chromedome

Wrote a long and fervent response, previewed it, and said to myself, "Nah. Don't go there." Suffice to say that I'm the only one in the place who ever closes anything, cleans anything, puts anything away, bags garbage, takes garbage out of bin when bin is overflowing, etc. Don't get me started on the subject of knives in the sink... To forestall the inevitable comments, let me say that I spent a solid ten years attempting to instill some sense of responsibility for day-to-day chores, and it's just a lot easier and quicker to do it myself. Even when I've been working 60-80 hours.

I've only just found this thread, so forgive me if you've long since been satisfied on this point, but... Jaymes, empanadas probably antedate latkes in the Jewish world by some centuries. During the Middle Ages (and probably well before), baked or fried pies with sweet or savoury fillings were widely popular in both Jewish and gentile communities throughout Europe. In Spain and Portugal, the wellsprings of what we now call the Sephardic community, these pies would already have been called "empanadas" before the discovery of the New World. My copy of Gitlitz & Davidson's A Drizzle of Honey (a book of recipes from the Jewish/converso community of 14th/15th century Spain and Portugal) contains some 20 pages devoted to "meat and fish pies." So, if anything, empanadas would be more traditional than latkes, for the Sephardim at least.

I have to confess, I also traveled that road to shame. I was the youngest university student in the province at that time, and in an unavailing effort to seem older than I was I affected a pipe and scotch-drinking. After trying a few shots of JW neat, to see what it was all about, I concluded that the earthiness and smokiness of the scotch would be well complemented by the root beer. I can't say that I would drink it now (single malt with a drop or two of water is my preference these days), but I don't think I was entirely wrong either. It at least makes more sense to me than people who spoil good rum with Coca-Cola (you're perfectly welcome to put Coke in cheap rum if that's your thing).

The atmosphere of the kitchen is a powerful thing, isn't it? The sheer adrenaline rush of performing at a high level for an extended period, the satisfaction of battling pain and fatigue to meet ridiculous time demands, usually with insufficient resources? I ask myself many of the same questions you do, Ron, though in my case it's complicated by the fact of being 20+ years older (I'm a career changer). I love what I do, but recognize that the pay is not commensurate with the time and stress demanded. The physical and mental strain are not to be lightly dismissed. This time of the year, in particular (November and December are ghastly busy where I am), I am usually ill from the pace of the preceding six-eight weeks. To me, the bottom-line question has to be your passion. Do you still have it? Does good food, and good cooking, still excite you as it used to? The workload will be similar from one busy restaurant to another, but the chef's personality makes a huge difference. I've been blessed in my bosses and co-workers, but many of my friends and former classmates have not been so fortunate. Having lived a varied life since I left home at 15 (in the '70's, that would be) I have drawn a few lasting conclusions from my experience. One of them is, "Life is too short to work for an asshole." In short, I would suggest that you take some time to rethink your experience, and take that chef's unfortunate personality out of the equation. Look at what's left. Do you like it? Do you want it? I don't want to sound paternal or condescending, but man, you're young! At twenty-two or twenty-three, you've got time to try several things, yet. As I read your post, I see a love for food and cooking. If you come back to the industry for another four or five years, you will have ample opportunity to learn and grow professionally. If you ultimately decide that it's not for you, you'll have still learned many valuable skills. The people skills you acquire in the pressure-cooker world of the kitchen transfer well, and few other careers can inculcate the sort of focused intensity you learn as a cook. These are both very portable things, which would serve you well in the longer term. Conversely, if you choose to walk away for three, four, five years, well...that doesn't mean you can never come back. Speaking now from the chef's perspective, if I'm interviewing a guy who got burned out, tried other things, and decided the passion to cook was still there, well...I'm probably going to give that guy a job. Not without the soul-searching interview, you understand, but he'd have an advantage. Please understand that this is not hypothetical on my part, I've got a couple of guys working for me who went that route. Finally, bear in mind that there are other ways to make a living as a cook besides working in a restaurant. Cooking classes, catering, personal cheffing, and the like, alone or in combination, provide a satisfactory living for many talented cooks. Self-employment is not for everyone, and can certainly be a terrible slog, but it can also be very satisfying. Many members of this board earn their living this way. Like most people from Atlantic Canada, I come from a long line of pragmatic survivors. My attitude is that you make your decisions in life, abide the result, and press on. Whichever way you choose to take your future, you cannot go far wrong if you approach it with passion and integrity.

A pleasure to read as always, Maggie. I've been churning out tourtiere filling in 20kg batches for my work, ever since the weather got cold. Our head office chef's recipe is a little different from the ones you cite: three parts ground pork to one of beef (no oats or potatoes), onions in big chunks, and the seasonings restricted to salt, pepper, and an utterly unreasonable quantity of allspice. It's very different from the ones you've cited, but it's exactly the way his own grand-mere made it; and several customers have told me that it's the first "boughten" tourtiere they've had that tasted like the ones back home. Of course, it's one of those dishes...every farmwife had her own version. Chris, rappie pie is somewhat heavier on the grated potato than a tourtiere would be, but they exist at different points on the same continuum (what part of NS did your family come from? I'm a Bluenoser myself...).

I made truffles for everybody in 2003 because we were really, really broke and I could get the couverture at cost through my work. Guess what I *have* to make, every year, now? Ungh. This year I think I'll conscript the daughter (13-year-old pastrychef in the making) and add some cookies to the mix. There's more to life than chocolate, after all...

It's easier to make a fountain work with a chocolate that's formulated for dipping, as these already contain a large quantity of extra fat to make them melt easily to a thin liquid. At my workplace, we use the Callebaut S-12 coating chocolate for that purpose. It still takes a fairly startling amount of vegetable oil (coco butter's too damned expensive) to make the fountain run properly. Just within the last few weeks, though, I've been given a tip from a local chocolatier that made the ol' light bulb go on for me. He uses a thin ganache in his fountains, which gives the desired consistency but with better flavour. I haven't had the chance yet to give it a bash, but it sounds brilliant.

Oh, and an afterthought... For centuries whale meat, like beaver, was considered to be "not meat" in the Catholic countries of Europe, and therefore suitable for Lenten or fast days. The Basques and Scandinavians, in particular, had a thriving trade in catering to this little bit of culinary hypocrisy.

In Northern Newfoundland, in the 1970's, whale was occasionally eaten in the outports. I know that smaller whales often became fouled in fish nets, which may be why they were taken in the first place; once the animal's dead (and your your nets are fouled, which means no fish), why would you not? Toughness is certainly a characteristic of most of the animal's flesh. This is only to be expected, since most of the whale's muscle is used constantly for swimming; therefore tender little-used muscles are hard to come by. There are many ways to compensate for that, of course. The way my father prepared it, when we were given some, was by long braising in the oven. It came out pretty tender. The flesh was rich and dark, definitely gamier than beef. I'd say it had more in common with seal or moose; that rich dark gaminess that some perceive as "livery." I don't quite make that association myself, but then again I like liver... I'd be chary of whale meat, on the whole, because so many species are dangerously depleted. Assuming that I knew the animal was humanely harvested, and that it was from a non-threatened species, I would not have any real objection to cooking and eating it.

I'll cheerfully join the chorus of "oyster" fans, and second Luckylies on the virtues of the tail. That latter may be hereditary, as my mother always made a point of sneaking that little tidbit as soon as a bird hit the table (before, if she was the one cooking it!). On one occasion, when I was about six, we were visiting at the house of some friends. I wandered in from the living room, where the kids were eating, in time to see Mom in her usual fork-first powerdive at the roast chicken's nether regions. "Yep," I said, to general hilarity, "ol' Mom sure likes her tail...."

FWIW, I worked at a restaurant here in Edmonton that used three GE Profile ranges in lieu of a commercial range. On the whole, they worked well in very heavy usage (five course meals, up to 80 covers a night) and were in general very reliable. We had a couple of incidents with oven doors crapping out - again, bear in mind the ultra-heavy usage - and the igniters will need to be replaced periodically, but for the beating they took they were surprisingly reliable. I'd expect that for home use your experience would be just fine, though if you're confident enough with electrical wiring to replace your own igniters that would probably be a plus.

Make herbed butter. Put some of your windfall into the food processor with a stick or two of butter, and whiz it until it's well mixed. Shape into a log, and freeze. When you want to use a little, slice off a disc and have at it: melted on a piece of fish or chicken, added to an omelette, or whatever. It's a good way to preserve most herbs.

Almond milk was widely used for custards in the middle ages. I haven't had occasion to play with it myself (ie, haven't made up a satisfactory excuse yet) but it is said to work well.

I'd second the Black Box. It's eminently drinkable table wine at a very reasonable price. Up here in the Great White North it sells for about $40CDN, and each box is the equivalent of four bottles. The wine inside would be comparable to those selling at $15-$17 locally, so it's pretty good value. The contents are good for about a month after opening, which is pretty close to a glass a day.

Toss them with beaten egg whites. Drain thoroughly in a china cap or colander, but don't let them dry. Toss with granulated or castor sugar, as well as any spices you deem desirable. Spread on a baking sheet in a single layer, and bake in a moderate oven until crisp. Not prone to clumping or gumming up, but don't make them on a rainy day unless you're serving them immediately.

Ling, I have three of those Eurodelices books, and while I mine them for ideas, I don't trust any of those recipes without trying them first. They tend to be rather vague at crucial points; I think some of the chefs feel that you should have to figure things out for yourself. Don't get me wrong, I love the series, but it's not one of those scenarios where the recipes are bulletproof. I'm enjoying all the give and take on this thread, and look forward to the end result.

That's frikkin' amazing! Fit for the Patrician himself (if the Librarian doesn't get there first). I have to show this to my Pratchett-ophile kids tomorrow. On second thought, they'll expect me to duplicate it...

My kids are both better cooks than their mom, anyway.

Mache, try using one or (preferably) two cake-decorating "nails" in the 9X13 pan. Place them in the bottom of the pan with the points facing up, at about, oh, the "40-yard lines" of the pan. The nails conduct heat into the middle of the cake and help it to bake evenly. I wonder if the coffee that's so common in these recipes is intended to simulate the darkness and flavour of the buckwheat honey? Just a thought.

Interesting...I've never seen maraschinos (or any other cherry, for that matter) on a pineapple upside-down cake. Is this a purely American thing, or have I just somehow not encountered it here in Canada?

Excellent! I'd gone looking for one while I was in cooking school, and was surprised and dismayed to find that it didn't exist.

I personally like Peter Reinhart's BBA for the depth of information he provides, and I find the recipes to be very good (also I like getting baker's percentage even for small-batch recipes). Having said that, I think the Hamelman book would be the one I would get if I had to have only *one* bread book. Also, FWIW, it's the standard text used by the baking program at the excellent trade school here in Edmonton.

One man I knew in Halifax, who operated a lucrative lunchtime business for the downtown trade, summed up his own prerequisites neatly: "Fifty thousand in the bank for emergencies, and enough capital or credit that you don't need to make a profit for a year." He was on his third restaurant at that time, having sold the previous two at an insane profit after running each one for 2-4 years.

Gee, who knew there were so many of us? I sat up late one night at the age of 38, telling myself that it was time to decide what I wanted to do when I grow up. Cooking was the only thing that came to mind, so off I went to cooking school: one year at NSCC in Halifax, and one year at NAIT after moving to Edmonton. I was infinitely better prepared for school than most of the younger students in my class, even the ones with kitchen experience; and in neither school was I the oldest in my class. I've been out of school for 2 1/2 years, now, and have recently been promoted to chef at my workplace. Even more exciting, I'll be travelling east in a few weeks to meet with the proprietors of a boutique tourist-trail hotel, who are interested in offering up an ownership stake to a chef who can help them grow the business. Without the years I'd spent in sales, and the varied life experiences I'd had before becoming a cook, I would not have this opportunity right now. Follow your heart, kiddo! Age is no object, if the passion is there.

We used it a lot at the fine-dining restaurant I worked at. I found that it melted well and was not quite as viscous as Callebaut (nor yet as runny as Lindt). To my taste, the flavour is earthier and less fruity/acidic than Callebaut. I prefer it for applications where the end flavour is to be less sweet than bitter. It's a solid product at a reasonable price, in my experience.