Teaching Kids to Appreciate Food – Andrew Kaplan of Yum-o!

Andrew Kaplan is Director of Rachael Ray’s Yum-o! non-profit organization.

“Food has an impact on everyone,” Andrew Kaplan tells me as we chat over coffee on a cold and dark winter evening in New York City. “Everyone’s got that story growing up – a smell they remember, a favorite dish their mother or father made, or a favorite restaurant in their town. It’s something everyone relates to and it brings people together.”

Growing up, food was central in Kaplan’s family. His father worked in the food industry and was a health enthusiast, and his mother got him involved in the kitchen at an early age.

“My mom was the chef of the family, so she always cooked, and I always watched her cook,” he says. “I’d sit on the chair and watch her, and help her stir and help her make something.”

Today, the CIA-trained chef creates familial connections to food for kids and parents across the country as Director of Rachael Ray’s Yum-o! foundation. Yum-o! has a three-part focus – Cook, Feed and Fund – with an overall mission of empowering kids and their families to develop healthy relationships with food and cooking.

Kaplan speaks thoughtfully about the work of Yum-o! There is a quiet tenacity and commitment evident as he talks about his work. At the center, is getting kids involved in the kitchen.

“That’s what got me interested in food. Let them stir a sauce, let them chop a little,” he says. “When you cook your own meal it’s healthier. You know what ingredients you’re using and what ingredients you’re putting into it.”

Kaplan has worked frequently with kids and he learned early on that ignorance about food and nutrition was complex and not simply defined by socio-economic factors. He recounts the story of a time – working in Miami – when he was preparing to take a group of underprivileged kids to a restaurant for a food experience they would not normally have. The owner of one establishment asked, “Why inner city or underprivileged kids? We’ve got the wealthiest kids in Miami right down the block and they don’t know crap about food.”

Sometime after, Kaplan was producing a cooking demonstration for Rachael Ray and they began talking about kids and food. Ray also started cooking at an early age, and grew up with a strong appreciation for the role of food in family life. “We had very similar visions and she expanded them more,” Kaplan says. Out of that discussion more than three-and-a-half years ago, Yum-o! took shape, and Kaplan moved to New York to start up the not-for-profit organization. The mission is extremely important to Ray. “Food is the way she gives back,” says Kaplan.

Issues of health and wellness in America certainly help to drive Yum-o! programming, but underlying it all is a steadfast belief that food is all about family and enjoyment.

“For us, it’s the joys of food and cooking – the fact that we’re motivated by it and we can share it with other people,” says Kaplan. “It’s making food fun for people, getting them into the kitchen, and in turn they’ll eat healthier and the obesity rate will go down.”

The philosophy extends to creating recipes where even the names inspire a smile. Kaplan cites Rachael Ray’s recipe for Buffalo Chicken Chili as a recipe with plenty of family-appeal that’s also wholesome, flavorful and easy to prepare. Fun recipe names get kids interested in cooking, get them involved in the kitchen, and get them to eat good food. There are hundreds of kid-friendly recipes available on the Yum-o! website, many contributed by members of the online community. There are also tips and tools, and stories about individuals and organizations making a difference through food and nutrition in local communities.

Yum-o! looks to reach kids where they eat. A partnership with the New York City Department of Education Office of SchoolFood focused on changing the image of cafeteria food, led to the creation of a delicious and nutritious Yum-o!-inspired lunch menu that was served last October in schools in all five boroughs. Nearly 700,000 meals were served to students and teachers who lined up for NYC Sizzling Soft Taco with Southwest Roasted Chicken and Corn Relish.

“This was a healthy meal that met the USDA and New York City SchoolFood guidelines, but they were so excited about it. That’s what food should be, food that kids get excited about,” says Kaplan. Plans are in development to work with other school districts in the future.

While cooking is the educational component, the Yum-o! platforms of Feed and Fund also address an overall relationship with food. Kaplan explains that there are over 13 million kids who go to sleep at night and wake up not knowing where their next meal is coming from. Yum-o! works to create awareness about the issue of hunger in America. He says the foundation has helped to feed well over a million people and Rachael Ray’s presence brings significant attention to the issue. “We’ve gotten letters from people that say I never knew the issue of hunger existed in America until I saw Rachael talking about it.”

Yum-o! also funds cooking scholarships for public school kids who aspire to a career in the food industry and has awarded nearly 30 scholarships for students who hope to cook professionally or manage a hotel or restaurant.

Kaplan has clearly found his calling and savors the organization’s power to transform. “I thought I had a lot to share and give back and teach people about food and cooking. One of the main ways that I wanted to make a difference was with kids.” He sees food and the dinner table as central to family life – a place where memories are created – and has set a scrumptious community table that allows him to share that experience with others.

“I still cook and love cooking, but I’d rather make a difference – serve if you will,” says Kaplan. “It’s changing lives one recipe at a time.”

Photos courtesy of Lisa Plotnik

©2010 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

The Grit and Wisdom of Chef Candy

Chef Candy Argondizza was my Chef Instructor at the French Culinary Institute in 2005

When the going gets tough and temperatures rise, my thoughts turn to Chef Candy Argondizza, my Chef Instructor at the French Culinary Institute during my La Technique sequence in 2005. Chef Candy had a bullet-proof exterior, Teflon hands and a heart of pure edible gold.

I think of Chef Candy every time I tackle a kitchen project.

The first morning I arrived at FCI, I was wondering what I’d gotten myself into. Twenty-two sessions in as many weeks, La Technique course taught the fundamentals of French cooking and was designed for talented amateurs. Well, the first thing I learned was that I wasn’t as talented as I thought, and I was definitely an amateur.

There were more than twenty students, and we were each issued a professional chef uniform, a portable portfolio of chef’s knives and our very own instant-read thermometer and wire whisk. Once outfitted, we were introduced to Chef Candy. She was petite, athletic and wiry with salt and pepper hair and a piercing gaze. I was absolutely terrified.

The first few classes were comparable to boot camp. We set up our stations and began to focus on chopping and knife skills. Chef Candy would stroll past my work station and scrutinize my technique. Immediately, she noticed that I was handling the chef knife too delicately, as if it were a magic wand. She showed me how to “choke” the knife at the base of the handle, and it instantly became an effective tool. Soon, I was learning how to surgically remove the gills from a fish. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can still see that fish staring up at me from the chopping block.

Early on, I developed some interesting psychological afflictions in the kitchen. I was craving the approval of Chef Candy. Whenever someone else’s entrée was trumpeted as an example of perfection, I was wracked with jealously and was determined to try even harder to get Chef Candy to notice my work.

After several weeks, I got my wish. I still shamefully refer to this as the “pea soup incident.” The topic was “Preserved Foods” and we were simmering split green peas with bacon, stock and bouquet garni for a recipe of Potage St. Germain aux croutons, or Split Pea Soup with Croutons. My soup pot had been simmering on the stove for some time. It was then that it happened. Chef Candy tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Bring your pot to the front of the class. We’re going to demo how to puree the soup.”

I was ecstatic. Finally, my food would be headlining a class demo! I grabbed my side towel and grasped the pot, falling into step behind Chef Candy as she headed towards the industrial strength blender. In my zeal, I lost my grip on the pot and it tumbled to the floor. Green slime went everywhere and it looked like the set of a Nickelodeon game show.

Chef Candy stood there with her hands on her hips, staring at the expanding soup puddle on the floor and shaking her head. Finally, she said slowly, “Get a mop. I guess we can still get one bowl out of what’s left in the pot.”

It was many weeks after that before I was once again chosen to do the class demo, and I never again picked up a heavy pot without a hand towel and one hand supporting it underneath.

Several of us chefs-in-training quickly banded together and became a cooking team. Lars was a lawyer, Carol was a mom and Serap was an engineer. We learned to understand each other’s strengths and rhythms. Serap was highly organized, Carol was meticulous and precise with a paring knife, Lars was fearless and gamely took on acts of kitchen bravery like flambéing and I seemed to excel at plating and presentation.

My fellow chefs at the French Culinary Institute

Over time, we became a highly efficient team and were so well-tuned that we were often able to produce more food under deadline than the other cooking teams. And, our team often earned the praise of Chef Candy. Well into our studies I was also thrilled and flattered when she took special note of my pastry skills.

There were certain slogans she would call out as we cooked, that I still hear today.

“Taste your food!”

“Season your food!”

“Clean as you go!”

“Hot plates for hot food, cold plates for cold food!”

“Listen to your food!”

She constantly reminded us that cooking is a total physical experience that demands use of all the sense. Proper technique was critical, meeting deadlines was expected, and food needed to look appealing on the plate. But, Chef Candy always took time to talk about the history of a recipe or share her personal favorites. She enjoyed simple, traditional dishes like Brandade de Morue (Puree of Salt Cod and Garlic) and confessed a great love for the grand Canard Roti a l'Orange (Duck with Orange Sauce).

Chef Candy celebrated failures and said that there was always something to learn from a culinary disaster. We would scrutinize flattened layer cakes, wilted sauces and scorched cuts of meat to learn how to do it better next time.

Chef Candy maintained that you will get cut and you will get burned, but you’ll know why. It’s usually because you didn’t handle a knife correctly, or you didn’t use a towel to pick up a hot pot. I quickly learned that nicks, cuts and burns are preventable, if you make a concerted effort to focus on your technique.

Classes were rigorous, but there was an underlying sense that you should always take time to savor what you’d created. In the end, that’s what cooking is all about. And, even when your Hollandaise sauce breaks, if you look it over and taste it, you’ll learn how to do it right the next time.

Our final La Technique class with Chef Candy was August 6, 2005. We were tasked with preparing an elaborate seafood feast of lobster, oysters, seas scallops, mussels and other delicacies. There were no recipes to follow. We were to use the knowledge and techniques we had amassed over the past 22 weeks.

Our team was assigned to scrub the oysters. Carol asked – only somewhat in jest – “Why is Chef Candy punishing us?” But, in fact, the less-than-sexy assignment was indicative of exactly the kind of teamwork that we had learned to embrace in the professional kitchen.

The feast was exhilarating. It remains one of the best days of my life, for the exquisite flavors, the camaraderie, the accomplishment and the celebration of all that we had learned from Chef Candy over many grueling weeks.

The final La Technique Class - August 6, 2005

I returned to the French Culinary Institute several times after for additional intensive course work with other instructors. Despite the fact that she worked with hundreds of students, Chef Candy always remembered me and greeted me warmly in the halls.

It’s been nearly five years since I spent time in Chef Candy’s kitchen, but I still think of her often and hear her wise counsel in my head, whether I’m preparing a simple supper, a layer cake or an elaborate dinner for eight. In my opinion, Chef Candy is the Top Chef of all time.

©2010 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

French Country Cooking on 34th Street

The directions say, “Walk straight ahead through the swimsuit department and take the first left.” I am at Macy’s Herald Square in New York City to experience the best of French country cooking at the De Gustibus Cooking School. But, it is also a sentimental reunion of sorts for me. The legendary author and culinary instructor Anne Willan is the host for the evening. She is the author of the recently published “The Country Cooking of France,” a stunningly beautiful volume that takes one on a tour of the ingredients and classic recipes of the key regions of France. Upon arrival, we are told that the book has just been recognized with a prestigious James Beard Award. Anne was also the instructor of the master classes during my time at La Varenne at Chateau du Fey in Burgundy, France in September 2006. That period was of those perfect moments in life, for the food, the wine, the new friends and the beautiful countryside.

I am excited to once again see Anne at work. Akin to culinary royalty, she is characteristically proper, enormously entertaining and very precise. Above the work area is a long mirror which reflects all the actions taking place on the counter below. It is said that Anne first came up with the mirror concept to allow classroom students to better view the work of the culinary instructor.

She is dressed in a crisp, gold-striped blouse and a neat red bib apron. Behind her is an historic map of France that illustrates the important food regions of the country, immortalized by the food writer Curnonsky. I saw the same map at Chateau du Fey. As she speaks in her correct British accent, her deep respect and love of superior local ingredients that evoke a sense of place is clearly evident.

For an appetizer, we are served a sparkling wine and a green olive tapenade served on a toasted baguette. While we imbibe, Anne begins the preparation of a Gateau Breton aux Herbes du Pays (Butter Cake with Fresh Herbs) from Brittany. Chopped peppermint is incorporated into rich buttery dough that when baked, has the texture of shortbread or pound cake. She notes that most dough needs to be worked carefully, so as not to become tough, but Gateau Breton is very resilient. “I’m going to work the hell out of it,” she proclaims. Someone asks about the unusual addition of herbs to the sweet dough. “That’s new style,” replies Anne, “but it goes back at least 300 years.” She creates a lattice pattern ont the gateau with the tines of a fork. This distinctive pattern “says Gateau Breton.”

As her hands work methodically she talks about her life experiences. She was one of 200 women accepted to Cambridge in her day, and earned her masters degree in economics. She always loved working with her hands and quickly turned to cooking, training at the London Cordon Bleu. Later, in the United States, she became an associate editor of Gourmet Magazine and she founded the prestigious Ecole de Cuisine La Varenne in Paris in 1975. In between she penned dozens of books on cooking and food history. She and her family lived for many years at the gracious Chateau du Fey in Burgundy, but recently in a life transition, she and her husband have moved to California. “The Country Cooking of France” is a tribute to their years in France.

Someone asks how she went about researching the book.

“We ate!” is her spontaneous reply.

Anne moves on to prepare plump tomatoes stuffed with goat cheese, a favorite dish at Chateau du Fey. Meaty tomatoes are filled with soft goat cheese combined with fresh snipped herbs. The tomatoes are baked, “just until the skins begin to split.”

She moves to the entrée, a Magret de Carnard, Sauce Aillade (Duck Breast with Garlic and Walnut Sauce) a product of southwestern France. Aillade is a sauce of raw garlic, walnuts and walnut oil. The duck fat sizzles in the pan tempting our senses, and the sauce is nutty and pungent. Anne reminds us that the new garlic at the farmers market should be particularly sweet.

Next, she prepares a lovely gratin of bell peppers with rice. The rice sticks a bit in the casserole. “There’s nothing like a sprinkling of herbs for covering a disaster,” she advises.

La Traffade is a savory Potato cake with Cheese and Bacon. This is an Alpine dish that is sometimes served to skiers. Ironically, New York City is currently in the grip of a vicious heat wave. “After braving the streets in 100 degree temperatures, we deserve this,” says Anne. It is served rustic-style on parchment paper.

Finally, the finished Gateau Breton is served with a pureed sauce of strawberries and raspberries. The dense, golden, buttery tart and the sweet fruit is exquisite.

Anne is asked how long she took to write the book. “It took three years to write, but it’s really a lifetime,” she replies.

She invites the culinary team at De Gustibus to join her for a bow to the appreciative audience. She and I have a moment alone when I share photos of my visit to La Varenne. Anne gives me a warm hug and inscribes my copy of “The Country Cooking of France.”

Leaving the class, I am again more mindful of what Anne Willan calls food “with a sense of place, a sense of terroir.”

Settling in on the train destined for home, I open the book. The inscription reads: A small taste of France, Bon Appetite! Anne

I know that in the future when I cook from this book - no matter where I might be - that sense of place, or terroir, attached to the country cooking of France will also evoke fond memories of Anne Willan.

©2008 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

The Harold McGee Lecture Series (Part Three)

It is the final day of the Harold McGee Lecture series at the French Culinary Institute and our hosts on this journey about using the scientific method in the kitchen are struggling with a little chaos theory at the front of the room. An important package containing essential oils for a segment on flavors has failed to arrive, and even the projector doesn’t seem to respond as Director of Culinary Technology, David Arnold repeatedly pokes the remote. Finally the equipment comes to life and we begin.

Today’s topic is Science and Modern Cooking, and Dr. McGee opens with a bold statement that initially takes me by surprise – the trendy term “molecular gastronomy” is a fad. As in empty. No meaning. Hogwash.

For a second, I wonder if the lecture hall’s audio system is faulty. The phrase just sits there for a moment between McGee and the audience resembling a collapsed soufflé. Why would the world’s most preeminent authority on science in the kitchen purposely deflate such a deliciously highbrow phrase?

It seems it’s a matter of sheer practicality, which I’m beginning to realize is Harold McGee’s preferred method. As he elaborates, I like what I hear more and more.

He explains that the phrase is really a marketing term that was dreamed up to attract participants to a workshop in the mid-1990s, but the fact is chemistry and cooking has been linked since the mid 1800s.

“Nobody who’s cooking is thinking about molecules,” says McGee. “They’re thinking about ingredients and flavor.”

He then presents an intriguing premise – the “MG” phrase has actually been shunned by the very chefs the media applies it to. “It’s much more about the individual and their vision,” he explains. McGee presents a number of position statements or “manifestos” by leading chefs that address the conundrum. McGee even worked with a number of top chefs to write a statement that sets the record straight about science in the kitchen. He offers a perspective by Ferran Adian of elBulli that I find particularly compelling:

“Cooking is a language through which all the following properties may be expressed: harmony, creativity, happiness, beauty, poetry, complexity, magic, humour, provocation and culture.”

McGee brings it all together for us in a mild-mannered but authoritative way: “Science is a piece of it, because it allows these people to enable their vision, but science is just a tool.”

We then plunge into a segment on new tools and ingredients top chefs are using each day in the kitchen. But McGee cautions that while ingredients like “hydrocolloids” are au courant, the processes they facilitate, such as thickening, gelling and emulsifying have been used by cooks for years. David Arnold starts up a vacuum distiller, a massive device with dials, rubber hoses and glass tubing that looks like it belongs in an emergency room. Nils Noren mixes up a concoction of cucumber, oranges slices and herbs into a green soup. David puts it into the distiller and it starts chugging. The exercise shows how pure, crisp distinctive flavors can be condensed and extracted from a mess of ingredients.

At lunch, Veronica and I return to Balthazar because there is a better selection of sandwiches on weekdays. But I soon learn that she has an ulterior motive. A recent convert to tart baking, she purchases a full sampler platter of tarts – including Cherry Clafoutis, Mango Souffle Tart and Apricot Frangipane Tart.

“You’ll help me eat all these, won’t you?”

Clearly, I’m there to enable her obsession, and I participate willingly. We return to the classroom and set out the tarts on a desktop, buffet style so we can evaluate the finer points of each. We both vote in favor of the impossibly fluffy, golden Mango Souffle Tart.

“You’re probably going to write that I force fed you all these tarts,” she says.

“I would never!”

During the afternoon Dr. McGee and company take us on a magical mystery tour of sensual perceptions. We study taste, smell and flavor, and I learn through a simple test that I am what the experts call a “hypertaster,” which means I have more taste buds than the Average Joe. We sample different parts of a tomato and discover that the savory taste is more intense at the core, and sniff banana slices to discover that some aromas from the fruit are actually the same as those that emerge from cloves. A strawberry has dozens and dozens of aromas that are released from one piece of fruit and meld to create that unmistakable essence of strawberry.

Our course completion certificates in hand, Veronica and I say goodbye on the steps outside the French Culinary Institute. She must return to her Test Kitchen, and I to my other daily endeavors.

“Back to reality,” Veronica says.

“Well, for us, that would be virtual reality,” I reply. “I’ll catch up with you in the blogosopher.” We hug, and I head for the subway. The last few days have been extraordinary for their many discoveries.

As Harold McGee says, “You never know.”

©2007 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

The Harold McGee Lecture Series (Part Two)

When last we left our story, Veronica, the proprietor and Chief Scientific Officer of the blogosphere’s top Test Kitchen had successfully unmasked me at the Harold McGee Lecture Series in New York City using her superior observation skills and keen deductive reasoning. Meanwhile, I was desperately struggling to comprehend the scientific principles behind what makes an egg an egg…

It is Day Two and Dr. Harold McGee is the picture of academia with the sleeves of his blue striped shirt rolled back to his elbows. Nils Noren and McGee are drinking coffee out of Styrofoam cups and each are using a kitchen thermometer as a stirrer. It is a highly scientific approach to Sunday morning caffeination.

Veronica gives me a wave from the front row. I fear that she may be sitting a little too close to the deep fryer…

It is 90 degrees outside, and they have increased the air conditioning in the International Culinary Theater, but the subject is “heat.” McGee says it is complicated, but in reality, heat is an ingredient.

The concept is so simple that those of us (like me) with science-phobia might actually miss the point. Heat – or the energy of that makes atoms move faster – transforms everything we cook, and understanding its properties and the ways to manipulate it are key to success in the kitchen.

Nils and David Arnold launch into a series of exercises to illustrate the properties of heat. McGee pulls out something called a “thermocouple thermometer” which looks like an Iphone on steroids with wire probes extending from its base like tentacles. He also has an infrared thermometer which resembles one of Captain Kirk’s phasers. Nils and David are locked in a fierce competition. It’s like Iron Chef for science geeks. They each boil a pot of water using a different conductive technology. David uses a magnetic field burner, and his pot is simmering in just less than three minutes. Dave sears a steak, and Nils flips a steak repeatedly to see which cooks faster. Nils has the more evenly cooked steak. McGee takes the temperature at three different spots in a pot of boiling water to show how heat and cold circulate. By the conclusion of the segment, I’m convinced that I’m running a fever and that the heat conductibility of my kitchen equipment is inferior. When the lunch break arrives, I am ready to head straight to Sur La Table and buy new pots and pans.

Veronica suggests a more cost-effective alternative, and we walk to the Balthazar sandwich and pastry counter on Spring Street to pick up lunch and bring it back to the classroom. She can’t resist a cherry clafouti tart for dessert, which I help her finish. Afterwards, I learn that she had already had cherry clafouti tart for dessert last night and the leftovers for breakfast!

As soon as McGee has finished his lunch sandwich, I approach him to sign my edition of “On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen.” He neatly prints the inscription inside the cover with a fountain pen. I ask him how he moved from the study of literature to kitchen science. He tells me that he was an undergraduate in science, before switching to literature. It was tough to get jobs, and as he searched for something to write about, he found that “nobody was writing about the science of everyday life.”

I then ask if literature and science require similar skills. He says they are really different disciplines – “One is research, and one is expression.” He admits he always loved the research phase of his studies, digging into each new topic. I can see how he earned the nick name of “The Curious Cook.” He personifies the convergence of the analytical and the creative mind.

The afternoon is devoted to a variety of topics, including the rather technical ramifications of the process called “sous vide” which is vacuum sealing. We also examine how the cell structure of potatoes and vegetables can be manipulated by holding them at various temperatures for defined periods of time. As we near the end of the day, we have sampled beef cubes, scallops, green beans and potatoes cooked at a variety of temperatures. It’s kind of an endless parade of appetizers. With that in mind, we close by sampling grapefruit juice which has been clarified by adding gelatin and freezing and then defrosting the mixture. It is sparkling, smooth and crystal clear and all of the bitterness has been eliminated. It is served with a “splash” of gin. I ask what the proportions are and one our Iron Chefs says, “We just eyeballed it.”

Later, Veronica and I head for the Little Owl in Greenwich Village for dinner, so I can hear the story of her life as a food blogger. That however is a story for another post!

©2007 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

The Harold McGee Lecture Series (Part One)

The alarm pierces my sleep at 5 a.m. and I must come face-to-face with my fear of science. I earned a whopping D+ in high school chemistry. The “plus” was awarded for showing up and staying awake. After all these years, I still shudder a bit when people talk about chemical reactions …

But when the opportunity arose to return to the French Culinary Institute in New York City for a three day lecture series and crash course in culinary science with the legendary Harold McGee, I had to do it.

Fortunately, there’s no letter grade. It’s not even Pass/Fail. I just have to show up. I suppose that’s the perfect definition of “adult education.”

I make the pilgrimage into New York and arrive at FCI to register. I offer my “everyday name” to the woman in charge and take a seat on a slightly uncomfortable folding chair. It is a medium-sized classroom with not enough chairs for the students present. It’s all looking frightfully low-tech, with none of the Mr. Wizard pizzazz I’ve anticipated.

There seem to be 15 to 20 participants consisting of current FCI students, culinary professionals and talented amateurs. There are braids, Lacoste shirts and “kitchen-inappropriate” flip-flops. One woman is cramming from McGee’s classic tome “On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen.” One guy has an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth.

Shortly before 9 a.m. we are led into the International Culinary Theater where Harold McGee and company await. McGee is a tall, slender bearded man with closely cropped hair and a furrowed brow, wearing a tattersall button-down shirt and khakis. There are raw cuts of meat on the workstation and a blender is running. He is joined by Nils Noren, Vice President of Culinary Arts and David Arnold, Director of Culinary Technology. Arnold wears a lab coat instead of an apron. The last time I saw him at FCI he appeared to be trying to blow something up inside a microwave oven.

Arnold makes introductions and state unequivocally that this series is not about “food science” but “culinary technology.” I’m curious about the differences and what drives McGee. From the moment he speaks, he makes his motivation clear – this is all about “the application of science to become a better cook.”

McGee’s face beams as he describes in a mellow voice the joy of pursuing curiosity in the kitchen. He promises “controlled chaos” and “creative chaos” in the 50 experiments and demonstrations they will perform over the next three days.

He opens with an overview of the evolution of science in the kitchen and takes us through a long and checkered history of culinary explorers and kitchen discoveries. Today, it’s all perceived as somewhat avant garde but, he makes a case that the early origins of science in the kitchen can be traced back to the 1750s, where one expert named Francois Marin made the statement that modern cooking “is a form of chemistry.” Today, chefs like Ferran Adria and Heston Blumenthal are setting up their own laboratories and revisiting the principles of science in the kitchen.

McGee dissects it down to several concepts that even I – with my miserable scientific pedigree – can understand. Thinking like a scientist in the kitchen is all about being curious and seeking understanding, being skeptical and questioning common wisdom and playing with your food to discover new answers.

And play, they do with a focus on specific ingredients and their properties. The team dives into an experiment to determine if searing meat actually seals in the juices. They prepare skirt steak several ways to test the theory, and the theater smells like a Beefsteak Charlie’s. McGee maintains that you must craft kitchen experiments that focus on one factor at a time, observe carefully, and keep a log book of results. The whole focus should be to think carefully about the question you want to answer.

In the case of the seared meat, we learn a lot I didn’t realize. The “sizzle” when the meat hits the pan is actually moisture reacting with the heat and escaping from the meat. But the meat proteins are also squeezing shut. If that’s the case, the sizzle should stop, but there is continuous sizzle and moisture loss. They prepare the steak several ways – including cooking at low temperature and brining and we sample chunks of each. The “juicier” meats cooked under low temperatures actually have less flavor. So the conclusion to the experiment is that you do not sear meat to seal in the juices, but actually to make it more flavorful. My taste buds agree.

During the morning break, a woman with jet black hair, sparkling dark eyes and a sunny countenance approaches me and tells me she observed me registering my name and vital statistics with the registrar this morning.

“Do you ever go by T.W. Barritt?” she asks.

“Um…yes,” I say, rather startled. As someone who usually manages to travel in complete anonymity I’m not sure what to expect next.

She extends her hand and smiles. “I’m Veronica,” she says.

My jaw drops. Veronica, the passionate blogosphere chef who pursues culinary solutions in her Test Kitchen, was one of my first regular readers and commentators and there she is standing right in front of me in the flesh! I’ve often wondered if I’d ever meet her. We are both pleased at the sheer culinary karma of this unexpected encounter and agree to talk at lunch.

The rest of the morning toggles between scientific discovery and culinary myth busting. McGee debunks the idea that an avocado pit can keep avocado puree green and introduces a segment called “Rediscovering the Egg” where we learn about the reaction that occurs when egg proteins are heated and coagulate. We scrutinize the different consistencies of egg foams whipped in copper and glass bowls and sample “Thousand Year” eggs preserved in acid where the egg white has turned a purplish-brown and the yolk is the color of jade. I take a bite and the former egg white is the consistency of gelatin.

As we break for lunch, I’m beginning to get the picture. The science of the kitchen is all about poking, prodding and testing the boundaries of what we know, carefully observing the results and applying the knowledge to future culinary pursuits. It is extraordinary to have Harold McGee as our congenial and professorial guide through this journey of discovery.

Veronica and I head to a local sandwich bar called the Miro Café for lunch and immerse ourselves in getting acquainted. For two people who’ve never met face-to-face, we know quite a bit about each other. We exchange cards. She hands me hers with the distinctive animated logo of a passionate kitchen scientist immersed in culinary discovery. Our conversation is snippets of questions and recollections from past postings. At times, we are finishing each other’s sentences.

“How did the Hungry Hubby survived CIA boot camp?” I ask.

“I went to Balthazar for dinner last night,” she says. “You know I’m in search of the perfect duck confit.”

“I’m going to Ottawa next week …” I start.

“…to see Jill?” she finishes.

I learn that Veronica studied engineering – hence the scientific and systematic approach to food – and she uses the blog as a way to organize her thoughts and results. She is also considering the purchase of a microscope and wants to do more baking. The conversation is a delight.

“You’re the first blogger I’ve actually met in real life,” she says.

Back in Harold McGee’s Test Kitchen, we “explore emulsions” and their characteristics in everything from balsamic vinaigrette to mayonnaise, hollandaise sauce and ice cream. The theories are becoming clearer as I observe, taste and make notations. Emulsions are either added or already present and coat the fat droplets. Cream can be manipulated into butter and back into cream again. You can incorporate several gallons of oil into a single egg yolk. Somehow, translating science through food actually makes sense to me. The heck with the Periodic Table.

We wrap the session in an effervescent mood studying the effects of oxygen on wine. We watch David Arnold aerate red wine until it tastes soft and mellow, and sample Riesling to which he has added CO2. We taste champagnes from California and France to assess the tastes of each sparkling wine in its bubbly and flat state.

The next session will focus on specific culinary techniques and Veronica and I make plans to discover the local cuisine of Manhattan tomorrow so I can investigate more about her adventures in blogging.

©2007 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

The Food of La Varenne

Thursday, September 15, 2006: We are assembled in the kitchen at La Varenne for our final master class with Anne Willan. We watch transfixed as Chef Randall simmers half-cut apples in butter and sugar until they are the color of mahogany for Tart Tartin, the French upside down apple cake. With elegant, precise motions, Ann demonstrates the preparation of the classic French pastry dough to top, or “bottom” the Tart Tartin – pate brise.

We divide into teams to prepare the lunch menu and several of us take on the individual spinach soufflés. We chopped spinach and onion extremely fine and whip egg whites into snowy, stiff peaks in enormous copper bowls using whisks with handles as long as flag polls. We fold the eggs whites into the spinach mixture, creating a billowy light-emerald froth. We watch the individual soufflés puff high in the oven, developing that distinctive stovepipe shape.

Over lunch, Anne mentions that the soufflés taste “just the way they’re supposed to.” It is high praise, indeed, for a group of aspiring gourmands. As we linger over lunch, she tells us stories of the classic French chefs – La Varenne, who created the great French cookbook, the famous Escoffier, who named his signature dishes after celebrities and Julia Child’s misadventures on live TV.

In the evening, we meet in the salon at 7:00 for our final toast and are each given a diploma – the Certificat Culinaire. Shortly thereafter we depart for nearby Joigny for dinner at the three-star restaurant La Cote St. Jacques. The meal is a supreme theatrical production, with exquisite crystal, one-of-a-kind china, more service staff than I can count, and about a dozen different food masterpieces from the tiny to the decadent. The standouts include a dark black pudding – sliced in medallions over mashed potatoes and apples – that is as delicate as a mousse, escargot with woody chanterelle mushrooms, tiny gnocchi and parsley cream, and a Burgundy chicken, cooked in a crock wrapped in pastry dough to seal in the moisture and flavor. Once cooked, the chicken is dressed with petite zucchini, potatoes and carrots cut the size of small pearls and a light champagne cream sauce. It is exquisite in its simplicity.

It has been an extraordinary week in Burgundy, learning from a culinary legend, eating fine food and cooking and dining with a memorable cast of characters. It is hard to leave the French countryside, but Florence beckons.

© 2006 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Croissants and Baguettes

Tuesday, September 12, 2006: It is quite warm for mid-September in Burgundy, but we are squeezed into a small, ramshackle and stifling hot room which houses the 17th century brick oven at Chateau du Fey. The oven fire was started this morning and is now well over 400 degrees.

Monsieur C is a spry and amusing young French gentleman, who is both a Master Boulanger and a Master Artisan Patissier. He is wearing a bright white baker’s coat and an enthusiastic smile. He begins our session by demonstrating the art of folding croissant dough and shaping it into the traditional spiral pattern. We learn that some boulangeries use margarine for croissants, which is thought by some to offer a lighter density. Croissants made with butter are rolled straight, and those made with margarine are formed into moon-shaped crescents.

His nimble fingers work quickly to roll the cushiony dough. It is a speed gained from experience. He typically starts work at 2:00 a.m. and prepares five hundred croissants a day in a nine-door oven on his premise in a nearby village. As Monsieur C works, orange embers glow inside the brick oven, and we feel a blast of oppressive heat each time he lifts the latch on the metal door.

Monsieur C explains that bread actually requires the simplest of ingredients. One needs only four items – flour, yeast, salt and water. Yet the results can be deliciously complex. He specializes in special dark breads and country loaves. We are invited to roll croissants and pains au chocolat, and to shape and slice hatch marks in baguettes. He sends batch after batch into the oven arranged on a craggy wooden baking paddle with a long handle that keeps him a safe distance from the heat. He teaches us to knock on the bread and listen for the correct sound to assess if the loaf is fully baked.

We return to the main house at the conclusion of the demonstration. The students of La Varenne bring a wicker basket layered with hearty multi-grain loaves, baguettes, croissants and pains au chocolat to the entry hall of the chateau where we sample the results.

I tear a piece off the end of a puffy croissant. The crust is a lustrous gold, and the inner spirals are sunny yellow. There is just a seductive hint of smoky wood flavor that melds with the overwhelming taste of warm melted butter as the tender flakes dissolve in my mouth. And, I suspect that I can taste a bit of Monsieur C’s joie de vivre, as well.

© 2006 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Cooking at La Varenne, Burgundy

Monday Afternoon, September 11, 2006: By 4:00 p.m we are assembled in the kitchen of La Varenne to begin a master class with Anne Willan. We are each covered with a white La Varenne smock apron. For me, this is akin to working with culinary royalty and it is mesmerizing to watch Anne and her colleague chef Randall demonstrate a variety of French dishes from the Burgundy valley. As they work with different tools and demonstrate preparation of each dish, they are a bit like the maestro conducting a symphony.

Anne and Randall walk us through an historic Michelin map developed by Monsieur Curnonsky, known as the “Prince des Gastronomes.” The diagram depicts the location all of the star restaurants and classic dishes found across the country of France in black type. The cluster of type in Burgundy is dark black. Why is Burgundy so famous for food? Anne says it is the ingredients, all of which have strict requirements for production. Chef Randall points out that Burgundy is known for the Holy Trinity of bread, wine and cheese, which really does explain why French food can be a religious experience.

After demonstrating several techniques, Anne withdraws and we are assembled into teams to prepare the evening meal. My partner from Canada and I agree to prepare the main dish. We walk to the garden with Chef Randall and pluck long, sun-drenched green and purple sage leaves from the herb garden. Shortly, I am pounding escallops of veal with a huge, scarred kitchen mallet that looks like it belonged to the Norse gods. Above the entryway to the kitchen, there is a color photograph of Anne, a French chef from the La Varenne professional school and Julia Child clustered around the same counter where we are working. They appear to be smiling down on us.

The final dishes are assembled for presentation and inspection. Ann provides pointers on proper use of plates and color – yellow plates are good for fish, incidentally, and decorative plates can detract – and how to arrange the food to be pleasing to the eye. The class is given a round of bubbly aperitifs and we adjourn to the dining room to enjoy our meal. The tender escallops of veal make for a rustic dish, and the taste of sage infuses the meat. The staff pours a smooth vintage of red Bordeaux with wonderfully intense flavors of mineral and earth, perfect for our French country dinner.

© 2006 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Market Day In Sens

Monday Morning, September 11, 2006: Following a breakfast of pains au chocolate and baguettes with butter and honey gathered on the estate of Chateau du Fey, we set out for the nearby town of Sens, passing plowed fields, neatly manicured gardens and shuttered cottages with lace curtains. Sens sits on the river L’yonne and was once a major ecclesiastical center. The primary structure is La Cathedrale Saint Etienne de Sens, a soaring house of worship with bright red doors and formidable hinges, ornate stained glass and flocks of pigeons. Construction began around the year 1130. While there is hardly a soul within the cathedral, there is great activity across the plaza.

Our first stop is the covered market where local fruits, vegetables, meat and fish are sold on Monday and Friday. We are told that market day is, in fact, a social event in the village and women even dress up to meet and chat with friends as they select fresh produce for the week. We step into the domed marketplace and people are everywhere, carefully examining fresh produce, many engaged in lively and intense conversations. It is clear to see that agriculture, food and produce is a communal event in the Burgundy valley.

The produce is perfection – ropes of garlic roasted the color of caramel, white and red radishes neatly stacked, earthy mushrooms, tiny lentils and piles and piles of curly bright green lettuce. There are neat stalls labeled with numbers and proprietor names, and I am fascinated by the selection of meats and poultry offered by the butchers. There is rabbit, duck, chickens from the Burgundy valley, sausage, terrines of many varieties and chicken aspic, a traditional French dish which is a rectangular loaf of golden gelatin surrounding fleshy chunks of chicken.

Lunch at a nearby bistro is reminiscent of my classes at the French Culinary Institute. It is classic traditional French country food served in the authentic setting and emphasizing local ingredients. There is a composed salad of marinated vegetables, tender duck confit with mushrooms and a magnificent Frasier Cake adorned with a ring of strawberries and raspberries and topped with pretty pink marzipan.

© 2006 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Dinner at Chateau du Fey

Sunday, September 10, 2006: I have arrived in the Burgundy Valley of France. Our minibus crawls up the driveway, and we are greeted at the door of Chateau du Fey by Anne Willan, noted cookbook author, food historian and founder of the prestigious professional school, Ecole de Cuisine La Varenne.

I’ve seen Anne on television numerous times, and I look forward to a week of learning from someone of her distinction. We only have a few minutes to drop our bags, and we are led off on an historic tour of the 17th century chateau. This is a working estate, and all the trees and plants are chosen to be edible. There is a chef on staff, several country dogs, and a number of students from La Varenne who are there to gain “the French experience.” We learn about the history of the estate, and stroll past age-old trees and hunting grounds where wild boars still wander. Along the way, we examine what is reported to be one of the deepest wells in the country, view a brick oven bakery and the ancient wine press that was once used by the estate.
Even the gardens are rich in history. In the herb garden, I take note of a pot of greenery labeled, “Julia Child’s Mint.” Anne takes us through the sprawling vegetable garden where we pluck raspberries and sample fresh peaches from the trees. She tells us the fruits taste better when they are “warmed by the sun.”

After completing the tour we are led to the subterranean stone wine cellar where we are given a talk on French cheeses by a local fromager. He teaches us about the origin of classic French cheeses, the different styles of cheese, and I learn that Roquefort is actually a combination of bread mold and cheese, and is described by the French as “parsley cheese” because the green flecks in the cheese resemble the herb. He serves us Roquefort that is buttery and sharply salty and seems to last forever on the tongue.

Back in the Chateau, the staff lays out a buffet magnifique on the rustic table in the entry hall, created with produce from the region or the garden of the estate. There is a vegetable tarte and a mushroom tarte, fresh pork from the local area, and cherry tomatoes from the garden adorned with sweet tarragon. We drink the local red wine from the Burgundy region, which is soft and full and converse over candlelight in the dining room as darkness falls outside. Finally, Anne leads us back to the parlor where we sample what she calls “sticky drinks” to conclude the evening.

© 2006 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved