Now that I'm on school break...

...I can make time to update this thing.

What with everything that's been going on in my life, I have neglected this blog, which is a shame. A lot has happened during my three months in culinary school.

I've completed my Food & Safety, Foundations I, and Foundations II classes, receiving an A in each, which is great. Not the highest grade in my class, which the competitive side of me hates. But, great grades do not make great food, right?

Right.

At times, I wish I'd been able to attend a 2-year culinary school. I don't know what a 2-year program is actually like; I know that there are several management classes that students have to take. I can only imagine that students have more time with actual culinary lessons; instead of spending a single day on, say, fish butchery, I wonder if students in a 2-year program get to spend a couple days learning and improving their skills. Perhaps this is a false assumption, but it is an assumption that stems from being enrolled in what is what one of the chefs has called an "accelerated curriculum".

In Le Cordon Bleu's accelerated curriculum, we learn a lot of things in each 28-day class. In Foundations II, my most recent class, we:

• made stocks, sauces, and soups
• reviewed and applied saute, braising, roasting, grilling, poaching, and even poele
• trussed a chicken
• butchered a chicken and fish
• learned egg, rice, potato, vegetable, and basic protein cookery
• learned about salads
• exercised a line cooking scenario

While, to the uninitiated, this may all seem like basic stuff you can learn at home, I can tell you that a) you're right, and b) you're wrong. With each lesson there are certain techniques employed that is meant to help the cook be more efficient, which you need to be in a professional kitchen. And, with each lesson and recipe, there are what my recent chef instructor called "competencies" - several smaller skills that you learn while making each recipe. Then there's the food science part of it. Salads, for example, may seem easy but within learning about different salads (and there are different classifications), we learned about temporary and permanent emulsions, proper blanching and shocking procedures (according to the chef), basic composition, seasoning (who seasons a salad? Everyone should!), and dressing... little things that most people wouldn't consider but, upon reflection, all make sense now that we've had those lessons.

And, of course, through it all, practicing our basic knife skills every day.

But the problem with the accelerated curriculum is we don't get to spend enough time in school practicing the larger lessons that we've learned. The smaller lessons get practiced almost every day, but the bigger ones are the more difficult ones to learn and become competent at. Of course, I could go out and, for example, buy a whole chicken and butcher it, but it's nice to be able to do it in school so that I can ask questions and get feedback. Thankfully, the logistics of the bigger lessons have been learned and at the very least I can practice at home so that the application side of it becomes more competent.

For our final, we had to make four plates consisting of protein, starch, vegetable, sauce, and garnish (the last item not being too important to our chef). We split the four plates into two days. The first day was Escalope of Veal and mushroom cream sauce with browned, glazed pearl onions, carrots, turnips, and wilted lettuce and a pan fried potato cake, and poached salmon with Beurre Blanc, rice pilaf, and sauteed tourneed zucchini.

During our practice day, the day before, my potato cake came out great. The chef told me not to change a thing. So what happened? During the final, my potato cake basically melted in the pan. Too much butter. What came out were bits of fried potato that looked like hashed browns. I was, obviously, pretty upset. But, the rest of the food was pretty decent and I got a good grade otherwise.

The second day of finals was grilled pork chop with a veal, dijon, gherkin juice sauce (it's good, really) and pureed potatoes (essentially mashed potatoes), and lamb stew with a side of polenta.

I finished my plates for the day in good time and was pretty proud of the way I'd plated everything: I ensured that my sauce didn't run into my potatoes and my stew (with veggies cooked separately - a modern practice) looked great. Then, as I was and one of the end sinks cleaning up, I heard commotion. I looked over and heard, "Whose is it?"

"It's Phillip's."

I came over and my suite mate told me that the student across from us had knocked my plated down from the shelf onto the counted. I looked and my pork chop was flipped off the plate, my sauce was all over, and my potatoes in a slump somewhere next to the chop.

Needless to say, I was pissed.

In the end, the associate chef told me to just show what I had; the chefs knew I'd done the work so all they needed was to taste the food. My first thought was, "Ew." My second thought was, "There's hardly any sauce left." My third thought was, "I'd better not get a bad evaluation or I'm going to flip out."

My pork chop was, essentially, perfectly cooked. Slightly pink in the middle (yes, PINK!) and juicy. The potatoes were good and the sauce, though he couldn't really judge consistency because there wasn't enough, was good; the associate chef, who evaluated my food) could tell all the components were there.

My polenta was good, and the chef really liked the color and flavor of my stew, which was, as he described, a dark, dirty sauce with intense flavor. Excellent. I could've cooked the turnips just a bit longer, but overall my dishes turned out well.

Before culinary school, I really liked cooking. Often, I loved it, especially when I was making something different and made the time to actually cook something substantial (you know, as opposed to eggs and frozen hashed browns for breakfast). Now, I love it more and more. I find that going to culinary school and cooking everyday has really made me love the act of cooking. I find myself wanting to cook at home, even though I spent all afternoon cooking (I can't say the same about the dishes, though).

I still don't know what I want to get out of culinary school other than the ability to get a job that I believe I will like. I don't know if I want to own a restaurant, become a private chef, get into catering, or what. This is one of the few times in my life where I have entered a field without knowing what I want from it in the end. I do know that I want to share my skills with my family and friends, at the very least, and I think my education will help my wife and me to eat better overall.

I'm looking forward to Foundations III, where the chef seems like he'll be a hardass (yes, I'm looking forward to that). Plus, I need to start work on my resume because the time to begin applying for an externship is coming up.

I'm Certainly In School Again

I find myself concerned with grades.

Geez.

It's been awhile since I've had to worry about grades. Since I graduated college 10 years ago, my experience with teaching drums has put a large emphasis on learning for the sake of learning and performing (oh, and competition, too) with no real concern for grades. With drumline and private drum lessons, grades are not a factor and lessons are given with almost pure education in mind. I entered culinary school with this same mind set until points started being given along with quizzes and practical application exams. Argh.

The other thing that reminds me I'm in school is an unfortunate reminder: instead of feeling like I'm attending a culinary "college", I feel like I'm in high school again. I've mentioned this before, but now I know I'm not the only one to be concerned with the students who are both distracting and detracting from the lessons. It's ridiculous, really, and we did mention it to Chef Bruno, who understands our concerns.

Chef Bruno is an extremely nice guy and is very open to his students' questions and comments. He's patient and seems to always have a good attitude about everything. Hopefully he'll be able to address the rudeness in the classroom as we finish up our last week.

My last week will be difficult. I'll be missing school Friday and the following Monday, which means I'll be losing points (which I hate), thus lowering my grade (still with the hate). It also means that I have two reports to turn in early, practical exams to make-up (if necessary; I'm still not sure if the schedule has changed), and a ServSafe test to take the day after the rest of my class takes theirs. This means a lot of studying on my pre-planned vacation. Thankfully, the studying is for a subject that I like.

Perfect!

A perfect score on my mayonnaise! Yes!

A perfect cherry on the top of our sundae, the run-through of our knife practical. Chef Sandra added 8 cuts to the original 4, having us try to do 12 cuts in 30 minutes. And yes, I finished! Most of my classmates did. I wanted to finish earlier, but unfortunately took longer to do a simple task: block a potato. I needed to get three cuts out of a russet potato but because it was longer than fatter, I needed to be choosey about which parts of the potato to use for which cuts.

The good thing, though, is that I blazed through the two tournées of red potato. The tourée is my worst cut, but following the tips given to me by Chef Bruno and the desire to finish all 12 cuts before time was up, I blazed through them and, thankfully, I think they turned out pretty nice. They were, in fact, my best tournées to date.

To change the subject, all week I've been wondering why certain students are attending this school. I'm not going to talk negatively about anyone, as everyone is pretty nice to each other and we all try to help each other out. But some students just don't seem to want to be there. They don't take notes, they talk during lectures, they dismiss rules regarding the uniform... it's a shame really.

Remove the fact that these folks are paying anywhere between $18K to $22K to attend and essentially what you have is a group of people who are learning how to cook professionally by choice. Everyone is choosing to be there yet some students are squandering their time by not making the most of the education they're choosing to get. Granted, the lessons thus far are basic; we're learning the fundamentals of food, food science, methodology, and knife skills. Some students have culinary work experience, some have attended culinary school before, and others just love food. But no matter the background or the amount of existing knowledge of a given student, there's always something to learn from these basic lessons.

I've been teaching drums for about 15 years now and I teach a lot of basics to a lot of students, basics I know like the back of my hand. Yet I still continue to learn basic things, whether it's how to improve my technique, another way of learning something, another way of looking at something, or another way to approach something. I've found similarities between drumline and what I know of the professional kitchen. I know there are also similarities between the craft of drumming - music in general, for that matter - and the craft of cooking. It stands to reason that there's always something fundamental to learn or to improve upon, no matter how much one knows or how technically proficient one is.

I have to wonder how long some of my classmates will last.

Late and Heart Attack on a Plate

I was late for the first time today. Not happy about that. However, Chef Sandra, who is Chef Bruno's teaching associate and is teaching the class while Chef Bruno is in Las Vegas for some training, gave me all my points. Thanks, Chef Sandra. Still, I did not like being late and I will need to make sure it doesn't happen again.

Today, Chef demonstrated how to clarify butter and also showed us that, if you heat it too much, you might as well make gi*, an even more clarified butter except more brown in color. From there, compound butter was made. Let's just say Chef Sandra likes strong, strong flavors.

Next: more mother sauces; yesterday, she showed us veloute and Bechamel, and secondary sauces you can make from them: Sauce Supreme and Mornay, respectively. Today, it was Hollandaise. Yum. She made what I would consider an "enhanced" Hollandaise by also adding an herb-infused white wine reduction. From there, she made a Bearnaise (add tarragon, according to Chef). Yes, we got to try them, over an English muffin and some Canadian bacon; with the Bearnaise, she made poached eggs. They were pretty strong but tasty.

Next, mayonaise! I've never had anyone serve me personally-made mayo before. I'm sure I've had in-house mayo at restaurants, but this was the first time someone made a batch of mayo and I tasted it fresh. Chef likes her salt! It was a strong mayo. We then tried a batch of pesto she made earlier (damn spicy with the garlic!) before she had us taste them combined: pesto mayo!

Tomorrow, knife skill practice and a test of equipment names.

Before school started, but after I'd already enrolled in Le Cordon Bleu, Sacramento, I got a (late) call from the Art Institute. One of the arguments the admission manager (as she called herself) told me was that they get a lot of transfer students from Le Cordon Bleu because the program wasn't what they were looking for, stating that LCB has a lot of book learning.

I can only imagine what they're learning over at the Art Institute if they skip the "book learning", because, so far, our books are helping us to learn some fundamental things like kitchen structure, the history of the modern kitchen, food safety and sanitation, basic procedures, etc. The Art Institute supposedly concentrates more on the artistic side of food, which is fine, but I'm pretty happy with my books. I feel like I'm getting an actual education instead of being taught how to play with my food.

Maybe that last statement isn't fair to say. After all, I didn't visit the Art Institute, and I am certainly not taking any classes there so I don't know what their actual curriculum is like other than whats described on their website. But, if the admissions manager told me there's less emphasis on book learning at the Art Institute, then I do have to wonder if the basics are being taught through pure lecture or maybe taught along the way.

I can safely say, however, that I like my books.

*update: 12-22-2010 - "gi" is actually spelled "ghee". I didn't find that out until later...

Week 2 into Week 3

As I go into Week 3 of culinary school, I noticed a couple of interesting things:

1. According to our ServSafe book, people will deliberately attempt to contaminate food, including (number one on the bulletpoint list), terrorists. The page dedicated to purposeful contamination was at once funny and paranoia-inducing.
2. Many culinary students are squeamish about "strange" foods, such as brains and cow hearts. I don't understand this squeamishness coming from any student studying food and the preparation thereof, but I apparently it happens.

I find that I'm pretty good at most of my cuts (Chef Bruno seems to think to), but I still need to get the hang of the tournee, the 7-sided (sometimes 5-sided) football-shaped cut. I will find out this week that I probably failed a conversion quiz because I didn't know about one of two equations I was supposed to use. Thankfully, I know about the formula now which is beneficial in the long term.

Oh, and we got our culinary kit, complete with KNIVES! Woo hoo!

We now have the Internet at the new home. Hopefully, as things get set up here at the house, I'll be able to blog about my experience at culinary school more often.

Culinary School, Week 1

...Day 4.

The plan was to write one of these everyday. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), starting culinary school at Sacramento's Le Cordon Bleu coincides with moving into a new home. Our phone and Internet gets turned off tomorrow, so this blog comes to you during the hours between Day 4 and 5 of my first week.

First up is Food Safety and Sanitation and Culinary Foundations I, both taught to us by Chef Bruno Caccia. We've been given 7 books (!) that will serve as our texts during our entire time at the school. The culinary/knife kit comes next week (supposedly Monday).

It's a little weird; Chef reads the SafeServ book to us. Yes, he also provides his own anecdotes and elaborations, but having been out of high school for 15 years, it's weird to be in a class where the teacher reads the text aloud. As we learn more about foodborne illnesses and prevention measures, I fear the class will do the opposite of what I'd hoped it would do; I'm obsessive-compulsive - a "germaphobe" - and I was hoping that learning about food safety and sanitation in the professional kitchen would help me to realize how far is too far when trying to be clean in the kitchen. So far, my paranoia feels heightened, like Spider-Sense except not as cool.

Day 2 put us in uniform, complete with checks (pants), chef's jacket, white neckerchief , hat, black socks, and slip-resistant shoes. No earrings, though, which meant taking mine out (and losing one). We have uniform inspection everyday, during which we line up in alphabetical order as the chef inspects our fingernails, our shaven (or unshaven) faces, and our uniforms.

Day 2 also saw us jumping right into learning classic knife cuts. In doing so, I became subjected to the confusing world of French culinary terminology. A diced potato, for instance, is called "macedoine", no matter the size. However, a "macedoine" for vegetables, however, is a larger dice, while a smaller dice is a "brunoise" and an even smaller dice is a "brunoisette".

Oh, but wait. There's more. Cutting a vegetable - say, a carrot - into a 1/2" x 1/2" x 2" stick is called a "batonnet". But if you do the same cut with a potato, it's called a "pont neuf". Sigh.

Today, Day 4, I cried in class. It was the onions. Imagine 32 students cutting shallots, garlic, and onions in fairly close proximity to each other. There was a lot of crying and sniffling. I'm surprised I didn't see any ex-newbies watching us through the hall window. It's funny to look out and see students who were probably newbies six weeks ago watching the new newbies as if we were zoo exhibits. I would've expected that today, with all the tears and snot pouring from our faces as the fumes from the onions took their toll, the ex-newbies would have looked in on us, the expressions on their faces saying, "I remember that. Ha. I bet we never looked that funny."

My class is a hodge-podge of people. Some are older, some younger. Some look like they're the pirates described in Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential. Some look like they came from a ghetto. Others from nicer areas. Some have professional kitchen experience. Some, like me, just love food and want to learn. As I look at the faces of my classmates, I wonder how many will quit before it's over and how many will graduate. You just can't tell because the food industry is full of so many different kinds of people and you really can't stereotype what a foodie is supposed to look like or how they're supposed to behave.

Day 5 is up next, then the weekend. Hopefully the major part of the move to our new home goes well and I'll actually have some time to get some homework done.

Orientation at Le Cordon Bleu, Sacramento

On Saturday, 9-18-2010, I had my first official day at culinary school at Sacramento's Le Cordon Bleu. It turned out to be part self-help class, part orientation. I felt like I was five years old until the chefs got up to speak.

I assumed orientation would let incoming students know how to prepare for their first week of school, where to go, what to bring, what to wear, when we'd get our uniforms and equipment. And it was. But a lot of this basic information was preceded by talk of how to deal with your personal issues while attending school; of where to go for support; of encouraging everyone to help each other and to ask for help.

Don't get me wrong. This is all useful information for people that have never worked together in a kitchen before, for people who are changing careers, for people who haven't been to school in years. But delivery is a powerful thing. They way you say it has a lot to do with how one takes it.

And I hate it when people talk to me like I'm five.

I'm mature enough to handle my responsibilities as an adult and to handle myself in public in a manner that, hopefully, isn't embarrassing to me and to those around me. I think I can get that much right. But I'm also immature enough to like potty humor, to watch cartoons meant for kids, and to act like a five-year-old when I'm trying to cute and/or funny. But when administrative members of a school get up in front of a room filled mostly with adults, please don't talk to me as if you're trying to communicate to a five-year-old.

You can use humor. You can as rhetorical questions. It's all fine. I do the same thing when I teach drumlines. I talk about asking for help and helping their peers. I ask for group answers to my questions. I use humor to help get my messages across. But I talk to my drumline members, who are mostly high school students, like young adults. It's less patronizing, which leaves the listener more open to what I have to say.

Thankfully, when the chefs got up to speak, the communication got better. I feel pretty good about entering a classroom and having the chefs talk to my class. School starts in a week and I'm nervous and excited.

I'm looking forward to it.

Fake Claypot Rice?

I watched an older episode of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations last night. In 2007 he went (back) to Hong Kong. At the time of watching, I'd had two slices of leftover pizza to eat that day... about noon. That was it. No other form of sustenance except for a bit of water entered my body. The time of viewing? Oh, about 10:00 PM. I was pretty hungry but had little to cook in the house and little money to justify getting take out that late.

So perhaps my state of hunger had something to do with how big of an impression this particular episode had on me.

(In contrast, the night before I'd watched the Shanghai episode and, though everything looked spectacularly delicious, I was so not hungry that the episode was hard to watch)

One dish in particular reminded me of a few things I did have in the house to eat and would have cooked if it wasn't so late. Claypot Rice. Basically, a steamed rice dish in a small claypot that was accompanied by various "toppings", such as Chinese sausage ("lop chang", or however you want to spell it), duck, salted fish, chicken... basically a one-bowl rice dish. It's something they apparently eat in the winter.

I knew I'd be making some version of that today for lunch.

I had leftover rainbow chard (about 12 days old, but still a lot of healthy-looking leaves), eggs, leftover rice, and lop chang. A bit of canola oil, soy sauce, water, and crushed red peppers and I was ready to go.

Oh, but wait. I don't have a claypot. What to do?!

1. Canola oil went into a medium-medium high heated nonstick pan. After it was hot, I threw in the lop chang, which I'd cut into medium-sized pieces (for its size).
2. Once the sausage had browned, I threw in the chard until it wilted. Then, in went the rice. I tossed it with some crushed red pepper. Then, about a 1/4 cup of water to help steam the leftover rice.
3. After most of the water had been absorbed/turned to steam, I cracked an egg over the top. I drizzled soy sauce over everything and put a lid on it. After a few minutes, once the egg had cooked through, it was ready to go. The results?

Excuse my funky mug, but the webcam was the only thing available. Pretty obvious that I'm happy though, yeah?

It was pretty damn good, cheap to make, and didn't take long at all. Usually I make fried rice with my leftovers, but this was a bit different. Fluffier, really, and the dish overall seemed to be a bit more incorporated whereas fried rice is usually a mish-mash of ingredients that still seemed separated in the dish. This could've been more incorporated had I used more liquid, but it was good the way it was. The bottom of the rice dish was crispy because it had fried while the rest did not. This led to some pretty intense flavors.

A small variation on a one-bowl rice dish, to be sure, but one worth exploring with your leftovers.

Let's get something straight about culinary school

Two months from today, I shall be a student once more, this time wearing a chef's jacket and wielding a large knife.

That's right. I took the leap and enrolled in culinary school. I shall be attending Le Cordon Bleu affiliate here in Sacramento for their 12-month Extended Certificate program.

As I await the start date of my new adventure, I want to make a few things clear to the general public - to those thinking about attending culinary school, to those with opinions on culinary schools, and to those with delusions influenced by the food entertainment we see on TV.

1. I have no plans to abandon comics or music. Let's just leave it at that. But I need a job, preferably one that I like. I've already done my time with the job I hate so I can come home and work on the things I love, and it didn't work out so well. I've been thinking of going to culinary school for at least five years, give or take. I always dismissed it as a fleeting dream, something I would save for the age of 35 or so if I wasn't successful in the other areas of my choice. Currently, I'm not unsuccessful. I teach drums and write music for a living. It just doesn't pay very well, and that's gotta change. Like I said, I'm not leaving music behind, but in my search for a dayjob that I like, I revisited the notion of going to culinary school. People, in any economy, continue to go out to eat, yes? I love food and cooking, yes? It seems like a logical choice. While I have no idea what the future will bring, I hope that my acquired skills will help find me a job, which in turn will afford me a comfortable living once again. I understand that working in the food industry will probably mean a commitment of many, many hours and that other things in my life may have to sit in the proverbial back seat, but I'm willing to take that chance for a career that looks like it will satisfy me, both personally and financially.

2. I do not know what will happen beyond graduation besides me seeking employment. I want to try working in a professional kitchen. It looks like fun. It looks like hard work. It looks satisfying, creatively. I could be dead wrong. I won't know until I reach that point. What I do know is that I have no delusions about the glamourous career television makes the professional kitchen out to be. I have no plans to become the next celebrity chef, or the next owner of a national chain of restaurants. I have no plans to become the next guy who will travel the globe eating all sorts of stuff we're no accustomed to in America. Would those things be nice? Sure. I'm prone to daydreaming. But I'm not going into this with those goals in mind. My goal is to learn technique, methodology, efficiency, and ingredient interaction, all of which will help me be better cook. From there, my goal will be to seek employment with my new skills. Where that takes me remains to be seen. I won't know until I have some experience in the field.

3. I will be attending Le Cordon Bleu affiliate in Sacramento. After much research - though, admittedly, there's always more research I could have done - I decided this would be the logical choice. My criteria:

• Money: I don't have a lot of it and I can't take out too much in student loans.
• Time: I can't spend two years in school, as much as I'd like to. There are other things in my life that need attention.
• Location: we can't relocate. We can't afford it. That ties in with the money issue, except in this case relocation would impact my wife. As much as I'd love to check out the Culinary Institute of America or Johnson and Wales, it's not feasible.
• Externship: I want to do one. I want part of my graduation requirements to include working in a real, fine dining restaurant.

There isn't a whole lot of choice here in Sacramento. We've got Le Cordon Bleu, which is an affiliate of the Paris school, but not run by the same faculty. We've also got the Art Institute and the American River College culinary programs. ARC, though I've heard they have a fine program and would be considerably cheaper than LCB or AI, was off the list because an externship isn't part of the program. Instead, students work in the school-owned cafe. This is fine, but it isn't what I want. The program offers a certificate and an Associate's Degree (two years) program, and each program requires students to take classes in hospitality management (food costs, restaurant management, etc). I have heard that people really like the program, but the cooking half of the curriculum didn't seem like what I wanted and the lack of an externship was the deciding factor.

The Art Institute's program also looks very good. Half of it is hospitality management and the other half - the cooking half - looks very appealing as well as diverse. They offer a certificate and an Associate's Degree, and program does include an externship. If I attended this school, I would want to enroll in the two-year program, but that wouldn't be feasible. The one year program would be a good choice, too, but in the end the decision was based on cost... and they want a ton of money.

The Art Institute's total tuition for the diploma (about one year; 5 quarters) is $32,093, and their two-year program is $58,691. I'm not sure what is included (ie. are the application, enrollment, lab, and student activity, and other fees included or separate from tuition?), but if this is the base price to go on, wait until you read about Le Cordon Bleu's tuition.

Le Cordon Bleu has an application fee of $50, which you pay at the time of enrollment. Then, tuition is $18,971 for the 9-month program or $22,380 for the 12-month program. So the Art Institute wants $10,000 more than LCB, and there are other fees that need to be paid on top of that? Yeesh.

Le Cordon Bleu only offers certificates and there are no hospitality management classes, but that means there is a large emphasis on cooking. While it's always good to know the business side of things, I figure I can learn that as I gain field experience or I can take individual classes at American River College. According to the admissions representative, the basic classes (Foundation I, II, and III, Food Safety and Sanitation, and Baking and Pastry) are comparable to the basics curriculum at the Paris school. The extended program, in which I've enrolled, offers three more classes and the earned certificate is issued from the Paris school (the regular certificate is not).

For my money (loaned money) and time, Le Cordon Bleu is the logical choice.

4. An admissions representative from the Art Institute talked with me the other day and she did not seem to hold Le Cordon Bleu's program in high esteem. This was probably part of her job, but since I have no evidence to the contrary, I can only take her words at face value. I did some poking around on the Internet to see if anyone had any opinions about both programs. I mostly found people commenting on Le Cordon Bleu, the CIA, and a few notes here and there about Johnson and Wales.

Without getting into detail, let me say this: I've never known an organization where 100% of it's members were great. I'm sure a lot of incompetent people go to Harvard and a lot of smart people go to California State University, Sacramento. Just because a student attends the CIA, doesn't mean he or she has the makings of a three or four star chef. Just because a student attends a community college program doesn't mean he or she has inferior cooking skills. I'm willing to bet that, no matter where a student goes to school, most of the student body don't work hard, aren't interested in learning, and basically waste the money required to attend their school. It's the relatively small percentage that do work hard and do want to learn that actually have any desirable skills and knowledge after graduation.

I have read statements and blogs from students that have attended other Le Cordon Bleu campuses that have enjoyed their time at the school and learned a lot.

The truth is, I don't know what the school will be like. Any school will teach you something, but you also get out what you put into it. I think there will be a lot to learn by attending the Sacramento campus. I think the curriculum promises a large culinary education. Will they deliver on that promise? As with any school, I'll find out when I start classes.

I can also tell you this: I'm not interested in the actual, paper certificate itself. I'm not interested in any sort of prestige a school may or may not have associated with its name. I am interested in learning and acquiring good cooking skills. Sure, a certificate and a school's name may look good (or bad, depending) on a resume, and that's how the world works, but when it comes right down to it I want a potential employer to assess me for my skills, my knowledge, and my personality, not the name of some school I went to.

* * *

I'm excited for school to begin. I will learn what they have to teach me and I will work hard at being a good cook. We'll see where my adventure in professional cooking takes me from there.

Five Guys Burgers and Fries - Sacramento

Like many, I'm always on the lookout for a good burger.

Where I live, here in Sacramento, we've got a number of places that offer good burgers. What is close to my actual home, however, is limited. Here, we have an In-N-Out. Other than that, if we want a burger that's nearby, we've got Carl's Jr., McDonald's, and Jack-In-the-Box. If we don't want a fast food burger, we've got a BJ's and a Chili's. Otherwise, we have to venture much farther away from home.

So really, near our home, we have an In-N-Out.

Now, we have a second choice, and it's the east coast staple, Five Guys Burgers and Fries.

I was excited to try it. According to my wife, this place was supposed to be all the rave on the east coast. Later, while reading reviews online, I found out that this is the burger place that President Obama likes. Not that that had anything to do with my want to try the place, but that's an indicator of how famous this place is on the other side of the country.

Before I continue, I should probably divulge to you my criteria for rating burgers. Firstly, it's gotta be good. That's a given. What's a good burger? Well, the meat must be tender and it must taste like meat. Normally, I don't want it to taste like anything other than meat, though there are sometimes exceptions: I've made chipotle burgers; my dad likes to put onion soup mix in his. So yes, I make exceptions for burger patties with some variety, but more often than not, I want a well-seasoned (not to be confused with over-seasoned) hamburger patty that tastes like beef.

Then, there's the bread. Is the bread stale? Is it cheap? Does it goes well with the patty and the fixings? Is it generic, cheap-tasting bread that is absolutely the opposite of the great things I'm tasting inside?

Construction: my rule of sandwich construction is that if you put it in a sandwich, you should be able eat it with the sandwich. In other words, I don't want all my fixings to fall out.

Then, last but not least, there's value. What am I paying for the burger, and is it worth it? For instance, is the $9.00 I'm paying for a restaurant burger worth the dry, tasteless burger I received?

Now, then. On to Five Guys.

It's a very good-tasting burger. Their regular burgers are double-patty burgers. Want a single patty? You'll have to order the little burger. I got a cheeseburger with mayo, mustard, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and pickle. The wife and I shared an order of small fries; originally, we ordered a large, but we were told it would feed three-to-four people, and the small would be good enough for two. So, two it was. And there were, indeed, a lot of fries.

Burgers and dogs come foil-wrapped. When I opened my burger, it was hot and ready to go, until I realized that there were no onions. This, coupled with the fact that our friend, who'd accompanied us, didn't get cheese on his bacon cheese dog, was not a good first impression. At the counter, I got the onions for my burger but they were roughly diced, not sliced as they did not offer sliced onions. This led to a violation of my sandwich rule: as I ate, onions fell from my burger repeatedly. Annoying, since I wanted to eat them with my burger, not pick them up and reinsert them; not pick them up and eat them separately.

Enough about the onions. How was the burger? Very good. To be honest, it reminded me of a very good homemade burger you'd get at a family gathering. Except this one came wrapped in foil, like at a fair.

Which leads me to my wife and our respective opinions of the bun. She didn't like it, thinking that it was too soft for the burger, thus making it too thin as she held it. I didn't mind the bun. I had read that many people thought it was too soft or to doughy, but I didn't mind it as its softness complemented the texture of everything else; with the melted cheese, it was quite a gooey burger. The resulting thinness of the bun also put more of an emphasis on the patties and the fixings.

Tip: If you want to retain the fullness and firmness of your bun, don't wrap your hot burger in foil. All it does is the steam the bun. If that's what you want, then great. But, some people will complain about the result.

As for the meat, Five Guys like juicy and well done. To me this is a contradiction because well done basically means to overcook the meat until it's drier than Stephen Wright's humor. I can tell you that the burger seemed juicy, but it certainly wasn't overflowing with juices. The melted cheese and slathered mayo certainly helped, but it wasn't the juiciest thing I'd ever eaten. I wonder if there was high fat content in the meat to help retain some juices while cooking it to well done. Speaking of well done, as you might expect, the meat had a firm, mealy texture due to it's dryness. But, the patties did taste like meat. Not really well-seasoned meat, but then, perhaps it didn't need it what with all the other stuff on the burger. However, without all the fixings, including cheese, I wonder just how dry and season-less it would be.

The fries? What I want in a French fry is a fresh, clean, crispy outside and a hot, mealy inside. I personally don't like fries that are too thick because potatoes, by themselves, are pretty bland. The remedy for this, of course, is a dipping sauce. However, this being a burger-stand style place, the only dipping sauce for the fries was ketchup. No thanks. The fries weren't bad. Considering the fries on their own terms, they were thicker than shoe-strings but thinner than steak fries, well-seasoned and tasted alright, but they weren't consistently crispy - in fact, most were soft - and in the end weren't anything special.

My cheeseburger was $5.69, and the small fries were $2.39. I personally thought the burger was worth $5.00, and while this was only a $0.69 difference, to me that $0.69 brings me closer to paying $6.00; it was like the burger was trying to stretch its value. It was certainly good, and I would return to eat here again, but coming that close to $6.00 is pushing it. As for the fries, it seemed as if we were paying for quantity, not quality. While the fries were not bad, they weren't anything special. The volume alone makes the price worth it, I just wish the fries stayed crispy and had a bit of a cleaner taste.

So, the results?

	The east coast is dominating the west coast burger scene. Deal with it.
	Let's see... this place or a good ol' Sacramento staple... what to choose, what to choose...
	Gooooooooooooooooood. Very good.
	Meh. did I just walk into a McDonald's?
	Hey, look, they're selling burgers they found in the trash! Yum!

I give Five Guys Burgers and Fries 3.5 stars. The burger was very good, but, though I've only eaten here once, it didn't impress me enough to make it one of my first choices in Sacramento. It's certainly a choice, however. In fact, it's a serious consideration, especially so close to home. I personally would skip the fries next time, however, and save the money. Perhaps my subsequent visits will have the burger win me over more. Time will tell. But yes, I will return.

Five Guys Burgers and Fries

4630 Natomas Blvd.

Sacramento, CA 95835

(916) 419-4109

www.fiveguys.com

Fresh pasta

I've been away from the blogosphere for a little while. I've been pretty busy with a couple projects that have taken up a lot of free time here at home. That doesn't mean I haven't participated in the act of food eating and making; I've gotta eat, you know. But these projects have actually taken up so much time that my routine for the past month (yeesh!) has been project, work, eat, wife-time.

So, a couple weeks ago, when I spent a 3-hour-plus stretch in the kitchen making fresh pasta for the first time, it was a nice break that resulted in something simple yet incredibly satisfying.

My wife and I have tried to find ways to cut back on the amount we spend on food, including making larger meals so that they can be eaten throughout the week (which reminds me that I have slow cooker on the counter keeping me waiting). I'm hoping that one day she'll start making bread at home. We're trying to find ways to grow certain things here at the condo so that we don't have to buy them. So the act of making fresh pasta made sense economically, as well.

Oh, and I did it all without a pasta machine.

The pasta was quite satisfying, both to make and eat. I did some research on pasta recipes and found 3 basic ones:

flour, egg, extra-virgin olive oil, and salt

flour and eggs

flour and water

I tried the first. I wanted something flavorful and knew that the first had the potential to deliver more flavor. In the interest of time, I used a food processor to make the dough. Provided I make the time, I'd like to try everything by hand next time (using the flour "volcano" method). In any case, once the dough was kneaded, I let it rest for 30 minutes.

Upon my return, I cut the ball of dough into quarters and proceeded to roll out some pasta. With a rolling pin. For the next hour.

I know a pasta machine would make things much easier. But I don't want to buy a pasta machine. We already have a rolling pin at home and don't have that much counter space. A pasta machine would be an unnecessary expense and then I'd have to figure out where I'd use it. So, the rolling pin it was, and though my time in the kitchen was longer than the time it took to eat the pasta, I did it anyway.

I was excited. I was excited that the pasta we were going to eat that night - the pasta that we would have otherwise purchased from the supermarket, the pasta that would almost certainly taste and feel different from what we were used to - was going to come from my hands, from ingredients that were cheap to purchase and could be stocked in our home for a long time without the need to replenish.

And I was excited just to be in the kitchen making something from scratch, making something that I knew would satisfy both our bellies and our taste buds. Excited to do something I love while getting away from what had become my new daily grind.

I ended up making wide-noodle pasta, about half the length of fettucini. I made a pan sauce with butter, extra-virgin olive oil, minced onions and garlic, and crushed red peppers. I served this with a side of sauteed asparagus with salt, black pepper, and minced onions and garlic.

Unfortunately, kitchen time is something I have to make time for, but as the project comes to a close and I can return to my more regular daily routine, and as my schedule changes for the summer, hopefully my presence in the kitchen will be more frequent.

I poached my first...

...egg.

I poached my first egg.

Sadly, I had not eaten a poached egg until fairly recently. The first time being a few months ago, in fact, and I had more just last week for brunch. I like them very much. They're delicate, creamy, and are great with toast... which is why I guess toast is such a popular accompaniment with poached eggs.

So, I wanted to try poaching an egg at home. My thoughts drifted back to the movie Julie and Julia (a wonderful movie), in particular the scene where Julie was about to poach her first eggs.

And she failed. And failed. And failed. Until finally, she got it right.

It's actually not that difficult, at least it wasn't for me. Granted, I only poached a single egg, but as long as I'm able to recreate the same conditions and use the same approach, there's no reason why I would fail in my future endeavors.

First, I referred to Jacques Pepin's Complete Techniques. About 2-3 quarts of water. Check. White vinegar. Check. Fresh egg. Check. Bowl of ice water. Check.

Time to go in.

The result? Brunch at home: a leftover chicken salad made with mixed spring greens and tomatoes, a simple Dijon vinaigrette, and a poached egg.

Ingredient

Prep/Use

---

MEAT AND PROTEINS

Chicken, roasted or rotisseried	shredded or chopped into small strips. Mix with the salad
1 large fresh egg

PRODUCE

Mixed spring greens	for the salad, of course
1 tomato	chopped, for the salad

SEASONINGS

pinch of kosher salt

black pepper

LIQUIDS
*Note that I did not measure the liquids and the amounts listed below are approximations. You should use the amounts desired.

extra virgin olive oil (approx. 1/4 cup or amount desired)	for the vinaigrette
white wine vinegar (approx. 2 tbsp or amount desired)	for the vinaigrette
2 tbsp Dijon mustard	for the vinaigrette
white vinegar	for the egg (helps firm the egg white)
water	for the egg (see hardware)

HARDWARE

saucepan or small pot	for poaching the egg
2 bowls	1 with ice water, the with clean water for washing the vinegar off the egg
1 small prep bowl	for the egg
slotted spoon	for the egg

For the vinaigrette, whisk the white wine vinegar (not the white vinegar!), the Dijon, salt, black pepper, and olive oil together until smooth.

For the poaching of the egg:

1. Bring 2-3 quarts of water and the white vinegar to a boil in the saucepan or small pot.
   
2. Once the water comes to a boil, reduce to a simmer.
• A simmer, by the way, is the state of a liquid that is just under a boil. It is sometimes referred to as a "gentle boil", and small bubbles will rise to the surface as opposed to the large bubbles you'll find in a rolling boil.
3. Break an egg open into the small prep bowl.
   
4. As close to the water's surface as possible, slide the egg into the water. Use the slotted spoon to gently lift the egg from the bottom of the pan.
5. Let the egg simmer for about 3-4 minutes, depending on how firm you want the egg.
6. With the slotted spoon, remove the egg and place in the ice water to stop the cooking. Then, move the egg to the bowl of clean water to wash off the rest of the vinegar.
• If you don't want to serve cold, then don't leave the egg in the ice water too long.
  
7. Drain the water from the egg (using a separate rack or carefully with the spoon) and place atop the salad.
   

If you want a hot poached egg, Pepin says to place the finished poached egg in boiling water for about a minute to reheat, then drain and serve.

Food for thought (get it?): Overeating

I tend to overeat.

Not that I'm fat. Far from it. I'm certainly not at my college weight anymore, but in my "adult" life I've gained a bit of weight that I could do without. Part of it is that I'm not as physically active anymore (something I'm trying to rectify), and part of it is that as I get older, I become more and more obsessed with food.

I have always loved food. I like eating. As I get older, my palate broadens. I still love a fat, juicy burger, a pizza, and rich pastas, but I also love a light orzo salad, bruschetta on toasted baguette, raw oysters, a chicken salad... it's all good, as long as the dish is balanced and tasty. Fatty does not always equal tasty. Salty does not always equal tasty. I want to taste the food. If there's mozzarella, tomatoes, extra virgin olive oil, and basil, I want to taste all of those things together and separately. I don't want tons of salt hiding it all.

This isn't to say I don't love salty or fatty foods, but I know there's more to great tasting food than that.

It's that taste that I crave, but my body wants more than a regular-sized portion. Maybe that stems from my childhood, when my youngest sister and I used to argue over who could eat more (a contest best left to the young with high metabolism). Or maybe it's an extension of whatever obsessive-compulsive tendencies I have (a lot). Perhaps it's the one part of my personality that is addictive.

I read a few different articles on overeating. Here's one from Web MD.

So, basically, fat, salt, and sugar are like drugs and my body responds to those stimuli as substances that give pleasure. This pleasurable reaction to such foods also cause us to seek out other, similar foods. The solution? Set a time for eating and know how you're going to eat, which I take to mean this: know you're going to eat at 7 PM at a restaurant, for example, and plan on only eating half your meal. Also? Set rules, like not eating between meals, and when you do eat, don't think, "Wow, all this food is going to be awesome!" Instead, think,"If I eat too much of this, I'll feel pretty bad afterwards."

After reading the article, I laughed. It all seemed like something out of a cheesy self-help book. The tips may prove useful, but there are some things to think about.

First, set meal times don't always pan out for the busy American, which is a shame to let the hustle and bustle of life rule us (but that's another topic). We often eat when we can, and this means sometimes we'll be less hungry, sometimes we'll be more hungry. The notion of not eating between meals actually contradicts something else that I've heard, which is the habit of eating smaller meals more often throughout the day (more on that later).

Second, as far as how you think about your meal ("If I eat all this food, I'll feel gross, like a mass of fat in a chair"), why think of it negatively? Food should be pleasurable. Eating should be a pleasurable experience, whether you're eating on the go or sitting down with your family. Though eating is a necessity of survival, it's pleasurable and we should enjoy it. If you're staring at a huge plate of food, it might be better to avoid negativity and instead let yourself know that you'll enjoy the food until you feel content. Not full, not stuffed, just content. Stop when you've had enough.

Speaking of which...

This short article addresses the notion of portions versus listening to your body. Apparently, people feel the need to eat the food in front of them, regardless if their body is telling them they've had enough (which makes you wonder, is that mom's fault? "Finish your food or no dessert!").

Alton Brown, one of my food heroes, mentions dissatisfaction as a catalyst for overeating (from question 4 in this Slashdot interview):

There are no bad foods, only bad food habits. I eat cream, butter, and bacon; I just don't eat pounds of it at a time. I use these things when they are needed in recipes and leave them out when they're not needed. As for substitutes, I only agree with them if they really don't change a person's response to a dish. Take mashed potatoes for instance. I recently saw a recipe that suggested that the fat we all know that mashers need could be replaced with vegetable broth. Hogwash. All that does is lead to dissatisfaction and I think that dissatisfaction results in overeating. We like fats because fats satisfy. They break down in the digestive track very slowly so they keep us fuller longer. Now if I find a way to replace a fatty ingredient without missing it (I do this a lot with yogurt) then you bet I'm going to do it. But I repeat: there are no bad foods.

How does dissatisfaction lead to overeating? He seems to imply that when the fats are removed from foods that would otherwise have fats in them, people may eat more because it will take more food to make them feel full. Interesting. This may not be the only reason dissatisfaction leads to overeating, however. What I think may also happen is this: when one is dissatisfied with what they're eating, they will seek out something else that satisfies them, regardless of the fact that they've just eaten.

Now, I don't plan on giving up any foods. I like burgers, and I like salads. I like beer, and I like water. What I need to do is eat less. And this will take some doing, because I'm used to eating a lot, which means that it requires a lot of food until I feel full. But, as stated earlier, I'm going to have to eat until I'm content. This means that when my belly has a good amount of food in it, and I know that eating more will make me feel "full" - stuffed, as it were - I should stop. I'm hoping that sooner or later, "content" will become the new "full" and that the old "full" will become "Good God, I'm giving birth to a banquet."

How will I do this? At home, I'm going to have to limit myself to a single plate or bowl of food. At a restaurant, I should eat half of my order. After eating that amount, I will need to ascertain the following: Am I still hungry? And I mean literally hungry. If I'm not hungry, if I'm at that point right before I feel full, I won't eat anymore. My taste buds might whine and cry, but like a toddler throwing a tantrum, I can't give in.

The other thing I'm going to try, in addition to eating smaller meals, is to eat small snacks throughout the day.

That's right. I'm going to eat more often in an attempt to eat less.

Eating mini-meals throughout the day has been a point of contention in the nutrition community. Here are three articles addressing the point: The New York Times, Medicinenet.com, and AskMen.com. And here's something from chef and Food Network personality Giada De Laurentiis on her eating habits, and if you've ever seen her, she's very slender:

1. How is it possible to be a chef and stay in such great shape?
I have to say that this is by far the question I am most frequently asked, and my answer is always the same: genetics, portion control and fresh ingredients. If you’ve ever seen my mother either on the show or in photographs, you’ll notice that she is quite petite, trim. So I have her to thank for getting me off to a good start. In addition, I’ve never been one to sit down to a meal with a large plate of food and eat every morsel until I was uncomfortably full. Rather, I graze – eating small portions of food all day long. And the ingredients are clean and fresh. Yes, I absolutely love chocolate, and I do eat it but just a bite.

The idea I like is this: if I snack in between regular meals, when it comes time to eat those regular meals I won't be super hungry, thus I'll eat less. There are a lot of times I go hours and hours without eating and, therefore, when I do sit down to eat, I'm incredibly hungry and eat a lot of food. By eating in small quantities throughout the day, I should cut down on how hungry I am by the time I'm ready to eat a regular meal. And while this might seem like I'll be eating more, I won't be eating too much in one sitting, which is really bad because that's putting tons of food into my stomach all at one, which basically just stretches it out, and that's a big problem. By minimizing how hungry I am in between meals, I should be able eat less in the long run.

I'll have to do more research into the whole mini-meal concept to see about medical benefits - after all, there are arguments for and against it. In the meantime, I need to find an answer to this question:

What the hell am I going to do about the holidays?!

Slow-cooker carnitas: Attempt #1

It was March 19, 2010 when I used our slow cooker for the first time.  After spending a few days researching the pros and cons to several slow cookers, we decided on a Hamilton Beach 6-qt programmable slow cooker.

The thing did me right.

My first dish was slow-cooker carnitas.  I knew that was going to be my first dish.  I had no doubt in my mind that it wasn't going to be stew, beef bourguignon, or soup.  No, it was going to be pulled pork, and not just any pulled pork... I wanted carnitas.

What exactly are carnitas?  According to Rachel Laudan, historian, scientist, and food writer, carnitas, Mexican-Spanish for "little meats", are little chunks of pork cooked in its own fat.  For many of us here in America, Epicurious' definition basically says it all: it's small bits or shreds of pork, made from an inexpensive cut.  Check out Rachel Laudan's site for something more authentically Mexican in description.

I didn't have a whole pig, and I didn't even know at the time that it was more authentic to use one.  I just figured I'd get a pork shoulder, thrown in some spices, and make some mouth-watering pulled pork, Mexican style.

So, I did.

I referenced several recipes for spices and cooking times.  Every recipe had something different to offer: some cooked the pork on high, some low; some cooked for a shorter time while others cooked for about 10 hours.  I found a recipe that used no liquid at all (the juices from the meat would have provided the liquid, eventually).

In addition, there were some spices and herbs that I just wasn't going to buy.  I'm broke, and I wanted to use as much of what I already had in my kitchen as possible.  Anything I was going to buy needed to be used either immediately or fairly frequently.  Therefore, I did not buy bay leaves.

I also did not want to use water, which is a popular liquid used in many recipes.  I wanted to use something with flavor (a la Alton Brown's philosophy) since I was going to keep the liquid once the cooking was finished.

After referencing several recipes, I assembled the following:

Ingredient

Prep/Use

---

MEAT

6 lbs pork shoulder

trim large chunks of excess fat around outside of shoulder

PRODUCE

1 onion

quartered, leaves separated

SEASONINGS

1 1/2 tbsp kosher salt

1 1/2 tbsp garlic powder

1 1/2 tbsp ground cumin

3/4 tsp oregano

1 1/2 tsp cinnamon

LIQUIDS

1 bottle Shiner Bock or beer of choice	for braising
olive oil	for searing pork

HARDWARE

large skillet	for searing
slow cooker	for the long, long braise

1. Place the onions in the crock, spreading them out on the bottom.
2. If the pork shoulder has bone, remove the bone and cut the meat into large pieces.  If there is no bone, leave in one large piece, if desired, or cut into large sections.
• When it comes time to sear, you have the potential for more flavor if you sear several chunks rather than the entire shoulder as you will be searing more surface area with the chunks.
3. Heat the skillet on medium high heat.
4. Combine the seasonings into a large bowl. Place the meat into the bowl to coat with seasonings.
5. Add the olive oil to coat the bottom of the skillet. Once the oil is hot, brown the meat on all sides. Do in batches, if necessary.  Once browned, place the pieces on top of the onions in the crock.
6. Add the bottle of beer, making sure all the pieces of meat are at least partially submerged in the liquid.
7. Secure the lid on the slow cooker and cook for 8.5 hours on low. Be sure to turn the meat over halfway through cooking.
8. Remove meat to a separate bowl when done. Pull meat apart and place back into liquid in the slow cooker.

VERDICT:

We served the carnitas with tortillas (corn or flour), with a simple guacamole, minced onions, and cheddar cheese available should one desire them. I personally skipped the cheese, not because I don't like cheese but I didn't want to many things getting in the way of the meat, which I wanted to be in the spotlight.

The meat turned out awesome, but there was a little too much cinnamon.  Meat also gave up a lot of liquid (not necessarily a bad thing) and I ended up pouring a little out.

Next time, I may cut back on the cinnamon. I also have a theory that Shiner Bock, being a beer with a crisp, wheat flavor, may bring out the cinnamon flavor. I have no scientific proof of this, just that when I had a Shiner Bock with the meal the wheat flavor seemed to pair well with the cinnamon aspect of the meat, which caused me to believe that the beer may have enhanced this spice. It’s something I’ll have to look into.

Also, perhaps use half a beer instead of a whole, next time. This will reduce the amount of liquid at the end… and I’ll get to drink the other half.

The anniversary meals: The Balcony Bistro and Ella Dining Room and Bar

The wife and I had our wedding anniversary a few months ago.  Here are the reviews for the places we ate:

Balcony Bistro – Folsom, CA

Ella Dining Room and Bar – Sacramento, CA


These reviews reveal a few things about me:

1. I like clean dishes.  Please, if you're going to serve other people, make sure your dishes are clean.  A fork with leftover food or a glass with lip imprints can be quite the culinary turn-off.
   
2. I love... LOVE... good food.  Good food can and will make me quite verbose if you get me talking about it. Couple that with the fact that...
   
3. I really appreciate good service.  If the food is good, good service gives me twice the reason to return and spend more money.
   

Our visit to Ella was especially nice, because the wife and I don't get to dress up and go out for an extravagant evening very often.  I wanted to wear a suit.  She wanted to wear a dress.  And the evening at Ella made me feel like we had all the money in the world available to spend on all of the finer foods in life (we don't).  The excellent food and service is something I can still feel the affects of whenever I think about that evening.

Restaurant reviews: a trip to Oregon.

I have another website.  It's mainly for comics, drumming, and general blogging, but last year my wife and I took a trip to Oregon and we, of course, stopped at some local joints to eat.  In chronological order, we ate at:

Louies's Bar and Grill - Ashland, OR

Marché Café - Eugene, OR

Pietro’s Pizza – Salem, OR

Mo’s Annex – Newport, OR

Harbor Light Family Restaurant – Reedsport, OR


Chain restaurants are easy to visit when you're looking for something to eat.  They're plentiful and you pretty much know what you're getting into when you order from their menu; everything you're familiar with promises to be there.  And, being a chain, the quality of the food is fairly consistent from location to location.

There's nothing wrong with eating at a chain restaurant if you like their food.  However, when traveling, I think it's important to stop at a local restaurant, especially if the restaurant deals with local cuisines.  Places like Mo's Annex and the Harbor Light Family Restaurant are along the coast and serve seafood dishes, so we had a chance to try some of the local seafood.  Some chains are unique to an area, like Pietro's, a pizza chain found only in Oregon.

Then there are places like Louie's and the Marché Café, a bar and grill and French-style cafe, respectively.  Restaurants and eateries like these may not seem unique when you look at the menu: burgers, fries, steak baguette, salad... these are foods you can get at almost any other similar restaurant across the country.  But what's important to consider is that every restaurant is unique.  First, some local restaurants use local foods.  Check the menu.  Second, a burger joint in one area of town isn't going to be the same as another one across town.  Places like Louie's is unique to Ashland because, though they might sell a simple cheeseburger, that cheeseburger is going to be very different from the one you'll get from Ford's in Sacramento, CA.  Every restaurant does things just a little bit differently.  Sometimes, a lot differently.  Eating at a local restaurant lets you in on where the locals like to eat.  It gives you a clue as to why the locals are attracted to the place.  Maybe it's the decor.  Maybe it's the service.  Or maybe the food.  Perhaps all three.

True, maybe you do have a place like Louie's or Mo's or Pietro's in your town, but the adventure is in seeing what the differences are.

Time to eat... and to blog about it.

I've tried to write this post - a little here, a little there - all day, trying to justify adding yet another food blog to the nigh infinite digital ocean that is the Internet.

See, I love food.  The only thing keeping me from going to culinary school in preparation to work in a professional kitchen is a) Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential (made me think twice about the vocation), and b) I'd like to be able to have time away from work to spend the money I make; I'm not sure I'm prepared to work at a restaurant 60 hours a week.

But at home, with friends... food.  I like talking about it.  I like making it.  I like sharing it and receiving it.  And, of course, I like eating it.  Food is good.

Like many an avid eater, I have scoured the World Wide Interwebs in search of restaurant reviews, preferring to find those that are well-written and thoughtful.  As a home cook, aside from my books and DVDs, the web is my source to find various versions of recipes to use as references when deciding how I want to make a dish.  Equipment reviews?  I always do research when making a major purchase and I want an educated review.

There is a ton of information out there, especially in the way of recipe collections.  With the advent of online communities such as Yelp! and staples like Zagat, restaurant reviews are easily accessible from both Average Joe and Josephine and critics alike.  Equipment reviews?  America's Test Kitchen is pretty handy. Then there is the plethora of independent bloggers, like me, who just want to weigh in on the subject in any of the aforementioned capacities.

So why start a blog about food when there's plenty of online food resources available?

First, I have found that many times, there just isn't enough information for me, or there just isn't enough trustworthy information... take your pick.  I want an educated review.  I want facts that I can believe because the source/writer has given me sufficient reason to do so.  I want references when necessary.  And I want details.  "Didn't cut it for me," just isn't going to cut it for me when reading a review.  Was the restaurant's food bad?  Did that pan melt on you? Did that recipe call for too much cream of mushroom soup from a can?  I want to know.  And not just for the bad stuff, either.  I want to know why something is supposedly good, too.

(Not to worry.  I will practice what I preach)

Second, I want to share.  I want to share what I eat, what I drink.  I want to share what restaurants I visit.  I want to share my thoughts on kitchen tools.  I want to share my opinions.  Yay for blogs.  Anyone that can use a computer, knows what words are, and can almost construct complete, comprehensible sentences can now tell the world what's on their mind.  I'm one of those anyones.

Third, it's fun.

Sharing and fun... those are two things that are wonderful about food, aren't they?  You know, besides the actual eating and tasting.  Food is something almost everyone can related to (I say almost because I do know people that don't like to eat.  Inconceivable, I say).  Most people enjoy good food, whether it's a greasy slider or seared scallops slightly seasoned in kosher salt and a drizzle of lemon.  And those that enjoy good food want to know where to get good food.  Some want to know how to make it themselves.  All of this knowledge can be shared, and knowing that I've given someone the means to find something good to eat?

That's a good feeling.