The last temptation of the culinary chef

This week I finished up my penultimate module in school: pastry. My professor began the module stating he would attempt to convert some of us “bone roasters” away from the culinary world and into the strange world of pastry.

I admit I was somewhat curious about whether I would be better off pursuing a life of pastry. I enjoy reading Michael Laiskonis’ blog, where he often goes on tangents unrelated to the pastry menu at Le Bernardin. I’m also much longer in the (sweet) tooth than I was a few years ago, though I try not to indulge too often for fear of diabetes. And there’s something immensely therapeutic in taking a rolling pin and smashing a pate brisee as hard as you can.

Ultimately, though, the culinary side is just much more exciting, and everybody who comes into a restaurant eats your food. Not everybody who comes in will order dessert. Further, pastry cooks often spend the evening service plating very simple dishes, most of which are very nearly completed. The main reason I want to remain in the culinary world, however, is that line cooks and chefs seem to get more respect than pastry chefs.

In many kitchens (at least, that I’ve seen), pastry chefs are considered the rival gang to the culinary “bone roasters.” There’s a constant playful banter in chefs de cuisine mocking the easy-going approach that many pastry chefs have, the fact that they occupy less space but also less responsibility, and need to adapt their menus to fit the “real” menu, the one for dinner.

Still, pastry was a fun experience, if for no other reason than to learn how to make bread and pizza dough, as well as to properly craft a truffle.

I’ve taken stabs at making truffles countless times, and the results have ranged from passable to awful to tastily sloppy turd-looking treats. Maybe it’s because I usually put way too much alcohol in my truffles. Or maybe it’s because I’ve never used tempered chocolate to enrobe my little turds. So, in the interest of helping others avoid turding their truffles, here’s the modified recipe from school.

Chocolate truffles
4 oz. cream
4 oz. milk
3 oz. orange-flavored syrup
12 oz. semisweet chocolate
4 oz. dark chocolate
1 oz. butter
2 oz. Cognac

To make the orange syrup, simply boil 3 oz. of water, 3 oz. of sugar, and about a tablespoon of orange zest. Simmer it for maybe 20 minutes, then strain and cool slightly, but make sure it doesn’t get too gloppy.

Bring to boil the cream, milk and syrup, stirring to incorporate, then cool down to 90 degrees (or slightly warm). Separately, melt the chocolates and cool them to roughly the same temperature. Whisk the cream into the chocolate, then whisk in the Cognac and butter, making sure it is smooth. Spread out the “ganache” onto a cold granite slap, or else a metal sheet pan (I like to put down wax paper first). Refrigerate for about 30 minutes, then pipe out the truffles or roll them with your hand (you may want to cool the ganache further if using your hands, as it can get sloppy). Chill the truffles again briefly to set.

To enrobe, coat the truffles with tempered chocolate. To make tempered chocolate, melt chocolate to about 115 degrees (it should be uncomfortably hot), then cool down to 85 degrees, then rewarm for a minute or so to no more than 90 degrees. After enrobing in tempered chocolate, roll them in a mixture of cocoa powder and confectioner’s sugar. Dust off excess and chill.

Dinner with the parental units

This weekend the folks came over and I got to cooking a quick-and-dirty four-courser, consisting of an amuse bouche of watermelon scallop ceviche, a frozen watermelon vodka cocktail, oyster mushroom and fennel salad, poached halibut with onion cream sauce and orange-chili infused oil, and a strawberry-rhubarb crumble (as well as some bread that my folks brought, which looked like it had been purchased at Schnitzer’s).

The meal was pretty good, although it also taught me a little about adaptation. The “crumble” was really just a screwed up pie. I’ve never been much of a baker, and I dread taking the pastry module in school. I just don’t care very much about dessert…and I’m just as happy with a cupcake from Entenmann’s as I am with an elegant lava cake.

As it happens, I put too much lard in the damned crust, and overnight it turned too crumbly. So I crumbled it instead of attempting to roll out what amounted to a blob of giant flakes. Tasted good, but didn’t have that same awesome tiled look that a good ol’ fashioned pie should.

But the rest of the meal turned out pretty good. Here’s the recipe for that ceviche, which was cripped and mutated from several sources. I’m a huge fan of ceviches, ever having some great fish in Costa Rica several years ago.

Scallop Watermelon Ceviche
1 blood orange (or juicer orange), peeled and cut into segments
1/2 cup orange juice
1/4 cup lime juice
2/3 small dice seeded watermelon
1/2 teaspoon finely grated peeled fresh ginger
1 1/2 tablespoons finely diced red onion
2 teaspoons finely chopped fresh jalepeno
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 lb sea scallops, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 1/2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint
1 teaspoon cilantro

Dice up the watermelon and orange. Stir together with the orange juice, lime juice, ginger, onion, jalapeño, and salt in a large bowl.

Bring a small saucepan full of salted water to a boil, then reduce to a simmer (the water should be barely rippling). Add the scallops and poach for about a minute or until the pieces just begin to become white, about 1 or 1 ½ minutes. Put the scallops into an ice bath to shock them and stop them from cooking. Drain the scallops and pat dry, then add to the ceviche mixture and season with extra salt. Chill covered for at least an hour and serve in Chinese soup spoons.