The Greatest Lesson I’ve Learned So Far

“The motivation for me, is them telling me what I cannot be” – Pharrell on “So Ambitious”

 This is what I need to keep in my head constantly otherwise I’m going to FREAKIN EXPLODE!  Why do I say this?  Because it’s easy to remember everyone telling you that you’re not going to make it or that you’re not good enough, especially when this is all you’ve heard for years.  I heard this for so long I began believing it.  But as you have all, hopefully, have begun witnessing I’m not buying into that bullshit anymore.

 So in keeping with my new attitude, I’m opening myself up to learning and more importantly accepting criticism.  Believe me this is far, far easier said than done.  But to be fair, I’ve done a pretty good job of this so far.

 Then I speak with my father and I hear, “How many times are you going to try and do something before you realize this is as good as it’s going to get?  In fact, I’m surprised you’ve kept the job you got.  You should be thankful and stop going for things you can’t achieve.  You’re not a kid anymore.  Your options are limited.”

 In this case I can either do one of two things.  Argue with the man and tell him where he can put his advice or ignore it.  In a perfect world a third option would be to try and reason with him.  But that’s not possible with someone who thinks, at 70 years of age, that he’s the wise old man who knows all.

 What got me was that I started hearing and feeling all that old crap all over again.  Then it got to me more that I was allowing it to happen.  So with that in mind, I just got over it and focused on leaving there and going to class the next day.  I wasn’t going to let this get to me, not now and not anymore.

 “Gotta go the extra mile, can’t just throw in the towel.  I gotta keep moving, I gotta press on” – Mary J. Blige on “Press On”

 When I started cooking class it was, and still is, my intention to do, big dishes with complicated flavor profiles of my own creation. I was going to work hard and blow everyone away with my newfound knowledge.  And so far I have been learning some really great things and learning how to incorporate them in my own experiments, which has been great!  Cilantro & Lime Risotto, Balsamic Cherry Glazed Pork Chops, Churrasco Steak w/Fresh Chimichurri, all these things and more are what I envisioned when starting class.

 So how deflated was I when the next dish is…wait for it….Tomato Basil Soup!

 Come on!  Bust out a can of Campbell’s, add some dried basil to it and be done with it.  I want to learn BIG THINGS!! 

 “You’re not looking too enthused over the menu”  Chef observed

 “Tomato Basil Soup?  Really?”  I replied.

 “Along with Pasta & Pesto” She said.

 “I’ll do it of course, Chef.  It’s just that I really want to learn more complicated things.  I want to learn about integrating spices I’ve never even heard of into my dishes.  I want to learn technique and things I’ve only dreamed about up to now.”

 “Some of the greatest dishes are some of the simplest, David.  Not only that but in order to get to the more complicated areas you have to get the basics, the fundamentals down first.  You know this already you’re just being impatient.  As for technique, you already know some and you’re already working on improving what you don’t know.  You haven’t even mastered your basic knife skills yet.  Or have you forgotten that we have a date tomorrow with a few onions and vegetables?”

 At this point it’s not lost on me that I’m acting like an ass.  I guess I’m just frustrated.  I want to do this.  I need to prove to my old man that I can do something else.  I need to show him that this is not as good as it can get, that it can and will get better.  I need to prove it to him, right?

 And here I am learning something that I can get out of a can.  And don’t you think he won’t make the same damned remark either!

So do I give up in frustration and embarrassment or do I stick it out?  Yeah, this is pretty much a rhetorical question.  But while I’m at it, let me do a little more self evaluation here.  Why do I need to prove anything to my father?  If I’m doing this just so I can prove him wrong, I’m doing it for the wrong reason. 

 “The motivation for me, is them telling me what I cannot be”

 I love cooking and more importantly I’m good at it.  This class is giving me new knowledge and reinforcing the fact that I made a good decision in doing this.  Not for my old man, not for anyone else for that matter, but for myself.

 Needless to say I got over myself very quickly.  I didn’t throw in the towel, I pressed on and did the soup.  Which, it turns out, was very interesting!  For starters we made our own vegetable stock.  Did you know you can make it using all your discarded veggie items?

 Onion skins, the ends of any carrots and/or tomatoes you use, even the stems of any herbs you use.  Don’t worry about how it looks.  You’ll strain all that out for the finished product.  Just throw it all in a stock pot with a few cups of water and let it simmer for an hour or two and you have a fresh vegetable stock that has many applications.

 That was the base for our soup.  To which we added a diced onion (“still needs a little work, Basora, but I’m seeing improvement”) a can of plum tomatoes (San Marzano are preferable as they are not as acidic and sweeter) and a few fresh Cherry Tomatoes cut in half. Also a couple of cloves of garlic, a couple of sprigs of basil and some heavy cream (the cream is optional).

 While that simmered we did fresh pesto, one of my favorite sauces.  Just take a couple of cups of fresh basil,1/2 cup of parmesan, freshly grated, ½ cup of olive oil,  1/3 cup of pine nuts or walnuts and a couple of cloves of garlic (or more, to taste).  If the nuts are not already chopped run them through your food processor on pulse a couple of times then add the rest with only part of the olive oil.  Add the rest as needed in order to make almost a paste.  Oh, and here’s a tip, take only a couple of leaves of spinach and throw them in.  This is not for taste but so that the pesto keeps that vibrant, beautiful green color!

 It takes, from prep to finished product, less than 15 minutes and it tastes GREAT! 

 After the tomatoes in the soup go soft and release their juices, you know it’s time to puree.  So take it to the blender and go.  JUST BE CAREFUL!  Hot liquids have a tendency to cause your blender to explode.  This is because the steam builds up and needs release.  So just fill the carafe halfway.

I had a great night in class that night!  Not only did I get over the crap in my head but I learned that the simplest dishes not only produce the greatest tastes but they teach the greatest lessons!

Next up:  Hey Onion!  I OWN YOUR ASS!

In My Zone

“Okay my Cilantro & Lime Risotto was almost perfect except that it needed more of each. I have to be careful though because these are two very strong flavors and while they compliment each other they can overpower the palate.” I’m thinking.

“David, you’ll be switching desks back into this room.” My supervisor said.

“Maybe I should try a full bunch of Cilantro next time? Also maybe four limes instead of two? Scratch that, I should try three. I can always add more. Once it’s in there it’s in there for keeps and then I’m screwed if it sucks.” I took a moment from thinking this to acknowledge what she said.

“That’s fine” I replied and then I was pissed. Not at what she just said. To be honest I was actually surprised she took any sort of action at all on what I told her FOUR FREAKIN MONTHS AGO when I told her that the person our boss handed my promotion to was being nothing less than a complete bitch who was shutting me out at every turn. After all the person I was talking about is the manager’s friend and she has a major talent. Not everyone can successfully have their nose in two places simultaneously, up the manager’s ass and into everybody’s business, and make it look effortless.

It wasn’t surprising to me that rather than either address the problem directly (this supervisor doesn’t do direct very well at all) or move the person at fault (this isn’t my speculation, supervisor herself said she also witnessed what I was telling her and acknowledged where the problem originated) that she would instead move me for the fourth time since I’ve been in that department. No, none of this was why I was upset.

I was upset BECAUSE SHE THREW ME OFF FOCUS AND I HAD TO FIGURE OUT THE PROPER AMOUNTS TO MY CILANTRO & LIME RISOTTO ALL FREAKIN OVER AGAIN!!

Not only that but I was also trying to figure out which protein to cook. Should I do Baked Lemon Chicken or try my Pork Chops with Balsamic Cherry Glaze again?

I had spoken with my instructor, Chef Debbie, about the Glaze and she gave me some valuable pointers. My first attempt had good flavor but was very watery. In fact it was the very antithesis of a Glaze.

“The first thing you need to know, especially when working with Balsamic, is that you never leave it alone.” Chef said. “You take your eye off it for more than a second and it can burn very quickly.”

“Chef, in order for that to have happened it would have needed to reduce far more than it did. In fact it really didn’t reduce at all.” I replied. I then explained how I tried to do everything by the book. Two cups pitted cherries (yes you can use the dark sweet canned ones but I used fresh). One cup of red wine, in this case Pinot Noir though Port is also a good alternate and a half cup of Balsamic Vinegar. As it began to boil I added the two cups of Chicken Stock.

“But nothing else happened!” I said with no small amount of frustration.

“That’s because you didn’t allow it to reduce enough before you added the Stock and unless you’re going to smother the Pork Chops in the glaze try one cup of Stock instead of two.” She said.

I wrote all of this down and thanked her for the advice. “That’s why I’m here.” Chef said. “You really do like to cook, I see.”

“Chef, I LOVE to cook. You have no idea how much I love it. Well, you’re a Chef, so maybe you do!” I laughed.

“You should know it’s not all like you see on Food Network. It’s a lot of hard work, dealing with extreme pressure and sometimes the pay is not the greatest. People who get into this field, on any level, do it because they love what they do.”

“So then I guess the only question that’s left for me is where and when can I start? Because so far I’m loving everything about this. From the prep to the sweat to the finished product I have to throw out because I screwed it up to having to do it all over again. But what I love more than that is that deafening silence I hear when I get it right and all the diners can do is keep eating.” I told her.

She looked at me and smiled. “You seem to have the right attitude. Let’s see how you feel after you have to bone a whole chicken on your own next week and cook a meal for the entire class on your own. Well, you and G, that is.” G’s my counterpartner and let me tell you she’s even more of a kickass partner than I originally thought! That girl is going to be one fantastic Chef!

So how glad am I that I was able to hook up with her?

“Um, tell me that I don’t have to do that soon, Chef. Please?” I pleaded.

“No, over the next three weeks. Your first task is to do all the knife cuts perfectly. You have one more week to practice. See you then.”

This is all that was going through my head as I was sitting through this departmental meeting at my job that was supposed to “bring everyone together”. Ordinarily, friends and readers, you’d have read nothing but me ranting and raving about how pathetic it all is and all I’d feel is anger and frustration . But I don’t, not in the slightest.

All I can think about is trying out that Glaze again. Cooking the Pork Chops in my Rosemary, Garlic, Olive Oil & Red Wine Vinegar marinade perfectly and nailing the flavor balance in my Risotto.

Oh yeah, and getting those DAMNED KNIFE CUTS MASTERED!

I’m in my zone and I’m LOVING IT!!

Make every day a great memory, Guys and Gals! Remember, make 2010 your year!

Because it sure as hell is mine!

Next up: Onions, Tomato Basil Soup & a fantastic Pesto!

Here’s To Life, Here’s To Love, Here’s To You, My Friends & Readers

A couple of posts ago I said that I was inspired to begin growing some of my own herbs and vegetables.  A few days after I posted I went out and bought the items I needed to grow Cilantro, Oregano, Parsley, Basil and Habanero Peppers.  While they’ve all begun to grow, the Basil and Parsley are growing the fastest and have already needed to be transplanted to larger pots.

I was quite excited in this my first foray into gardening.  Not only that but to be growing things that I can use in my cooking adds another level of excitement for me when I think of how great it is when fresh ingredients are used.  Anywho, it was while I was doing the transplanting that I started thinking about many things but especially some events that have occurred recently and not so recently as well as the people involved.

My friends and family have long known that writing has been one of my passions.  You, my friends and readers, have hopefully gotten to know this as well.  However writing is a lonely job.  You’re in your head way more than is probably healthy.  And even if a writer is self confident and is comfortable with the work they produce there is always a slight doubt.  Will it be well received?  Will some hack editor rip apart the work you’ve sweated and slaved over without ever understanding what you’re trying to say?  For that matter how can they?  It’s not their words they’re shredding!

I can’t speak for every writer but those with whom I’ve had the great pleasure of knowing and speaking to have shared these and other thoughts and fears with me.  Which was good to know since for a long time I thought I was the only one who felt this way.  Because while some of my friends have gone above and beyond the call of…well, being my friends by reading my work and leaving comments either personally or publicly so that I can get at least some feedback, not all of them have.

I don’t say this to try and call them out.  Some have extremely busy schedules and others don’t have the patience or time to stop and read what can, at many times, be nothing more than the jumbled up thoughts in my head which are no more entertaining than watching paint dry.

So imagine my surprise when, at one friend’s birthday party some months ago, another friend of mine while introducing me to someone does so by saying “David is a writer.  That is to say he tears his heart out and rips it open and lets what’s inside spill out onto a blank page.  And the results are quite amazing.”

Flash forward from that time back in October to this past week.  As you all know my love of food and cooking, to be more precise, has come to the fore and I’ve begun a very fascinating journey of discovery of both self and food.  The aforementioned gardening being the very latest manifestation of this.

When one friend read my post about gardening they said I was an inspiration.  Another said my love of cooking is becoming contagious and then another truly touched me by giving me some of the best, most constructive criticism I’ve ever received and said that my passion shows both in my writing and in how I describe both food and my cooking class.  What she has said to me this past week means more to me than I’ll ever be able to truly describe.

I started thinking about these amazing people and the other equally amazing people in my life.  One of whom celebrated his birthday this weekend.  And while I was unable to celebrate with him  I was able to give him something he asked for, a home cooked meal, specifically my Chicken Parmagiana which I’ve written about before.

While at lunch with him and two other friends I couldn’t help but be extremely happy.  For starters because three people, three friends, who haven’t had my cooking now have and enjoyed it.  And with it they have hopefully understood how much what I’m doing means to me.  More importantly though was how much they each have come to matter to me.

One friend always has a smile on her face and has taught me how to deal with the hellhole I laughingly refer to as my job.  In fact she is truly one of the only people that make working there bearable.  Then there’s the other friend and lunch attendee, someone I don’t hang out with often but always appreciate when I do.  His is a unique view of the world.  And while I joke with him and sometimes make fun of him, I always learn something from him.  I will always thank him for that.

Then there’s the birthday boy himself.  He just turned twenty five and is loaded with so much potential it’s staggering to think about.  We’ve only known each other a couple of years but the support and encouragement he has shown me is phenomenal.  As with all true friendships the best part is discovering things you’d never even imagine they’re capable of or interested in and this person has surprised me in many ways.  In so doing he has taught me the greatest lesson in making inaccurate assumptions.

I don’t write this or any of my posts to try and draw attention to myself.  I don’t think myself better than anyone else in any way, shape or form.  But as I’ve said before, and no doubt will again, if there is anything this blog does, anything the least bit positive, it’s that people read it and appreciate what they have in their lives.  And if they don’t, if they are living lives fraught with doubt or lives of quiet desperation because they mistakenly think wherever they are is as good as it will get, maybe they can see how an ordinary middle aged guy with a couple of steamer trunks full of issues is trying to change his life.

Maybe they’ll see that despite the constant fear he lives with and seemingly insurmountable obstacles he has to deal with he’s trying to move forward and enjoy the peace of mind he’s searched so very long to find.  And they too will enjoy their friends and family, and laugh with them and more importantly love them.

Often I try and end each post by encouraging you to go out and make each day a new and great memory.  I’d also like to add this by the late. great singer, Shirley Horn, “May all your storms be weathered, and all that’s good get better.  Here’s to life, here’s to love, here’s to you.”

I Have Seen The Enemy And Its Name Is…BRUSCHETTA!

Okay so here I am at my second class, Basic Knife Skills.  Chef announces that at the end of the class we should be able to slice, dice, julienne and chiffonade (aka Ribbon Cut).  At first it may seem that learning all these cuts are unnecessary.  I mean, as long as you chop it all up and get it into either your dish or frying pan who freaking cares, right?

Turns out that it does matter.  But more on that in a minute.

By now, many people including many of you, friends & readers, have seen “Julie & Julia”, the movie based on the lives of legendary Chef/Author Julia Child and Julie Powell, the writer who set out to cook all 524 recipes of Child’s “Mastering The Art of French Cooking”.  If you haven’t, YOU SHOULD!

I bring this up because there’s a scene in the movie where Julia is in culinary school learning how to slice an onion.  So determined is she to learn how to be as fast and cool as her classmates that she goes home and is chopping away and crying all throughout.   Then she returns to class triumphant as she just whizzes through an onion beating the rest of her class.

Here’s the thing about that, while it’s great to be as fast as all the Chefs you see on television or in person, it’s more important to make sure you have uniform cuts as this ensures your food is cooked evenly and properly.  Not only that but, in the case of slicing an onion, when done the right way you won’t cry not even a single tear. 

“Your speed will come with practice.”  Our instructor, Chef Debbie told us.  “What’s key is that you learn the proper technique”  Which is to start by taking the top of the onion off, leaving the root, or hairy side still on, then by cutting lengthwise through the onion.  Doing so leaves the core intact which in turn holds the onion together so that you’re not trying to awkwardly hold it all together while attempting to slice. 

Learning to do that was quite the challenge for me, both with an onion and a tomato, but more on that later.  The rest of the cuts weren’t hard for me at all and learning why we had to learn a Chiffonade was even more fascinating. 

This cut is primarily for herbs like basil and mint that contain strong flavors due to the oils within the leaves.  If you chop it like you would parsley the leaves will turn black and there will be a bitter taste to them due to all the oils being released.  Take the leaves, three or four, and line them up and then roll them tight.  Then just slice through the roll as fine as possible.  When you’ve finished they look like little ribbons and add a great look to your dish.  Not only that but their taste and appearance remain intact.

So here I am ready to slice, dice and chiffonade my way through all these items because, we’re told, the end product will be put into a bruschetta which we’ll eat at the end of class.  I hold the onion as I was taught, with my thumb and pinky fingers bracing the back while my three other fingers were bent and holding the top. I did the same with the tomato.

The result?  A FREAKING MESS!!!

Oh my god!  How hard is it to keep your fingers in that position while trying to remember which direction to slice without releasing the juice in the onion which is what makes you cry when you slice onions! 

Then Chef tells us that’s how she’ll grade us.  Because if her eyes are stung and she begins to tear up, she’ll know we didn’t do it right.  So here she is arriving at my workstation and seeing me wipe my eyes and then she begins to wipe hers.  “Okay so what did you do wrong?” She asked. 

Sign up for this class, I thought.  “I cut too many times in the wrong directions?”  I replied.

“Yes and about that tomato.” She said.

“I know it’s bad but on that I have two things to say.  First, these knives are bad and there’s no sharpening steel.  Next, I don’t know where you got them from but they’re frozen and turning to mush.”

 She nodded and said “Okay, I’ll forgive you for that because you’re right.  But that onion is bad.  Your assignment for the next two weeks is to practice at home and then we’ll go through this again.  You’re a natural with a knife and so far you’ve shown some promise.  But I could tell from the other side of the room that you were getting frustrated and unable to get beyond the problems.  You don’t want to do that when preparing food professionally or in any case with a knife in your hand, okay?”

She went on to the girl next to me and this girl is WICKED GOOD!  (Yes that might not be proper English but you can’t date a brit for three years and not have some of that rub off on you) 

She did all her cuts very well.  Not only that but her presentation when the Bruschetta was prepared was awesome.  Mine looked like someone from a slasher flick came and hacked into everything.

 It was at this point where my frustration showed.  I want to do everything right.  This class means a lot to me and I want to do well.  But that doesn’t mean I’m going to do everything right from the beginning.  If that were the case I wouldn’t need to come in the first place.

And yes, there are going to be people who can do it better.  Do I suck it up and deal or do I throw my hands up in surrender and give up?  After thinking about what Chef said to me I looked at the girl next to me.  “Listen, you’re phenomenal and I heard what you said about wanting to be a professional Chef.  I want that too.  Since you seem to have some of this down already would you mind if I ask you for some help?”

She grinned.  “Only if you show me how you made that kickass Chimichurri sauce yesterday.  You got the only good grade in the class for that.  I was cursing myself out all the way home for serving up the slop I made.”

We talked and we are now counter partners and we’re going to help each other out.  She has worked in some professional kitchens and has a boyfriend who’s a Chef.  I have no problem visualizing some ingredients and building flavor profiles so I’ll help her with that.

So while Bruschetta may be the enemy, for now, all in all it was a good second class.  I didn’t give up.  I took constructive criticism and more importantly I asked for help when I needed it.

Oh yeah, and I’ve bought three bags of onions.  Guess what I’m doing this weekend?

Earthquake In Haiti – A Personal Story

I heard the news and I called her immediately.  ”I don’t know”  She said.  ”No one knows.  We can’t find out anything!”

I asked my friend, whom I’ve known for the better part of ten years, to call me when she could to let me know how things were.  I called another friend, remembering that his girlfriend’s family still lives there.  He told me his girlfriend went to Haiti just two days earlier to bring her grandmother back for an operation she was to receive here in Miami.  He didn’t know anything either and he understandably feared the worst.

Though I remained silent, I feared it also.

I intentionally didn’t listen to the news that night after hearing that the magnitude of the quake was 7.0, after hearing that all communication was down and that no one would know anything for hours.  All I could think of that entire evening was that this would be far worse than anyone could ever imagine.  All I could think of was that the friends I spoke with, as frenzied and anguished as they already were, had only begun a long, painful journey that will tear them apart and their lives would never be the same again.

The next morning I call the other friends I know who have family in Haiti.  No one knew anything.  The two friends I spoke with the night before still couldn’t get any information.  Their voices were ragged.  They had stayed up all night trying to get through even though they knew it was futile.  They still had to try.

A few hours later, the first friend I contacted called me up in tears…now it begins.  ”My grandparents are dead.”  She cried.  ”They were having dinner and the roof just fell flat on them!”

I asked how she was able to know this for sure.  Maybe they’re stuck in the rubble, hurt but alive?

“My cousin was able to call and tell me.  She was supposed to be in there too.  She was on her way, it was a family gathering.  She saw it happen and there’s no rubble, not really.”

“What do you mean?”  I asked.

“My cousin said one second the flat roof was held up by the beams, the next it fell in one piece flattening everyone inside.  All my grandparents are gone.”

“What do you mean all?”

“All four of them.  My father’s parents and my mother’s.  It was a family gathering.”  The pain in her voice was almost too much to hear.  Especially when she continued and told me her lifelong best friend, a beautiful twenty five year old woman whom I had the great pleasure of knowing, also was dead.

Later in the day my other friend called.  His girlfriend’s family were all accounted for and alive.  His girlfriend was not.  Variations of this scene would play out all day long.

My youngest son speaks with me.  ”There has to be something we can do, Dad!  This is all so messed up!  How can this happen?”  The confusion showing on his face and even more acutely present in his voice.  I was amazed at how much like a little boy he seemed at that moment despite his sixteen years.  You’d think that after experiencing a hell no child should ever endure he’d be desensitized, cynical and unaffected.  Yet he’s quite the opposite.

He believes in people.  He thinks that there are still some truly good and even great individuals in this world and that life is still worth living.  His empathy knows no bounds as does his hope.  So how do I explain to him that sometimes unimaginable, horrific shit simply happens with no rhyme or reason?

He saves me from having to try.  ”I’m going to school and collecting money.  Then I’m going to buy whatever I can, whatever these people need, and I’m going to send it to them.  I’m going to keep doing it as long as I can.  My brother is going to do it too.  You’re okay with this, right Dad?”

“Of course I’m okay with it.  I think that’s a great idea.  I’m proud of you.  But you need to speak with your teachers or principal and make sure it’s okay to do this at school, okay?”

He nodded his acknowledgment of this and went to sleep soon thereafter.  The next day his principal calls me.  ”I know this is an unusual call but we need to make sure someone will pick your son up from school.  I want to assure you he did nothing wrong.  It’s just that with all this money, I’m afraid that he’ll be a target for someone to take the money from him or god forbid worse.”

“I’ll make sure that happens but how much money could he have collected?”

“Thirty two hundred dollars.”

I was stunned but also extremely proud.  Then my seventeen year old calls and tells me he raised seventeen hundred.  Later in the day they each went with their friends into their neighborhoods and continued collecting.  By the time they’re done they will have collected seven thousand dollars.

Then later on I began receiving responses from an email blast I sent out asking people to help and listing various ways which they could.  After reading over fifty responses, I tallied up another twelve hundred donated.  Maybe my son is right in keeping hope alive?  Because I’m seeing and hearing some tremendous stories of people helping out in some amazing ways.  And no one is arguing or trying to upstage anyone.

Then I turn on the news and hear someone who has the temerity to continue calling himself a “man of god” make accusations of devil worshipping and how Haiti brought this tragedy on themselves.  I hear the same overbloated, moronic, radio talk show host, a pathetic waste of flesh and bone, try and politicize this nightmare.  I try to consider the sources of this bile.  I try to consider the fact that they and all like minded individuals are nothing more than lifeless husks who are so bitter with themselves and their lives that they don’t even realize that they’re utterly dead inside.

Then again, maybe they do and that’s why they spew their filth, because there’s nothing else for them to do in hopes of being quickened again however temporarily so that they may feel alive once more.  Because while negative attention for some is better than no attention at all, it is also precious blood for those who have nothing else to live for.

After class I visit my friend, who in addition to losing her friend and grandparents has lost a couple of cousins and aunts and has a couple of uncles and friends still unaccounted for, she is remarkably calm.  So much so in fact that I’m compelled to ask how many tranquilizers she took.

“None.” She replied. “There’s just nothing I can do but wait.  The worst that can happen is that we’ve lost two more family members.  I know this sounds incredibly harsh but after all we’ve lost, what’s two more?”

“That’s not harsh.”  I said.  ”It’s just painfully realistic.  I can’t imagine how they’ll ever be able to come back from this.”  As I say this to her I begin to cry, for her, her friend whom I’ve known and loved, her lost family and for me…because I haven’t felt this impotent since 9/11. And now the friend I came to console comforts me.

“They’ll come back.  We’re a tough, strong people.  But they’ll need help.  They’ll need more people like you and the boys.  So do me a favor while I’m saying good bye to my grandparents and burying them.  Spread the word and get those people, okay?”

I nodded and we talked a while before she went in and began another round of fruitless phone calls.

Fortunately she lost no one else, but she just received word that other friends of hers aren’t so lucky.  We say goodbye.  I come back to write this.  She went off to console friends and cry with them.

Cooking Class, Old Acquaintances…& Anderson Cooper Lookalikes

Have you ever seen a movie or tv show where the main character has an epiphany that’s portrayed by a chorus of angelic sounding voices and a light shining down from on high as if a divine power has opened up the heavens and cleared the once cloudy sky looming overhead?

Keep that in mind, you’ll need the reference in a bit.

So there I am at Miami-Dade College trying to find the Wolfson Kitchen where I’ll finally see whether or not the past few months of soul searching and life altering decisions is worth it…ONLY I CAN’T FIND THE FREAKIN KITCHEN!!!

Then I hear a voice.  ”Are you looking for the cooking class?”  A man sitting down behind me asks.

“Yes.”  I replied.

“You’re at the right place.  It’s not easy to find because the kitchen’s down that little hallway.” He smiled.

I thanked him and we started up a conversation.  Of course one of the topics is why we’re each here taking the course.  ”I just bought some property up in Maine and I’m thinking about opening up a restaurant up there.”  I kept looking at him thinking I had seen him somewhere but nothing came to mind.

“Sounds like a big undertaking”  I said.  ”I hope it all works out for you.  Have you ever owned a restaurant before?”

“A few years ago.  It was a small place not too far from here in The Design District.”  He said.

It was then that it hit me.  ”The Art Cafe?  Was that the name of your place?”

“Yes it was!  Do I know you?”  He asked.

I then explained that I worked two blocks away from his place and frequented the cafe along with my then two good friends for lunch almost every week.  He remembered my name and I his and we embraced briefly.  It had been just about ten years since we’d seen each other and we started catching up while waiting for class to start.  He asked me why I decided to take the course.  I told him because I love food, love cooking and want to do something new with my life.

I talked about various recipes I’ve tried or wanted to try.  He told me about wanting to try something new too which is why he’s going to Maine.  He explained that he fell in love with it and wants to start a new chapter of his life.

“You’re going to do it.”  I told him.  ”You sound so sure and you seem to really have a passion for it.  I admire that.”

“As do you for food.”  He said.  ”Your whole face lit up the moment you started talking about cooking.  And I’m dying to hear how a couple of those recipes of yours comes out.  Who knows, maybe I’ll need to hire you for my restaurant!”

We exchanged a laugh and I began to relax.  Then the Chef called us into the Kitchen.  Class was about to begin.   As I walked down the corridor and began to feel the heat of the grill and see the countertops filled with the various ingredients we’d be working with, I knew it right then and there *cue the angelic chorus and bright light simulating divine power* I WAS HOME!

I also felt very good about the fact that there wasn’t one attractive guy in the class.  I even texted one of my friends “All the guys in this class are fucking dogs!  Good thing now I can really concentrate!” I noticed one guy but didn’t really go for the whole salt & pepper hair thing.

Keep that in mind, you’ll need the reference in a bit.

Chef Debbie, our instructor, explained that due to an unforeseen problem, our Knife Skills Program would be postponed a day.  She asked if we wanted to leave an hour early or would we like to stay and get a little more kitchen time.  She also said if we did, we’d be able to use what we learned to cook a meal we’d eat at the end of the evening, something that wasn’t planned for another week or two.

We all opted to stay and learned to make a fresh Chimichurri Sauce and Churrasco Steak with Heirloom Tomato Salad and had a blast!  During all of this we learned how to properly clean fresh herbs and chop them.  Did you know you should wash a bunch of parsley with the leaf end down in a bowl of cold water, swishing them around for a minute then wringing the water out and putting them on a paper towel?  If you did you’re one up on me because I didn’t have a clue.

“No matter how clean and green they look in the Supermarket, they were grown in the ground and dirt tends to get stuck deep inside.”  Chef said.  Then she showed us the water and let’s just say I’m going to wash Parsley this way until the day I die.

Chimichurri is very easy to make.  Take a bunch of parsley, chop up a couple of cloves of garlic, throw in a pinch or two of kosher salt and some extra virgin olive oil AND some canola or vegetable oil.  Add a dash or two of red wine vinegar and a pinch or more of red pepper flakes (this is optional but I do it because…..that’s right…I LIKE THE HEAT!) and you have a fresh, tasty Chimichurri sauce.  I stress the combination of the two oils because if you’re going to refrigerate it, the canola/vegetable oil will prevent the olive oil from coagulating on the surface of the sauce.

We went on to learn how to properly trim the fat off a skirt steak and cook it for Churrasco.  Of course this was after we finished the Chimichurri sauce and the Heirloom Tomato Salad because you want to always make sure you prepare your meats separately.

As Chef was walking around observing how we were trimming the steak I hear “I know you, don’t I?”

I turn around and look dead on into the bluest eyes and brightest smile.  It was the aforementioned salt & pepper haired guy.  Whom, it turns out, I dated for two months over five years ago.

If you asked me what his name is I wouldn’t be able to tell you to save my life.  I do remember that we didn’t see each other anymore because he was somewhat boring and had a lot of haircolor (a different one each time we saw each other) and other issues that just turned me off.  Yes I know that sounds very shallow but I am, after all, a guy.  Not only that but I too color my hair (that’s right, ain’t no shame in my game, kids) but I try, not always successfully but I try, to maintain one steady color.  This guy had bronze one day, orange the next and yellow after that, it was just driving me crazy.

Now comes this salt & pepper haired hottie who looks like Anderson Cooper, someone I never EVER found the least bit attractive until now, standing right next to me five years after I never returned his last phone call to me.

“Oh my God!  How are you doing?” I ask in my best surprised voice hoping beyond all hope I don’t have to use the name I can’t remember.

“I’m doing fine, thanks.”

Yes he most certainly is!  I thought.  We exchanged a couple of more pleasantries and got back to the task of cooking our steaks.  Chef Debbie then gave us a few pointers on plating and we all sat down and had a GREAT MEAL!

It was only the first class and I got reacquainted with someone I haven’t seen in ten years, a former…interest I hadn’t seen in five years but more importantly I realized that I had found what I’d been looking for…somewhere to belong.  I belong in this class.  I belong in the kitchen, cooking great food, serving it to appreciative people.  There is no better sound than the silence a Chef hears when everyone has stopped talking and started eating.  That sound is my comfort zone.  That sound is what I need to hear.

The next twenty weeks are going to be very interesting…

NEXT UP: I GET MY ASS KICKED BY A BRUSCHETTA!

Super Chefs & The New Year

The first week of 2010 is already history.  I hope you, my friends and readers, had a wonderful holiday season and rang in the New Year the way you wanted.

Personally I had a great New Year’s Weekend!  I experimented with a couple of new seasonings that were Christmas gifts from my oft mentioned sister/best friend and studied up on some new recipes that she gave me as well as watching Food Network and yes, College Football!

Speaking of Food Network, I wonder if any of you watched the Super Chef Showdown on Sunday, January 3rd?  Iron Chef Bobby Flay teamed up with White House Executive Chef Cristeta Comerford to do battle with Iron Chef Mario Batali and Super Chef Emeril Lagasse.  The “secret ingredient” was, as First Lady Michelle Obama informed the Chefs, “anything from the White House garden” and they have an amazing garden!

The garden is a personal project of Mrs. Obama’s and she has brought local schoolchildren in to teach them how to grow their own food and eat healthy, which also was the charge she gave the Chefs.  She wanted them to impress upon the viewing audience the importance of eating right and supporting local sustainable food sources.  It was also pointed out by White House Chef, Sam Kass (an ultimate HOTTIE I might add!) who was sitting in the audience that in the six months that the garden has been operating, it has produced a thousand pounds of food! How amazing is that?  Even more amazing is that much of it has been donated to various local soup kitchens.

Watching all these extremely talented artists compose their dishes for the judges to taste and evaluate was a treat I won’t soon forget.  Of course I’m an avid Iron Chef America fan and have seen many other battles in Kitchen Stadium but this was truly something to behold.  No doubt because of my love of food, cooking and my soon to be realized desire of training to be a chef myself.

Though all the Chefs were magnificent, my favorite is Mario Batali.  The man is rarely ever flustered nor does he lose his cool.  While other Chefs run from one side of the stadium to the other, he just walks over quickly but calmly and does what he does best, which is create art from food.  The respect he has for food, the passion he has for his work shows in every move he makes.  And to hear him describe his dishes and explain the story or the inspiration he had to create them just leaves you wanting more.

Yes, the man wears orange crocs with everything.  And yes he may not be a male model, but he is a true artisan and superb Chef.  It’s sad that I read a blog posted here by another writer who actually berated him for wearing the crocs to The White House and even stated that he was trying to “upstage The First Lady” by wearing them.  I find it interesting, and sometimes disturbing, that people project, or impose, their desire to sacrifice substance for style onto others.

That is, however, their issue to deal with.  I’m just glad that I watched that showdown.  I’m glad that I saw four talented individuals produce some outstanding results and in doing so I learned more about food and how to treat it, prepare it and respect it.

Watching this inspired me to learn how to grow some of my own herbs and vegetables.  I plan on starting that particular project this weekend and I can’t wait!  It times perfectly since I’m also starting my first cooking class next week!

Happy New Year everyone!  2010 is going to be a truly phenomenal year. I intend to enjoy it, work hard for it and own it!  2010 is my year!

May it be yours as well.

Make The New Year Your Best Ever

As you, my friends and readers, have witnessed over the past few months I’ve been going through a personality crisis.  I’ve allowed people’s opinions of me and how I live my life to cast a shadow over everything I do and say.  I think what bothered me most was that I somehow wasn’t living up to what others perceive as a full, or happy, life.

I allowed my friends rolling their eyes at the things I say or do out of some sort of disapproval of me to rattle me.  Whenever I’d say something I’d get that “there he goes again” face or the head shaking that says “David, David, David” as if I’d done something wrong.  I started wondering if maybe I was doing something wrong.  That maybe these people, some of whom I have known and loved for over a decade or more even, were only tolerating me but no longer really cared.  And if that was the case, what was I doing wrong?

Then it suddenly hit me, okay not suddenly because it took a few months of therapy and days and nights of soul searching, there is nothing wrong with me.

I actually like who I am.  I like myself especially moreso now that I’m taking my life in a new direction, one where I figure things out for myself without worrying about whose approval I’ll gain or lose.  There will be hard times and I’m not naive, I know I’ll have to work five times as hard as many others in my class.  I’ll have to make more sacrifices than I ever have before and I’ll have to still be a father to my boys.  But it will be my life as I choose to live it with no regrets or excuses and more importantly no worrying, or caring, about what others think.

I guess I’m thinking about this more because recently a friend of mine, whom I had the great fortune of reconnecting with, was going through a mini-crisis wondering whether or not he should continue to “march to his own drummer” as he put it.  What struck me about this is that he is a phenomenal person!  He has everything going for him, he’s smart, hard working and incredibly gifted.  He’s going to school and working and has people in his life who truly love him and yet he was made to doubt himself.

I call what he went through a mini-crisis because fortunately it was a short term experience.  Unlike yours truly who has allowed this to fester inside for so long to the point where I worried and stressed over everything I said or did.  I wanted to please everyone because I didn’t want them to leave me.  I wanted to make everyone else happy and so I tried my utmost not to say or do the wrong thing and also because I was tired of getting those frowns and the rolling eyes and shaking heads in disappointment.

This has been quite a year for me, as it has for many others no doubt.  But I can’t speak for anyone else.  I can only speak for me and what I have to say to you, my friends and readers is this: Live your life without regret.  Don’t let anyone ever make you feel as if you’re a lesser person or not deserving of any happiness.  Get out there and march to the beat of your own drummer, BE YOUR OWN DRUMMER.  Say whatever it is you’re feeling because if you’re feeling it, it can’t be wrong.  Experience all this life has to offer and do so out loud and proud.  It doesn’t matter what you do as long as you’re happy and living for yourself.

Make 2010 your best year ever…because I sure as hell intend to!

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

Food & Fear – Third and Final Installment

I started F & F with a confession and I’m going to end it with another…I’m singing again!

Yes you read it right the first time, I’m singing again!  And I have to tell you it feels so good!

I named this series “Food & Fear” because as odd as it may sound it’s through Food and my desire to go to Culinary School that I have faced some of my greatest fears.  What makes this even better is that I’m beginning to conquer them and I haven’t even started class yet!

As I said in the first installment, I knew that my fear & loathing for cooking Rice came from my predilection for laziness and procrastination.  This in turn stems from a fear of failure more intense than almost anything I’ve ever felt in my life.

This is also something my ex noticed when he cooked that meal.  He was telling me to put the fear away and keep going.  What I also faced was the fear I had of my place in my family.  This family has taken some hits over recent months for which I felt primarily responsible.  And while I’ll still wrestle with this for some time I know that we all are going to be okay, better even.

Back to the singing, the morning after my ex and I…conversed (blush) I got up early enough to cook breakfast.  This ordinarily wouldn’t be a remarkable event except for the fact that it was a Saturday morning and I was up at 7am.  Believe me, I’m rarely ever awake before 9 or 10 on a weekend.

Anywho, I decided to do a Spanish Tortilla (omelette) with Chorizo and Spanish Manchego Cheese.  I had wanted to do one for a while and was now feeling bold enough to give the unknown a try.  It came out good but not great but yet all throughout the cooking process I turned on my ipod and I was singing out loud and having a great time.

My oldest son woke up next and attributed my singing to the previous night’s activities.  And though I basically ignored him, so as not to argue with him, it caught my ear when he said “Whatever’s going on, it’s damn good to hear you singing again.  Not that you’re any good but at least you’re happy.”

Flash forward a few weeks after that to this past Saturday.  I promised a home cooked meal to she who is my Sister/Best Friend and all around partner in crime for her birthday.  Chicken Parmagiana with Penne Pasta and a Fried Mozzarella with Warm Cherry Tomato Sauce and Lightly Dressed Mixed Green Salad appetizer was the menu.

Having cooked this dinner before, with the exception of the Warm Cherry Tomato Sauce and Fried Mozzarella, I wasn’t too worried.  However I wanted to make this special for her.  This was her birthday request.  Would she still have loved me if it didn’t come out right?  Of course she would.  That wasn’t the fear.  The fear was in letting myself down if I didn’t do the very best I could.

Ordinarily I’d have either done the very least I could thereby minimizing any risk of failure or found an excuse for not doing it at all which would at least postpone things.  I didn’t want to do that this time.  I wanted to do this for her the way she wanted it and for myself and start getting over myself and out of my way so I can finally move on with my life.

We spent the day together and started it off with my second attempt at a Spanish Tortilla.  This time I used waxy potatoes (in this case Red Potatoes though Round White and Yellow are also good) which I didn’t use before.  I sliced them thinly and along with Spanish Onions finely chopped I cooked them in Olive Oil.  When done I mixed them into the Egg, Manchego Cheese and Fresh Parsley mixture I whipped up and prayed as I set the pan back on the stove for two minutes and then into the oven for six or seven more.

Not only did it not stick to the pan when I turned it over but it was a beautiful golden brown and tasted pretty damned good!  The dinner itself was also a success.  To make matters even better, the appetizer was a recipe from Chef Scott Conant’s book.  I had done what my ex suggested and I took the books off the shelf and started reading them again.  What replaced them on that shelf was the fear I had of failing.  I had, in effect, put the fear away.

What was brought to my attention by my son and my other dear sister/pal who was there was that I was singing while I was cooking.  “Dad, I haven’t heard you like that in months!  You seeing a new bloke?” My seventeen year old Brit asked.

“No I’m not.  Now are we cooking or are you psychoanalyzing?” I replied.

“Just sounds like you’re in love to me, Dad.”

It was then that I realized that I am in love, he was right.  I’m in love with the person I’m becoming again.  With the direction I’m taking my life.  With the decisions I’m making and I’m absofreakinlutely LOVING the fact that I don’t feel so scared anymore!

In twenty eight days I start school.  Between now and then I want to do some more reading and a hell of a lot more cooking.  I want to tackle those recipes that intimidate me and prove to myself and then everyone else that I can and will do anything.

And as I continue jumping over hurdle after hurdle, I’ll be singing out loud and proud!

Food & Fear – Pt. 2

Calling my ex a major asshole would be doing him a disservice. While it’s true that he has been acting like one recently he was also someone who got me. I mean really got me. He understood me in ways I barely understood myself. The things I hated about me most were some of the things he loved about me. There’s no better feeling in the world than someone who understands, loves and accepts you flaws and all.

He read my work and not only liked it but he actually saw my point of view. He knew exactly what I was trying to say without me having to utter a word. And as I mentioned in one of my first posts he encouraged me regularly to pursue my love of cooking.

So why did we break up? That’s another blog for another time, or not. Suffice it to say that things happened and while we will always be a part of each other’s lives, we’re better off this way.

A few weeks ago the entire family, my ex included, spent a few days together. His first day with us he spent in the kitchen. Any time we tried to go in there for anything he’d order us out and threaten us with our lives. I offered my help and he turned me down.

“Look mate, I’m trying to do something nice for the family by making dinner. Let me do this okay?”

“I’m just want to help. I know my way around a kitchen in case you forgot.”

“Mate, please.”

I relented and the rest of us went out for the day to give him space. When we came back we were all very surprised to find the table set and it looked pretty damn good.

“Chicken Filled Gnocchi with a Lentil Sauce, Gentlemen. Oh and the pasta is fresh.” He grinned from ear to ear as we sat down. It was delicious and as an added perk for me it was a recipe from Chef Scott Conant’s book, Bold Italian.

At the end of the meal my nephew pulls me aside. “I’ve seen you two exchange that kind of look before. Someone’s getting lucky tonight!”

I ignored his comment and turned my attention to my ex. I was impressed but I was slightly upset too. In my family the kitchen is my domain. He and I are no longer together. Why was he invading my realm and cooking a recipe out of my favorite chef’s cookbook? The son of a bitch was trying to show me up on my home turf and in front of my family and our sons! Who the fuck does he think he is?

“I need to speak with you in the bedroom, now please.” I said to him.

He joined me and just as I was ready to give him hell he covered my mouth. “Don’t do what you’re about to do and just listen to me, okay?“

I yank his hand away from my mouth and I’m uttering my first syllable when he covers my mouth with his other hand. “I swear you’re predictable. Will you please just listen to me? Would I steer you wrong?“

I nodded my head in the affirmative.

“Okay wiseass I deserved that. So let me say this, I need you to listen to me. I’m begging you.”

I consented and sat on the bed waiting to hear what he had to say.

“The boys have been telling me that you’ve been nervous about going to Cooking School and that you all but put away this guy Conant’s books because you felt intimidated by some of the recipes. I thought that if you could see that a moron like me who barely knows how to scramble an egg could do it then you could definitely do it with no problem. I mean, come on mate, you can do anything. Haven’t you figured that out by now?“

“We aren’t getting back together. Please tell me you know that.” I said.

“Is that all you have to say to me? If that’s all I wanted I’d have let you yell and pontificate and then push you down and have make up sex with you. Which would have led us to a marathon night and then that inevitable morning after conversation where you try to let me down gently and I beg you to give us a second try.“

“Instead I crush your hopes now because I felt like a complete jackass for allowing my insecurities to get the better of me and am doing this to save face.” I replied. Then I said “Thanks, mate. I wouldn’t feel this scared if I didn’t want to do this so badly.“

“I know that. But you need to believe in yourself and put the fear away. You’re far better and much stronger than you think.”

I reached for him and pulled him close. “What were you hoping for since you crashed our chance at makeup sex?”

“Exactly what’s happening right now” He grinned.

Okay my nephew was right, someone got lucky…and someone else realized how blessed he is.

Next up: Part Three! (and it’s going to be GOOD!)