Saturday, August 30, 2008

Q&A with Carol, Part Three

A few, quick administrative notes:

1) A big ole THANK YOU to everyone who emailed, called, IMed, or in some way sent me birthday wishes last week -- that was so incredibly kind and very sweet, and I'm hoping that I've gotten back to everyone individually. I've been traveling with limited access to email and Internet (which, admittedly, has been some kind of wonderful), and between my Blackberry and my not-always-perfect webmail server thingamabob, I may have lost a few emails here and there. Ooopsie.

2) I changed the text in my banner at the top of the page. It used to read "Can't get a rezzie at Thomas Keller's The French Laundry? Yeah, neither can I. Instead, I bought his cookbook and I'm making the menu at home." I figured since I have now eaten at The French Laundry, I needed to change the header to "keep it real," as the kids today like to say. I, however, like to say, "GET OFF MY LAWN!"

3) My actual birthday day was sandwiched in between two amazing dinners -- one at The French Laundry on Saturday the 16th and one at Per Se on Saturday the 23rd. I decided to turn 40 with great culinary gusto, and there was nowhere else I wanted to be. Making the pilgrimage to Yountville was an incredible experience that I'm still trying to find the words to describe, and the energy of New York as the backdrop to my dinner at Per Se made for an amazing evening and, collectively, the two dinners were the opening and closing chapters of the most memorable, and most personally fulfilling, birthday of my life. I surrounded myself with my family and closest friends, and celebrated what has been a pretty freakin' amazing year. I can't wait to tell you about it, and those posts are taking a long time to write because there's just so much to say.

4) That said, posting may be a little slower than normal over the next two weeks. Call me a tease, but them's the facts. Some renovations I was having done on my house while I was traveling didn't exactly happen on-schedule (do they ever?), so I can't get back into my house for another week or so, which means things will be a little whackadoodle schedule-wise for me. However, I know you'll want to come back to this very post time and time again if only to see this glorious, gossip-inducing photo that my friend, Heather, sent me in the hopes that I might someday soon have some engagement news to share with the world:


Ah, my Bloomie. Not a VP pick on either ticket, but still the president of my heart.

Did I just hear you throw up? Oh wait... that was me. Nevermind.

Alrighty then, let's get going with today's post. Doing this Q&A with you all has been so much fun for me. I hope you've enjoyed it, too. So without further ado, here's the final installment:


Q. If you could make a last meal what would it be?

A. It depends on the time of the year, because in the summer I would want it to be a bowl of fresh blackberries, a hunk of good and stinky cheese, grilled steak, corn on the cob with tarragon butter, a bottle of really great wine (Stag's Leap Wine Cellars' Cask 23 Cabernet Sauvignon comes to mind), and a few squares of dark chocolate for dessert. In the wintertime, I think I'd go for something like roasted marrow, shepherd's pie or cassoulet, mashed potatoes with garlic, homemade chocolate ice cream, and a really nice bottle of scotch (Macallan 30 single malt would do nicely, I believe).


Q. Going on the last-meal question which band would you have play?

A. I'd put together an all-star supergroup featuring Prince, Neil Peart, George Michael, Paul Hewson, Daniel Lanois, the guy who sang "Der Komissar," Aimee Mann, Michael Penn, Stewart Copeland, Air Supply, Eminem, Carly Simon, Janet Jackson, REO Speedwagon, Busta Rhymes, Boston, Steve Perry, Christina Aguilera, Don Henley, the Doobie Brothers, Chuck Brown, Lyle Lovett, Billy Idol, Al Green, Herbie Hancock, Jennifer Holliday, Jeffrey Osborne, Jenny Lewis, James Brown's band, Claudine Longet, Alison Moyet, Elvis Costello, Fiona Apple, whoever's still alive in Foreigner, Joaquin Phoenix filling in for Johnny Cash, Carole King, Grandmaster Flash, Madonna, Annie Lennox, Joe Cocker, Julie Andrews, Kate Pierson, Bananarama, Sheila E, Neko Case, Tone Loc, Manilow, Donny Osmond, Greg Kihn, Axl Rose, Marshall Crenshaw, Ted Nugent, Sebastian Bach, Robbie Williams, David Lee Roth, Eddie Van Halen, Seal, Ed Kowalczyk, LL Cool J, Darryl Hall, and I suppose John Oates, too, Ann and Nancy Wilson, Richard Marx, Jack Wagner, Rick Springfield, Pat Benatar, Justin Timberlake, Dennis DeYoung (and the rest of the boys from Styx, with the promise that they'll all get along), the Beastie Boys, Cyndi Lauper, Chaka Khan, David Bowie, Dianne Reeves, Dionne Warwick, the ghost of Karen Carpenter, Peter Gabriel, Donna Summer, Mel C, Phil Collins, Toni Tennille, Roger Daltrey, Trey Parker, Matt Stone, Curt Smith, Roland Orzibal, Thomas Dolby, a few of those DeBarge fellows, Tom Waits, The Pogues, whoever's still alive from Yes, ZZ Top .... and I'd make them write a song about me, perform and record it that night (while also shooting an awesome "Do They Know It's Christmas"/"Live Aid"-type video) then sell millions of copies to benefit a hunger relief organization. And, I'd also have it in Sebastian Bach's contract that he had to make out with me.


Q. Who would you invite to dine with you?

A. My family, my closest friends, and my dog. We'd eat in a grand house with glass walls overlooking the water in my favorite beach town.



Q. What was your biggest fear throughout this whole project?

A. When I first started doing this blog, I never wrote to anyone at The French Laundry to ask permission; I just did it. Then, one day (about 6 weeks into it), I got an email from Michael Ruhlman with the subject line "Your blog" and I almost passed out. I thought, for sure, it was some sort of cease and desist order or perhaps just an email from him along the lines of, "you are a crap cook and you should never write anything because you suck at writing, and also did I mention the crap cook bit? How about the sucky writing? Did I mention that? DID I?" I was afraid to open the email (I literally closed my laptop and hid it in another room for a few hours), but when I finally got up the courage to read the email, I was pleasantly surprised to find a very nice note from him which paved the way for me to be able to not just meet one of my literary heroes, but also honestly and gratefully being able now to call him my friend.

So, getting that particular email from Ruhlman that early in the blog's life showed me that my biggest fear was two-fold: I was afraid I wouldn't be able to honor this food and this book in the way it deserved and would thus be told to knock it off; and, I was also a little afraid to write in my own voice because I'd never really done it before and hoped I wouldn't suck too badly. When you do what I do for a living, you're always writing in someone else's voice about someone else's business or issue. I didn't know what it was like to write like me about my own stuff. A few weeks ago, I got an email from a friend with whom I worked nearly 20 years ago. We haven't seen or spoken to one another in at least fifteen years, if not longer. She'd Googled me, found this site, and said in her email to me that when she read through the entries it was like could hear me talking as if I were sitting right next to her in our old offices and it was 1991 all over again. Coming from an accomplished writer (and someone who knew me in my professional formative years), that tells me I'm doing something right -- and I think at the core of it all, that's all any of us wants to hear: that what we put out there is true to who we are.

I don't know how other writers feel about this, but I think it's hard to put yourself out there in writing, in this relatively new medium, in a really transparent way and be who you are, and not a cariacature of who you think you might be/want to be/are supposed to be/wish you were. But honestly, having the amazing support, feedback and participation from all of you (and some of you from the very first weeks) has alleviated any fear I might've had along the way. I feel incredibly lucky to be able to do this, and also to have such amazing, smart and funny folks join me along the way. This blog wouldn't exist if you all weren't reading it. Otherwise, I'd have folded it up and gone away ages ago.


Q. The earnest, respectful and thoughtful comments of your readers speak volumes about your blog. Seriously, do you even get trolls?

A. I love that someone asked this question (and thanks for the compliment leading up to it, because it's so true -- you guys are the best!). Do I ever get trolls? Nope. And I'm amazed by it. In the entire lifespan of this blog, I've only ever had to reject/delete four comments. Two were entirely inappropriate because they attacked other commenters for no reason. Another one was really disrespectful (and a tad threatening) toward me because I didn't have a positive experience making tripe. And, the last one had to be deleted/rejected because it went a little something like this: "lol i luv blogs of fud and h00rs and r u kute srsly?" It was after I got the "I know where you live you tripe-hating bitch" comment that I posted my Comments Policy because I think there's a certain social compact we all have with one another in life that doesn't always carry over online, and it should. I will be the first to admit that I've been guilty of being an anonymous bitch toward others from time to time online in the past, and you know what? It's not right, and I've knocked it off. If I'm gonna say something or comment about something, then I need to stand behind what I'm saying. So, I figured I need to walk the walk and be sure that what I say online is something I could honestly defend or say to a person's face if I were speaking to them directly.


Q. What part of this project did you love the most, and hate the most?

A. What I loved the most is being given the opportunity to cook amazing food, write about my adventures in the kitchen, and meet some pretty amazing people. I love being able to write about something I love that is mine and not a client's. I have loved being able to entertain in my home nearly every weekend for the past year and a half, and to have learned so much about food and cooking. I also loved that doing this blog and cooking every dish in The French Laundry Cookbook has changed my life in ways I'm not yet able to articulate, but that I see in random little moments when I least expect it. I love that doing this blog has made me aware of how different and much fuller my life is as a result of taking new kinds of risks.

What did I hate? Softshell crabs. I loved writing about the crabs, but, damnit, I hated making those stupid things. I'll never do that again. Never. Not even if Mike Bloomberg begged me to. That's how much I hated it.


Q. If someone offered you the chance to make a fabulous living cooking or writing, which one would you choose?

A. Writing. But, writing about cooking. I never wanted to cook professionally, as in work the line in a restaurant, but if I could find a way to incorporate writing and cooking, I'd be a pretty happy camper.


Q. Who or what are your biggest influences in your writing?

A. I'm largely influenced by reading great writing -- whether it's a book, newspaper or magazine piece, or an essay or blog post online. I also count among my influences the proximity to really great stories. I think because of what I do for a living, I can tend to be quite cynical and jaded about a lot of things -- and it's my job, quite frankly, to poke holes in things to make sure my clients have every i dotted and every t crossed, and that they're buttoned up and ready for action. So, I have a decent crap detector and a pretty solid nose for news, and I enjoy being able to ferret out what makes a good story and what doesn't. I consider myself fortunate to be one of those people who is surrounded by great stories every day, and great storytellers. It definitely has an influence on my writing.

But reading really strong writing has an influence on me because it motivates me to be better at what I do. I have a small stack of eleven books on the bookshelf next to my desk that serves as a constant reminder of the kind of writing I like -- whether it's the author's tone, style, sense of humor, or the way they tell a story. And they're not the great classics, or anything like that. They're simply books that have stuck with me for one reason or another, but largely because the writing made it memorable.


Q. Are you an avid reader of things non-food-related?

A. I like to think I am, although I've been spending quite a bit more of my free time in the kitchen these past 20 months than I used to, so I haven't been able to read as much as I'd like. I also feel like there isn't a lot of good fiction out there right now... or at least fiction that appeals to me and my interests. I just get tired of non-fiction every now and then, and I want something a little different. I'd welcome any fiction recommendations you guys have -- with the caveat that I really don't like sci-fi/fantasy, chick lit, abuse memoirs, anything that starts out "It was 1913 and while the rain was coming down hard on the streets of Berlin, a young boy in Chile was haunted by the ghost of his great-grandfather's mailman who carried with him envelopes of doom," or anything with the Oprah logo on it.

Books aside, I read four newspapers (the print editions) cover-to-cover each day, as well as more magazines than is probably healthy for any one person to admit they read. I do read food books and food-related literature from time to time, but I like a healthy balance of subjects/stories to read about.


Q. Any tips or advice for those of us who like to write but want to get better at it?

A. Write every day. Read Anne Lamott's Bird By Bird. And, find a good editor or a mentor who will be honest about your work, and who will pick it apart and edit to help it evolve to where it needs to go. I think you learn by doing, so really, write every day. Every day. The adage "practice makes perfect" exists for a reason.




Q. What made you pick The French Laundry Cookbook out of all the other tomes out there?

A. It's all in the timing, I suppose. You can read the story of how this whole blog started here. But I suppose the reason I was attracted to this book is because I thought it was impossible to cook from. And, I think you guys probably know me well enough by now to know that I'm the kind of person that if someone tells me I can't do something (even if the "someone" is just one of my other personalities), I'm stubborn enough to want to prove them wrong. And in this case, I felt like it was not just me doubting myself and/or suffering from general malaise in the kitchen, but also the mainstream consumer food media telling me through their programming and articles that real cooking is hard work and shouldn't be attempted because I'm clearly not smart enough. Apparently, processed foods and shortcuts are the way to go. In all honesty, it was either bitching about the state of dumbed-down food media to my friends (which I'd already done, and they were sick of hearing about it) or actually doing something about it. So, I decided to do something about it, and this is what clicked at that exact moment.

The French Laundry Cookbook, at first approach, is incredibly difficult, intimidating, a tad frightening and completely perfect, and made me feel like I had no clue what I was doing... until I got over myself and actually COOKED FROM IT. And the big secret of it all? None of these dishes are impossible for a home cook. It's true. It's all in the patience, organization, and willingness to take risk and try doing something you haven't before... and, the dedication to not half-assing it, and really trying to do it right, because there are reasons these dishes are done the way they are -- and I'm a far better cook (and a far better person, honestly) for having worked my way culinaryily and mentally through this book. It's not for everybody, but it was right for me.


Q. How has cooking from The French Laundry Cookbook changed your approach to cooking, and, aside from learning new techniques, how has it made you a better cook?

A. If anything, it's taught me that being a neat freak and a compulsive, list-making, hyper-organized planning maniac has its benefits! Doing this project has been illuminating in so many ways; let me see if I can capture them all...

It's made me a better cook because I've always wanted to be able to go to the market and be able to see an eggplant and instinctively know sixteen different ways I could do eggplant and be able to pick up all those ingredients while I was there, as well, without relying on a specific recipe from a magazine or book.

It's made me a better cook because I've really slowed down and thrown off the cloak of laziness and learned to love my kitchen all over again. It can be really hard sometimes to get excited about food and nourishment when you work all day, and for those who have kids, manage a job and your family and still be able to make something delicious when you come home at night. However, I think sometimes we can all fall into a trap of thinking that making good food is difficult, and it's really not. I applaud people (especially all those parents out there) who can get great food into themselves and their families without any stupid gimmicks or processed crap. It's not always easy for us single folk either, because so many of us are busy with a multitude of things and sometimes it's just easier to take the path of least resistance. But I've found great reward in reprioritizing some things in my life, and food is one of them. I don't eat in front of the TV anymore -- I set a place at the table (even if it's just me), and I pay attention to what I'm eating. Sometimes I read; sometimes I listen to music; but mostly, I have made it a priority to make time to cook well and eat well, and it's really made a difference in my overall health and happiness.

During the week, it might not be possible for any of us to cook the kinds of adventurous, more complex foods we want to try. But if this project has taught me anything, it's shown me that there is great reward in setting aside an entire Saturday to cook and have people over for dinner that night, and feel really good about what I put on the table.


Q. What's your ONE best piece of advice to anyone looking to cook on The French Laundry Cookbook level?

A. Yeah, right. Like I'm only gonna be able to narrow it down to ONE thing. You'll be lucky if I can even stay on topi...... hey, look, a bunny! I would say: have fun, and be willing to learn and make mistakes. The earth won't stop turning if you screw up lobster jelly. I'm living proof of that. Are some mistakes or mishaps more costly than others? Absolutely. But that's just one possible outcome of taking risks, I suppose. Laugh at your mistakes, learn from them, and try it again or move on to something else. OH! And this applies to any kind of cooking projects or endeavors: always, always, always start with a clean sink, an empty dishwasher and an empty trashcan. You're welcome.


Q. Some recipes have earned a place in your permanent repertoire. What techniques from The French Laundry Cookbook are now indispensable for you?

A. I talked about this a little bit in my last Q&A, but I do think, upon reflection, that now I tend to strain things more than I used to. I also steep my lobsters instead of just tossing them in a pot of boiling water. The recipes for stock in The French Laundry Cookbook are the best I've ever made, so I'm sticking with those from now on. And, even though it might not be detectable in my photos, my knife skills have gotten so much better, so that's an added bonus.


Q. Do you think you'll ever cook any of the recipes from The French Laundry Cookbook again once the project is over? Which ones?

A. Absofreakinlutley. Creamy Maine Lobster Broth, Gougères, Cream of Walnut Soup, and the Foie Gras with Pickled Cherries, because in my mind they're all pretty easy to do and in their simplicity are quite stunning and impressive while being really good and not fear-inducing for non-adventurous eater friends of mine. I'll also probably do the Maine Lobster Pancakes again when pea shoots are back in season because they are really easy, too. It's probably easier to list the things I wouldn't make again (softshell crabs, tripe).




Q. Are you going to give watermelon lipstick, etc. a shot when Keller's new book comes out?

A. You bet. Now, who wants to buy me a Cryovac machine?!?!?! Anyone? Anyone? But in all seriousness, I hope Thomas Keller's new book Under Pressure will have an important impact on the home kitchen. It may not happen right away, but I think it will, at the very least, get people thinking about cooking sous vide. The equipment involved in making something restaurant-quality sous vide is cost-prohibitive for many, and Chef Keller was the first to say that at an embargoed press event for the book back in June. Cryovac machines are not cheap, and a new immersion circulator can run anywhere from $1,200-2,500. However, there are ways a home cook can cook sous vide. In fact, I've already cooked sous vide in this very blog -- before I really connected the dots in knowing I was using this technique.

Chef Keller was also very clear in saying that you can't use a FoodSaver to vacuum-pack your food to prep it to cook sous vide because in addition to sucking out all the air, it also sucks out moisture. So, the trick is to learn how to wrap food tightly in Saran Wrap and be patient with keeping the proper temperature of the water or whatever liquid it is you're cooking in.

I'll write more about and cook from Under Pressure as part of the new blog/website/etc. that I'll roll out this fall, so stay tuned. I think it's exciting stuff, and having recently eaten some surprising food (corn!) done sous vide, I can say it yields the most incredible flavor. It really is a phenomenal technique/process and I'm excited about trying it.


Q. Would you ever consider a similar undertaking like this again? Cooking your way through an El Bulli volume, perhaps? (Although you'd need a lab, not a kitchen, for that)

A. Without giving too much away, yes, I would consider a similar undertaking.... only, I've got to up the ante, now don't I? So, while I may not cook my way through an entire El Bulli volume, I am going to continue to push past my comfort zone to see what I'm capable of in some new arenas. I'll tell you more about it in the fall.... and yes, it is KILLING ME not to be able to talk about it in great detail right now. There are just some pieces that need to fall into place before that happens, so it's good I improved my patience in the kitchen while cooking my way through this book or else I'd be a basket case by now with the anticipay-ay-tion. You already know it's going to involve this and this... the rest you'll just have to wait for.


Q. What's the latest on the TV deal?

A. The latest is that we're "having conversations" with a few media entities, and that's all I can say right now.


Q. Are you working on a book deal?


A. I'm "having conversations" with a few media entities, and that's all I can say right now.



Q. When you're done, how long will the blog stay online, or are you planning to take it down?

A. I have no plans whatsoever to take down the blog. I doubt once I'm done that I'll update it (unless, of course, a new, revised edition of the book comes out with new recipes, then all bets are off and this puppy will be up and running again full-force). But I'll certainly keep it up and running for reference purposes as long as the internet will allow... which is maybe forever.

* * * * *

Quite a few of you asked about my top 5 favorite dishes, or what I would recommend someone start out with to get their feet wet. I'm going to do a post in a few weeks (once I'm done cooking every dish) that will outline all these things -- I'll tell you my favorites, my least favorites, which ones are good for those ready to jump in and try something, and I'll also put together a few suggested multiple-course menus for you, since some folks asked about that.

* * * * *

Up Next: French Laundry at Home Extra: Eating my way through Yountville, CA

Read My Previous Post: Chocolate Fondant with Coffee Cream and Chocolate Dentelles

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Chocolate Fondant with Coffee Cream and Chocolate Dentelles

I have been putting off doing this dessert for quite a long time because I'd heard rumors that it was difficult. That it was incredibly temperature sensitive. That even though, on the surface, it appeared to be easy to do, it really was one of the most challenging desserts in the book. And I believed those rumors because they came from well-placed sources.

So, before starting this dish, I did some research, contacted some experts, cracked my knuckles for effect, and just did it... hoping and pleading for success because I couldn't face another Great Toilet Paper Wad-Looking Cinnamon Cookies of 2007 fiasco. I just couldn't. I knew that if I failed at this dish, Stephen Durfee and perhaps the entire pastry team from the early TFL days would've booked me a first-class ticket to Whoop-Ass Town. I did not want to disappoint. I've come this far. I've proven that I can master some mighty fine desserts. This one had to work. It HAD TO.

And it did.

This will be a long post, so pour yourself some Courvoisier, crank the Al Green, and let's get goin'...

I did this over two days so that everything had time to chill and set and do what it needed to do. Day One started with making the chocolate fondant -- similar to a mousse, but not exactly. I melted the chocolate in a bowl over a saucepan of hot water, keeping it warm once it had melted:

You'll see the melty part in a bit, I promise.

While the water was heating up to melt the chocolate, I made the meringue by whipping the hell out of a single egg white and adding sugar as I went:

While this was whisking away, I brewed a small pot of coffee, of which two tablespoons later went into the fondant... the rest of which I drank out of my favorite coffee mug:

Last, but not least, I whipped the butter (by hand) for a few seconds to make it cream-a-licious (it was already very softened at room temp, so that was easy), and whipped some cream (it was really cold and just out of the fridge) so it got to soft peaks:

Now, it was time to combine everything to make the fondant, which would get piped into acetate-lined ring molds and chilled. If you're playing along with the book, you'll see that there are two ingredients in the list of items for the fondant that I excluded: dried currants and finely chopped almonds. I have it on good authority that these two things were not in the original version of this dessert when it was conceived, and I hate fruit and chocolate together (I also hate chocolate with nuts in it), so I decided to deep-six this part of the recipe.

First I added the coffee to the melted chocolate (it was a little warmer than room temperature):

Then, I let the bowl sit on the counter for a minute or so to cool just a tad. Then, I whisked in two room-temperature egg yolks and the already-whisked butter:

Then, I folded in the meringue, then the whipped cream:


I piped this lovely brown loveliness (the texture of which was like a soft, sort of airy pudding, but creamier) into six acetate-lined 2x2" ring molds. The French Laundry Cookbook gives you the option of lining the molds with acetate (which I did, thanks to my already having the acetate on hand -- thanks, Alex!), OR, the home cook could USE A BLOWTORCH to release the fondant from the molds when it's time to plate. As much as that option really, really appealed to me, I opted for the acetate.... because me + fire ÷ πR squared = not exactly the kind of hilarity I needed this week. But that math sure was some hilarity, now wasn't it? See, it just goes to show you young whippersnappers out there that you really will find a use for πR squared as an adult.

So, I lined the ring molds, then piped in the chocolate fondant, and put them in the fridge to cool and set overnight:

Aaaaand, I bet you think that's all I did on Day One, but NO, IT IS NOT! I had batters and doughs and all sorts of other concoctions to whip up. Okay, well maybe not concoctions, but I just love that word and thought I'd throw it in there.

By this time, the coffee I'd been drinking out of my awesome-so-cool-you-wish-you-had-one-don't-you mug had started to kick in, so I flew through these steps with the élan and flair of a culinary Baryshnikof on crack. P.S., the caffeine didn't start to wear off until about 4 a.m., which... good times.

I did the mixture for the chocolate dentelles -- a lace-like cookie -- first. I pulsed some blanched, sliced almonds and unsweetened cocoa powder in the food processor until, as the book suggests, it was gravel-like:

I melted some butter, and added in the corn syrup and sugar, bringing it to a boil and heating it to 220 degrees, after which I turned off the heat and stirred in the nuts and cocoa powder:

I poured half the mixture onto a sheet of parchment paper, covered it with another, and rolled it out as flat as I could. I placed it on a baking sheet and put it in the freezer until the next day.

And this, my bay city rollers, is the end of Day One.

I fell asleep around 4 a.m. (thanks, caffeine), and woke up at 7 (wheeeeee!!!!!!!!) and decided to get started on the dough for the sablé cookies. I only needed a portion of the dough for this particular dish, so the rest of the dough is in the freezer waiting for me to use it.

In my mixer bowl, I creamed 14 TABLESPOONS of butter and the sugar. Yes. "14" and "TABLESPOONS" were not typos. That alone should be a pretty great indicator of how awesome these cookies were going to be. The only thing that might have improved them? Bacon. But I digress...

So, the creaming of the butter and sugar, followed by the addition of an egg yolk, then the flour:

I pulled out about a quarter of the dough, formed it into a ball, plonked it onto a sheet of parchment paper, covered it with another sheet, rolled it out to about 1/16" of an inch thick, then put it on a baking sheet and into the freezer to harden:

While that dough was hardening, I made the chocolate ganache with which to glaze the fondants. I chopped some bittersweet chocolate, heated some cream, poured it over the chocolate, let it sit so it could melt the chocolate, then stirred it to incorporate everything:

I took the fondants out of the refrigerator and spooned on a bit of the ganache atop each one before putting them back in to set:

Next, I made crème anglaise. If you want to see the specific steps of making this, you can use the search function in the top left corner of this blog because it's on here somewhere, I swear. Here's what it looked like just before I added the coffee extract:

The only thing left to do was bake the cookies and the dentelles, which I knew I was going to do an hour before plating, so I went about the rest of my day... working, procrastinating, working, procrastinating some more, and then still more procrastinating. Welcome to my life.

I baked the sablé cookies first. I took the sheet of dough out of the freezer, cut out a dozen or so two-inch rounds, and baked them on a parchment-lined cookie sheet:

Next up -- the dentelles. I removed the top layer of parchment, but kept it on the baking sheet and bottom layer of parchment. After it had baked for about 11 minutes, I removed it from the oven and cut out 2" rounds:

While the baked goods were cooling off, I added the coffee extract to the crème anglaise. The book calls for "1 1/2 teaspoons coffee extract (see page 263), or to taste" -- to which I say, "To taste!?!?!?!?!?! Oh, bring it on! FOURTEEN TABLESPOONS OF COFFEE EXTRACT, PLEASE!!!" But, of course, I settled for 2 teaspoons. Livin' on the edge, man.

To plate, I spooned a bit of the coffee-laden crème anglaise into each plate. I picked up each of the fondants, one-by-one, and placed a sablé cookie on the bottom before gently sliding off the ring mold, then unpeeling the acetate. I placed each one in the center of the dish, and gently placed a dentelle alongside it. Wanna see?

Here's a close-up, so you can really see the small indentation from my thumb as I removed the acetate:

I didn't even notice it until I uploaded the photos to my laptop -- otherwise I would've placed the dentelle there so you wouldn't have seen it. Doy.

Thumbprints aside, sweet children of the corn, it worked!!! And, even better? It was so incredibly good, the table was silent after the first bite... followed by a "whoaaaaa....." and a furious digging of spoon into bowl by all. There were six desserts and nine tasters, and I though a riot was going to break out.

It was creamy and sweet, and just all around one of the best desserts I've ever made in my life. I would totally make this again, and can whole-heartedly suggest that you give it a go. It's not as difficult as I thought it would be. As long as you pay attention to the temperatures of your ingredients for the fondant, you'll be fine.

Think Durfee will be proud? I sure hope so.

Up Next: French Laundry at Home Extra: Q&A with Carol, Part Three

Resources:
Noi Sirius bittersweet chocolate (56%)

Eggs from Smith Meadows Farm

Domino sugar

Organic Valley heavy cream and milk

Coffee beans from King's Road Cafe in Los Angeles, CA

Almonds from Whole Foods

Ghirardelli unsweetened cocoa powder

Karo corn syrup

365 organic butter
King Arthur unbleached all-purpose flour

Vanilla bean from the TPSS Co-op

Neilsen-Massey coffee extract


Music to Cook By: Gomez; How We Operate and Phil Collins; Hello, I Must Be Going. "Oh, Carol," I hear you saying with a sigh and a catch in your voice. "Phil Collins... really?" Yes. But did you not also see the Gomez link? Because I'm not totally stuck in the 80s, people. I like new music, too. And I love Gomez, especially their title track to this album. It's really, really good. As for my buddy, Mr. Collins, I just happened to have a particular need to reminisce with one of my oldest friends recently about how in high school listening to Phil Collins at night alone in your room was eveyone's dirty little secret. And really, if you can get through "Don't Let Him Steal Your Heart Away" without choking up, what are you, a freakin' robot?

Read My Previous Post: French Laundry at Home Extra -- Meet Forrest Pritchard of Smith Meadows Farm

Thursday, August 14, 2008

French Laundry at Home Extra: Meet Forrest Pritchard of Smith Meadows Farm

It's no secret that I live in Takoma Park, Maryland (hi, stalkers!), and one of the things that makes our town equally as wonderful as it does annoying is our dedication to locally produced food and materials. Wonderful, because it means we have access to and support great quality stuff. Annoying because it gives the hippies in town (hi, hippies!) one more thing to blather on and on about as they douse themselves in patchouli because they apparently think it goes really, really well with the b.o. -- I'm sorry, natural -- smell they've already got goin' on. [Why yes, Eric Cartman is indeed guest-writing today.]

Every Sunday from 10 - 2, our town hosts a farmers' market in the one-block "Old Town" section of our fair city. People come from all over the DC area, and it can become quite the mob scene. I like to get in and out as soon as the market opens in the morning, otherwise I end up with bruised ankles from all the stroller pushers (hi, stroller pushers!). Plus, getting there early to scope out the good stuff means you can make a plan for getting in and out and back home to eat it all the more quickly.... like the pint of blackberries I downed in about 3.8 seconds in the car on the way home the other week. Mmmmmm......

My favorite farmers' market vendor and pig head procurer is Forrest Pritchard of Smith Meadows Farm. I buy eggs from him every week, as well as meats, sausages, and the fresh pasta and sauces his wife, Nancy, makes. I had the chance not too long ago to spend some time out at Smith Meadows to see how everything works, and to learn a little bit more about what challenges a small family-run farm faces. I also had the chance to interview Forrest about what he does and why he does it.

I hope you enjoy our little chat ...

* * * * *

Carol: Smith Meadows farm is an 8th-generation family farm, correct? If you'd wanted to be an astronaut, would that have been okay with your parents, or did you always know this is what you wanted to do?

Forrest: Yes, my son and nephew will constitute what will (hopefully) be an 8th-generation family farm. I've been told the secret to keeping kids on the farm in contemporary times is to provide a 'desirable' situation... this could be a productive, sustainable, sensible operation already in business, or a farm with lots of potential. When I was growing up, ours was very much the latter... wonderful soils, great location, but not much direction, particularly a profitable, economically sustainable direction. My parents would have been okay with whatever path I chose, I think, but this combination of potential, heritage and production flexibility was good enough for me to give it a try.


Carol:
How many family members are involved in the operations, and what do they do?

Forrest: My wife, Nancy, runs a commercial kitchen that takes local and organic ingredients and processes them into all sorts of things -- pasta, pestos, sauces, for example. She's also in charge of most of the bookkeeping, which might as well be a full-time job. My sister, Betsy, manages our flock of sheep (roughly 200 head), and manages 2 of our farmers markets, as well as picks up our stuff from the butcher each week. My mom runs our bed & breakfast, which is full mostly on the weekends, but requires 7 days of gardening, cleaning, etc. She also handles lots of on-farm sales. Sadly, my dad passed away about 6 years ago rather suddenly, but he had plans to retire from his off-farm job and help me on the farm in his retirement.




Carol:
Can you talk a little bit about your educational background? College? Graduate degree? Ongoing education?

Forrest: Yeesh, school. Okay, I graduated from the College of William and Mary with bachelors degrees in English and Geology. I attended my ten-year reunion a few years ago, which was fun. Other than that, I like being on my farm instead of in school!!!


Carol:
What's a typical day like for you on the farm?

Forrest: A few years ago, this would have been impossible to even attempt to reply to, as we had so many simultaneous projects going on, I was never quite sure what I was going to do even at the beginning of the day. We now have two apprentices each year (they work a 12-month apprenticeship), and a full-time farm hand, so things have become a LITTLE more predictable. Okay, a day starts around 6:45 a.m. when we move the chickens to fresh pasture. At the height of the season (May through Decemeber) we have as many as 6 flocks to care for... two sets of laying hens (400 birds per flock), 3 different ages of meat-chicks (broilers), and our turkeys. Then, it's off to check the cattle for pasture quality, health issues or broken fences, then the pigs, then the sheep.

We usually get back together around 9 am, and work on some sort of project, such as putting in buried water line for livestock troughs, new cross fencing, building repairs or modifications, etc. We knock off for one hour at lunch. Right after lunch, we take care of all the birds again, gather the eggs for the second time (we gather them around 10:45 am, as well), then either finish up our morning project, or do something different, depending on the season (mow hay, spread manure, run our bush hog over overly-shaggy pastures, cut up wind-felled trees, etc.). We stop at five pm. Of course, every other Monday we haul pigs and lambs, and every other Wednesday we haul cattle, and in season, every other Thursday we butcher chickens. Soooo... all this scheduling gets molded and squeezed and ends up fitting together the best we can!




Carol:
Is it difficult to do business the way you do: free-range, no hormones, no chemicals? Is it an economic challenge?

Forrest: Every type of farming has its specific challenges. The positive thing about organic livestock production is that I, as a modern farmer, am the recipient of hundreds, if not thousands, of years of selective breeding. Modern animals have been selected and culled over the years for traits like disposition, maternal instincts, fertility, muscle mass, and resistance to disease. The list goes on. Of course, much of this selective breeding occurred well before the use or even development of antibiotics, chemical hormones and conventional chemicals such as petro-fertilizers and herbicides to treat/'enhance' pastures. These animals were raised to perform on pasture (in the case of cows and sheep), or at least have pasture/natural forage/natural scavenging be a very significant part of their feed intake (hogs and poultry).

Keep in mind, not only were these commercial chemicals not available, but grain in general was very costly and challenging to raise... far more likely to end up in 'people food' than administered in significant quantities to livestock. Hence, these animals were 'born' to live on pasture... to convert species such as grasses, clovers and select weeds into delicious, nutritious protein.
I guess that's the good news about organic livestock farming, as with ANYTHING in life, it's certainly easy to screw it up if improperly managed. The biggest X factor in my operation has to be rainfall, as we are utterly dependent on good, average rainfall (say, 3 inches per month, year-round) to produce high-quality pasture for my animals to eat. Other than that, we are constrained by our acreage. We can only have "so many" cattle and sheep grazing our 500 acres before the necessary rest period between pasture rotations will no longer accommodate the grazing pressure. Poultry and pigs impact this to a lesser degree, but it's not far from my mind. In short, I can only grow as much as my farm can 'carry', and only as long as the rain falls and the sun shines!


Carol:
What kind of regulatory challenges do you face that we may not know about or think about its impact?

Forrest: To answer this obliquely, I'd say the biggest surprise I've discovered since I began this business has been the nearly insurmountable amount of capital, liscensing and daily paperwork required to start and maintain a traditional slaughterhouse, where animals are slaughtered and processed. When I was a kid, we had several (say, 4 or so) small, often family-run abatoirs in my immediate rural area (all within 20 miles)... now, there are only 3 within 70 miles of me, and only two have the inspection credentials for me to offer my products to the general public. With all the frequent, alarmingly massive meat recalls that seem to happen about once a month (keep in mind, these are only the ones that we're "allowed" to hear about!!), the case for lower barrier-to-entry small-scale butcher shops is very compelling.




Carol:
You sell your goods at quite a few farmers' markets in the DC area. Are farmers' markets doing well in this area, in general, or are there things they can do better to attract more business?

Forrest: I'm constantly grateful for the countless years that "risk takers" have stood out on a street corner, selling their fresh produce. By "countless years" I mean, of course, our shared human history of open air markets -- so ancient in their origins, it wouldn't surprise me to discover they are part of our collective social resonance ("Hey, honey, stop the car! There's a farmers market over there, just like grandma used to talk about!!!"). By "risk takers" I mean, of course, farmers... those who optimistically hope that the rain will fall gently on their fields, and the sun shine warmly on their crops.

I suppose the best way I can answer this question (I know, I know, I'm beating around the bush!!) is to say I'm honored to be part of what I consider a very ancient part of our human history: the food market. Somehow, from about 1950 to 1990 or so, American society (and perhaps parts of the rest of the world as well, but certainly not all of it), rather 'hiccuped': we stopped buying our food from neighboring farms, or open-air markets, or growing it ourselves (perish the thought!), and instead drove our big fat family trucksters (I'm seeing a wood-panelled 1962 station wagon here) to the vast asphalt receiving grounds of the neighborhood grocery store.

When I was growing up, in the late 70s, this required not only driving almost 15 miles in one direction, but also driving past probably 25 different farms to get there. Today, in 2008, I'd say maybe 3 of those farms are still in business, and much of the land is now in subdivisions. The supermarkets still do spanking business. Hooray for Food Puma! Or Food Panther, or whatever your local Food Cat is called.





Carol:
Will your son take over the farm for you one day?

Forrest: Ummm... well, I'll try to pass on my sense of stewardship, love of the land, and the gratitude that I get when my customers express their gratitude to me. Short of having him grow up on the farm, seeing my sucesses and challenges and disappointments, seeing the seasonality of the business and the specific suite of education it takes to manage a diversified livestock enterprise, I don't know how otherwise to give him a meaningful glimpse into what it takes to run a farm. And if he decides he'd rather go elsewhere, I'll just tie him to a tractor.


Carol:
Do you cook?

Forrest: I'm the world's finest bacon, eggs (any way you'd like 'em), toast and coffee maker you'll ever find. Short of that, I'm okay around a grill, but don't ask me to cook a roast or make soup or anything like that. When it gets down to weights, temperatures, and times, my head starts to spin. Just let me grow the stuff, and have your own fun in the kitchen! [NOTE: He's being completely modest here, because Forrest makes a killer BLT, minus the lettuce, but with fresh pesto instead. Best sandwich I've had in a long, long time.]


Carol: What's your favorite thing to eat for dinner?

Forrest: Gosh, that depends. Probably brick-oven pizza with fresh mozzarella and some of our crispy rosemary sausage and with some balsamic lightly drizzled over it. And an ice-cold Sam Adams. Or, 3-4 plump lamb chops with some sort of savory chutney as a sauce, a side of some potatoes and leeks, a spring-greens salad and some tiramisu or zabaglione or chocolate mousse for desert. Oh, and another pint of Sam Adams, please.


Carol:
Did your wife grow up on a farm? If not, how has she adjusted to this kind of lifestyle?

Forrest:
That's a subject for a blog unto itself...!


Carol:
How has farming changed from what your parents and grandparents did, to how the farm is run now?

Forrest: The biggest change between my grandparents (the last generation to actively farm; my parents both had off-farm jobs, and ran the farm vicariously through managers for about 15 years) and my generation is that commodity prices have remained flat while inflation has soared. Why does that matter? Because, for my grandparents, they could produce food however thet wanted: organic, conventional, small scale, large scale... whatever they did, as long as they got it to market, they could be assured that they would get a decent price for their food, relative to the effort they put into it. I'd say, in fact, that my grandparents had many, many organic practices that are just as sage and sound today as they were back then.

Gradually, however, cost of living/production caught up to the prices they were able to garner, and finally exceeded the actual price they were able to receive for their products. This was a nationwide phenonomenon, and destroyed the fiscal sustainability of American farms from sea to shining sea all through the '70s, '80s and '90s. When Willie Nelson and Mellencamp talk about these farms (Farm Aid, etc.), these are the real family farms which were simply forced out of business because they had no other alternative than to sell their hogs for 25 cents a pound, while the actual cost of production might just happen to be 26 cents a pound. Rest assured, though, that when the supermarket runs a 'special' on pork chops for 99 cents a pound, that each and every middleman along the way is getting his or her share of that 99 cents. It was the family farmer who needed those extra pennies to keep doing what they loved, and doing it well, thoughtfully and caringly. Commodity pricing, largely influenced by speculators at the Chicago Board of Exchange, among other places, assured that profits would be miniscule, if profits existed at all.


I must set my own prices, and not depend on third-party speculators to determine my prices for me. I must raise the best possible meat and eggs I know how in order to differentiate my products from conventional offerings. I must represent my farm personally, face-to-face, at farmers markets, so customers will have a genuine producer experience, and have the opportunity to be educated about their food, and interact with me. That's what I must do differently than my grandparents in order to "make it." I hope that our similarity will lie in the optimism of fair pay for fair work.





Carol:
Do you listen to music while you work? If so, what do you listen to? C'mon, I know it's REO Speedwagon, right? Air Supply?

Forrest: Björk, while I sleep, at full volume. Good for the sinuses.


* * * * *

Thanks again to Forrest and Nancy for welcoming me to their lovely home and farm, and for being the damn cool people they are. If you live in the DC area and see Smith Meadows at your farmers' market, please stop by and say hello. If you're not in the DC area, I hope you'll take a moment or two to get to know the producers at your own local farmers' market. It's time well spent, I promise you.


Up Next: Chocolate Fondant with Coffee Cream and Chocolate Dentelles

Read My Previous Post: Béarnaise Mousseline

Thursday, August 7, 2008

French Laundry at Home Extra: Béarnaise Mousseline

In my nearly 40 years on this earth, I have made béarnaise sauce approximately fifty times. The first two times I made it, it did not turn out well, but I chalked that up to being a complete novice (and maybe a wee bit ferdoonkled on cheap wine). The other 48 times? Beautiful. It's kind of been my thing. I'm the girl who makes a great béarnaise.

On this, the 51st time, when I made Béarnaise Mousseline from The French Laundry Cookbook, I must say that I did quite an astounding job. I use the word astounding because the dictionary definition means to "amaze," "astonish," "bewilder," or "affect with wonder" and that is precisely what happened here.

I am amazed that I screwed up something so easy I've done a frillion times before.

I am astonished that I had to eat my juicy, most delicious steak sans béarnaise because I am such a colossal failure.

I am bewildered that I sucked at this more than others have sucked before me.

And, I am affect(ed) with wonder(ing) how I gots no skillz and feel like a complete dorknugget, because I'm having trouble figuring out how the hell I can spend THREE DAYS making the most PERFECT braised, stuffed pig's head but screwed up béarnaise. WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME??? Venus must not have been aligned in Jupiter with 12 of the 17 moons rising over Uranus (*snerk*), or whatever planetary alignment lingo works for you.

I blame Al Gore. Surely it's his fault somehow.

Alrighty then, on with the shiz-ow. Here's my mise en place:


To start, I reduced some white wine vinegar with some chopped shallots, chopped fresh tarragon, and freshly cracked black pepper until the pan was nearly dry:



I added my egg yolks and half an eggshell of water per yolk (I've never added water to my béarnaise before, but that's what the book said to do, so I did it):



I whisked this mixture for a while, but it never really took shape. It's supposed to tighten up and then form ribbons, which then thicken as it cooks so that you end up with kind of a mayonnaise-y texture. Mine never got to that point, so I put it in a bowl instead and tried it over a pot of simmering water, thinking maybe, possibly, somehow, help me fancy Moses, that it would help. It didn't.

I soldiered forth and decided to just add the clarified butter, while still whisking away (which when you have carpal tunnel syndrome AND have been playing a certain videogame for a few hours *seebelow*, it ain't exactly a stroll down the Champs Elysées, know what I mean?). Then, I added the lemon juice and a little salt to taste and kept whisking and whisking, thinking that maybe if I concentrated hard enough and prayed to Sid and Marty Krofft it would thicken and become the texture I knew it needed to be. It did not. Didn't even come close.

I decided to strain it anyway, then add a fresh batch of chopped tarragon, chopped shallots, and black pepper before stirring in the whipped cream (this time, I thought 'hey, maybe if I let it sit and then whisk the crap out of it AGAIN when I add the whipped cream, it will work'):



Unlike a lovely glass of red wine, I don't think béarnaise is supposed to have legs. Or clumps. Or randomly distributed matter along the bowl.

Here's a (maybe) better shot of how soupy it ended up being:

So gross.

Sauce 101 FAIL.

But at least I got to drown my sorrows in this:


I don't really understand why this sauce didn't work. Was it the eggs? The water? Did my shallots have a bad attitude? Was it just one of those things that's as unexplainable as Paula Abdul's career? I usually make my SUCCESSFUL béarnaise the Escoffier way, which was slightly different than this, but not all that much. Harumph. I feel so stupid. This should've been easier than it was. Dangit. The way this turned out, it might've tasted terrific on my tripe.


Up Next: French Laundry at Home Extra -- Meet Forrest Pritchard of Smith Meadows Farm

Resources:
Eggs from
Smith Meadows Farm
Tarragon from my garden
Organic Valley heavy cream
Shallot and lemon from
Whole Foods

Music to FAIL by: A playlist made up of all the songs on the Wii version of RockBand, because my neighbors just bought it for their kids, and I've lost count of the number of hours I've spent rocking out on the system at their house while they've been on vacation. It's completely addictive. I think I missed my true calling, and I'm really supposed to be the drummer in the Ramones or Fall Out Boy because I scored a 99% on both their songs (on medium, not easy, because I am that amazing at playing the [multicolored, plastic] drums), and really, I am not a 12-year old boy, I swear, but damn if I don't love that game and secretly drew up plans last night to add on a room to my house that will be a full-on Wii RockBand studio with a wet bar and lots of snacks and a stripper pole because when I inevitably become a famous RockBand player, people like Sebastian Bach and Ted Nugent will want to hang out at my house and I figure they'll bring their own strippers, and since I will clearly not be able to supply them with a delicious meal of steak with béarnaise sauce, I should appeal to their other, *ahem* needs, right?

Read My Previous Post: Q&A with Carol, Part Deux... and my dinner at Alinea