was setting, and getting home did not feel like a certainty. just as desperation and dejection were starting to set in, we saw a solitary motorcycle man, standing in the middle of a farm road, 100 feet away. who knows why he was standing there, but it was very lucky for us that he was. we biked towards him and asked for help. thanks to his directions, we ended up finding one of the most beautiful little roads i've ever biked on. we were next to a tiny river the whole time, winding through farms, the sun was setting. and we saw otters in the river, three of them!
it's hard to keep track of everything that has happened, and it's hard to believe we've only been here a week. i just wrote this whole post without even mentioning our last few days in the kitchen. so much to say. but it will have to come another time.
one final thing, a block away from our apartment is a very fine gelato place, where you can get 4 flavors for 6 euro. a group of us may or may not have eaten that for dinner on friday night. and it may or may not have been really, really good. you see how we live? woah.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
italy
i think i can use this space best by writing some quick thoughts now and again. days are really full right now, everything feels new, and so quick thoughts will be the best way to let people know how i'm doing and what has been happening.
milan was saturday, a long plane flight, barely made my connection in rainy dublin, got to italy and it was sunny but my body felt like it was four in the morning. it's five days later and i feel like i only just now am catching up on sleep. that's because 16 cooks are living together, and it feels like some kind of mix between freshman year of college and mtv real world. but, i must admit, ten of us in the hotel in milan on saturday night was a good time.
sunday we arrived in colorno, a small town near parma. it's been beautiful here, blue skies and farm roads, little bridges crossing lazy rivers. we cook in a castle that's drenched in sunlight, old and tall on the outside, modern on the inside.
tuesday was our first real day in the kitchen. each week we will be focusing on recipes from a specific region of italy - this week we are cooking recipes from liguria. amazingly, to prepare for this lesson, our chef-instructor had driven to his mother's house in liguria and picked from her garden an array of wild herbs that would be used in a filling for triangular shaped ravioli called pansoti. to use fresh and local ingredients like this from his mother's garden was amazing. and more amazing was watching our chef demonstrate the dish - he made the pasta dough and rolled it into thin sheets with such ease, grace, and poise, and his final dish was honestly one of the most subtle and delicious things i've ever eaten. i got a little down on myself when i couldn't exactly duplicate what he'd just done. but i know i'm here to learn, and even when i don't make a dish as perfectly as i would have liked to, this learning process is what's important.
it was hard to be in a new kitchen with a new teacher, not knowing where to find things, not yet knowing the rhythms of the day. i was also thrown off by the fact that the two pasta dishes we did that day were both made with an uncooked sauce. rather than boiling the fresh pasta and transferring it to a saute pan with sauce, we took the pasta out of the water, put it in a bowl with a little olive oil, plated it, and drizzled our uncooked sauce on top. i feel comfortable finishing my pasta in a saute pan with sauce. plating unsauced pasta and drizzling an uncooked sauce on top was new for me. but, adjusting to new kitchens and new chefs is all part of the deal, and it's something i should get good at.
ohh, and i almost forgot, on monday night we had dinner in parma, and i was eating prosciutto di parma in parma! and we were served plates of parmigiana cheese to go along with it. so nice.
milan was saturday, a long plane flight, barely made my connection in rainy dublin, got to italy and it was sunny but my body felt like it was four in the morning. it's five days later and i feel like i only just now am catching up on sleep. that's because 16 cooks are living together, and it feels like some kind of mix between freshman year of college and mtv real world. but, i must admit, ten of us in the hotel in milan on saturday night was a good time.
sunday we arrived in colorno, a small town near parma. it's been beautiful here, blue skies and farm roads, little bridges crossing lazy rivers. we cook in a castle that's drenched in sunlight, old and tall on the outside, modern on the inside.
tuesday was our first real day in the kitchen. each week we will be focusing on recipes from a specific region of italy - this week we are cooking recipes from liguria. amazingly, to prepare for this lesson, our chef-instructor had driven to his mother's house in liguria and picked from her garden an array of wild herbs that would be used in a filling for triangular shaped ravioli called pansoti. to use fresh and local ingredients like this from his mother's garden was amazing. and more amazing was watching our chef demonstrate the dish - he made the pasta dough and rolled it into thin sheets with such ease, grace, and poise, and his final dish was honestly one of the most subtle and delicious things i've ever eaten. i got a little down on myself when i couldn't exactly duplicate what he'd just done. but i know i'm here to learn, and even when i don't make a dish as perfectly as i would have liked to, this learning process is what's important.
it was hard to be in a new kitchen with a new teacher, not knowing where to find things, not yet knowing the rhythms of the day. i was also thrown off by the fact that the two pasta dishes we did that day were both made with an uncooked sauce. rather than boiling the fresh pasta and transferring it to a saute pan with sauce, we took the pasta out of the water, put it in a bowl with a little olive oil, plated it, and drizzled our uncooked sauce on top. i feel comfortable finishing my pasta in a saute pan with sauce. plating unsauced pasta and drizzling an uncooked sauce on top was new for me. but, adjusting to new kitchens and new chefs is all part of the deal, and it's something i should get good at.
ohh, and i almost forgot, on monday night we had dinner in parma, and i was eating prosciutto di parma in parma! and we were served plates of parmigiana cheese to go along with it. so nice.
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