Dinner Parties

I love cooking for small get togethers.  Especially if I have the chance to be social or become part of the group.  And it's always better with a glass of good red wine.  This summer was full of friends visiting from out of state or country... the vegetarian couple in from Ireland, a chef friend that went to Kendall who currently runs a bed & breakfast in Costa Rica, the numerous family shindigs I get drafted into, and probably a couple others I can't seem to remember right now.  Anne & I also went to our first underground dinner a few weekends ago, which was an experience in itself (especially since a guest opened a 1970 Bordeaux).



Here's a few pics of us at Rob Nuey's party.  If anyone's ever in Costa Rica, look him up.  He runs Casa de Flores, a B&B where he both owns & cooks.  Http:/www.casadefloreshotel.com or +506.8519.1285.

 

 

My courses that night...
Potted Shrimp & Lobster Crostini, Herbed Petite Salad...
Gingered Plum & Prosecco Soup...
Pistachio Gelee, Mandarin Foam, Shaved Coffee Infused Chocolate

 

 

 

 

I'm available for events too, assuming it can be worked around my schedule.  Just comment or message me.

Portrait of a Line Cook, Franco Gonzalez

"My name is Fran." 

Franco didn't understand the male/female variation of his name translated into english. 

"Your name in english is Frank, Franco."

Head shaking no.

"No, my name is Fran."

Me shaking my head no.  This was a common discussion between the two of us while we worked together.  He was a helluva fish cook.  He also made a mean staff meal... always when staff meal had already been done with for hours.  Usually behind your back.  Sneaky, fast and proud, I always found Franco fun to work with (when we weren't tormenting the living beejeezus outta each other).

He was a native of Pueblo and his entire family worked at the factory in town, a factory which made parts for Volkswagen.  My old boss, James, sold him his old VW Golf, and even though Franco couldn't drive manual, happily stalled it to and fro, proud to be able to have a car his family may have well produced.  Almost every cook I've ever met from Pueblo has been a incredible cook.  They just get it.  They can wring flavor outta just about anything given a second to think about it.

 







Every once in a while Fran/Frank/Franco would show me some random kitchen catalogue and ask me if something was, "a good price".  He was piece-mealing his dream of opening a taquería back home, and small fryers, flat tops and butane stoves were his obsession at the time.  A good dream if you ask me, I still want my own place.  Heck, I wouldn't mind owning a taquería.  Mexican food kicks ass.

We had our differences at times and he was known for pulling the occasional prank.  I was butchering beef tenderloins for a party when he decided to drop a sixth pan of ice water down my back.

I hit him with a tenderloin.

Then I grabbed my own pan of water and chased him through the kitchen.  

He was too quick for the second part of my revenge.  Lucky for him.  I miss Fran.

Pistachio-cello

I forget which server at work said that they'd had pistachio-cello at a bar in Boystown, but I decided I had to recreate a batch at the house.  Um... for medicinal purposes?  Here's the recipe I followed.

Pistachio-cello

500 ml (3/4 bottle) vodka or grain alcohol

2 c. unsalted pistachios, in the shell

A cup or two of 2:1 sugar : water simple syrup, added to taste

Drink remaining bottle of vodka (250 ml or 1/4 bottle).  Drunkenly add nuts to remaining alcohol in mason jar while cursing the economy and the general nature of society.  Let nuts steep for 48 hours.  During this 48 hour period, find more vodka.  Drink.  Make simple syrup by briefly boiling 2 parts sugar to 1 part water.  Strain out nuts.  Add simple syrup to taste.  There will be some left over, so, while in said inebriated state, consume and post about said experience on Twitter.  Chill finished mix overnight in freezer or refrigerator.  Serve cold as possible with stuff pistachios go well with.  Perhaps replace the normal vodka in a White Russian to create a "Nutty" Russian.  Enjoy!



California Foie Gras Ban Starts Today

Dear Government (both local & federal),

Please keep your effing politics off my plate.

Thank you,

The Management

My Favorite Cookbooks, Part 9, The Complete Book of Butchering, Smoking, Curing, and Sausage Making

The Complete Book of Butchering, Smoking, Curing, and Sausage Making, How to Harvest Your Livestock & Wild Game, by Philip Hasheider, might have a title as long as some Panic! At The Disco song names, but damn, does it deliver.  It shows you in full color glory the butchering process from the killing of the animal, dressing the beast, and then preserving or cooking it safely.  This is bonafide post apocalyptic survival guide reading and also a must read for any chef worth their salt. 

I once worked with a guy that questioned my interest knowing how to pluck a chicken.  I was reading the La Varenne Practique, by Anne Willan, which was the first cookbook I'd read that began to delve into this type of process.  I looked at the offending cook and let off a rant that must've been quite embarassing for him at the time.  It's important to know how your food has been handled prior to your cooking it.  Safety being a chief concern, but it also allows you to see details into how your product was processed.  Was it with care or haste?  Was it a humane or inhumane kill? 

This text not only discusses domestic animals, but shows wild game as well... including raccoons & squirrel.  Heck yeah.  Let's get some burgoo on, eh? 

I especially liked the detail on the necessary equipment needed for each task, such as the number of buckets needed to defeather poultry.  The author also makes a point to include more than one option for certain tasks, and highlights the pros & cons of each procedure.  This was definitely written by someone who is truly passionate about the subject matter.  Read this book. 

May nose-to-tail eating never die.

Arizona Stories, Kitchen Idiocy

You ever see a guy walk through a kitchen with an 8" chef knife wrapped around his apron strings jogging through a hotel kitchen?  Mind you, the blade wasn't covered.  I have.



Have you ever seen two line cooks kiddingly box on the hot line until one of them accidentally stabs the other with a plugged in mini stick blender?  I have and yes, it did turn on.  I couldn't stop laughing either, even though a slight bit of blood was spilled.



Ever see a prep cook decide that sanitation buckets were the best thing to store raw chicken bones in for stock?



How about watched a cook get pissed off at another cook so much that they sabotaged the other guy's chicken stock with a pineapple & a handful of tumeric so they'd get yelled at by the Executive Chef?

Seen someone add sugar to another cook's salt?

Watched a saucier throw all of another cook's prep onto the ground because they decided to work on their prep table? 

Accidently emptied a faulty fryer full of oil onto the floor?  That was me by the way.

Also erroneously posted that Paul Bocuse had passed a way yesterday?   Me as well.  This link should clear that up.  http://ph.omg.yahoo.com/news/dont-believe-twitter-rumors-french-chef -paul-bocuse-110602928.html  The rumors aren't true.  I did try to confirm yesterday evening and found that Wikipedia even showed him as deceased.  My apologies to any who believed this because I reposted this.

Never a dull moment, eh?

Highwood Story, Kitchen Fight!!!

I used to work for a notorious restaurant in the North 'burbs, where the Chef/Owner's temper was nigh near legendary.  He worked for 4 Michelin 3 star kitchens back when it meant something. His kitchen was the most militaristic, intense place I've ever had the um... pleasure(?) of working.  Cameras were everywhere, 16 in the kitchen areas, plus one webcam that the public could watch.  Which was nice for my wife, as she could tell when I was done working by seeing us clean at the end of shift.  Bad for the cooks though, as Chef had a habit of watching (even on vacation) and would call back to chew out the staff if he caught something out of place. 

I have a feeling there will be more than one blog about this place, but I'll start with this story.  Kind of ease back into it, see if there's any response.

So one day right before service kicked in, one of my cooks has an issue with a busser.  The cook was Fernando, who I believe was lying about his age to work.  I think he was honestly turning 16 years old halfway though his employment.  Acne riddled his face; he was prone to hormone addled rage at anything and everything.  He was a quick learner though, and was one of two main cooks on the pasta station.  Angry at the world, chip one his shoulder, and hadn't had his ass kicked hard enough yet.

The busser was Ishmael.  Twenty one years old, Ish was a full 4 inches taller than Fernando and ripped.  Ish was training to be an amateur lightweight boxer.  He could also clear more plates than most men could carry, with one hand.  Sweet guy though.  Softspoken and very polite.  I wouldn't want to start anything with him though, I doubt I'd win a fair fight (emphasis on the word fair). 

So the two get into it verbally, I pretty sure Fern told Ish to go have sex with his mother in an uncomfortable place, and it wasn't the back of a Volkswagon.  More words were exchanged and a small shove or two commenced.  They agreed to take it outside and I started to follow.  Except they never made it outside.

Ish had gone first, and as he reached the stairwell before exiting the back door, he swang the service door into Fernando's face.  Hard.  His hand then shot out and pulled the cook by the neck into the small area at the top of the stairs.  By this time I'd ran past the dish station to follow while calling out for the General Manager at the top of my lungs.  I cleared the door and confronted the two workers, who were now fully punching each other in their respective faces.  With 13 stairs leading into the basement right at their feet.  Idiots.  Someone could've died there.  Not thinking any further, I grabbed both of them and pulled them apart, all while calling for the GM, who came in time to see me holding the two apart by their shirts.

The best part of the whole thing was that it had been entirely caught on camera.  I was able to watch and replay the part where I broke up the two a good half dozen times later that evening.  I also had no issues with the kitchen staff for a few weeks after the incident.  I guess they thought I was a little crazy or something.  I think they were right.  

I ran into Fernando earlier this last year.  He works at a Garden Fresh market, his acne cleared up, and his English is better than mine now.  I'm glad to see this was just a phase or something and that he turned out okay in the end. 

A pic from said restaurant.