On Friday we had our practical exam, in which we each had to suprême a chicken breast, sauté it and make a pan sauce, prepare a potato in a fashion other than potato purée, and be ready to make a dish of one of about 10 possible vegetables - an Iron Chef x-factor.

The challenge about the veg was less how to cook it than how to use it to make the plate work as a whole unit. I was praying for artichokes as I had a snazzy potato-and-artichoke gratin I could make, but had developed some contingency ideas in case I got the dreaded haricot verts, because as Chef S. let us know, simplicity was NOT going to be held in high regard, and I really don’t think green beans need to be anything aside from simple.

I ended up with zucchini and had a moment of panic - so white! - followed by a fully realized side dish vision, all in a flash.  Zucchini pasta.  I took my zester - how I love my five holed zester - and scored it down the side of the zucchini, creating dark green strands that looked like spaghetti in pesto.  I tossed them with rendered pancetta and basil and placed them along side a potato cake filled with a carrot and black olive purée and my chicken with its fennel and orange pan sauce.  Chef S. liked the whole thing very much and seemed genuinely impressed with my vegetable innovation.

We’ve moved on to the cuisine of Italy.  Yesterday we rolled out own pasta and from it made squash ravioli which we dressed with a sage butter, fettucini in pesto, and gnocchi which we served in a bright cherry tomato sauce.

Take 11 oz flour mixed with a 1/2 tsp salt and pour it on a table.  Make a little mountain of it, form a well in the middle, and pour in 3 beaten eggs.  Use a fork to swirl the eggs around the well, picking up flour, until it becomes a paste.  Finish incorporating by hand, and knead until smooth, not sticky, and decently elastic.  Let it rest for at least 30 minutes, then roll out into shapes or flat into ribbons, and boil up for a few minutes in salted water.

It costs pennies and elevates even olive oil and garlic into something elegant.

Today we prepared a yucca/cassava/sofrito stew, seared tuna with Morroccan spices and tomato salad, and a flank steak in a super-salty marinade.  We also each cooked up an 8-ounce patty of good ground beef.  The objective was to serve it medium rare, well-seasoned, and dressed to impress.

I prepared my meat with heapings of S&P as well as about 1 tablespoon of onion grated into pulp (with a micro-plane!), for moisture and flavor.  I don’t like to get too hectic with seasonings, as when I lived in the UK I grew to resent British meatloafy burgers, so unlike mom’s or mine, filled with binders, parsley, minced garlic and onion…truly these things should be a quakerly affair, giftedly simple. 

We were allowed to use any cooking method we chose; naturally I chose the grill.  I mean, really, why would you use a pan when you have flame broiling technology at your fingertips?  I also sliced some onions razor thin, tossed them in Wondra and deep fried them in Canola at 375 degrees for a crunchy, salty topping.  Behold the burger:

When I told Pork Boy at dinner this eve that our individual performance grilling a burger was a major part of today’s grade, he was bemused.  Who amongst us has not cooked a hamburger?  Who requires instruction in this humble art?

But in truth, getting it to a specific degree of doneness takes skill. 

When you cook a burger in the backyard it is raw, done, or overcooked.  Nothing too specific.  Generally edible or inedible.  But if you want it done to a particular degree, you have to time and touch the burger.  Medium rare should take a couple-few minutes a side, be browned on the outside, have an eight of an inch of grey meat ringing a rosy, warm center, and be squishy-springy to the touch.  Additionally, you must size the patty so that it fits the bun perfectly post-cooking shrinkage.   

In class, many went too long with the cooking.  Some didn’t season.  Others made patties that didn’t fit their toasty beds.  There are lots of challenging elements at play in elevating $1.00 worth of ground chuck into a $10 entree, or even a $5 meal.  If you wish to reflect on the art of burger making in NYC, some of the best are represented on this genius map: http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?f=q&am…

Finally, check out my steez quadrillage on the tuna steak.  I have a talent for branding.

Endive is delicious in a salad, as its own crispy snack, as a fancy finger-food vehicle for the end bits of smoked salmon, and if there were any doubt about the sense of suggesting that farmers diversify and plant more, a  heavenly braise of endive wrapped in bacon should settle the matter.

Braised Endive

Wash and trim 8 pieces of endive, then wrap each in a slice of bacon.  Heat a large saucepan and sweat 1/2 an onion (diced) and a whole carrot (sliced) in 4 Tbsp butter for 5 minutes.  Add 10 ounces of veal stock (chicken stock will do in a pinch) and simmer for 5 minutes.  Lay the endive in the pan and top with S&P.  Cover the pan with parchment paper (if you have some; the dish will work without this step), bring to a boil, cover the pan with a lid and place in a 375 degree oven until the endive is tender (around 30 minutes).  Remove the endive and drain.  If the bacon is flabby, run it under a broiler for a minute.  If you are feeling showy, strain the braising liquid and reduce to a sauce.  Eat as a side dish with a simple roast, or just have it on a piece of crusty bread as I did for lunch.

We had a good rhythm down and the classroom was relatively peaceful this morning.  In addition to endive and fennel braises, we prepared red snapper, beef cheeks and Osso Buco.  Osso Buco means “bone mouth” and refers to the ample marrow available for sucking or spooning out of the end product of this dish.  Back in the day, marrow was popular enough to call for its own utensil:

Bring marrow back.  See how pretty it is, peeking out of the bone holes?  I’ll be having this for dinner tonight.

Wow kazow, making consommé is something neat. 

You make a meatloaf-like mixture of mirepoix, egg white (and shells, if you like; I did!) and ground meat, stir in some stock, and bring it to a simmer.  At this stage, the pot of stock and goo is a cloudy mess.  As it simmers, the meatloaf goop congeals on the top of the pot, forming a “raft” or ceiling.  Once the loaf gets decently solid, you make a “chimney” or hole through which you drop a sachet of spices.  When the raft starts to sink, you take it off the heat and gently pull out ladles full of broth, straining them through cheesecloth laid over a chinoise (a very fine mesh strainer). 

But even before straining, the broth is crystal clear.  All the impurities have been pulled out of the broth and into the raft.  It is astonishing.  The result is a tasty broth suitable for hosting tortellini or the like for a dainty starter.  Consommé is a deceptively simple end product, created through an involved and expensive process. 

We also practiced cream of broccoli soup (which will be part of our practical exam on Monday) and purée of carrot soup.  I’m set for dinner for the rest of the week.

This is called a “parissienne”, which sounds to me like a sex act, but then, so does “melon baller”, which is what it is.

Guess what?  I could use practice on making melon balls.  Mine weren’t physics-defiantly spherical.  I didn’t even bother taking a photo of my cantaloupe as it bored even me.

Behold my knife kit.

If you  know me, you may know that, as a gal who doesn’t plan to get married, I worry I may suffer in the nice housewares department.  Getting this set as part of my tuition not only put all my lifestyle choices in perspective, but far more importantly, validated my skittish, gun-shy nature.  School is better than marriage yet again! 

If you are curious, the little curved fella on the end is a peeler, and according to the manufacturer is good for round stuff.