WALKING WOUNDED

I had a little accident yesterday. While coring a cauliflower, it slipped and the knife I was holding slashed open the webbed part between my thumb and the rest of my hand. It all happened very quickly, and I was only able to see what had happened for a very brief moment. It was almost like a camera, blinking its shutter open only to capture one essential and fleeting moment. That quick look revealed more than enough, however, because the image is firmly rooted in my mind’s eye – a piece of raw, bloody steak peeking out from underneath my skin. It was quite shocking; I shrieked and then everything started to go dark. My blood pressure dropped and I nearle fainted. Normally I seek cheap thrills in the form of horror movies and medical programs, but I suppose perception changes when you are the bloody victim.

My mister answered my distress call and I had him wrap my hand in paper towel and duct tape and off we went to the emergency room. It took two hours for a doctor to see me…ample time for the bandage a nurse had wrapped around me to dry and crust itself onto my cut. I was still queasy and dizzy, in addition to freaking out about possible nerve and/or tendon damage, so you can imagine how much I was dreading peeling off the bandage and looking at The Wound once again. But I did it, and hard though I tried to keep myself together, I yelped and nearly tossed my cookies again. It was so…meaty.

I went home high as a kite on Percocet with seven stitches and a splint to keep my thumb from moving. I went to bed with visions of the stitches bursting open revealing once again The Wound.

No pictures, unfortunately. Even in my distraught state I considered taking the camera along, but it just didn’t happen. I’m supposed to remove the bandage tomorrow – God help me: it is, of course, glued to the blood that seeped out through the crochet job I have on there – and if I don’t faint I’ll try to document the proceeding. Hopefully there will be no meat.

AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR

The holidays have come and gone, and for that matter, so has the year. I finally undressed my Christmas tree. It’s limp limbs are far beyond dehydrated – they’re as crisp and dry as Melba toast.

I was on hiatus from the blog for a while – surely you understand how crazy it gets during the holidays – but I can make up with a recap:

Thanksgiving was truly a feast of family and food: rib roast, stuffed chicken, gnocchi, creamed spinach, mashed potatoes, bread rolls, spiced nuts, gougeres, poached pears, almond lace cookies, chocolate pecan pie, pineapple pie, apple tart, and a partridge in a pear tree. The table that supported the buffet groaned as much as our stomachs after dinner. Here’s a taste…









Oh, and yes, how could I forget. There was An Accident. When it was time for dessert I went to unmold my carefully assembled tarte aux pommes. Since it was a false-bottom tart ring I insisted on doing it myself. I lifted the tart up and the bottom betrayed me. Or maybe it was the butter in the crust. Regardless, bottom or butter, I gently pushed up the tart only to have it slide and then fly right off the mold, above the table, past the edge, and down the side, to its final, catastrophic resting place: the hard, cold floor. Face down. I crawled under the table to see if a rescue was possible, but it was beyond rescue. So sad.





Christmas was I regret to inform you, disappointing. I tried my darnedest to get into the spirit, with carols and twinkle lights, but to no avail. It was just the mister and me and we wound up dining with friends. The stuffed chickens made an encore, along with a chocolate sandwich cookies and a croquembouche, but even a mountain of éclairs couldn’t make up for the fact that we were away from family.



Santa did pull through, though, which was a huge comfort. I am now the proud owner of a 2-quart ice cream maker. I’ve already made double-chocolate hazelnut, and there will be lots more to come… Cream cheese and guava…Key lime pie…pineapple caramel swirl… bananas Foster… chocolate and peppermint marshmallow… If he brings me a deep-fat fryer next year my arsenal will be complete!

AND THIS LITTLE PIGGY...

WARNING: The following post is rated “R” for graphic images of a slaughtered farm animal.

This Halloween we received an unexpected treat: a whole hog. No joke. The animal was wheeled into the kitchen on a cart – à la patient in ER - plopped on the table, and promptly cut up into pieces. It was strange, seeing that whole animal there…It looked plastic and lifeless – obviously lifeless, the thing was dead, but what I mean is it appeared as if it had never ever been a walking, snorting thing.

Anyhow, despite the photos you’ll see below, butchering was not a cruel, self-indulging experiment but a necessary learning experience. As a matter of fact, I wish we had something to cut up every day. I mean, haven’t you ever found yourself at the supermarket staring blankly at shrink-wrapped hunks of meat with names that are utterly meaningless and misleading? For instance, did you know that pork butt isn’t the pig’s rear at all but a portion of its shoulder? I bet you didn’t, but now you’ve been enlightened.

Enough small talk – you may proceed to the ghoulish gallery:

LOOK, MA! NO BONES!

Some children dream of becoming astronauts. Others aspire to being ballerinas. I had loftier ambitions: to de-bone a chicken. When I began culinary school I thought – wrongly – that removing every single bone from a chicken while leaving it whole would be part of Basic Cookery 101. Crestfallen, I set my book aside and came to the conclusion that de-boning was perhaps an art reserved only for the most masterful of chefs, a process that was only known to a small, exclusive circle. I had resigned myself to live in a world where only bony chickens were served.

And then, one day, the rain cloud that loomed over my bowed head parted and a ray of sunshine broke through: my beloved chef instructor announced that he was going to teach us the coveted procedure. If anything, this one bit of learning has made culinary school worth it.

Doesn’t it look grand?

P.S.
I also made whole-wheat dinner rolls…one of my Thanksgiving trial runs.

BYE BYE BIRDIE

Hooray! It’s fall, at long last! It’s been unseasonably and uncomfortably warm around these parts but last night the fever finally broke and gave way to a gloriously crisp, gusty evening. I love fall. It makes me think of spiced apple cider, fresh baked cookies, and Charlie Brown. But I love it most of all because in just a few short weeks I can start playing Christmas carols and nothing puts me in a better mood than carols – but more on that later.

Speaking of holidays, Thanksgiving is fast approaching, and even though I am not American, it’s been a part of my calendar for years now. As such, preparing the menu for said evening is a portentous event in and of itself. Everyone’s appetite needs to be satiated, everyone’s palate engaged, and of course, all of the staple Turkey Day items represented at the table. In recent years we’ve been moving away from The Bird, though, because let’s face facts: even when properly cooked, turkey is nothing but a Brobdingnagian chicken that serves as nothing but a bed for gravy. Pilgrims, fresh off the Mayflower in 1621, were, I believe, responsible for the McDonald’s super-size me mentality. In short, why do we need Big Bird when there are a variety of daintier, more flavorful versions of poultry that would serve just as well? I am proposing little Cornish hens this year – I shall report back on how the suggestion is greeted.

Also, in deciding to push turkey aside, we’ve been able to welcome large roasts of beef and lamb to the Thanksgiving table, and both have been wildly successful. Big celebratory banquets are the only times you can indulge in these bigger cuts because they are expensive and yield too much for two or three people to eat. I’d like to revisit rib roast this November – succulent, rich, meaty. Need I say more?

Please check in during the coming weeks – I’ll be doing a few Thanksgiving item trial runs.

AN APPLE A DAY

I made an apple tart on Thursday and I felt a whole lot better about everything. Apple tarts are very soothing. They should change that well-known saying to "An apple tart a day keeps the doctor way." Also, I’ve been interning at a catering company and worked my first event on Saturday night – all went smoothly and I have thus regained some confidence. Perfect timing, too, as I was swimming much too close to the deep end.

In other news, some of my classmates’ true colors have begun to shine through and they are not very flattering hues. Stereotypical tempestuous chefs in the making! Beware! Part of today’s assignment was to make fresh noodles certain pasta machines weren’t cooperating. One guy took this inanimate object’s offense quite personally and he became quite violent with it. One second the thing was attached to the counter and the next it was on the floor while its crank was in the hand of the raging perpetrator. Dismembered kitchen appliances. Oh the horror!

Speaking of horrors… The fish du jour was flounder and there were a couple extra leftover at the end of class so my partner was charged with filleting one of them. I was standing by and the gutting was going on as normal when all of a sudden a rather outsized “gut” was pulled out. It was quite unusual – larger than an egg sac and firmer. Filled with morbid curiosity, I asked my partner to “Just cut the thing open! Let’s see what’s inside!” It was the fish’s final repast! It was an actual whole fish inside the flounder! Like a man condemned to death, it had devoured one last meal! It was grotesque, now that I think about it. Too bad I didn’t have my camera today. I would have loved to share the gore with you.

THE PRODIGAL COOK RETURNS

Yes, dear readers, I have forsaken you. Few and far between though you are, I have left you hanging. The truth is, I’ve been in a rut. I’ve been cranky, tired, and every other day or so, having mini-breakdowns over this, my latest career move. My brain shorts out, my palms get sweaty, and I go into panic-attack mode. What possessed me to leave my - in the eyes of many, enviable, I should note – job and take out an absurdly large loan to become a cook? A COOK? I have no answer for this. Maybe I got a hunger pang and mistook it for a gut feeling. Next time you get a gut feeling, please, have a sandwich or a Snickers and rethink whatever it is you were convinced about doing. Decisions are made much more rationally on a full stomach.

Despite everything, however, I continue to cook. On Saturday I made gnocchi (from scratch!) with brown butter, sage, and toasted hazelnuts. Also, pork tenderloin stuffed with wine-poached pears and cranberries, bacon, and mushrooms with a plum glaze.
And on Sunday I made strawberry cornmeal muffins.

Bleakly yours,

HH&F