Category Archives: Cooking

Cooking, Food, Writing

Think like a Chef – LBB#3

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The best chefs I’ve met are ones that can do two things really well:

a) have a clear vision for what the finished product will be and then go out, select the best ingredients and prepare them accordingly
b) when presented with any number of ingredients, quickly be able to determine how best to utilize them to their fullest potential and in combination

Cooks that can do both experience the complete freedom that comes with those skills. The exhilaration that comes the first time you walk into a market with nothing but some money and have a great meal determine itself is incomparable. Some people may never get excited by this, and always set out, recipe and shopping list in hand. There is nothing wrong with that approach and it usually delivers predictable results, but to truly feel in command of the craft and be confident that you will be able to make something interesting no matter what you find is something else. I liken it to the experience so many others who work with their hands express in various ways and metaphors – that it is the block of stone itself and its characteristics that determines the finished sculpture, if you will.

This approach opens the doors to a world of new ideas and infinite possibilities, so that one begins to stop following recipes and ideas they have seen and instead begins to create them easily. The intention of these scribbles is committing these principles to heart and also to provide some reference to those basics upon which all good cooking is built.

(Forgive the overdone cliché, but I’ve always been a “teach a man to fish” person myself, and believe wholeheartedly that the greatest gift you can ever share with others is the knowledge you have gained, and hopefully they will do the same.)

So where to begin? let’s talk about making food INTERESTING!

In 1989, I read “Chez Panisse Cooking” by Paul Bertolli and Alice Waters, and it really changed the course of how I felt about approaching food as a young cook. In addition to some great recipes and ideas, there are two chapters in that book, one on quality ingredients and another on making a menu that have lasted with me my whole career. My copy is well worn and full of highlighted passages and key concepts that any cook should take to heart. One that has always stuck with me is this:

“A menu that does not excite those who cook it will not excite those who eat it”

SO true, and in order to make food exciting to cook, we have to look at what makes food exciting to eat.

Food touches all of the senses. We taste, we smell, see colour and shape, feel texture and temperature, and hear sounds as we eat.

All of these elements together create a palette from which an infinite number of combinations affects you differently whenever you put food on your table. Chefs are always trying to push the senses to the limits in never before thought of ways, but the underlying principles that make food taste good are unchanged. Here are those I always go by:

Variety and diversity in textures and the elements of taste make for interesting food; avoid monotony
Contrast is as important as harmony; but avoid extremes and imbalance
Food that comes from the same place (time/season or location) usually works together
Fresh and ripe rules every time

Let’s explore this a bit more, as I walk you through the process I use to go from “what am I going to make” to a finished meal:

Step 1: Visualize

When deciding what to cook, we have to draw on what we have to work with. Working through the following will usually have you pretty close to an idea of what you want to do.

Available ingredients – what do I have, or can I get NOW!
Past experiences – what worked, what didn’t, likes, dislikes, etc
Olfactory (smell) and gustatory (taste) memory – picture how something will taste or smell in your mind
Sensory triggers – something catches your eye or a smell, a sound, the feel of a raw ingredient gets you thinking of an idea

Step 2: Flavour profile

Once you have the basic idea or main ingredients in mind, think of the flavour profile.

There are a varying number of elements to all of the things we taste depend on your cultural background, but essentially there are a handful of elements that compose all of the taste profiles found in the foods we eat. Western definitions of taste traditionally have broken everything down into 4 major elements:

Salty
Sweet
Sour
Bitter

Asian cultures have added the following to the list

Umami (literally “pleasant savory taste”)
Spiciness
Astringency

Step 3: Introduce the other senses

The other senses contribute to the overall experience in a variety of ways. Imagine if food didn’t have the following attributes, which in many cases provide our first impressions, the lasting memories, and our overall like and dislike of a certain dish or dining experience:

Temperature – both real and perceived (such as mint as a cooling sensation or spice as heat)
Colour – use a wide palette
Shape – create visual interest
Texture – some of each creates contrast
Mouthfeel – dry, fat, rich
Smells – avoid overpowering or distracting
Sound – noisy, difficult foods may spoil a mood or setting

And always try to remember a few guidelines as you go along:

Think outside the box – try new things
Too much of anything is never a good idea
Great dishes hit on multiple senses in a variety of ways
Look to classic combinations for inspiration, then make logical leaps: If flavours work together in one context they will do so in another. A great example of this is the recent trend of bringing savoury pantry items into desserts.

For a bit of fun, try this experiment I did with my co-workers to illustrate the above concepts.

Select four ingredients that each have a very distinct flavour on their own, but have different characteristics, and not things that you would normally think to put together. Try and touch as many elements as you can from the lists above.

I chose the following, based on what I found when I opened my cupboard and fridge:

Salt and vinegar potato chips (salty, sour, crispy)
Smooth peanut butter (creamy, nutty, smooth, salty, sweet)
Spicy red pepper jelly (sweet, spicy, cool)
Fresh cilantro leaves (astringent, umami, chewy)

Now, try combining them and see what “the whole” tastes like. We took a chip, spread it with the peanut butter, topped it with a thin layer of the jelly, a few fresh cilantro leaves, topped with another chip, and then ate the resulting “sandwich” all in one bite. We found that the dominant characteristic of each item disappeared and settled into a more harmonious balance that had an interesting combination of texture and flavour that was actually quite pleasant. Let me know what you tried and if you had a similar experience!

Next up: Let’s talk about ingredients!

Cooking, Food, Writing

The Principles of Cooking – LBB#2

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Cooking ANYTHING essentially boils down to a set of four basic principles:

1. selecting ingredients according to their preferred characteristics.
2. applying processes to the raw ingredients in order to transform them into finished products.
3. using a common set of known formulas in order to achieve the goals of # 2
4. evaluating the outcome and adjusting either 2 or 3 accordingly

The fundmentals of each of the principles can then be broken down further and applied according to the individual recipe or dish you are trying to prepare.

1. Selecting:

Every ingredient has its preferred set of characteristics, and depending on the desired outcome, which of those characteristics is most important may vary greatly. A slightly under-ripe fruit may be exactly what you are looking for if you are wanting to accent its acidity, firm texture, or if it is being cooked for a long period of time. However, if it is intended to be served raw and at its ideal level of sweetness, then being at the perfect stage of ripeness and its unblemished appearance is key. However, a sauce, soup, or other item requiring a soft smooth finished texture may require the cook to search out over-ripe fruit, which ordinarily may have been removed from the produce rack and relegated to a discount shelf in the back. Making the determination before you go out shopping, or having the outcome in mind will ensure that the proper selection is contributing to the success of the finished product.

2. Processes:

Every stage in the cooking process has an impact on the final product. If you have selected the wrong product to begin with, you can never expect the desired results. Likewise with the preparation techniques, using the wrong technique or poor execution will determine or compound the results, Every part of the process, whether it is the way a product is peeled or cut before cooking; how it is prepared, mixed, or seasoned; how heat is applied and when; whether or not there is moisture present in the cooking process; and how it is treated after cooking will all affect the finished product, so here a little bit of knowledge goes along way. Understanding the basic principles of food science form your ability to not only achieve great results, but adjust for any variables you may encounter along the way.

3. Formulas:

In addition to understanding the importance of the processes and procedures one uses in the kitchen, having a repertoire of known formulas or basic recipes is essential. Cooking and baking always depend on the right combination of ingredients, the right proportions, and the right cooking method. For instance, knowing the ideal proportion of dry ingredients to liquid for whatever it is you are trying to prepare is essential. You can take the same ingredients, and by varying the proportions and methods, end up with very different results. A cake batter, pancake, muffin, biscuit, and cookie all have similar ingredients, but because all are proportioned, mixed, and cooked differently, they are all distinctly different finished items. The cook who understands the basis of these differences has then an infinite arsenal of recipes and his or her hands, and can set out to prepare a variety of things from any set of given ingredients.

4. Evaluating:

Now what if the results aren’t what you were intending? Sometimes this can be a discovery of itself, as some of the greatest recipes of all time have been “accidents”. Take Crepes Suzette, for instance. The cook turned his back for moment, in which time his sauce caught on fire. Not having time to prepare another, he tasted it, and found the result to be exceptional, so proclaimed it to have been designed that way. Knowing what the root cause to the most common problems can be allows the cook to use all of his or her senses, to make the changes necessary so that the desired results and the outcomes are aligned. This does take some trial and error at first, but an experienced cook can make adjustments on the fly in many cases and turn a potential failure into a probable success.

Learning and applying these principles in the kitchen will be the focus of this series. But before we get there, we’ll talk about how to “think like a chef”

Cooking, Food, Writing

The Chef’s Little Black Book

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Today I am starting a new series – an idea I have for a book that has been sitting in a stage of partial completion for a while. If it will ever make it to print, I don’t know, but at least writing it this way I can get it all in one place and share for now as it comes together.

It starts something like this……….

Every great cook I have worked with has had his or her “little black book”, a collection of recipes and menu ideas gleaned from years of working alongside others who share the passion for food and cooking. In most cases it’s a shorthand list of formulas, great menu items, and notes to self about one’s experience spending thousands of hours behind a stove. This collection goes to form the chefs we become, and the broader one’s repertoire, the more source for inspiration there exists. I have held firmly to my belief that everyone in the kitchen makes a contribution to the knowledge base of the profession, and that collective brainpower has led me to years of inspired cooking in small restaurant kitchens and at home.

This experience and knowledge once closely scrutinized, comes down to several basic principles and approaches to food, ingredients, and technique. It is that combination that gives us the variety, as every recipe I have ever seen, know, or developed has been an extrapolation of a simple idea based on one of the fundamentals.

It is my goal in this series to share my personal collection of the basics, as well as an insight into how to take a relatively small set of ideas and turn them into an endless array of recipes, menu ideas, and memorable meals. What I want to get away from is the concept that cooking is about just following recipes. Cooking food is like playing music, my other great love. You can follow the score, but at the end of it all there are only 12 notes. Every great piece, song, or melody is derived from the ability of the composer to combine those 12 notes with an understanding of common combinations and fundamentals that work, sprinkled with a good dose of imagination and experimentation.

To transcend from merely following recipes to experiencing food in such a way that you can imagine an outcome, select the ingredients and put them together with a fairly close interpretation of what you set out to is truly a magical experience that those of us who have cooked professionally for many years probably take for granted, but one I want to share with you over the next little while.

So here it begins, my “little black book”

Dennis
January 2013

Cooking, Food, Menus, Recipes, Writing

The Last Supper (of 2007 that is)

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In the 20 years since I first picked up a saute pan as a way to earn a living, there have been two occasions on which I have not had to work on the night of December 31, the first being 1994 when I was the Pastry Chef at Bishop’s, hence a daytime shift, and the second 1999, as we were closed for the Millennium. And then there was this year, and the first occasion that really felt like a night to enjoy the evening for what it is, an evening marking change, new beginnings, or whatever you want to think of it, but a fine night for a fine meal for certain.

I had the fortunate circumstance of the calendar on my side, having the weekend to decide to cook a nice dinner, and the time to prep, with only a half day to work in the office Monday morning. My wife and I had decided that we should invite some good friends over in an impromptu fashion, and I set about for Sunday to plan the meal. I had just cooked quite a fantastic dinner/class for a birthday dinner for some clients two weeks earlier, and two dishes from that meal stood out as possibilities: a hotpot with seafood, and smoked salmon with potato crepes, both having appeared in various incarnations in my restaurant repertoire, but new versions of which I had been thinking about.

For a main course, I had decided that beef tenderloin with mushroom ragout and potato puree, always a classic for a fine dinner, would be in order, and for dessert, I had some dark chocolate left in the cupboard from Christmas baking, so I figured I’d make a ganache tart of some description. I was sure another course would find me at the market, so set off for the purchase of the fixings.

Front and centre at the produce market were two things extremely complementary, fitting for a fine occasion, and worthy of a course unto their own: white asparagus and Cara Cara oranges. The former has always been a favourite for a celebratory appetizer, served warm with a butter sauce of some description, and the latter a newer variety I had come across, plump, sweet and tart at the same time, and a beautiful rosy pinkish colour not unlike the rio red grapefruit. The season for both is short, so I took it as a sign that that was the missing course. Some nice pears were perched close by, not too ripe, but just right for poaching, and I remembered an open bottle of nondescript white in the fridge at home which may provide a cooking medium and a nice counterpoint to the rich chocolate. I knew I had some blanched almonds in the cupboard, which would prove to accent both the third and final courses, and the menu was pretty well set:

Seared scallop hotpot

Smoked salmon crepes

Steamed white asparagus with Cara Cara oranges

Beef tenderloin with shiitake mushroom ragout

Chocolate ganache tart with poached pears

Once home, I set out my prep list for the next two days: Sunday: Make some demi glace with some beef bones in the freezer, almond pastry crust and ganache tart, poach the pears, hot pot broth, prep the mushrooms, marinate the steaks, and prep the mushrooms, leaving me in good shape for Monday to finish the prep in the afternoon and cook course by course for dinner.

I made the pears and the almond sweet dough, and started thinking about how the pears might be fanned out on top, and got them poaching so they could cool. I roasted the bones and set the pot on the back of the stove to simmer for the afternoon, deciding that since I was making demi, I should at least make a few litres so there would be some in the freezer, always handy for a class or a dinner. The hotpot broth was simmering simultaneously and the kitchen permeated by the flavours in three simmering pots of liquid, each with their own noble purpose: Brown stock, intended for demi glace, rich with roasted bones, herbs, and vegetables; Hotpot broth perfumed with ginger, peppercorn, soy, and chinese spices; and white wine poaching syrup with cinnamon, star anise, ginger, and lemon. What a feast for the nose!

Stage one well underway, I baked off the tart shell fully, lined with parchment and rice for the first 30 minutes, and then the final 5 uncovered to allow the bottom to brown (quite important for a dessert like this, where you want the crust to be quite crispy considering it’s not getting baked any further and there is a moist filling going inside) Whilst in the oven , I pulled put the chocolate and cream for the ganache and began to ponder what the addition of a heavily reduced shot of the poaching liquid would contribute to the filling, as it surrounded the senses. I considered it for a moment and made the decision that as long as it was reduced to the consistency of honey, it would soften the ganache enough without diluting it too much and making it watery. I ladled of a couple of cups from the then cooling pears and boiled it rapidly down, and once it had arrived at a glorious state of golden splendour, set is aside while I scalded the cream for the ganache. Cream into chocolate, a light whisk to melt and emulsify, and then I added the reduced syrup and gave it a taste. “Fantastic!, let’s just hope it sets now”, I thought. Into the tart shell and then the fridge, I set the now cooled to room temperature pears to chill as well, to make the task of slicing them a bit more manageable.

All liquids aside, strained, demi reducing, I took a break for the afternoon, and replenished myself with a liquid of my own.

Later that evening, the ganache had set nicely and I sliced the pears an arranged them on top, pressing them ever so gently down in the process. Covered and wrapped, Sunday’s prep was complete.

I returned from the office at about 1 the next afternoon, and after lunch spent a bit of time getting the prep “restaurant ready” so I could quickly assemble each course while having enough time to sit and eat as well. Scallops were cleaned (the little muscle on the side removed, which has the lovely texture of an eraser), Potatoes cooked, some for the crepe batter, some for the puree, batter made, puree as well, transferred to an ovenproof pot with a lid for a rechaud later on, 2 cups of demi measured out, the rest in the freezer, fennel shaved on the mandoline, scallions sliced, asparagus peeled and trimmed, oranges segmented and the juice squeezed out of the remaining flesh for the sabayon, a few baby carrots sliced on a bias to go with the beef, hot pot broth transfered to a pot for reheating, A nice bottle of red from the cellar (a 2001 Pichon Lalande, a gift from a wine dinner a few years earlier), almonds roasted and chopped, crepes cooked and stacked, and the remaining wine syrup reduced for use as a sauce. All was well.

About 7, our guests arrived, and after a preliminary refreshment, we began to eat.

First course:

Hotpot broth at a simmer, I seared the scallops in a small amount of vegetable oil and a very hot pan, and gave them just a kiss of sea salt once flipped. A nest of fennel and scallions in the bottom of the bowl, surrounded by the scallops and the aromatic broth was a great way to start, with a crisp unoaked chardonnay.

Second:

Crepes brushed with creme fraiche and smoked salmon, then cut and rolled into little cones, a few each

Third:

Orange juice and egg yolks whipped into a sabayon, with a bit of butter added to finish, then asparagus dropped into salted water for a quick cook. The combination of hot asparagus and rich but light sauce with fresh oranges and almonds was delicious!

Fourth:

A cast iron pan heated to very hot, and a sear of the tenderloin before a spell in the oven to finish. while the beef cooked and rested, I had 10 minutes to saute the mushrooms, deglaze with sherry and demi, and adjust the seasoning, drop the carrots into the hot water I had used for the asparagus for a quick blanch. Delicious again, by which time we were getting quite full, so decided to take a break before dessert.

The kids had all made plans to go out, and by this time it was 10 or so, so off they went, leaving us to enjoy our dessert afterwards. The tart had set nicely, and proved to be a very nice combination indeed, and a great way to finish the meal.

A bottle of bubbly was popped at midnight, as per tradition, and the end of 2007 and the beginning of 2008 given a rightful toast. A very interesting year to say the least, but all’s well that ends well, and end well it did indeed!

Cooking, Food, Menus, Writing

Snow day, Martha, and more

The weekend started out normal enough for this time of year. Being the first of December it was decided that it was the weekend to venture into the realm of “Holiday Baking” We quite often are entertaining a few times over the next few weeks, so it is always easiest to dedicate a day to the production of several sweets and assorted other “building blocks” for future soirées.

A thorough inspection of the cupboard revealed a need for a full complement of supplies so off we toddled early Saturday to pick up the assortment of various sugars, fats, nuts and candies that would be making their way into the oven. As the month had greeted us with the first snap of winter, the air was crisp and cold, with the threat of snowfall hovering in the west. A good day to bake by any account, and with a little luck the snow would hold off until we could get the tree later in the afternoon. Armed with the usual suspects: molasses, brown, icing, and superfine sugars, butter, cashews, walnuts, baking soda, a fresh bottle of vanilla, I headed to the till. Normally the magazine rack at the Supermarket counter, (as enthralling as it can be to most) doesn’t bear much of a second glance from me, but as it’s December, the latest Martha mag sat perched front and centre, complete with a cute little gingerbread village on the cover. Nice idea, I thought, and since I had already planned to commit to a large batch, figured I’d pilfer the idea if time allowed.

By the time we had made our way home and started thinking about the baking projects, the snow had started to fall, making the decision for us that the tree would have to wait until tomorrow at the earliest. I settled into my planned activities for the day: Biscotti, Shortbread, Gingerbread, Oatmeal Coconut cookies, Cashew caramels, and a batch of Danish pastry for the freezer. One by one I made the doughs in order of priority: first the gingerbread as it had to rest overnight, Scottish shortbread (my friend Harry Greenwood’s recipe, of course) was next, as it needed at least a half day of a chill before baking, followed by the danish pastry process (about a 2 hour investment, off and on with all the turns) Squeezed out the biscotti dough in between folds of danish and set the dough to chill on the porch, put the caramels on between the next fold, third fold made the oatmeal cookie dough, then baked the biscotti, removed them to cool for slicing and the second bake, and finally got the oatmeal cookies in the oven by about 3. Around 4 I had 80 oatmeal cookies and 80 biscotti out of the oven and cooling, managed to poke a pork roast in for dinner and at long last had a chance to have a biscotti and a cup of coffee.

The snow had abated for the day, and although there was more scheduled to fall overnight, we figure to let Sunday’s schedule determine itself. After dinner I baked the shortbread, and inspected the caramels, which were delicious but a tad too soft, so were wrapped and put in the fridge destined to be dipped in chocolate at a later date. With the bulk of the baking done, I figured that a good night’s rest was in order, and should have time to tinker with the gingerbread the next day.

Overnight, a few more inches fell, not a great deal, but enough that the neighbourhood was covered with a thorough blanket. We went out for a morning walk, up the hill by the elementary school, and as we approached could hear an eerily interesting mix of sounds. The giggle of a dozen kids on sleds could be heard over the sonic backdrop of a piper, the bagpipes cutting though the morning air. With the snow and the big trees it was easy to imagine being a world away from Suburbia.

Once home and warmed up, I grabbed my graph paper and began calculating the size of the gingerbread cookies to make a decent sized circle, and made a few quick templates. I had decided that I would make the cookies and then ice them onto a platter to use as a serving dish over the holidays. The dough was perfect for rolling after its overnight rest, and I used the first pressing to make the people and trees for consumption. I figured the re-rolled dough, which is usually a bit tough, would be preferable for making the town, anyway. Once I had two trays each of people and trees, it was apparent that there would be enough left over for a couple of dozen buildings, so I decided I would make enough that I could take one to work to decorate the office.

I decorated the houses once cool, and set them aside for the icing to harden. The assembly was actually quite painless once I cut out a cardboard template with the correct angles on it, and the results I’m glad to report are really lovely. If anyone’s feeling industrious or snowed in this weekend, 12 cookies measuring 2 1/2 by 4 inches make a 10 inch circle (it’s actually a 12 sided polygon if you want to get picky, but you get the drift) Happy Baking!