Cooking in...Rajasthan

Despite the diversity and richness of Indian cuisine, I've been playing it disappointingly safe when it comes to what to eat. My itinerary was so tightly packed that any kind of food poisoning or GI issue would effectively mean missing out on an entire city (or having an awfully uncomfortable bus/train ride). However, this didn't mean I couldn't learn a thing or two in the kitchen. 

In Udaipur, I took a private cooking class from the matriarch of an Indian family while her eldest son translated. No recipes - just me scribbling notes. It felt a lot like being back in cooking school. 

Masala Tea

(serves 1)

- 1/2 C water

- 1 t assam tea

- 1 t masala tea

- sugar to taste

Heat all ingredients, bringing to a boil. Add milk if desired. Strain into tea cup. Serve.

Spiced Potatoes

- 4 small potatoes, boiled, peeled and diced

- 2 small onions, sliced

Heat 2 T peanut oil in a pan on med-high heat. Add a pinch of cumin seeds and hing (asafoetida). Then add the onions and sautee for 1-2 minutes. 

Next, add the potatoes with a generous pinch of salt and about 1/4 t ground turmeric. Stir.

Finally, add 1/4 t red chili powder, 1/2 t ground coriander and a dash of garam masala.

Dal

- 1 small onion, minced

- 1 C lentils, rinsed

- 2-3 cloves of garlic, crushed

Heat 2 T of peanut oil on med-high heat in a pot. Add a dash of hing, half a cinnamon stick, 2 cloves, 5 pepper corns and the onion. Stir and cook for 1-2 minutes.

Add the garlic.

Next, prepare the spices in a small bowl: 1/4 t each salt, red chili powder, ground turmeric and garam masala and 1 t ground coriander. Add a little water to form a paste, then add to the pot.

At this point add tomatoes if desired, and cook for 1-2 minutes. Add the lentils and water (1 C lentils : 4 C water). Cover and cook for about 10-15 minutes (if you don't have a pressure cooker use more water and cook longer).

Pullav

- 1 C basmati rice

- 1 medium potato, peeled and diced

- 1 small onion, diced

- 1 C peas

- Whole spices: 1/2 bay leaf, 1 star anise, 1 cardamom pod, 1 T anise seeds, 2 cloves, 5 pepper corns, 1/2 cinnamon stick

- Ground spices: 1/2 t garam masala, 1 t salt, dash of water

Heat 3 T peanut oil in a pot. Add the whole spices, followed by the onion. Stir.

Next add the potatoes and peas and the ground spices. Stir and cook for 1-2 minutes.

Add the rice and water (1 C rice : 2 C water). Cover and cook for about 10-15 minutes. (Again, if you're not using a pressure cooker, use 3 C of water and cook for longer).

Chapati

- 250 g flour (I would use a mix of all-purpose and whole wheat)

- 1 t salt

- water

Combine the flour and salt in a bowl. Gradually add water and mix with your hands until it forms a tough dough. Knead, and drizzle with a little oil.

Pinch off a small piece of dough and roll it into a ball. Coat with flour. Roll out into a circle about 1/2 cm thick. Cook on a hot griddle, flipping periodically to make sure it's evenly cooked on both sides. 

Potato Parantha

Prepare dough for chapati. For the filling, mash a boiled and peeled potato with a dash of ground cumin and chili powder. Roll out a piece of dough as above, then brush with oil and place a spoonful of potato in the center. Crimp the edges inward like a dumpling, then press flat and coat with flour. Roll out again, carefully so the filling doesn't spill out. Cook as above.

Sweet Parantha

Roll out a piece of chapati dough. Brush with melted butter, then sprinkle with sugar. Seal and roll out as above, then cook.

Cooking In...Morocco

I was checking my email over breakfast Wednesday morning when I saw a response from Café Clock (English-owned restaurant in a beautiful riad with an American coffee shop vibe - basically if you're in Fez you need to go at least once) to my inquiry about cooking classes. Sorry for the late reply, it said, but we have a class today at 11am. I checked the time: 20 minutes to get there and find the place. Inhaling the rest of my food, I collected my things and hurried outside; or rather as much as one can hurry in 80+ heat along streets that are unmarked and connected in ways that make very little sense. (The Fez medina has over 9,000 streets; I doubt even a special ops team could successfully track a person once they entered). 

I arrived just in time to meet our chef, a friendly Berber woman, and my other classmate, an Aussie about my age, who had already decided on the menu: lentil soup, aubergine salad, lamb tagine and a dessert of phyllo pastry with fresh fruit and yogurt. Washing my hands and donning an apron, I joined them in the kitchen. For the next few hours we talked, joked around and learned some of the secrets to Moroccan cooking (lots of garlic! lots of spices!). 

What follows is what I can remember to the best of my ability. Nothing was measured nor timed, which pretty much sums up everything I dislike about cooking and, hence, why I am a pastry chef. 

Prepping the herbs with the "bellydancing" knife. (Using it properly feels like a full body workout).

Lentil Soup 

500 g lentils

1.5 L water

1 yellow onion, chopped finely

1 head of garlic, minced

Fresh parsley and coriander

Tomato paste 

Olive oil (~2 T)

Place all ingredients in a pot. Add spices (paprika, salt, pepper, cumin, tumeric) to taste. Mix well. Bring to a full boil and cook until lentils are soft.  

Grilling the eggplant.

 Zaalouk (smokey aubergine puree)

1 eggplant

2 bell peppers

1 head of garlic, minced

Olive oil

Paprika

Cumin

Chili Powder

Tumeric

Grill eggplant and bell peppers over gas flame until charred. Let cool, then peel. (You can wrap them - especially the peppers - in a plastic bag to get them to sweat, then after you can scrape off the charred bits with the back of a knife). Remove the stems from the grilled vegetables. Cut the eggplant into chunks. Remove the seeds from the peppers and do the same.

Sautee garlic in olive oil in a pan. Add eggplant, peppers, and spices. Mix well and continue to cook until thoroughly heated. Serve. 

Finished salad.

Finished tagine.

My new Aussie friend, as it turned out, is quite the globetrotting foodie herself. On this particular trip she was with her parents, but previously she'd been to some of the world's more dangerous cities (Nairobi, Johannesburg) alone, and felt perfectly at ease using the one form of lodging I was not brave enough to try on this trip: couchsurfing. I was impressed, and inspired. Did I mention that she also likes taking cooking classes wherever she goes? We made plans to stay in touch so that she can show me around her hometown, Sydney, once I get to Australia.  

On Boys, Cakes and Getting in Trouble

Supplying a large volume of pastries daily to our three boutiques as well as a host of other clients, the vast, windowless offsite kitchen just outside Paris where I did my internship was a considerable operation. I'm no good at estimating square footage (and even worse with meters), but to give you some idea of the scale:

• I worked with a team of about a dozen others.
• In addition to the main lab, there were separate rooms for each the pesée (weighing ingredients) , four (ovens) and tour (large machine that churned out laminated doughs).
• The primary walk-in freezer (yes there was more than one) was about the size of the biggest kitchen at LCB.

Everything was prepared by the hundreds (or more - the last time we made chaussons aux pommes I calculated over a thousand turnovers), and then frozen to be baked and/or finished later.

Normally I worked in rotating teams in the main lab, but after about a month into the internship I would periodically be assigned to S, the chef in charge of le four . I'm fairly certain this all started because everyone else was tired of dealing with me - with my slowness and clumsy French - but I didn't care; S was the first person who extended kindness and patience, eventually becoming one of the few true friends I made there. She was the life preserver that helped me stay afloat in a new and (at least in the beginning) unfriendly environment, and I learned a lot from her.

*** 

During my final week I switched from the day shift (7am - 4pm) to working nights (10pm - 7am). While adjusting my schedule to sleep during the day was brutal, I found that I really enjoyed the night shift. Whereas during the day we mostly did prep work and intermediate steps, the night crew finished everything to be delivered on time in the morning. So in a way the tasks felt like more of an accomplishment because the results were so tangible; for most of the night we worked to put together and garnish everything until the deliverymen came to take the pastries away.

On one particular night I was, once again, assigned to work in the four . But instead of S the pâtissier in charge was a young guy, about my age, whom I'll call A because he was Algerian and also very attractive, to the point where each time he showed me how to do something I was more focused on looking at him rather than what he was doing. Over the course of the next several hours this made for several silly, careless mistakes on my part.

"C'est pas grave," he would say, with a slight smile, showing me once again how to do the thing correctly. And all was forgiven. 

The following night I was back in the main lab working with the manager when A, en route to the plonge to drop off dirty dishes, came up behind me and proclaimed, in English, "I miss you."

As he walked away I asked the manager if he was always like that. 

"Ouai," she said emphatically. 

*** 

In addition to the ovens, le four also houses a few other machines that I can only describe as giant food processors with temperature control mechanisms. S had shown me how to use them to prepare various crèmes and confit  in giant quantities, but with A I made praliné , a kind of syrupy paste derived from caramelized hazelnuts and almonds. We had learned about praliné in our first lesson at LCB, and I distinctly remember chef saying not to attempt to make it at home because the processing of the caramelized nuts to achieve the final product is too much for domestic machines. (In fact, as a consultant to kitchen equipment companies, he often uses praliné as a test to see if the motors on food processors are up to strength).  

A explained how they first heat the water and sugar to 118C, then add the nuts and periodically scrape down the sides of the mixer as the mixture caramelized. My job was to watch the temperature of the syrup, since between that, making crème pâtissiere in the adjacent machine, and monitoring the simultaneous baking in the three ovens, he was likely to forget. I suppose my presence was an additional distraction, but from what I could tell it was a welcome one. Afterwards the contents of the mixer were emptied into large metal trays to be taken to the Robocoup in the main lab.

Interns rarely got to touch any of the machines, perhaps for good reason. I had been instructed to use the industrial processor (Robocoup) before, but each time something always went awry. Either I messed up assembling all the parts and the machine wouldn't turn on, or I didn't mix the contents enough, or I made a huge mess when emptying the bowl. The night I was to blend the praliné into its final form - also the last night of my internship - was no exception.

A colleague helped me set everything up, explaining that the machine could only take 3-4 trays of caramelized nuts at once and that I was to leave it on the highest setting for exactly four-and-a-half minutes. I did exactly that, but when I came back and opened the machine after the timer went off, instead of a nice homogenous liquid there was a grainy paste. Puzzled, I called the same colleague over, who determined that the blade hadn't been locked in properly and the motor had jammed. Naturally, this was the exact time that the executive chef came in. 

I understood enough of what the chef, an intimidating and fast-talking sort, was saying to my colleague to know that he was berating me for not being French and therefore not understanding how things are done. I could have been thrown under the bus right then and there, but instead my colleague claimed responsibility because it was she who had initially set up the machine. At that moment I felt immensely relieved that the chef and I had never had a formal introduction and that therefore he didn't know my name; I suppose from now on I'll just be remembered as the intern that broke the Robocoup.

*** 

Each shift had only one brief break. During the day it was for lunch, usually taken around 12:30pm at the cafeteria of the complex that housed the kitchen, and at night we had "breakfast" at 5am after the goods had been dispatched, when we feasted on all the superfluous or damaged pastries that couldn't be sold. For me it was much too early to be eating rich mousse cakes and cream-filled choux pastry, so I always reached for the viennoiserie (brioche, pain chocolat) and tea cakes that were scraps from the four. My favorite? The dainty little Financiers.

When I worked with A he showed me how to fill the molds with batter (almost to the top but not quite) and then, using another piping bag with the smallest tip cut off, inject a bit of praliné into the center. The result was an insanely addictive little almond cake.

Alas, the recipes at work were also off-limits to interns, but this one from Dorie Greenspan comes pretty close.  And unless you have a professional grade food processor at home (or even if you do...), I'd suggest buying your praliné from the store.

Adventures in Sushi Making

​While I still technically have one week left to go (the dreaded night shift), for all intents and purposes my internship is pretty much over. Since Friday was the last time I would be working with the group of people that over the last couple months have pushed me to work harder than I ever have in my life, I thought it would be nice to bring something to share. But what do you feed to a bunch of chefs?

Originally I wanted to bring something American, seeing as everyone in the kitchen is either French or an expat of some other European country. ​However this led to a minor existential conundrum because, really, what is American cuisine? I ruled out desserts (apple pie, chocolate chip cookies) because they didn't seem worthy of my colleagues, which left a small group of savory dishes that were impractical because they either wouldn't keep well overnight or I had no experience preparing them (ribs, fried chicken).

My parents suggested sushi because it's easy to make, share and transport, not to mention that everyone likes it. (Sushi restaurants are everywhere in Paris - some chains even deliver to your apartment). I should note that there is some small irony in me, fourth generation Japanese American on my father's side, preparing a traditional dish like this. Back in the states I am what is often referred to as a "Twinkie" or "banana" (i.e. yellow on the outside; white on the inside). So, like any clueless person trying something new, I took to the internet for advice.​ (I had "made" sushi before at home, by which I mean my parents did most of the work while I nibbled on scraps).

​I found all the ingredients I needed at a Japanese grocery store near Opéra - including a cheater's solution of sushi rice seasoning and a bamboo mat for rolling - and, armed with some food bloggers' tips, proceeded to make California (crab, cucumber, avocado) and Seattle (cucumber, smoked salmon, cream cheese) rolls. I think my favorite piece of internet advice came from Yahoo Answers, where a reader suggested rolling sushi "like you would a large joint." (Don't worry; I didn't lick the seaweed at the end).

Come Friday, maybe it was just the hunger of lunch being many hours past, but the food pretty much all disappeared by the time I finished thanking everyone for the experience and the opportunity. No one had tried a Seattle roll before, so I suppose I did manage to bring a little taste of home.

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Easy Spring Recipes

On Sunday I invited my friend Steph, who just returned from getting her visa sorted out, over for dinner.​ She's one of the few who did the same cycle of the pâtisserie program at LCB with me, and thus I suppose my oldest friend here in Paris. But I think of her more as the big sister I never had growing up. She's taken care of me - quite literally on several occasions - over the past months so I thought I'd attempt to return the favor. The problem was I don't really know how to cook.

I often joke that in college, where we had access to dining halls and private chefs, the most cooking I ever did was making sandwiches when the ​kitchen was closed. There's actually a lot more truth in there than I let on. And before that? I was spoiled by my parents' home cooking.

​In retrospect Sunday was probably also the first time I've ever had anyone over for dinner. Even though I'm sure Steph would have been a gracious enough guest if the food were terrible, I decided that entertaining is not the time to be ambitious. And so, I present my simple, tasty, and reasonably healthy menu:

- Salad with red wine vinaigrette

- Penne with basil and mozzarella

- Sangria

- Strawberry shortcake (recipe below)​

My mom often makes these scones at home, using a recipe that I believe originated from my grandmother. Fun fact: this is also one of the first recipes I remember my mom teaching me from a tattered index card in her old-school recipe box. My job was usually the kneading at the end, although I can't remember whether that's because she put me up to it or I just liked licking the sweet dough off my fingers afterward.

English Scones:

• 1 1/2 C all purpose flour
• 1 1/2 t baking powder
• 2 T sugar
• 1/2 C unsalted butter
• 1/2 C milk

Preheat oven to 400F.

Combine dry ingredients in a large bowl. Cut in butter using two knives or a pastry cutter until it achieves the texture of coarse sand. Gradually add milk, mixing gently until soft, sticky dough forms.

Flour hands and lightly knead dough so that it holds together. Gently pat into a circle, and cut into wedges.

Place scones on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake for 10-12 minutes.

Best enjoyed with strawberries and sugar (mixed ahead of time to bring out the fruit juices), and topped with whipped cream.​

Tartelette au Chocolat Praliné

Let it be known that a lack of posts generally means one of two things: that I'm genuinely busy, or that I haven't done anything worth writing about. This past week has consisted mostly of work and apartment hunting, both of which seem to have finally paid off - my boss sent a text this morning that my pay for November has been disbursed and on Friday I'll be signing a housing agreement with my new colocataire. The timing couldn't have been better since this weekend I'm heading to London, and after I return on Tuesday my family is coming to visit.

I originally wanted to make this tart, inspired by one that I tasted at a dinner a few weeks ago, for a holiday party I'll be attending on Saturday. But, I decided, even with the most careful packing, the chances of the dessert making it to London intact were slim. So instead I brought it to a dinner hosted by a friend from school. (She also loaned me her tart rings for the project).

What it is:

A basic sweet pastry dough filled with a layer of crispy praline (melted chocolate, praliné, crushed gavotte cookies) and chocolate glaze ganache.

I'm feeling a bit too lazy to type out the recipe here (just got home from babysitting; 3 and 5 really know how to tire me out) but if you would like to know how to make it please send me a message via the contact form.

Blind bake the tart shells.

Fill with crispy praline.

Top with glaze ganache. If I had bothered to wait another hour it wouldn't be hemorrhaging chocolate like this. 

Macaron Cannelle

If I were to open a single-concept bakery it would probably be centered on macaroons. (I like the idea of a pie bakery too but this fad has already taken off in my hometown). I've always maintained that cupcakes are vastly overrated, so their popularity is a mystery to me. IMO they don't require much skill or artistry, so it is with great skepticism that I observe people willing to shell out $4 a cupcake or $40 a dozen. Personally I would much rather just eat a normal-sized cake, because even if you eat a cupcake the right way it still gets kind of messy.

Macaroons, on the other hand, require a lot more finesse. From the ingredients (e.g. aged vs. fresh egg whites) to the technique (e.g. how long to wait before putting them in the oven), there is no consensus regarding the "right way" to make macaroons. A Google search will yield a myriad of different procedures, but I just followed the method they taught us at LCB. 

Below is the recipe I used to make cinnamon macaroons. (The French name is the title of this post because it sounds more exotic, doesn't it?) Mostly I just wanted to use the spice because I love the flavor and it's very under-utilized in French baking. Also, Snickerdoodles seem somewhat passé now that I'm a certified intermediate pastry chef.

Using the proportions of the key ingredients (powdered sugar, ground almonds, egg whites, granulated sugar) you can flavor them, dye them and fill them however you want. Fruity macaroons are nice, but I'm also partial to chocolate, coffee, salted caramel, and pistachio. If you're ever in Paris you must try the ones from Pierre Hermé and Ladurée, two of the most famous pâtisseries.

What you need:

• 300 g powdered sugar
• 180 g ground almonds
• 5 g cinnamon
• 150 g egg whites
• 70 g granulated sugar
  
  

What you do:

Combine the first three ingredients with a whisk to ensure there aren't any lumps

In a separate bowl, begin beating the egg whites. Gradually add the granulated sugar once soft peaks have been achieved. Continue to mix until firm peaks form.

Times like these make me long for my KitchenAid at home.

Fold the dry ingredients into the egg whites. You can start by using a rubber spatula, but eventually want to use a pastry scraper so you can "macaroné" the mixture.

I should have done this a few more times (that's why the final product still looks lumpy) but in my defense I was rushing because I had to pick the kids up from school.

To do this you will use the scraper to bring the batter up to the rim of the bowl, rotating it as you do so. The point is to make the mixture smooth and shiny. Collect the batter at the bottom of the bowl and repeat several times as necessary. 

Prepare a piping bag with a 10mm tip and pipe the batter into uniformly sized circles onto a baking sheet covered with parchment paper or silicon. The batter should be runny enough from smearing it around the bowl that the small peaks that result from piping should sink back into the cookie.

Clearly uniformity is not my forte. At school I usually try to surreptitiously eat the most uneven/asymmetrical ones before chef comes around and sees.

Preheat the oven to 155C.

Let the cookies rest on the sheet until they are no longer sticky to the touch, about 15 minutes. Some people like to skip this step, but the way it was explained to us in class, the resting period is crucial for forming an initial shell. During baking the air can't escape through the top, and thus is forced out along the edge where the shell meets the pan, resulting in the "feet" at the bottom.

See the feet? At least I got one thing right.

Bake for about 15 minutes. Immediately remove the parchment paper from the baking sheet.

Once cool, gently peel the shells off the paper and flip them over. Pair them up by size. Pipe a small amount of filling onto half of the shells, placing the other half on top to make a sandwich. There should be enough filling inside for a thin layer to be visible between the two cookies.

I filled these with what basically amounts to cream cheese frosting. Unfortunately I neglected to write down the quantities of the ingredients, but a 2:1 ratio of cream cheese to butter, plus a dash of vanilla and enough powdered sugar to make a smooth, pipe-able consistency should suffice.

Refrigerate the finished macaroons for at least 24 hours to allow the flavors to meld.