David Ross

OK, all of you have sold me. A traditionalist has been convinced that I can no longer ignore the wonderful dishes I've seen come out of your kitchens as a result of this book. The book was on a 25% off special at Barnes and Noble today, but I didn't buy. Looks like I can get about 35% off buying it through Amazon.

I've been around Chef Carla Pellegrino a number of times in Las Vegas. What you saw on Top Chef last night is the real Carla--wacky, outspoken, pasionnate and emotional. But in the end, Carla is incredibly likeable and a good Chef. Is she the "Top" Chef of Italian cuisine in America today? Probably not, but shes a very good Chef.

So a twist this season. Rather than start in Texas and end far North, we'll start in cities across the country, say cooking with Chef Colicchio at Craft, then the fortunate few will end up in Seattle. A different concept from the past. This should be interesting.

Seattle is a city with a unique geographical setting that naturally gives a cook a bounty of wonderful ingredients. I know I'll be chewing my fingernails in frustration over ridiculous challenges that will have no relationship to the Pacific Northwest. And of course, they'll traipse off to some far-away location for the finale. (Remember, the finale for Top Chef Texas was British Columbia, and I love British Columbia but they could have kept it in the Lone Star State). Seattle is much more than Salmon and Dungeness Crab, but oh is that seafood delicious.

O.K., folks, here we go with season 10, Top Chef-Seattle.

I'm very fortunate that we have 3 different PBS stations up here in Eastern, Washington. We have the local PBS station, then the "Create" Channel which is basically old PBS shows from the past and then we get access to the Idaho PBS station. Dappled into the mix is some programming from the Canadian PBS station in Calgary. This show will bring in a new perspective on how Chefs think and I hope it will be quite successful.

Very simple and easy but a very tasty weeknight dinner that didn't take a lot of work. Fried giant prawn. Steamed rice with black sesame seed and sea salt. Store-bought seaweed salad and fermented vegetables, (out of a little can off the shelf at the Asian market). Then a dipping sauce of citrus-flavored soy sauce, fish sauce, sesame oil and julienned ginger.

That's exactly what "modernist cuisine" is to me. Looking at new and/or better ways to do things with food. Something that's been going on as long as there's been food but at a point in time when information and criticism are easily shared and thus requiring a special label to help it stand out in discussions. At some point somebody decided to stick their chunk of bronto-steak on a stick and hold it over the fire. A few said "hey, let's check that out". A few said "that's not how it's done, I refuse to accept it". And there was the inevitable group that actively rallied against it and said that we never should have cut that chunk of bronto-steak off of the animal in the first place... "What happened to simply gathering around and burying our faces in the carcass?". The tricks and gags of "molecular gastronomy" demonstrated what some of these new ways of thinking could accomplish but the ideas behind a lot of it had valid uses in cooking in general thus creating the need to seperate the whimsy (molecular gastronomy) from the techniques (modernist cuisine) so that we could use those techniques without everybody expecting dessert to look like a fried egg or their sauce to arrive in little drops in a caviar tin. Many look down their nose at that sort of thing now but it was a valid stage in the evolution of cooking and will leave it's mark on how things are done in the future. I actually agree with you, and when people watch the show and see what Chef Chang does with dried ramen noodles, you'll see what I mean by "practical, rational thinking." "Modernist" doesn't have to necessarily be dishes spiked with natural agents and avant-garde presentations. It can be the result of a natural evolution of cuisine that introduces new, and sometimes controversial, treatments of ingredients. I've often associated the Modernist movement in cuisine to the Abstract Expressionist artists. They introduced highly controversial techniques that at the time shocked many traditionalists of the art world. Yet as time moved forward, their imprint on technique and their school of thought left an indelible impression on many forms of art. Just a thought to consider as you watch this new series, "The Mind of a Chef."

It aired on our local PBS station yesterday. It was interesting. If you only relied on critics of Chang, you would have built a vision of a dragon in your mind. But the more I've seen him on various shows I think he's pretty likeable--and practical when it comes to his creativity. In the show you'll see how he takes a traditional Japanese ingredient and makes it into what some would call "modernist." It isn't. It's just practical, rational thinking of how you can use an ingredient in different ways.

Ironically, I was watching a classic episode of "The French Chef" last night, ca. 1963, and Julia placed whole eggs in simmering water for 10 seconds, then cracked them and proceeded. She said that it aids in drawing the white away from the shell, resulting in a better shape to the finished poached egg.

With talons like that, I bet it was one tasty bird! I've had a hankering for a decent black pudding for years and so I think I better get cracking and make one at home. Thanks for planting the idea.

Now that is a nice side dish for Thanksgiving.

I keep chili paste in a covered container in my fridge and it lasts well for weeks. I use about three different types of dried chilies. It's great to season ground beef or meat for tacos, and it makes a mean seasoning for lamb sausage.

And we can add another show to our unglorious list, "Life After Top Chef."

When I first considered a dish of Sea Scallops and Pumpkin for a class I was teaching, I thought, "hmmn, I'm not so sure these flavor combinations will work." I was worried that the drive to put forth a pumpkin dish for the season was overpowering rational thought--does shellfish really go with pumpkin? Well, it worked. The sweetness of the scallops worked with the sweetness of the roasted pumpkin, (and a good measure of earthy roasted garlic). The sweet elements were contrasted with the tang of the vinaigrette composed of pureed pumpkin, toasted pepitas, apple cider and apple cider vinegar. And one element I never thought I'd use in this type of dish-stewed tomatoes. The old-fashioned flavor of canned, soft, stewed tomatoes worked perfectly. My fishmonger ordered the scallops for me--big brutes in the U-7 class. What a dream. Seared Sea Scallops, Roasted Pumpkin, Toasted Pumpkin Seed Vinaigrette-

Thanks, and go for it! I'll be excited to see what you come up with. We all cook a lot. We all eat a lot. But I'm sure we all have one thing in common--we know when we taste something that's very, very special. This dish is now in my small, exclusive collection of my own dishes that I'll put in "the best thing I ever ate" category.

We've been discussing things that jiggle on your plate over in the Cook-Off, http://forums.egulle...ll-o-and-aspic/ here. One of my efforts was this appetizer of Foie Gras Mousse in Ice Wine Jelly with Huckleberry Compote- I'd have to say that it tasted pretty darn good.

I'm going to have to go with 'wow', which I realize is spectacularly inarticulate. This is the the first time I can recall seeing a savoury gel and thinking, 'I need to do that'. Thank you, and I agree with you about savoury gels. From this dish forward I'm not going to think first about lime Jell-O and shredded carrots dressed with Miracle Whip. Nor will I consider the vision of trays of "Ambrosia" raspberry Jell-O with whipped cream. No, my thoughts of gel have forever been changed by the taste of Ice Wine Jelly and Foie Gras. The Holidays are fast approaching, so I think that's going to be the perfect time to craft more of these little beauties.

Tasting- Sometimes words don't fully describe the senses you feel when you taste something memorable. One can use all the obligatory adjectives so often associated with foie gras, (often with terrible, overly-dramatic affect). But I don't really need to tell you anything more do I? As cooks and students of cuisine, we know that the true test is the taste test, and one hopes that these final photos portray my experience. Until this Cook-Off, I never realized the legacy my Grandmother Pink had left me. I didn't even realize I had her gelatine molds until I looked in that back cupboard in search of my collection of molds. A call to my dear Mother, Janet Pink Ross, some 88 years old, turned my mission into something deeper than a Cook-Off. It became a journey of discovery and a remembrance of family. Edna May Yount Pink was born in Lewiston, Idaho, in the 1890's. She graduated from Whitman College in Walla Walla, Washington, with a teaching degree in home economics--an incredible achievement for a woman in the early decades of the 1900's. Those years at Whitman were the foundation of my Grandmother's passion for food, cooking and entertaining. Her first teaching job took her to Twin Falls, Idaho, where she met my Grandfather, Ralph Pierce Pink, who worked for his Father Max Pink at the family's wool pelt trading company. My Grandparents married in Kansas in 1917, where Grandfather was in basic training with the Army. (As the tuba player in the regimental band, Grandfather Pink was spared being sent to fight in Europe). I never met my Grandmother Pink. She died in 1951, the same year my parents were married. A few years ago, my Mother passed-down her Mother's recipes to me. The collection includes a worn, black leather booklet holding forth a vast number of recipes for gelatine dishes. I have no doubt that my Grandmother served fancy gelatine salads to the ladies in her bridge club. Now, some 61 years after she passed away, I'm proud that I discovered the legacy that my Grandmother Pink left me--those little gelatine molds.

Thanks. After all that planning and testing I finally got to the end. It was one of those moments in the kitchen that we all have when we realize we've created someting very special and delicious.

You know me too well. Yes, the next set of photos will portray the mold cut in half revealing the foie gras mousse and an individual serving. I would have to say I don't remember ever experiencing this type of texture combination. The pea/gel dish at Savoy had some interesting textures, but this was totally different. You have the soft jelly texture of the ice wine gel with the firm, buttery texture of the foie gras. In the same bite, you add the crisp texture of the bread and the texture of soft, warm huckleberries. It was incredible.

Plating- This was the moment of truth. I really had no experience with unmolding such a precious dish of gel. Limited experience in cutting Jell-O shots does not serve as the proving ground for unmolding foie gras in ice wine jelly. I let the cold mold sit in a shallow bath of hot water for about 30 seconds. I knew from the test with the lime Jell-O that hot water did the trick in unmolding gelatine. But this gelatine was different--it was made of wine encapsulating a heavy interior mousse. I feared that the soft walls of gel would collapse without the support of the metal sides of the mold. A plate was placed on top of the mold, the whole contraption inverted so the plate was on the counter and the mold on top. And then this gentle beauty slid out from its cover- You can see a hint of something curious encased in the cocoon of ice wine jelly. And now the garnishes. First, a sprig of bay gently tucked underneath- A few spoonfuls of warm, not hot, wild huckleberry compote- And the bread- A touch of fresh thyme-

The Foie Gras Mousse in Ice Wine Jelly- The main element of the dish started with "Black Ice" 2009 Black Muscat from Tefft Cellars in the Yakima Valley of Central, Washington. The winemakes notes that the wine is "pressed from grapes frozen post-harvest, this wine has the great floral aromas of the Muscat grape, balanced with a crisp, refreshing finish." While not as sweet, syrupy and silken as the delicious ice wines from Ontario or British Columbia, I soon found out that this mildly sweet, fragrant wine was the perfect accompaniment to the rich foie gras. The first step was to make the ice wine jelly. I used a ratio of 1 1/2 cups of wine to 1 1/2 tsp. of powdered gelatine. I wasn't exactly sure of the ratio I needed, but after some research, I went heavy on the gelatine and light on the wine. My assumption was that I wanted a "hard" gel so it would support the weight of the thick slab of foie gras that I would suspend in the jelly. The wine was heated until just to a simmer, then the gelatine was stirred in. This first mix of gel would form the base of the mold. At this point, I wasn't going off experience and pretty much in a freestyle form of preparing the mold. The "first layer"- After the first layer chilled, I let it chill and set in the refrigerator for about 1 1/2 hours until very firm. The "second layer" was composed of thick slabs of foie gras mousse studded with black truffle- The "second layer" of gel was then poured in the mold and around the foie gras. The idea at this point was to create a little ice wine jelly "dome" enclosing a "jewel" of foie gras mousse-

The Bread- "The bread came from Walmart. Yes, the bakery at Walmart supplied the bread for a dish featuring foie gras. I am, I am sure, the only man in America, the world perhaps, to pair bread from Walmart with a culinary icon." Contrary to the thinking of probably a majority of our Members, you don't always have to buy a loaf of bread crafted with fresh spring water delicately bottled at the source, special bread flour flown in from Paris, and yeast fermented in a rural barn in Mt. Pleasant, Washington. Certainly such ethereal loaves give one an incredible taste, but it wasn't necessary in this dish. What I was seeking in this dish was a very, very thin slice of bread that would serve as the vehicle to deliver the foie gras mousse and ice wine jelly. It had to be fresh so it would toast with a delicate crumb, yet crispy but not so brittle that it would break under the weight of the mousse, jelly and garnish of huckleberry compote. I bought the standard Walmart bakery Italian loaf with herbs. Aside from what is a very tasteful bread, it was shaped into a rectangular loaf that was perfect for how I was going to slice it--into thin, long shards. One of the great kitchen tools for slicing bread is a meat slicer. You can control the thickness of the slice, and the blade cuts so incredibly fast that the bread doesn't suffer from that "marshmallow squeeze" effect you get sometimes when you slice bread with a knife. The slices were brushed with melted butter and sprinkled with black pepper then toasted in a 350 oven for about 5 minutes until browned.

The evolution of a dish is a beautiful thing to watch. It can take hours, days, even weeks of experimenting with ingredients, technique and the look of the plate to finally discover the end of the yellow brick road. If you follow our Cook-Offs, you sense that this has been one of the more challenging efforts for me this year. I never set out to become a Master of Modernist gels during this Cook-Off, but I thought it would be easier than it has been. My intent was to take some retro gelatine dishes and craft them into something contemporary. The Ginger Ale Salad looked woeful, but tasted great. The Bloody Mary Aspic topping the fresh oyster was clean, refreshing and both cool and spicy at the same time. But it really wasn't unique, was it? I was still searching for a gel dish with soul. Real soul. Soul that speaks to your heart as a cook. Something unique in terms of the flavor combinations, the textures and the presentation. But what would be the touch that would give the dish "my" soul? Through weeks of experimentation, (and a good dose of luck), I composed a chronicle of test shots portraying my thought process leading up to the final version of the Foie Gras and Ice Wine Jelly dish- The Tests- Ever more molds to try-silicone cups used for making lollipops, a nonstick metal mini-muffin pan, and some metal cutters and ring molds- A small porcelain ramekin, sprayed with non-stick coating and filled with foie gras mousse, levelled-off with a small pastry spatula- The porcelain and glass molds didn't work, nor did the new-age, nonstick teflon or space-age silicone molds. Stuck in the mold became the mantra of my Cook-Off. But what about those little metal molds from Grandmother PInk? I've never used them. They've sat in a dark corner in the back of the cupboard for over 50 years. Could it happen? I'll experiment with some lime Jell-O. But how do I unmold the little dome of jelly? Could the little mold crafted a century ago really work?- I'm starting to get giddy at this point. The mold worked with Jell-O, but will it work with ice wine jelly? How do I get the foie gras into the mold? And what about plating? I need to serve some bread or cracker with the jelly-mousse, but how do I present the bread? In a little ramkin? Doesn't the ramekin with towering shards of bread overshadow what should be the focus of the plate?- I'm starting to believe....