Sharing a Little Love

On the evening of a day dedicated to love, it's easy to reflect on special loves of your life. And whether you're part of a perfect pair, or if you're single, you may go down memory lane of past loves, or simply think of the other things in your life that bring love and joy to you as the weeks go by.

What better day, then, to take the blog in a slightly new direction. This blog that, believe it or not, has many times been on the potential chopping list of things to let go of in my life. But somehow I just can never completely and permanently *dispose* of what I've written here - though the frequency of posts seems to grow less and less. But I love it. It's my blog and I just can't let it go. Today it's my Valentine, and my gift to it is a new commitment to posting. Once a week. My thoughts are to approach it as a weekly column, or reflection, of what I'm thinking about in this great big world of culinary stuffs, as well as of a few of the things that stood out to me during the week. So here we go for weekly column post number one. Happy Valentine's Day.

When I was thinking about today I couldn't help but think about special people in my life, my friends and family - those who bring lots of laughs to my days and nights. Naturally, many of those laughs and memorable times take place over food, either at some one's home, or out at a favorite city venue. I'll admit lately that it's usually the latter of the two. This thinking took me back to a post I read a month or so ago from film critic Roger Ebert. It was a post he had written on his column at the Chicago Sun Times regarding his what may be the most crippling piece of his battle with thyroid cancer.

Due to multiple, extreme surgeries, Ebert can no longer talk, drink or eat. He can't eat. His body receives food through a tube. He can only communicate via a computer.

The post he wrote was incredibly touching as it reflected on what he missed most about eating. It wasn't necessarily the taste of an incredible meal, but the company he kept and conversations he had while dining. Ebert can no longer truly participate in the act of dining with groups of people, and sharing in the conversation and laughter that is undoubtedly a guarantee when you're with those who are special to you. The article is lengthy, but I highly recommend reading it by clicking here.

I'm a huge believer that eating isn't always about the food. Sound crazy coming from a former culinary student? Maybe, but there are many times when I'll be out with people who I feel are just looking to be critical almost the very moment they walk in to a place. To those people I say: relax. Take in the ambiance, the mood, the way you feel, and most importantly, pay attention to the company you're with. In all honestly, you may very well forget how absolutely delectable that braised beef short rib was, but the conversation will linger on (hopefully) in your memories for years to come.

Some other things that I loved this week.

• A Velvet Painting cupcake from Cupcake Jones. I love cupcakes, but rarely eat them. I had been craving one for a little over a week. While walking in the Pearl with a friend last week, I decided that day was the day. I hopped in to Cupcake Jones and never looked back. It was an absolute delight and made my day - possibly my week.

Photo courtesy of Cupcake Jones

• Purchasing my own jar of Nutella. I've had Nutella in crêpes at restaurants, but I've actually never purchased my own jar. I splurged this week. I'm still trying to decide if that was the best idea. If you're a lover of the chocolate and hazelnut combo, it is truly heaven on earth.

• Giving a bag of dark chocolate hearts to a boy *friend*. A friendly gesture I couldn't resist when I saw the bag at Elephant's Delicatessen on SW Park. He's a good friend and loves dark chocolate more than any man I know. Maybe more than any woman I know. I thought he was going to tear up. It was sweet.

Cheers,

~JF

Brown Butter with Cream

Night two.

Prior to leaving the condo, I made certain my clothing ensemble for the kitchen at Lucy's this time around was more appropriate than the previous night of high-heeled boots and a long wrap sweater. Tonight's was simple: jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and...my Eastland clogs. Definitely not appropriate for city wear, but absolutely perfect for the kitchen (and they are just about the most comfortable pair of shoes I own. Truth be told, I enjoy the times when I sneak out to run errands and choose function over fashion with these babies). Oh, and one more item. Though he half jokingly asked me if I had my chef's uniforms from class, there was no way I was going to let chef Bryan catch me off guard during my next visit to the kitchen. I grabbed my chef's jacket on the way out.

I was running slightly later than I planned. It was Friday night and I assumed the kitchen would be a bit more active versus the last night I visited; a Tuesday. Parking was a bear in NW, but I finally snagged a spot about four blocks from the restaurant. I shuffled up the dark streets of NW Portland to the back door, this time feeling like a part of the crew and walking right in.

I entered and was greeted by a bustling back room. It was close to 5 p.m. so the kitchen was definitely in happy hour mode, and approaching Friday night dinner time. I also noticed that the crew had increased by two: Nate, a transplant from Jacksonville, Wyoming, who'd been with Lucy's for three months; and Haley, a culinary student at Oregon Culinary Institute who was in her fourth week in the kitchen with chef Bryan crew.

"Do you know what you want to do with your culinary degree," I asked the wide-eyed intern.

"I'm not sure yet. There is so much out there to do," she replied.

Yes, my dear, yes there is so much that one can do with a culinary degree, I thought...

Nate was busy constructing a gnocchi dish. I noticed chef Bryan called it "Parisian" gnocchi.

"What in the world is Parisian gnocchi?" I asked.

"It's a gnocchi that's made with pâte à choux instead of potato," he answered quickly.

Ah, I remembered pâte à choux, and the recounted the times I had made it in class to create profiteroles. It's also a common dough used to make eclairs and begneits. Incredibly versatile, and apparently used to make gnocchi in this kitchen.

"Oh, I remember pâte à choux, but can't remember exactly how to make it," I said.

Without hesitation, chef Bryan rattled off measurements of the ingredients for the pâte à choux as well as cooking instructions. Right then and there. Right off the top of his head:

"You need 600 g of flour, 1200 g of milk, 1 lb. of butter and about 16 - 20 eggs. Heat the milk and butter and combine - almost like a roux (a butter and flour mixture that is heated until it takes on a slightly golden-brown color), but not as brown as a roux. Take the mixture off of the heat and, one at a time, add in the eggs, stirring with a spatula until the mixture pulls away from the edges."

Yeah, that's pretty much how I remembered it too.

Keeping the thought of the dining experience at the front of his mind, Bryan mentioned that they needed an amuse bouche for the evening. An amuse bouche is somewhat common in fine dining establishments. It's a little mouth teaser that is sent out from the chef as a one-bite wonder that is meant to wet the appetite. A pre-dinner treat, if you will.

"Jen, what should our amuse bouche be tonight?" he asked. "We have some chicken confit that we can use for it."

A bit thrown off, but not wanting disappoint, I shouted back, "The chicken confit (chicken cooked in and preserved in it's own fat), crème fraîche, bacon and chives."

"No bacon as we already have a dish that has bacon in it," Bryan said.

I see some wild mushrooms and suggest those.

"No, too expensive," Nate responds. "We want something that we need to use (won't go to waste) that isn't too expensive, but that will be pleasing and special to the diners," he explained.

Bryan proceeded to construct something. He added some chevre cheese and heavy cream to a saucepan and stirred until the combination looked like white frosting. He took some toasted ciabatta that the kitchen had, added a dollop of the chevre/heavy cream mixture, some chicken confit and topped it wth a currant and a sprig of fresh greens.

"Here, try this and let me know if you think it's good enough to be an amuse bouche," he said to me.

It was a bit on the heavy and bland side and needed to be "brightened" up. I found that I was hesitant to critique his work, but sort of mumbled that it needed some brightening.

"A fresh squeeze of lemon?" I added.

In the end it was decided: ciabatta as a canapé, crème fraîche, chicken confit, currant and fresh greens.

The night went on and the kitchen was definitely more active than before. Mike, the owner, walked in.

"Oh, you are here tonight. I wasn't sure," I said as I greeted him.

"Are we open?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Then I'm here," he said with a grin on his face.

I spent a large part of the night just keeping myself out of the line of fire (ha, sort of a pun intended) and sat and watched as they worked their magic. Nate was making an abundance of the gnocchi dish as well as a goat cheese ravioli. I had seen that before and it looked amazing.

"Do you want me to make you a small plate?" he asked.

"Oh, maybe just one," I said.

"Well they come with three raviolis to a plate," he replied.

"Ok, yeah, thank you, Nate," I accepted, promising myself that I would only eat one ravioli.

It was delectable. Triangle raviolis filled with goat cheese and topped with the most buttery, nutty sauce.

"What is this sauce you on the ravioli you made me," I asked.

"Brown butter, brown butter with cream," he replied.

I literally stopped mid-bite and looked up with a sly grin on my face.

"So a 10-mile run for me tomorrow then?" I fired back.

"Yeah, pretty much," chef Bryan replied without hesitation.

I had noticed that with every dish that they constructed, sauce played such a huge role. Bryan had mentioned that before his arrival, the kitchen would typically use just a couple of sauces, usually tomato-based, for their dishes. Now, it seems there were at least five sauces that were crafted to uniquely fit each dish. I tasted a few. A rabbit and oxtail sauce used for the gnocchi was absolutely divine. I could devour it like a soup.

Being the writer, I told Bryan that we should develop a book on sauces for today's home cooks. He handed me James Peterson's Sauces: Classic and Contemporary Sauce Making. It had it all in it, but I still thought it might be a bit too ambitious for some home cooks who just want great basics.

I continued to flip through the book as the crew prepared for a 16-plate order, listening to the kitchen communication while skimming through the pages. I came across something Bryan had highlighted in the introduction of the book that made me stop and think:

"No amount of book learning can provide a substitute for hands-on experience." James Peterson

Yeah, pretty much.

Cheers,

~JF

The Back Door

For anyone who has been following this blog, or is just one of many important friends and family in my life, you've heard me say - numerous times - that when I decided to sign my life away for eight months of Le Cordon Bleu culinary arts training it wasn't for the goal of becoming a chef. No, life in the kitchen would be way to tough for a girl like me. The heat. The sweat. What would become of my foundation, my mascara, my perfectly flat-ironed curls? And there would certainly be yelling. I don't do yelling. Don't all chefs have outrageous outbursts that emulate those of chef Gordon Ramsey?

But during the past year and a half after earning my diploma and exploring the world of food writing - plus other avenues in the arena of all things culinary - something continues to intrigue me.

There are not too many things that can hold my interest for an extended period of time. I get bored. My attention is short-lived. My mind wonders, and I tend to move on. Quickly. But one thing keeps toying with my mind.

That kitchen.

What goes on day in and day out? Is it really that hot back there? Is the chef really going "Gordon Ramsey" on the line cooks?

I've kept in close contact with a former culinary school classmate of mine who's quickly worked his way through many of Portland's esteemed restaurant kitchens just in the short time since we left our kitchens at school. Just a few weeks ago, he was named Chef de Cuisine at Lucy's Table. His name is Bryan Szeliga; chef Bryan, pardon me. I couldn't have been more thrilled when I heard the news of the opportunity he was given. I was even more thrilled when he offered me a chance to come 'hang out' in the kitchen with him.

Last week I reached out to Bryan as I was doing some research for an article I was writing for an industry publication. He suggested I stop by the restaurant to chat with him about my questions a bit more. We confirmed via text.

Me: I'll try and come down by 3:30/4. Is that too close to dinner service?

Bryan: See you then

I arrived at the front door at NW 21st and Irvine slightly after 4 p.m. It was locked.

Me: I'm outside. Door is locked.

Bryan: Back door

At that exact moment I looked up and saw the bartender preparing the bar for the evening. We both froze as we realized we knew each other. She is the wife of my Pilates training. I had almost forgotten she worked a Lucy's part-time until the moment I saw her. What followed was about 30 seconds of sheer confusion and conversation through the locked, glass door.

"Jennifer?" she asked.

"Stacy?" I replied back.

"Yes."

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I'm here to talk with Bryan, your new Chef de Cuisine."

"You know Bryan?"

"Yes, we went to school together," I answered.

She motioned for me to walk around building,"Come around to the back door."

And I did. And when I arrived I was met by Lucy's owner/chef, Mike Conklin.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Jennifer, I'm here to see Bryan."

Mike greeted me with a friendly smile and guided me through the back door and into the kitchen.

Having come from running miscellaneous errands all the day, I was clearly not dressed to be in a restaurant kitchen. Tip toeing with my high-heeled boots through the back entryway and onto the wet, rubber mats I finally met up with Bryan and giving him a long-overdue friendly hug while admiring his crisp, white chef's ensemble. I clutched my big purse and held my over-sized wrap sweater tight to prevent it from unraveling into anything it shouldn't have, found a corner next to a row of culinary reference books and set my things down - big wrap sweater off, short-sleeve V-neck shirt revealed. Now, I was ready for some exploring.

Bryan first led me on a tour of the kitchen and explained to me some of the things he'd changed around in his two short weeks at the venue. There was the modest walk-in fridge with shelves full of milk, cream and large cubes of butter. And sitting outside it, tubs of dry goods like potatoes and onions. Down the short alley-like hallway was another stash of goods, these the vinegars and oils and condiments.

After the quick tour, Bryan needed to get things prepped for dinner service and we chatted as he worked at the stove and coordinated stations with his line cook. He wasn't yelling.

The owner had been in and out of the kitchen, and during one visit, reminded Bryan that a local publication would be by around 5:30 p.m. to snap some photos of select menu items for an upcoming edition. A food photo shoot? I thought. Another behind-the-scenes view of another aspect of the food world that I love so much. I picked an excellent evening to come by.

As the time grew closer to the dinner hour, the action in the back grew as well. Bryan and I were chatting about questions I had for the article, and all the while I was shifting from one wall to the other, dodging the servers and owner as they were shuffling things around and getting prepped for an active evening in the dining room.

And the evening went on. The photographers for the local publication arrived and I watched as Bryan and his line cook, Rojellio, created the dishes that were to be shot. Once each dish was finished, I'd follow it out to the "set" and watched as the photographer shot and the dishes were transformed into works of art for print.

And after a few hours of 'hanging' with the crew at Lucy's, watching the kitchen guys dance effortlessly on the line, venturing to the front of house to witness the photo shoot and the action at the bar and the diners in the restaurant, one thing was a constant. My face held a permanent grin. The evening's happenings captivated my interest. I was fascinated by how every one's role was played with ease, and how all the details just continued to come together behind the scenes.

Bryan mentioned to me that the next time I visit, to please wear my non-slip shoes and more casual attire. He asked if I still had my chef''s uniforms from school days and I, hesitantly, said yes as I remember those black and white checkered pants. I immediately told him those pants would not find themselves back on me again. He held a smirk on his face and told me to hang on to at least on pair - in the event that I wanted to venture around to be a part of any other kitchens in town. I left Bryan and his staff, who had all graciously welcomed me into their space for a few hours, and headed out to the front.

I said goodbye to Stacy and Maggie, the other server on site for the night, and said a quick 'thank you' and goodbye to Mike, who was in the middle of a tasting with a couple of wine distributors. He asked if I enjoyed the few hours I spent at his venue, and I quickly said yes. He welcomed me to come back at any time.

And I shall.

I think the adventures in exploring the culinary world is about to reach an entirely new level.

Cheers,

~JF

The Onion

When I was younger, my brother often times played the role of the gourmet chef in our kitchen at home. He was, and still is, a master at the stove, the barbecue and basically anything that involves heat coupled with fine ingredients that causes anyone's mouth to drool.

There was one dish, however, that I had a tough time getting past: his scrambled eggs. Why, you ask? He would add an ingredient to his version of the classic breakfast treat that - in my opinion - should not come near, or be an addition to, one of life's breakfast staples: onions.

I remember my reaction as I took my first bite of the fluffy, lightly yellow colored goodness that lay on my plate. It was sprinkled with freshly shredded cheddar cheese that added a bit of color and a sharp bite to the dish. And then came an added sharpness to the bite. No, it wasn't sharpness, it was more like a crunch. A crunch that came from small, translucent white cubes that were dispersed throughout my scrambled eggs. They were hard and released a flavor that seemed to burn the tiny hairs in my little nose. What in the world?, I thought as I maneuvered one of the crunchy pieces toward my lips with my tongue. Upon unveiling the little creature I realized that it was, sure enough, an onion. Not my cup of tea. I finished the remainder of the scrambled eggs, picking out the little flecks of white cubes in the process.

Fast forward to present day and I can't really tell you when my taste buds changed their minds, but I'm almost certain it had something to do with my first experience in cooking French Onion Soup. I continue to enjoy the flavors and harmony of textures, and especially the taste of the caramelized onions in the famed French soup. I adore onions now; sautéed, roasted, and my favorite, caramelized.

I've seen recipes that instruct caramelizing onions in various ways: some with red wine vinegar, herbs and salt and pepper, others with olive oil, butter and a splash of sugar. I've found it best to keep it simple with a basic combination of olive oil, kosher salt, white pepper (you can use black if you wish, but I'm beginning to incorporate white more and more into cooking) and onions. Some like to add sugar as they say it gives even more caramely goodness and a bit more of a crisp texture, but I could take it or leave it. The process of the onions caramelizing produces plenty of natural sugars itself.

Here's my recipe for my most favorite way to devour onions.

Caramelized Onions

Yields 1 cup caramelized onions

2 1/2 tablespoons Olive oil

6 cups White onion, sliced crosswise in 1/4-inch half-moon slices

1 teaspoon Kosher salt

1/4 teaspoon White pepper

In a large sauté pan, heat the olive oil on medium-high heat until the olive oil is warm, or projects a glistening, shiny look to it. Add in the sliced onions and stir around to coat them evenly with the olive oil. Add in the salt and pepper. Turn the heat down to medium and let the onions cook in the pan, stirring occasionally. You'll notice the onions begin to turn brown, which signals the caramelization. Continue to cook the onions, stirring occasionally so the slices don't burn, until the onions are cooked down and have turned a dark caramel-brown in color, about 25 minutes.

Caramelized onions are great served atop many delectable items like pizza or bruschetta, and can be mixed into soft cheeses like goat or cream cheese for use in a dip. My decision for how I would savor my caramelized onions today? Atop scrambled eggs in my breakfast sandwich.

Whole-wheat toast, goat cheese, scrambled eggs, caramelized onions and sprinkled with dill (I would have used chives, but was out. Use chives.)

Cheers,

~JF

Book Review: Cooking for Mr. Latte

Embarking on the adventure of a new relationship can be exciting, scary, tummy twisting and heart thumping. Pair that with a passion for culinary adventures and a professional life dedicated to the romance of food, and you've got a foodie swaying in the joys of a new love + delectable eats.

In Cooking for Mr. Latte, Amanda Hesser (food writer for The New York Times) takes readers on a personal journey of her courtship with Tad Friend, a writer as well. Amanda's inner-voice call for refinement of her dining companion's food sense on their first date to Tad's impressive home-cooked meal for Amanda are just the beginning of a journey of good food, deep relationships with family and friends and the joys of sharing with the one you love.

And as any good culinary temptress would know, what's on one's plate plays an enormous part in the mood and memories that make the story, and so the author includes key recipes at the end of every chapter; totalling over 100 recipes with a recipe index at the back of the book! Some that stood out include: Almond Cake, from Amanda's soon-to-be mother-in-law, Elizabeth; Rigatoni with White Bolognese, from a dear friend, Heidi; and what she calls the 'baking project for two' Poached Peach and Almond Tart, a recipe adapted from Cook's Illustrated and one that Amanda cooks with Elizabeth.

It was an enjoyable read to come along for the ride as the beau was integrated into the family and friendships and vice versa as Amanda was shipped off to weekend getaways with Tad's family. Though there were times throughout the book that seemed to take away from the relationship and focus more on the family and friendships, and even some of Amanda's solo travel, but that showcased Amanda's openness to invite even further personal relationships into the story. And speaking of solo, Chapter 6, 'The Art of Dining Alone', was brilliant.

A fun read for anyone who loves falling in love; with courting and culinary adventures in tow.

Cheers,

~JF