paul o' vendange

If they've been brined, they will keep without issue the couple of days post-brine. If it were me, depending on the thickness of the chops, I'd go with Saturday or Sunday, pull and dry them, wrap them and go with Monday.

It strikes me that the places listed here that you can actually get into are designed to be part of a guessing game as to which country you're in. Not a single bistro that the French would go to in search of their own familiar cuisine.Russ Parsons once wrote (in these pages I believe) of That would certainly apply to MacRobuchons. ← Felice kindly moved this thread to a good home. I am a romanticist and, wistfully reading through Le Ventre de Paris, I've been thinking on this; Felice, John, John, Dave, Ptipois, any who live or work there - how would you characterize the state of Parisian cooking generally in this light? Is Russ' comment a fair assessment of Parisian cuisine today? Of French cuisine, to include regional, historically significant places? Secondly, along these lines, I can't help but also think on the nature of "molecular gastronomy" in the France of today. Reading of Bernard Loiseau, and his assessment that he "couldn't do [this type of] food," I must admit my profound sadness. If the author is correct, and so much is driven by the desire to "refresh" the palates of critics "dulled" by a surfeit of world class, haute but traditional French cuisine, then I feel we have lost a good deal. As I said, I'm a romanticist. Thoughts? Is Paris, and, beyond, France, on a move to another place generally?

Just a thought - I sear very gently. By the time all sides of, say, a lamb shoulder have been seared, 1 hour or more has passed. I don't know if this is backed by science or not (anyone have McGee down more than I do, please chime in), but the rate of melanoidin formation and caramelization is as important to me as the final result. I find that a fast sear, or a fast reduction, develops an unpleasant, "grainy" character in the final product. I go slow, wherever possible. I would guess that the interface between the pan and product - the localized heat points under a rapid sear or reduction - firing with more energy, would be chemically different than under a more gentle scenario. Re: thickening, I just think it has to do with what kind of character one is after in the finished product. I prefer sheen, and the mouthfeel imparted by gelatin, so I use a good strong chicken stock, generally, as a starting point and thickening agent, with maybe a bit of demi or dark chicken stock (a double stock) at the end. Brown roux, braised vegetable puree, reduced jus are all great, IMHO, just different in character.

Let me tip the hat towards a few others I worked with regularly, always a good experience. Both Moulard and Muscovy, Venison America; Muscovy from Grimaud Farms and, through Great Ciao, duck and foie gras from Au Bon Canard/Christian Gasset. Christian is an extraordinary farmer, one who cares deeply that what he does is done properly; and he is a pleasure to work with.

My $0.02. In my braises, I may marinate meat in (de-alcoholized) wine and, if so, this marinade joins chicken stock for the braising liquid. That, and prodigious aromatics, usually. I usually pull 1/2 the braising jus at the completion of the braise, and simmer, clarifying religiously and reducing to sauce consistency. I may or may not add a bit of demi or integral glace, although usually I do as I find demi adds a velvety mouthfeel and difficult-to-define sense of "round" sweetness not otherwise obtained. The remainder of the jus stays with the meat, which is finished in a hotter oven, basting every 5 minutes or so for about 45 minutes, to add a deep, rich glaze to the surface. I am never shy of enough sauce, and don't find the jus overly rich or seasoned. I do find using demi or an integral stock in the braise may be too much for some meats - i.e., braised lamb shoulder with lamb stock, so I just use chicken stock in the braise and depend on time and extraction to contribute integral flavor to the finished jus.

With no particular recipe, among other things, I am a fan of apple flavors with pheasant. I used to make little ballotines out of the breasts, stuffing them with a sausage made with leg meat, apple, and house-cured, applewood-smoked bacon. A pan sauce made with pheasant stock, shallots, easy calvados, and sage usually accompanies. I also like serving the legs separately, either braised or as confit. All, with some sort of fall gnocchi or similar side - our way, a local grower family produces beautiful delicata, so, I keep it simple and simply roast the squash halves, filling them with braised cabbage.

You're impression is right, at least in my experience. Many sushi sources come in blocks that have been frozen and thawed extremely carefully. Tuna loin in this way is quite common. The best sources process at sea, under nitrogen or other inert gas, at an incredibly high freezing rate. When I wasn't cannibalizing my pristine, fresh loin used for service, I enjoyed a good deal of ahi and yellowtail loin processed this way, and it serves as beautiful tataki.

Tim mentioned the John Mettler book, Basic Butchering of Livestock & Game. I think it's got decent if not exhaustive information. Also, as a kid, I read the Foxfire Series, and do recall a section on slaughtering and butchering livestock. A quick search yielded Foxfire Anthology, which includes a section on dressing hogs. Both of these texts are geared more to basics than culinary preparations, but may be useful. I loved the Foxfire series - set my prepubescent mind reeling on the possibilities of moonshine in S. California!

How about heat, time, and clarification.

OK, John. I'm sorry if what I wrote isn't appropriate. I did think of this, but thought that as "travel" was part of this thread, issues of travelling (or living where travelling) would be appropriate. Apologies.

Thank you, Forest. I appreciate your help. Some eye openers this morning, based on your and Dave's posts - among them, France indeed was not one of the signatories to a bilateral employment agreement (recent enlargement as of April, 2006, did not include France). And au pairs are single, under 30.

Thank you, great information, Dave and Forest. Have either you of an opinion on the relative safety of the burbs v. the city proper? From what I have read, the broad-stroke painting is Paris is safe, the burbs are not. Thoughts?

Hello community, I hope this is the appropriate venue. I will be applying for admission to ESCF for entry next fall. If I am successful, it is our intent (myself, my wife and our child) to live in Paris during the 9 months of the training, and to see what happens after. A couple of questions, at this juncture. Can anyone provide a realistic appraisal of monthly housing costs for a family of three? I have read conflicting information, so if any have actuals, it would be greatly appreciated. We live on futons, now, in the same room - size is not an issue. Can anyone describe options in suburban Paris accomodations? My family's safety is a primary concern, and I have heard conflicting things here, too, so any information would also be appreciated. Finally, my wife will shortly hold EU citizenship (Estonia). While I cannot work during the school term, it is my understanding that with her Estonian citizenship, her ability to work will not be hampered - is this true, or are we being naive? Additionally, one of the things she is considering is au-pair work, in part to secure living quarters for we 3, but from what I have read, au pair work is reserved generally to single men and women. Any thoughts? Any thoughts on these things, or on doing an ex-pat move for a family of 3, generally? Thank you, Paul

I wonder what an oil from them would be like? I see some nice twin oils - bright orange and bright green.

I agree, Steve, and this is what I seek in my stocks - that wonderful, inviting succulence that screams of the animal's essence. I am not sure, however, it isn't mirepoix in marriage with the meat components that lends this subtle sweetness...for instance, my veal, lamb, venison and duck stocks have a prodigious amount of mirepoix, as I want the marriage of the unctuous meat character with that subtle sweetness. By contrast, my light chicken stock is a utility carrier of flavor, used to moisten braises, etc., but not an integral sauce-in-the making; therefore, I pull back on the mirepoix, particularly carrot. You've got me curious, now, as to what is lending that character in the "sweet/meaty" stocks - the meat, or the mirepoix? I do know that on the rare times I've run pork stock, because of it's intrinsic sweetness, I pull way back on the carrots, for instance, relative to other stocks. Interesting discussion.

Lucy, I usually do one of two things to showcase the beautiful color of these potatoes: make pommes anna, or go even thinner, and bake them on a buttered and salted silpat in the oven, at low temp, to make potato "feuilles," for want of a better word. In both cases, I make sure to rinse the potatoes really well to free them of released starch that might discolor. The first presentation is really pretty, I think - it conserves the color of the potato, while edging it with gold; the second is translucent, and pure blue. You may want to place the potatoes between two buttered silpats in the second method, to ensure the edges don't form wavelike curls. You can arrange the thin slices on the silpat to make Pommes Maxim, which will hold up on a diagonal or vertical presentation, or you can use the individual "chips" as a small vertical garnish.

May I ask why Colorado lamb particularly? I ask, as in my restaurant I used Jamison Farms, and love their lamb. They are located closer to you, in Latrobe, PA. You can order online.

We generally maintained about 10 stocks at any one time: dark veal stock, light and dark chicken stock, lamb stock, dark guinea hen stock, venison stock, duck stock, lobster stock, fish stock, and vegetable stock. Logistical nightmare, ensuring all stocks and sauces derived from them were prime; but more than anything, this is what we were about, I think - seeking to fulfill the promise that "food should taste like what it is," I sought the purest, cleanest essences of the various animals used in the sauces we derived from them. Interestingly, many of these stocks are what I would call sweet balanced (esp. the veal, lamb, venison, duck and lobster), as I use a good amount of mirepoix (incl. fennel in the lobster), and believed the gentle sweetness provided a round backdrop to the other flavors joined later, in making the integral sauces, or in marrying other components to the meal. I take the concept of fond literally. I am earnest in conveying to the people I work with that what we begin with, we end up with. Of all the things I shoot for, it begins here.

Great thread. I haven't gone through it all, but wanted to chime in with my $0.02 on ratatouille. To me, ratatouille is about maintaining the distinctiveness and integrity of each ingredient, to make a final medley of discreet, delightfully contrasting textures, colors and flavors. Therefore, I saute onion until only lightly golden, pull it out; zucchini, eggplant, peppers, all get par pan-roasted separately, then pulled. I add a bit of garlic, herbs and S & P, the last few minutes of each vegetable's par-roast. I then add everything back with tomatoes, until they render up their moisture and allow the ratatouille only to meld, while not allowing the vegetables to give up their individuality.

Food for thought. Early on, I used to go this way as well, but over the years I have come to consider the "liquid gold" the stock I've been carefully clarifying for days, and pressing on the solids contaminates that gold, in my view. I'd rather keep less, but more refined stock. If I don't press, I make time my friend, and allow a longer drip over the chinois. I do use the meaty scraps and meat (i.e., chicken or lamb) off the bones, but find it nearly flavorless. Hence, my presumption is that I have successfully extracted what I wanted into the finished stock. I will marry these scraps to other things to make something for employee meal, and given the addition of these other things (say, duxelles), it's o.k. But in terms of the stock, in my opinion, any further contribution of "flavor" will only be a diluting effect, beyond the impurities and negative effects I spoke of earlier. Just my experience. The impurities I'm talking about are fats/oils and proteinaceous material (such as blood and uncoagulated albumin) trapped in the tissues of the bones and meaty scraps, freshly released by pressing, that I do not want sitting in my stock.

I don't press on any stocks, shellfish stocks included, for the reasons discussed. My Américaine, for instance, is formed from a strong lobster fumet, shallots, garlic, wine, cognac, tomato, saffron, cream. I use the coral in coral butter, which is used to enrich accompanying things - risotto, or a roast-fennel timbale; and the par-roasted lobster is finish-poached in a tarragon beurre-monté; the fumet itself is not pressed and is as clear as I can make it. I am a fanatic for getting the pure extract of a given animal, going for "clean" flavors, and give up yield for this end result. For large-boned stocks, like veal, I do as HKDave says - Day one, I do a strong stock; Day 2, I do a remouillage; day 3, I marry the two and reduce. However it seems Chris is asking a different question - he is accepting lack of clarity, and wondering whether additional flavor will result from pressing. My short answer, with no scientific evidence but only experience to offer, concurs with FatGuy and is "no, not much, in the way of flavor." Ideally you have rendered all the flavor you can into your stock and the remaining bones and aromatics have little left. However, I will often take scraps of meat off the bones - say, chicken - and make something out of it, with the help of other things, because there is some flavor left (say, ravioli for staff meal). But I think that with pressing, the marginal flavor you achieve is not worth it and you are adding a host of impurities that carry other, unwanted flavors.

Hahahaha. Yep - but name it afterwards, not beforehand. Then it's the "genius combination by design."

You may have tried it already, to no avail, but on many vertical preparations, the trick (I have heard, I'm strictly horizontal except for mashed potatoes) is to build the dish inside a length of fat PVC pipe, and then carefully remove the pipe. +++++ Boy, you guys are way too intellectual for me. .... ← I haven't posted on this, as I didn't want to say much more but rather hear from others...but I realize I convey an undue nod towards "emotionality." If most of my recipes, plate conceptions, menu/degustation conceptions will often start with some sort of "visceral" response to something, I must admit a very conscious intellectuality as well...if, for instance, I include the pomegranate glaze on a plate of venison rack, in drops and gently-stroked lines, as it sensually reminds me of pristine blood, I will also think very hard, strategically, on how I can best convey whatever impulse first brought me to something. Maybe, there is a triumvirate in place - an emotional or visceral impulse, an intellectual design, and a foundation of orthodoxy. Even these, though, are artificial distinctions. Many times, I will first consciously and intellectually wish to bring about something, and use other things to bear to flesh it out. On and on. ← I understand that you as a professional have a lot less leisure to wander aimlessly through farmer's markets and a lot more pressure to turn out a variety of consistently excellent products night after night, and I respect the vision you bring to your craft. I cook in a way that brings me the most pleasure, from the moment I wake up hungry until the time I'm munching leftovers while doing the dishes. I'm pretty sure it's not for everyone -- it's been known to drive my wife to distraction -- but it works for me. ← I think what you do is fantastic and to the extent I am able, I never, never want to lose that...this is what drives it all, to me, after all. I simply want to share what floats my boat and get paid enough to keep doing that. If I could, I would invite every customer into the kitchen to smell the unique smell of veal stock, after everything is just fully wetted and the simmer is on...braised lamb, when the lid is first removed...the beauty of our local rainbow chard, still in water, as we pull it for service...the smell of cured duck breast, just before hanging it for a few weeks to turn it into prosciutto. Anytime anyone asked "how do you do that," I printed off the recipe, sat down with them, and talked about how they could do it at home. Babette's Feast, as much as we possibly could. I just realized by your post how much I had talked about "emotionality," and don't think I was being fully straight as I do use my brains as much as I use my "heart," and in truth I think the distinctions between these two poles are a bit arbitrary. Your post helped me to clarify some things for myself.

You may have tried it already, to no avail, but on many vertical preparations, the trick (I have heard, I'm strictly horizontal except for mashed potatoes) is to build the dish inside a length of fat PVC pipe, and then carefully remove the pipe. +++++ Boy, you guys are way too intellectual for me. I like to have a couple of glasses of wine on an empty stomach, grab the wife and wander around the market or the grocery store and see what jumps out at me -- Maybe a fish so fresh it needs to be slapped. Maybe a piece of beef so aged that it almost needs to embalmed. The last strawberries of the year. The first Meyer lemons. Fava or english peas so fresh that you bring a positive glee to the unsavory task of elbowing old ladies out of the way so you can grab the cutest and the best. Whatever the heck "this" is (veal breast? mung beans?) that looks good and we've never made. And then, once the menu is begun, free associating from flavor to flavor and texture to texture as the brain and palate balance the meal without conscious thought. Something crunchy to go with the sorbet. Tart greens to go with the braised beef. A soup, because we haven't had one in too long and the bewintered body craves the miracle vitamins only warm soup provides. Something irresistable because it's on sale, we'll work that in when we get home. Fruit after a rich meal and chocolate after a lean one. Or both, because then we can have piort And then off for some cheese. What's particularly runny today? Maybe something to melt on toast with soup. Or that gooey-looking Italian thing in the back, with the sheep and the cow on the wrapper. Sure, we'd love a taste... (For more formal dinners, surround yourself with cookbooks and wine, and run through roughly the same process, using recipes instead of raw ingredients). I don't like thinking too hard about dinner, I like flionging myself at it. I don't trust the application of intellectual rigor to food or to art or to love. I like it when guests call out of the blue or my son announcers his friends are staying for dinner, the wine fueled anarchy that ensues when six becomes ten and I like the dishes we have to improvise because the chicken can only be stretched so far. There are too many rules in life already. This boy just wants to have fun. ← I haven't posted on this, as I didn't want to say much more but rather hear from others...but I realize I convey an undue nod towards "emotionality." If most of my recipes, plate conceptions, menu/degustation conceptions will often start with some sort of "visceral" response to something, I must admit a very conscious intellectuality as well...if, for instance, I include the pomegranate glaze on a plate of venison rack, in drops and gently-stroked lines, as it sensually reminds me of pristine blood, I will also think very hard, strategically, on how I can best convey whatever impulse first brought me to something. Maybe, there is a triumvirate in place - an emotional or visceral impulse, an intellectual design, and a foundation of orthodoxy. Even these, though, are artificial distinctions. Many times, I will first consciously and intellectually wish to bring about something, and use other things to bear to flesh it out. On and on.

Great post. Personally, I don't think it comes down to a zero-sum game between "emotion" and production of an end goal; I think it is finding a means to marry the two; to bring that "emotion" fully in, while being able to do it consistently, meal after meal. I made every effort to give over to the cooks - none of whom had done this type of cooking before - the importance of a few things: that we seek to clarify, extend, preserve essential flavor and character of the materials we used, not be wizards in unduly manipulating them; that the simple things throughout the day, simply but rigorously performed, adding up to our mise for service, were the bedrock we built ourselves on; and, to learn the principles underlying what we were trying to accomplish in the myriad things we did - why marriages, why these cuts, difference between a gently sweet carmelization from an easy simmer, v. the too-intense mouthfeel and character of a (lazy) rapid boiloff, etc. - rather than a rote replication of what I wrote and showed them. It was my deepest desire that they own their experience for themselves (the same for our front of house), by paying attention to the minutae of their senses. Once they "got" that, the craft of what we did, to the extent we had it, was built on some solid things, I would say. The desire to convey pleasure, through a deeply visceral and emotional connection to every stage of the process, the sense of "play," was built on a program of daily, orthodox discipline. Actually, truth be told, I am all too fully aware the limitations of my ability when compared to the greatness of the raw materials I use, and the greatness of masters that preceed me or who now live to make their mark. I am embarrassed by the notion of inserting myself in too much between food and guest. I have heard it said that Andre Soltner once voiced: "There is no new food." From my personal framework, that is wholly true. I only offer my sensibilities, the fervent desire to master fundamentals, and the deep conviction that if I don't find a way to give this over, I might as well stay home. Sorry for the rant. This is what we aimed for, anyway. I am reminded of Konstantin Stanislavsky (who I once played, in another iteration as an actor; I'm likely butchering it, it has been decades now): "There are great actors, and there are poor actors - but there are few truthful actors." Stanislavki was consumed with this same dilemma - waiting for the gods to strike down greatness, fine - but how to do it on a nightly basis? or, What TJ said.