You see, a good practice that I have nearly abandoned was keeping a daily culinary diary -- of food conversation, of what I made that day, of what I could improve upon, injuries, etc. I do take notes, but they're miserable. It'll be better if I write with the pressure of an Internet audience on my shoulders, that way I'll be able to make sense of my thoughts easily.
I work for a large catering company, typically at events. Thus the segment name that contributes to this good practice, "On site..."
Yesterday, we arrived on site at 8 a.m. to the view below. Seeing this, you just had the sense that the day was going to go smoothly.
Ah, I love it when positive premonitions are on-the-money. The only big hiccup was the fact that the kitchen was a needless 110 degrees Fahrenheit. We weren't doing a whole mess of hot cooking, but an ill-placed skylight in a home kitchen made the room way too warm.
But, I mean, when this is your view... um, yeah... who cares?
The gorgeousness above the fog is from the Thomas Fogerty Winery in Palo Alto, high up atop the Santa Cruz mountains on Skyline Blvd (one of my favorite roads to drive, by the way). The climate is perfect for producing Pinot Noir and Chardonnay. Would love to come back when I find the free time.
Later I prepped these:
And these Armenian cucumbers:
for our infamous panzanella, which is basically bread salad (wrap your low-carb diet around THAT). Panzanella is a good way to use up your stale bread, especially with the bounty of ripe, lovely Heirloom tomatoes August has on offer. I took the leftover 'loomies home and made some myself.
The catering company I work for makes their panzanella with tomatoes, cucumbers, mandolin-thin or minced red onion, toasted cubes of bread, fresh basil and a fantastic vinaigrette, whose secrets I have yet to discover (that's definitely at the tippity-top top of my to-do list. I'd like to accomplish this task before October comes around and tomatoes become cardboard.) For this event, we plated the salad with burrata cheese and a deep-green basil oil. If it sounds lovely, that's because it is. There's no much acid in the salad that a cheese as rich as burrata is the perfect compliment. Easily one of my favorite things to build.
Note: experiment with infused oils. Probably something a child could do.
In between prepping the lovely, lovely panzo' and plating it, I built hors d'oeuvres. This is where I like to work on one of my weak spots: speed. People who arrive at a catered event and begin drinking usually want something to nosh on... pronto. If you're me, you'll inhale these bites of food, because, after all, they're soooooo tiny. Only a snack, or two... or three... or ten.
Success! Got through hors d'oeuvres for 32 people 15 minutes before the meal started. Timing was exactly what I wanted.
Being passed around the room: Caesar salad bites in frico cups and mini corn tacos. First time I've built the tiny tacos, even though they are always on the menu in some form or another (duck confit tacos, for example). My manager had set-up the station, making an aluminum foil stand for the iddy-biddy taco shells. I'll be swooping on that method, kaythanks!
Most people love the Caesar salad bites. It's a diminutive version of a common fave, making clients squeal at its cuteness. There are even wee-liddwle croutons, OMG! The mini corn tacos were also yummy -- they're served with cilantro corn, red pepper brunoise, chili aioli and an little slice of avocado. People: corn is LUSCIOUS right now. Go do something with it!
My Kitchen Manager had built a paper cone to dollop the aioli, which made me remember, "Crap, I kind of forgot how to make those. Have to re-hone my skills." Maybe I'll practice chocolate writing while I'm at it...
The entrée was prepped by a badass cook (no, not I. I don't get to touch hot food yet): airline chicken breast with potatoes dauphinoise, green- and yellow beans in herb butter and fresh mustard greens. The chicken was spot-friggin'-on, and you can't go wrong with thinly-sliced potatoes slathered then baked in cream, white wine and a good dose of garlic. The beans were a nice compliment as well. A very heavy main -- four elements on one plate is a lot to eat. But when you're cooking for a wine-tasting, you're serving tipsy-doodles who are going to end up eating a lot. Plates came back clean.
Dessert was a lemon Shaker tart with huckleberry sauce and fresh cream. I enjoyed it -- the tart was fragrant, lemon and huckleberries are lovely together, and the whipped cream balanced all that acid out.
Many of the waiters were on the same page, but the diners were split. The most common complaint: too much rind in the tart. C'mon -- that was my favorite part! The pith (white part of the peel) lends a slight bitter taste, but the tart had a hefty, hefty, hefty (read: hefty) dose of sugar. I thought the rind provided a beautiful fragrance the tart wouldn't have otherwise had.
I knew who the Shakers were, but didn't know they also had a tart to their name (smitten kitchen goes into the tart's history a little bit). The Shakers were a thrifty bunch, who were apparently so thrifty they didn't even depart with their lemon peels. So the tart includes whole, paper-thin slices of lemon, macerated in sugar and mixed with eggs.
Deb at smitten kitchen notes that the pie should be "part marmalade, part curd." I didn't notice any curd-y qualities in our tart -- would that have made it more palatable for fickle adults? Would adding more eggs to the recipe have yielded a unanimous crowd-pleaser?
The kitchen was so hot that I had to re-whip the cream with the fridge door open, in the fridge (no, not the walk-in), by hand, my right elbow constantly knocking against the door. Thump, thump, thump, wasting kilowatts, thump, thump, thump...
Kitchen conversation had nothing to food. But we did talk about military involvement in Syria, DUH! My conversations need plenty of dimension, so I was happy.
Oh goodness, audience: so sorry I didn't take pictures of anything plated. Ack, I need to get better at this.
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