Change for Genoa came in they way of a couple that decided they couldn’t let Genoa die. Subsequently they spent A LOT of money forming Accanto (a modern yet comfortable glass front neighborhood Italian cafe) and beautifully renovated Genoa. They decided on Dave Andersen who had a vision for both restaurants. Dave, originally from Alaska, worked under Dave Machado for years at Lauro and most recently was the chef at Vindalho.

Genoa is the nicest room to dine in the city. They did a wonderful job on the remodel allowing for more light yet kept the intimacy that preceded it. Moreover, they were able to add a modern sophistication without a pretentious air. I notice the patrons and overall mood was more relaxed then pre-remodel dining.

In order to stay competitive in the market place Genoa offers a 5 course tasting menu that changes every month for $55. This menu was deemed ‘Abruzzo e Molise’ reflecting the northern part of southern Italy known as the Kingdom of Two Sicilies. We were greeted with a delightful spoonful of house-cured bacon with a pickled cherry relish. The caramelization and saltiness of the pork was a perfect juxtaposition to the sweet and sour local compote. This was the best bite of the night.

The first course was a pan seared rosemary skewered scamorza cheese with marinated baby artichokes and Dulce’s pickled asparagus. As to be expected, the fried cheese was tasty. It had a smokey caramelized crust that gave way to an oozing creamy delight, however, with every bit I was reminded that a huge inedible stem ran the length of the cheese. The artichokes and pickled asparagus were edible, but the artichokes didn’t add anything to the plate and the asparagus were extremely acidic and sour. I guess I just didn’t get it.

Next was a choice of the following the pasta:

Pasta alla chitarra con e fave- hand-made ‘guitar’ pasta tossed in a savory San Marzano tomato sauce with tender Viridian Farms peas, fava beans, lemon zest and fresh sheep’s milk ricotta or Pasta alla tagine con ragu d’agnello- fresh egg and semolina tossed with a classic ragu of Cattail Creek lamb and sweet peppers.

Both pastas were very al dente yet well seasoned. The tomato sauces tasted oddly similar which worked well with the lamb but overpowered the delicate nature of the peas and favas. The lamb ragout was tasty but when I envision a ragout I picture meat that is flaky and tender with a buttery mouth-feel from slow braising . This version, however, consisted of thumbnail size balls of lamb meat that had a strong tooth to the bite.

The salad was next :

Scapece di salmone alla vastese- a salad of wild Oregon Sockeye salmon that has been marinated in champagne vinegar, white verjus, saffron and aromatic vegetables served over baby spinach, sweet basil and Yukon gold potatoes.

Again a very lengthy description for an average salad lacking in imagination and presentation. The salmon were in the form of little chunks that appeared to be scrap meat. Upon taking a few bites I got hit upfront with a strong sting of acid then fishiness then bland boiled potato then aromatic basil. The flavors seemed uniquely separate not unified. With such bold flavors at stake I was yearning for more of a composed salad to fit the creative backdrop of the restaurant.

The first entree was seared rockfish with a calamari in a chile spiked white wine tomato sauce with local broccoli. My first thought was what do broccoli and Genoa have in common? The fish had caramelized corners but the skin was soft and mushy. The stewed calamari was well seasoned with a spicy bite and sweet onion finish. The broccoli was a tad overcooked but had a pleasant kick. Again the presentation was lacking and the broccoli was laying on the plate like a set of railroad tracks.

The mix grill rabbit was a nice combination of a skewered loin, with a kidney rabbit farce sausage, caramelized fennel, and a potato croquette. The loin was well cooked and seasoned but couldn’t get past the wooden skewer. The sausage was perfectly cooked in a cool mound spiked with a rich kidney but as my dining partner pointed out was very salty. The quartered fennel was a nice accent and the potato cake was more of an after thought. It was garnished with a black olive tapenade that put the salt over the top and would have been better suited with the green varietal.

The strip loin was flamed table-side with a strega liquor and served with a risotto stuffed pepper and a raw zucchini mint salad. It was a nice chunk of meat that was served rare and the risotto and raw salad were a nice juxtaposition but the three items seemed to be on an island on the plate.

All of the desserts were delicious. The cherry was interesting and fun , the Amaretto Souffle was light, tasty and well executed, and the chocolate espresso semifreddo was creamy and satisfying. The service was great and my fellow diners stated that the wines were spot on.

I understand the beauty of Italian food is the simplicity, however, this means that proper seasoning, technique and execution is essential. There is a level of sophistication to the room I couldn’t find in the food. Some things were too acidic or over seasoned and the presentations were uninspired. Moreover, I found technique lacking in the searing of the fish, inedible garnishes, a skewer, and under braised lamb. Plus, I yearned for more complex techniques to incorporate items such as broccoli, risotto, or a roasted pepper. In essence, the food and presentation lacked a level of sophistication I would expect from such an elegant setting.

The scariest words I was told in early recovery was that I would have to change EVERYTHING in order to stay sober and be happy. Im still a chef, husband and live in the same house, but my perspective on people places and things has completely changed. This change evolved from working the 12-steps and looking deep into myself by tackling the tough crap and self centered opinionated fear that was my life. In turn I revealed my true identity. Genoa has done a lot of surface work and the foundation is there but appears lost and unable to dig into the core and find it’s true self. This could just be a hiccup in the road, perhaps a challenging region. I certainly don’t do every step in the 12-steps perfect (especially the 4th and 10th steps). It is a constant journey. With this in mind I look forward to trying a new menu. In cooking and recovery misteps are a large part of growing.

Notes From The Culinary Addict:

Yogism from Iyengar (from Tree of Yoga): “Strive to find a thoughtfulness thoughtlessness in your practice .”

Recent 12-step Meeting Quote: “You want to drink whiskey at work instead of Vodka because you want your customers to know your drunk not stupid.”

-I couldn’t help commenting at dinner when I ordered the “The Mixed Grill” rabbit that this was code at a kitchen I worked at which referred to snorting a line of Oxycontin mixed with Cocaine.

-Genoa has some top notch people running the front of the house.

-Our kitchen is recovering from feeding 2500 mouths in 4 days.

-My bread delivery guy was fired a few months back. Allegedly he called a fellow driver for help on the side of a busy road. Once the driver arrived he asked the stranded driver if he was high b/c he smelled pot. Apparently fear and panic struck my past delivery man. Without saying a word he bolted in the opposite direction against traffic abandoning his truck, keys, and bread.

Kitchen Quotes:

-Ron:”Chef something is just not right in this office and I think some form of fish is to blame.”

-Jamie: “I’m telling you she wants to get freaky b/c she has a tattoo on the side of her neck.”

Me: “So let me get this straight, b/c a woman has some ink on the side of her neck that means she’s a dirty bird.”

Jamie: “Chef, that is so painful which tells me pain is her answer to happiness.”

-Me: “Ron, Did you get any of what I just said?”

Ron: “No I couldn’t get past her ass.”

-Me: “Chris, he has special needs.”

Chris: “Special needs!?! He’s on Paxil or some kind of goofball isn’t he? I mean I need to be on it but I dont have insurance or cash since 1/2 of my wages are garnished by the FEDS. Anyway, if he’s not he should be to level out his craziness when he gets all fired up. Shit my mind goes a mile a minute but his ass in on another level.”

Search Engine Terms (words that lead someone to this blog for whatever reason): “Top 10 colleges for shrooms”

Band Name of The Week: The Red Fat

Present Kitchen Pandora Selection: M Ward

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10. When your boss is out of money so he convinces his dealer to accept 4 cheeseburgers and a 17# bone-in ribeye for a bag of coke on the back dock.

9. When your boss uses alcohol to manipulate, intimate, and belittle you in front of co-workers. For example, The Tuna said during the middle of service, “Ryan I’m having some wine do you want a beer? Pat you can’t have one yet b/c you’ve been pissing me off today.”

8. When your co-worker’s eyes continuously droop and he slurs his speech in the middle of lunch service then nods off/passes out in the salad (in an open kitchen nonetheless).

7. When your boss addresses an employee “I know you are holding (coke), and if you don’t give me some now I’ll send you home.”

6. When you tell your co-worker you have a headache and your whole body hurts and he replies, “Dude, I have something that will cure all your ills, but its black, sticky, and REALLY strong.”

5. When your co-worker states, “I’m going to feed the meter” then you witness him cross the street straight into the bar only to return 20 minutes later feeling quite spry.

4. When a fellow line cook shows up to work sweaty with shorts, no shirt, and limping.

3. When a male co-worker states, “Jesus, I’m not sure exactly what happen last night but I’ll I can taste is cigarettes and cock.”

2. When your fellow line cook shows up for his shift with a black eye and facial lacerations because his methed-up striper girlfriend threw every piece of glassware at him from the dishwasher then finished him off with a tennis racket.

1. When the lead line cook emerges an hour late with a significant flesh wound to the arm and face, an eye patch, and a significant limp. When asked he replied, “Well it involved mushrooms, whiskey, my Chevy nova and train tracks. So I removed the license plates, scraped the VIN number and waked away.”

Notes From The Culinary Addict:

Yogism From Sara Rose (my teacher): “Find your uncomfortable comfort in this posture and breathe.”

Recent 12-Step Meeting Quote: “I lived in my expectations, not my reality.”

-I forgot yet again to write about a crazy 4th of July experience in New Zealand that involved a motorcycle, an Italian, and sheep. Perhaps next year.

-Summer is in full swing and things are in controlled chaos. A purple-wine-toothed drunk patron emerged in the kitchen to convince the crew that we need to put garlic mashed potatoes on everything because they are… “so goddamn good!”

Kitchen Quotes:

-Liz “My 5 yr-old daughter walked in on my naked boyfriend and told him that he had a nice penis.”

Me “Paybacks a bitch isn’t it?”

-Ron “So chef were there any attractive woman in yoga today?”

Me “Always, but there was one of the hotter woman I’ve seen in class today. However, when we were twisting in crescent lunge today it was hard not to notice she had quite a cooter.”

Ron “You mean like camel toe?”

Me “It was a bit beyond that. It almost appeared to be small testicles….Quite disturbing actually. It definitely affected my focus.”

Ron “Yeah, you just never know do ya? You just don’t know what is in store until you get down there.”

Search Engine Terms (words that lead someone to this blog for whatever reason): “the culinary addict pig”

Band Name of Week: The Cooter

Present Kitchen Pandora Selection: Barry White

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 As a chef I have had an innate sense of timing and technical skill that helped me become a solid chef. In life however, my innate first thought typically involves some form of danger or ill-advised rationale which gives me internal comfort and satisfaction (see first thought wrong post).  When I was drinking and using, I believed my achievements uncommon from the norm were unique. I later found out in rehab the term for such self-centered euphoria or greater sense of self is terminal uniqueness.

For a long time this behavior was fun, daring, and unique. Over time, however, the consequences to my decisions began to have adverse consequences. My solution-drink and use more. It seemed like the logical solution. I had found success in my life, relationships, and career, why not push on more? Thus, my first thought or intuition was wrong and not the next right thing (and still is). 

 Once I took my first drink the instant relief I gained gave me greater confidence. For years, I yearned to feel better physically, emotionally, and mentally. It was easy for me to get high when I felt suffering and pain. Those were REAL emotions that I worked hard to stay away from. However, I never wanted the great feelings of warmth and accomplishment to end either. I wanted the highs of life to get higher and higher.

 The 12-steps have helped me realize that core of my addiction is rooted in self-centered fear and attention seeking. I realized I was spirtually sick. Every next thought and action was self-centered because it was aimed to ease my pain, fears, and attempted to remove me from myself.

Admitting I was powerless over drugs and alcohol was easy. That is sobriety. Realizing I am powerless over myself and my own decision making…

That is recovery.

 Notes from The Culinary Addict:

 Yogism From Sandra (my teacher)- “Breathe as if your life depends on it.”

 Recent 12-Step Meeting Quote: “I came from a long line of Italianos where revenge was served cold.”

-My case manager in Rehab just finished her PHD in which she created a interactive web page that illustrates the spiritual foundation of the 12-steps in conjunction with all major religions throughout the world. Very Cool. Here is the link http://www.12wisdomsteps.com/ 

-Example of not the next right thing: After my first drunk as a teenager I wanted to enhance my drunkenness. I found a bottle of Precocet that said ‘Warning: This medication may increase the effect of alcohol.” My first thought was, Hell Yeah. It did not cross my mind that this was a negative warning. This warning label summed up my years of usage. I sought out every conceivable drug combination to enhance that feeling of alcohol.

 -Last week I had a young employee get a colonoscopy, one walk out for psychological reasons, one had heart surgery, and one no call no show. A hospital ward, no just another week in the kitchen.

-The new intern managed to ignite/engulf a butane canister and shinge her eyelashes.

 Kitchen Quotes:

-Me “I realized after my son has been in Montessori that some people are gifted to be with kids.”

 Liz “Yeah, I don’t buy kids a lot of toys so their friends wont come over. I love my kids, but there is a reason I work in a kitchen.”

- Greg: “CHEF! HAVE YOU SEEN PATRICK SWAYZE IN ROADHOUSE?”

 Me: “Hell yeah!”

 Greg:”Swayze is SO FUCKING HOT… SO FUCKING HOT.”

 -Me: “Greg, are you going to see your dad for father’s day.”

 Greg: “My dad is an ASSHOLE AND A PRICK!”

Band Name of Week: Fame Whores

 Search Engine Terms (search words that lead someone to this blog for whatever reason): “masturbation raw pork abdominal pain”

 Present Pandora Kitchen Selection: Wayne ‘the train’ Hancock

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I’ve been searching for a creative and fun project for the past few years and have settled on boke. The literal Japanese translation for boke is mental haze, but boke is more commonly used as slang meaning”knucklehead” or an endearing term for “jackass.” I could go down a lot of avenues about the hows and why of my association with such a name, but I won’t. Its simply a cool name. Plus, it is Japanese, and everything is cooler in Japanese. Thus, boke bowl.

In order to captivate a wide spectrum of consumers we will have 3 base stocks built off of a seaweed and mushroom dashi: pork/chicken, seafood, and vegetable/vegan. We are organizing boke dinners starting in September hopefully including local art and music at various locations. Details to follow.

Our buddy/pr/creative director Tim ‘talldaddy’ Parsons took some photos of the three ramen bowls I have been working on and will be the cornerstone of boke.

Ginger Eggplant with Yam Noodles in a Caramelized Fennel Lemongrass Dashi

Olive Oil Poached Shrimp with Bacon Wrapped Scallop in a Shellfish Miso Broth

Korean Spiced Pulled Pork with Southern Fried Chicken in a Roasted Pork Broth

We will also have other tasty sides. I discovered you can put just about anything in a house made hum bao ‘taco shell’ and it taste delcious- char sui pork, pork belly, fried chicken, or..

Pulled Pork with Pickled Mustard Sauce

If you want to stay up to date on boke movements please visit our blog @bokebowl.com (just getting up) and follow us on twitter @bokebowl. Talldaddy Parson can be contacted @ tim@sppx.com. He also does PR for Genoa and Accanto as well as man’s the bar during Accanto’s brunch. You can follow him over on twitter @talltimpdx.

Notes From The Culinary Addict:

Recent Yogism From James (my teacher): “Take your favorite adjective here- jive, sway, swing, yo-yo, pulse.”

Recent 12-Step Meeting Quote: “My attitude and actions make my wife go Olympic silent.”

Kitchen Quotes:

-Kristin “Chef, you know, your really good with your sauce control.”

-Jamie: “I think horniness gets worse with age.”

Me: “Well, it doesn’t help when your surrounded by 20-26 year old servers.”

-Liz: “Chef???Uhhhh what is that noise?!?!”

Me: Pork grinding

Liz “Sounds like your doing something ELSE.”

Search Engine Terms (words that lead someone to this blog for whatever reason) : Rub hot sauce on pussy

Band Name of Week: The Boke

Present Pandora Kitchen Selection: Jimmy Reed

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“Hey, can you bend over and pick that up for me because I’m in the middle of rubbing this large piece of meat.”

“Chef, can you come over here and help me rub this loin?”

For other chefs, however, the temptation is too much. Here are a few comments made by some fellow male chefs over the years:

“Chef, We all know everything is better moist.”

“Chef, rubbing all of this meat makes me want to get oily and naked with a lot of curvy woman.”

“Chef……dude, I may have to go ‘rub one out’ after rubbing all these loins down.”

Here are a few from the ladies:

“Chef, I feel like a lesbian after rubbing down those 300 chicken breasts.”

“After rubbing 100 pork tenderloins I now know what it would feel like having a big thick cock.”

“Chef, I guess rubbing down the cavity of 200 chickens gives me the skillset to fist a donkey.”

And, of course, there were a few guys that thought this comment would turn a female counterpart on:

“I’ll show you how to handle that piece of meat.”

Dry rubs are typically used to season and marinate large cuts of protein such as pork butts, briskets, or ribs before smoking or grilling. They often consist of a myriad of dry and ground spices such as paprika, cumin, mustard, etc…. During smoking the dry spice mixture forms a crust on the outside that seals in the juices of the meat. The spice crust allows for the protein to braise within it’s own fat and juices. Although a dry crust forms the internal meat is as succulent as a braised lamb shank. Memphis style barbecue is completely dry and sauce is added at the end. I like to add a bit of oil to the protein first then the dry rub to facilitate the rub into the protein. Recently, I came up with a simple rub I like to season large as well as smaller grilled meats such as shirt steak, hanger steak, or chicken. I call it the essential rub because it is extremely versatile and offers a touch of spice and sweetness.

The Dry Rub:

3 cups Korean Chile Powder

2 cups Brown Sugar

1/2 cup Kosher salt

-Mix it together. It stores for months. Its works well on all meats.

On leaner proteins a wet rub is more applicable because there is not as much internal fat to braise in. Thus, wet rubs and/or brines help relax the tough protein. I often times use a combination of both. For example, I brine pork loins or turkeys, then rub them with a dry rub with a touch of oil before roasting or smoking. A wet rub has a moist ingredient added to the spices and herbs. Common ingredients added to make a wet rub may mustard, roasted or raw garlic, vinegar, oil, horseradish, and yogurt. For red meats this is my essential wet rub recipe:

The Wet Rub:

2 cups roasted garlic

1 cup Worcestershire sauce

1 cup canola or olive oil or rendered bacon fat (al a surlygourmand)

3 Tablespoons cracked black pepper

3 sprigs rosemary leaved

1 bunch sage fine chopped

1 bunch thyme fine chopped

-Place roasted garlic in blender and puree. Slowly add Worcestershire sauce, then slowly incorporated oil (should become emulsified). Then toss in pepper and herbs until thoroughly mixed.

I also like the classic Kansas City Rub:

1 cup brown sugar

3/4 cup paprika

1/4 cup black pepper

1/4 cup salt

1/4 chile powder

1/4 garlic powder

1/4 cup onion powder

1 Tablespoon cayenne

Prime Rib

-Oil and rub down with essential rub mixture

-Coat with essential wet rub. Cover in salt, and smoke at 225 degrees for 5-6 hours.

May may also want to check post on Pulled Pork, Smoked Brisket, and Brining.

Notes From The Culinary Addict:

Yogism from James (my yoga teacher): “Growth stems from challenge” (Be warned- when a teacher starts class off with this statement your in for a bitch of a class)

Recent 12-Step Meeting Quote: “I have an alcohol love story book.”

Boke Bowl Update: Working out the noodle recipe at my house. Decided to par-dry noodles to discover the shelf life. Had a good meeting with an old friend Tim, who is going to help with PR and our first Boke dinner. We are shooting for a Monday night in September. We hope to provide inspiration via a bowl of good noodles, bad ass broth, and tasty garnishes. We are planning to have local art and perhaps some live tuneage. Tim took some cool photos and I hope to get a Boke Blog up soon. Follow us on Twitter @bokebowl.  

-I recently pawned off some kitchen equipment to get this Southern Pride Smoker. It is an amazing piece of eqiupment because on can control the heat and cooking time. Moreover, it is ideal for braising items b/c you can hold the temp at 180 degrees for 18 hours. Plus you can fit a ton of stuff in it.

Search Engine Terms (someones words that lead them to this blog for whatever reason): LSD in vagina

Band Name of Week: The Dry Rub

Present Pandora Kitchen Selection: John Lee Hooker

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Scottsdale

I frequently visit my folks in North Scottsdale, Arizona. They like to eat- often. Scottsdale is the exact opposite of where I reside. Firstly, it is arid, dry, hot, and sunny over 330 days a year whereas some form of cloud or precipitation exists 330 days a year in Portland. Secondly, with hot warm weather comes hot fit woman. Don’t get me wrong, there are a number of beautiful and fit woman in Portland, however, most are very white, choose tattoos over botox, piercings over manicures, and accessorize with some form of parka or poncho. Moreover, greater competition exists amongst woman in warmer climates because more is revealed on a daily

Portland

basis. This may explain why approximately 1 in 2 woman between the age of 20-70 have some form of plastic surgery. Right or wrong, I don’t know, but I do know there are a lot of attractive, fashionable, and tan woman with firm breasts in North Scottsdale.  These woman, however, need a place to look good, socialize, dine, and get tasty confections or wine for an engagement.

Enter The Herb Box

Given the recovering drug addict in me, my first thought when I heard the name of the restaurant was, ‘wow! my conservative mother is suggesting a restaurant named after pot’. My second thought drifted to that hippie chic I slept with in college that wanted to package the scent of ‘THE KIND’ Oregon Bud into some form oil to rub on her vagina and call it The Herb Box Essence to sell it at the crunchy Saturday Market. My third thought landed on the fact that people actually grow herbs inside a plant box.

whoopie pie

My parents hold The Herb Box in high regards, and I see why. It is a multi-faceted operation that can satisfy the most desperate housewife as well as an avid food lover. One side houses ‘The Market’ that provides a cafe setting and doubles as a retail store where one can buy fine cheese, wine, and tasty prepared foods for on the go. For example, one can dine-in with counter service and get a brioche egg sandwich with pancetta and arugula with an espresso or a tasty steak salad, a whoopie pie, and a bottle of wine to go. Furthermore, they are set up for cater-out food for individuals, small or large groups as well as off-site catering.

On the other side of the building is ‘The Eatery” or sit-down restaurant. There is moderate seating inside with a large bar, however, the outside deck

Green Chile Enchiladas

houses numerous tables with covered seating along with a gentle mist spray to keep the beautiful patrons cool.  The menu reflects the clientele. It is dominated by healthy and tasty ingredients: wraps (chicken, arugula, Gorgonzola, spiced nuts) sandwiches (rosemary steak, caramelized onions, white cheddar), flatbreads (corn, goat cheese, sweet tomatoes), and interesting salads. Many salads juxtapose a hot protein such as steak or a fried prawn with light and acidic vinaigrettes aside crisp greens, veggies, nuts, avocado, and citrus. Dinner time is more of the same with the addition of heartier appetizers such as trout beignets and fine entrees such as double cut pork chops with goat cheese potato cakes. The green Chile enchiladas stuffed with grilled corn and squash are on of her signature dishes. They were perfectly executed with the right amount of sauce and cheese with a fine salad. At $16.99 I found them to be a bit pricey, but hey, if I  had them down valley I would have missed out on a woman behind me explaining to her sister what her boob job did for her self-confidence. Plus, they serve weekend brunch and recently offered red velvet pancakes with lemon marscopne which is one of the more creative and delcious items I seen in a while.

Becky Wendel is the self taught chef that understands the marketplace of North Scottsdale. She realizes that the people of North Scottsdale don’t cook because they don’t have too. The Herb Box satisfies many niches within the fastidious ecosystem of North Scottsdale-whether on the go, on a hike, on a business lunch, meeting for a casual drink, or in need of a catered event one’s needs will be pleasantly satisfied.

Notes From The Culinary Addict:

Yogism From Sandra (my teacher): “All you need to focus on is you on your mat. You have nowhere to hide and you can discover your true self.”

Recent 12-step Meeting Quote: “So I decided to say FUCK IT.”

-The service was fast and friendly and accomidated 2 under age 4, 2 over 65 and 2 somewhere in the middle without missing a beat. Plus they served some kick ass mango lemonade with free refills.

-I will say Scottsdale is a interesting melting pot. There is a lot of young money, many wealthy retirees, real cowboys (ones that still wrangle and shit), right wing Christians, hippies, spirituality seekers, and recovery folks.

-I was sad to realize Nancy, who ran the coolest Bikram studio I had been to in North scottsdale sold it. Instead I tried Sumits Yoga which is a mix of Bikram and ashtanga in 102 degrees for 1 hour and 20 minutes. I’m an avid yogi but this class really kick my ass and goes DEEP. If you want to feel the pain yet be enlightened check it out. I only saw three tattoos out of 40 people in class but many fake boobs. I’m the only guy in Portland that cooks and does yoga without a tattoo.

Kitchen Quotes:

Me: “You mean you dont practice safe sex?”

Chris: “Safe sex and birth control are the samething..I call it up the butt.”

This was my screen saver when I returned from my week off. I believe the caption was ‘Doggie Style’

Search Engine Words (key words that lead someone to this blog): where to take LSD in Ohio

Band Name of Week: Chocolate Meat

Pandora Kitchen Selection: Nick Cave

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Curing Rabbit Legs

The classical definition of confit is to season and slow cook a protein in its own fat. Similar to many cooking techniques it evolved for healthy preservation. The French were the first to standardize the cooking technique in order preserve goose or duck legs in the fall for the long winter. Fat was rendered off the birds, the legs were cured with salt, and slow cook  in their fat. During the curing and cooking process moisture is extracted from the protein of the meat and releases to the bottom of the cooking vessel. The cooked proteins can be stored in the fat, an anaerobic environment, thus oxygen is nonexistent which significantly lowers the possibility spoilage. Confit legs were placed in vats, covered, and stored in cool places for months. Presently, properly confit meats can last up to six months in the refrigerator.

In addition to meats, confit refers to other foods such as fruits which can turned into confit whole or slow cooked in their own juices or honey to the consistency of jam. Vegetables such as fennel, radish, garlic, onion, endive, etc… become confit via various fats and oil, and sometimes with the addition of vinegar.

Confit is a braising technique without the caramelization of the protein (i.e. cooked for a long time at a low temperature).  Meats such as duck, rabbit, or pork are cured with a salt, sugar, spice and herb mixture (star anise and juniper) overnight to season and release excess water from of the protein. The fat is heated until melted and the desired protein is distributed in the fat, covered, and placed in a 250 degree oven until the meat flakes off the bone (about 6 hours for duck legs). Vegetables such as radishes or eggplant are seasoned with salt and pepper for 20 minutes, rinsed, then confit in duck fat (or oil) until a skewer can easily pierce the vegetable (approximately 2 hours). Once finished, either carefully remove the items for use or store in the fat. Excess liquid and meat jelly will form at the bottom of the pan once cooled. Remove this tasty jelly to use in sauces or soups.

Olive Oil and Basil Confit Shrimp

The slow braising process in conjunction with rich fat yields delectable and succulent end products that are tough to stop eating.  Confit items are highly flavored and can be cross utilized throughout the kitchen. For example, a duck leg can be served as an entree or picked and used in a salad, pasta, appetizer, or sandwich. Confit lemon can be incorporated  into anything for background flavor and depth. Confit onions make a stellar garnish on steak, goat cheese, and fish.  Confit radishes can be sliced and sauteed with spring asparagus and finished with creme fraiche and herbs for a luscious side dish. Confit fruits are a wonderful garnish on sweet or savory items and are ideal for cheese.

Things I Confit:

In Duck Fat: Duck, Rabbit, Pork, Radish, Artichokes, Potatoes,

Duck Fat, Heat Fat, Clean Cured Legs, Confit 5 + hours @ 250 degrees

In Seasoned Oil: Tuna, Shrimp, Garlic, Radish, Lemon, Meyer Lemon

Wash and Soak, Season: Cover with Oil, Bay, Thyme, Braise 2 hours or until crunch is gone

In Oil and Vinegar: Onions, Fennel, Lemons

In Own Juice, Sugar and/or Honey: Berries, Gooseberries, Currants, Figs, Apricots, Rhubarb

Notes From The Culinary Addict:

Yogism from Sandra (my teacher): “Put the thoughts in your mind on the shelf and give gratitude to yourself.”

Recent 12-Step Meeting Quote: “One was too many and a 100 wasn’t enough.”

-Again, most kitchen talk revolves around sex. One day I was discussing duck confit with a fellow chef during family meal when the crudest waiter I’ve known jumped in and stated, “Well boys, I don’t know about your duck legs, but I ‘confited’ my boy’s ass all night long Maximus butt lube.” Me: “Maybe next time your should use duck fat as lube and have ‘Torchon d’ Ass’ for dessert.”

-One establishment I worked in a smart-ass dick of a line cook  found his shoes ‘confited’ the following day in the oven.

-Many times people have stated, “This confit is soooo delicious it’s like crack.” I always get a second look when I say, “It’s tasty, but nothing is quite like crack.”

-Here is a recent batch of ramen with pork/chix/miso broth, Korean pulled pork, bok choy, shoots, shrooms, and southern fried chicken garnish. Have decided on Boke Bowl for name (Boke means mental haze or knucklehead in Japanese). Hope to have a tasting somewhere by fall. Keep you posted.

Kitchen Quotes:

-Me: “Hows your son?” P: “He’s crazier then ever, he started drinking again and found a crazy-ass girlfriend. Last week she stabbed him.”

-Me: “It’s nice to see you flirt with the large ladies as well.” Ron: “OHHH, I love them all.” Me:”You realize your old enough to be her dad and flirting with grandfather.” Ron: “Everyone needs a daddy.”

-Chris: “When I’m this tried I really need medication for my body to catch up to my anxious brain.”

-Me: “Chris what do you need?” Chris-”The answer to life.” Me: “You’ll find it while washing all of those dishes.”

-Chris “Like Sinatra said, I’m just a rover.”

-I got a new rice cooker for my birthday. Even after many rinses, during the cooking process ‘rice jizz’ spews out of the top similar to a volcano. The manufacturer says this is normal and I need to wash my rice ‘better’.

Search Engine Words (words that lead someone to this blog for whatever reason): “natural cures for shakes from alcohol withdraw”

Band Name of Week: Day Benders

Present Pandora Kitchen Selection: The Modern Lovers

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MetroVino is set up to cater to the Pearl District crowd given the large bar and cocktail seating that dominate the central space of the restaurant. It is owned by Todd and Helena Steele. Todd has years of experience at some of the finest restaurants in the Bay Area acts as the GM, meanwhile, Helena was/is in charge of unquie design. Upon entering, to the left are 3 large booths and a step up to the right accommodates about 10 tables with an all glass backdrop. The space exudes a modern sleek feel that is a bit cool yet comforting.

I was pleasantly greeted by what appeared to be the GM. We were directed to a fine booth by a friendly hostess and handed menus. I was a bit taken aback from the unnatural golden hue that emanated from our waitress as well as the flower in her hair as she introduced herself. Then, I remembered we were in the Pearl. I told her we had some dietary challenged people this evening in which she responded, “I love special needs people” which made me wonder if her fetish was chicks with handicaps such as myself. Throughout the evening her professionalism, patience, service, timing and knowledge consistently satisfied our needs.

The cocktail and wine menu are larger than the dining menu. Thus, our table began with an array of cocktails, wine and a lime spritzer for myself. All were solid and it is evident wine is a passion of Mr. Steele. The dining menu reflects both the bar business and table side service. There is a section for heavier appetizers such as oysters, roasted marrow bone, escargot, cured salmon and tripe as well as a separate cheeses section. We ordered array of salads to accompany our rich entrees.

Once the salads arrived it became evident chef Denton has spent time in Northern California and Hawaii in terms of ingredients and presentation. His ingredient driven salads were simple yet well executed with an air of Asian presentation while providing late winter and early spring offerings. The beet, avocado, citrus, feta, and greens was simple and tasteful offering a creamy, salty, and sweet bite. The grilled bacon wrapped dates with apple, blue cheese, arugula and almonds represented the richness of winter yet the spring arugula significantly lightened the plate. Unfortunately it came with only four dates. I easily could have downed ten realizing these would be an excellent passed appetizer.

A great barometer of judging a chef that has spent time in California is his use of the fava bean. Fava beans and fennel are two of the favorite ingredients of Bay Area chefs. This is due in part to the high percentage of lesbian chefs who seem to adore fennel and fava beans (I worked under three). It obvious that chef Denton worked directly or indirectly for a lesbian due the imaginative roasted fava bean salad. Lightly smokey whole roasted favas arrive with sauteed maitake mushrooms, house-made ricotta, arugula, mint and Saba. A perfectly juxtaposed salad in terms in terms of textures, flavors, and varying temperatures. The warmth of the earthy favas and mushrooms offers a wonderful contrast to the fresh ricotta, the peppery arugula, and an essential blast of mint.

In terms of entrees, I would have ordered anything on the menu. All were creative with multiple cooking techniques, interesting combinations, and stellar presentations. The double cut brined pork chop was grilled and served with a crisp chile polenta cake, braised kale, and a tasty hazelnut chimichurri and fava bean garnish. I am always looking for interesting combinations or garnishes to expand my repertoire. In this case the addition of the hazelnuts to the chimichurri added flavor, complexity, and a local touch to the common, yet tasty sauce and chop. The seared scallops in the house-made green curry was a dairy-free entree which properly represents chef Denton’s culinary range. The brilliant green hued curry encompassed all the essential Thai flavors- lime, coconut milk, cilantro, pickled red onion, and roasted peanuts.

The highlight of the evening and the best plate of food I’ve had in a while was the braised buffalo cheeks with house-made ricotta blintzes. The tender cheeks were slow braised for hours served with a perfectly balanced reduction sauce and English peas. The blintzes were a perfect unique comfort accompaniment. The three radish salad garnish offered a welcomed bite of horseradish and texture to the braised fare. Spring in the Northwest offers a transition in seasonality. The buffalo cheek dish is a prefect representation of mixing a late winter technique such as braising in contrast to early spring ingredients such crisp radishes and English peas. Having an understanding of such detail make his food delicious as well as interesting visually and texturally.

The desssert and cheese menu will meet everyone’s desire. Pairings such as toasted almonds, apple, and honey with the Bermuda Triangle Goat cheese make a standard cheese couse more interesting and desirable. His signature dessert is the Parmesan pound cake that should not be missed. Even the basic creme brulee was unique given the addition of brown sugar and a perfectly execute custard.

Many chefs have worked and mentored under chefs with varying backgrounds and skill sets. Few, however, are able to take that knowledge and make it uniquely their own. Chef Denton successfully draws from his classical French, Californian, and Pan Asian roots to define and successfully execute his cuisine. This attention to detail, ingredient knowledge, and texture profiles separate chef Denton’s food from many in the city.

Notes From The Culinary Addict:

Yogism from Sara Rose (my teacher):“Try to make the breathe cyclical, meaning one continuous breath without a conscious thought or difference between an inhale and an exhale.”

Recent 12-Step Quote: “It stems from self-centered fear, thus I’m petrified that I won’t get what I need.”

-Chef Greg and fiancee Gabrielle have been working together in kitchens since they meet eight years ago. This fact I find more impressive than their food. I wonder who really call the shots?

- I got a sense from the person that greeted me that he was in need of a drink, being a recovering addict, I know THAT slightly pale bloated look of uneasiness.

- I asked a fellow chef what he thought of MetroVino before I ate there. He said, “Go there ASAP, the food is awesome. I did, however, interview with Greg when he was at Lucier. He was pretty much a dick, but the type of dick that knows his shit and someone you would want to work for.”

-I recently spoke with the two woman who were instrumental in helping me get and stay sober. I hadn’t spoken with either in a few years. One just finished her PHD and the other just got out of yet another rehab after years of healthy sobriety.

Quotes:

-Kristin “Chef, YOU don’t want to go out there right now…It’s prom night and its nothing but a sea of satin and lace.”

-”There is a 21-yr-old girl in my class that wants me to ask my wife to have an open relationship. This younger generation is scandalous. Just think, she has been around mainstream porn since a teenager.”

-Greg: “Damn, I’m getting old, I turn 30 this year. I think I better move out of my fucking mother’s house.”

-Jaime: “No I mean like she has a juicy booty..one that squats…one that the southern bros like.”

-Jamie: “Call me gay but I’ve seen Footloose 1000 times with my little sister.”

-Me :”Pasta with cream sauce…white on white, just like the fucking suburbs.”

Search Engine Terms (words that lead someone to this blog for whatever reason) “addicted to mushrooms”

Band Name of Week: White on White

Present Pandora Selection: 16 Horsepower

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I figured most chefs would jump at a chance for free American labor so I found the best restaurants in Bath, sent them a letter in advance and showed up on their respective doors months later. Four out of five frowned upon the Yankee, however, a Michelin 2-star establishment, Lettonie with Rooms, owned and run by Martin and Sian Blunos offered me a stage.

The Michelin Red Guide, the oldest and best-known European hotel and restaurant guide, awards Michelin stars. The guide awards one to three stars to a small number of restaurants of outstanding quality. Stars are awarded sparingly;  In the UK and Ireland 2004 guide, out of 5,500 entries, there are 98 with one star (“a very good restaurant”), 11 with two stars (“excellent cooking”), and only 4 with three stars (“exceptional cuisine”). A 3-star Michelin ranking is exceedingly rare. Only 26 3-star restaurants exist in France and only 81 in the world. Thus, this was an amazing opportunity.

I reported to work at 7:30 am on a Tuesday. Martin Blunos (a Latvian born in Somerset) and his wife, Sian (also a trained chef that worked the front of the house, Welsh) moved their restaurant and two sons from Bristol to a large honey-colored Georgian house in Kelston, just on outskirts of Bath. It sat on an acre of grounds and had about 5 guest rooms which also housed the family.

Not Lettonie But Very Similar

Martin and Sian were exceptionally warm and pleasant, and introduced me to the small crew which consisted of The gorgeous basement kitchen with a window view of the grounds was bustling with activity. The main kitchen was dominated by the most beautiful stove I had ever witnessed-a central French-Style flat-top range. Martin stood on one side with a prep table/refrigerator unit directly behind him. On the other side was a mirror duplicate were his sous chef Simon #1 stood and worked. A long table flaked the side were prep work was done by a pantry/hot cook (chef de partie) which became the pass line as the plates went out. A small open room adjacent to the main kitchen housed the dishwasher and a pass window into a smaller pastry room. The 15 ft x 20 ft room that housed a coffin freezer, stand up fridge, small convection over stainless table a a slab of marble is where I would spend the majority of my time over the next 4 months trailing Simon #2. I was to become his or anyone else’s commis chef (i.e.’little kitchen bitch’).

The first thing I noticed was the different in focus between my American restaurant experiences. There was no wrestling over what music we were going to listen to or a casual cup of coffee over weekend storytelling. These chefs were busily working without words on lenghty prep lists that were apparently down over the weekend.

“What can I do.” I asked Simon #2

“Well, we have 12 on the books for lunch and 22 for dinner which starts in about 3 hours, and we have to prep 6 desserts, brioche, biscuits, and saw the duck eggs all from square one.” He said hastily

“Well, at  least there is only 12 on the books.” I said confidently

“12! That is a blindin’ number for a Tuesday lunch. Each will have 5 to 7 courses, a amuse, and intermezzo!” He said in an excitable accent “Why dont you roll out, cut, and cook the cheddar biscuits I just banged out. Then I’ll have you help me with the Satsumas.”

“Satsumas?” I asked

“Yeah, yeah, the Assiette of Satsuma is our most popular dessert.” Simon hastily blurted.  Although he spoke English, between the thick accent and speed in which he spoke he could have easily been speaking Portuguese.

“You know, little oranges.” He exalted as he grabbed a case of 200 and put them on my station.

“Okay!” he went on, “First I need you peel 60 of them and segment 30 of the little buggers. Save the skin and remove all of the pith. We need some for zest and some for garnish. Then squeeze all of the juice out of the flesh and add 30 grams of sugar and bring up to a simmer. Next cut the top 1/3 off of ten. Then, WITHOUT BREAKING THE SKIN, hollow out the flesh with this little bugger of a teaspoon…Yes, it is a fucking nightmare…juice that flesh and add with the rest. Take 1/3 third of the satsuma and sugar warmed juice and add a sheet of softened gelatin. Then place 5 or 6 Satsuma segments into the hollowed out peel and top with the gelatin mixture and stick in fridge- that will be our Satsuma jelly. Reserve another 1/3 of the liquid so we can make Satsuma ice cream. The other 1/3 we’ll reduce down to a syrup which will be the base of a Satsuma creme brulee. Then we’ll use some zest to make Satsuma shortbread. Meanwhile, well make a simple syrup and cook the peels down for 30 minutes to candy them. Dry them on the rack over there. Once they cool after 2 hours we’ll dip half in chocolate for garnish. We’ll assemble the plate to look like a painter’s palette and garnish with some crumble toppin’. It’s a fuckload ‘mount a work mate, but its blindin’ mate, fuckin’ blindin.”

“And that’s only one dessert?!” I asked short of breath.

“Right-O Matey” Simon chirped

To this day Simon #2 is one of the most professional, fast, clean, honest, and fucking funny cooks I have had the pleasure to work for. Only 21 at the time, he could work circles around anyone (including myself) and had the drive and focus necessary to become a successful chef.

It became clear within 15 minutes that an air and level of professionalism existed that I had never experienced. The Assiette of Satsuma summed up the skill, tact, creativity, and expectation of Chef Martin’s cuisine. Everything was butchered and prepared in house. Local hunters and fisherman would drop off freshly killed and dressed whole pigs, venison, fish, and live scallops. Influenced by his Latvian mother’s wholesome cooking, Martin stumbled into cooking and was classically trained. His techniques were classical French yet often with a Latvian twist such as a beautiful Borsht terrine with chunks of boar cheek meat or a braised and stuffed pig trotter with hoof attached before it was in vogue.

He also had a keen creative eye for updating English classics such as Boiled Egg and Soldiers (soft boiled egg in shell with toast points for dipping). I had no clue of the English childhood classic when asked, but was handed a hacksaw and a dozen duck eggs. I was to evenly score the top 1/3 of a duck egg with the hacksaw. Once scored enough the top should evenly break off…which, of course was bullshit. I must of broke 15 before I presented one that I thought was acceptable. Simon #1 looked at quickly and threw it in the garbage without saying a word. Once the top was removed the duck eggs where softly scrambled with truffles and place back into the shell on a small stand, topped with Osetra Caviar and served with buckwheat blinis- his signature dish. He also recreated the savor dish as a sweet intermezzo on the tasting menu. I would fill the egg with a sweeten creme pate then top with a dollop of mango puree to emulated an egg, place on a stand, and serve with precisly cut shortbread.

Four factors separate a Michelin Stared restaurant from the places I had worked in the past:

1. Details. Each step in the preparation process was meaningful and crucial. For example, whether you segmented a satsuma, seared a piece of meat or passed a sauce through a sieve, each step had to be exexcuted precisly in order to get to the next.

2. Zero shortcuts. I cut many corners at my previous jobs (i.e lazy) whereas a shortcut wasn’t an option or even part of these chefs vocabulary. For example, dessert sauces were passed through a sieve at least 3 times, seasoned and reseasoned then tasted by the chef. Moreover, I wasn’t allowed to scoop the ice cream for 3 weeks because my quenelles weren’t up to the sous chefs standards.

3. Intensity. The days began at 7:30 and every move I made in the kitchen was critical in order t be set up on time. Meaning, I had to have a perfectly organized list of steps on a daily basis or I simple wouldn’t be ready. We busted as from 7:30 until end of linch at 2 pm and would be back at 3:30 or work straight through until around 11 pm. Saturday nights we basically sandblasted the kitchen until about 1 am.

4. Respect. Everyone I encounter had an amazing amount of respect for Marin and Sian. No one talked shit about the chef (this was new to me). Respect that didn’t have to be spoke of, it was simply there. Both worked harder than any of their employees while carrying themselves in a humble manner. Myself, nor any employee wanted to make a mistake because ultimately it would be letting Martin down- this is ultimate respect.

These factors were standard throughout the establishment. From the time a patron entered the striking foyer they were welcomed with professional courtesy by Sian and the predominetly French front of the house crew. An appetif and an assortment of housemade biscuits and savory petite fours were presented in the elegant lounge area. Gauging the ease of each guest a menu was casually presented and orders were placed at their leasure. Sometimes guests spent up to two hours conversing and drinking from the extensive cellar before moving into the dining area. Each piece of stemware, glass, napkin, and service had to echo the kitchen in order to maintain the 2-star rating. Michelin critics are anonymous, thus each guest was assumed to be a critic.

Looking back it was more than just a restuarant, it was their home. When they welcomed someone into the dining room or their staff you became an extension of their family. Doors away were the family bedrooms making it was impossible for an employee or a patron not to feel an intimate connection with the Blunos and the Lettionie experience.

Notes From the Culinary Addict

Yogism From James (my teacher): “Breathe or Die“

Recent 12-Step Meeting Quote: “Wherever I went I was unfortunately there.”

-After 9-11, Bath and Lettionie was hit hard with a recession. Sian Blunos began to have medical problems. Martin decided to lose a star and move into the city for a more casual environment that would take Sian off the floor. It proved to be the right call. They had a daughter Coco which inspired Sian to write a cookbook, meanwhile, Martin is one of the more recognized celebrity chefs in the UK. Max, one of their sons is a badass drummer and has played for a couple of metal bands such as Trigger The Bloodshed.

- Simon #1 and Simon #2 decided half-heartily to become a chef. Most students in England finish school at 16 then enroll in a 2-year college program which is somewhat specialized. They decided to try cooking because they didn’t know what to do. Thus it was the profession they choose at an early age and began working out of their program at age 18.

-Simon #2 went on to work at a 1-star restaurant on some exotic island. I attempted to write his mother to find him to no avail. My letters were returned. Apparently, I had the wrong address. He was relatively famous in London for surviving a near fatal blowtorch explosion in a popular one-star establishment. Apparently there was a leak in a blowtorch that was left on a hot stove. Both the executive chef and he realized it at the same time and had a ‘get the fuck out’ look. The chef made it out, but Simon#2 didnt. It blew him across the room into the soom shelving were he broke some bones as well as blowing a significant hole in the ceiling into the dining room.

-Simon was paid $180 pounds a week

-Absolutely NOTHING was wasted in this kitchen. The hogs head was rendered for gelatin and Simon#1 would spend an hour scraping the little scraps of venison meat between the outer rib bones to use for family meal. Occasionally they would bring in a ‘treat’ such as hagass for a meal. It really is the nastiest product I’ve eaten.

-All of the waiters were French and pretty much pussies.

-Speaking of the word pussy, the English believe that word to be a horrfying use of the vernacular, however, they truly embrace the word cunt. They use the word like we use ass or asshole.

-Sexual humor and sarcasim are the norm in England which is fitting for the kitchen environment. Plus, sexual harrassment was accepted by both men and woman. My father was managing a large natural gas company and the holiday party was costume related. One of his managers came dressed as Bill Clinton with a blow-up sex doll strapped around his waste dressed as Moninca Lewinsky giving him a blowjob via a strap-on.

England Kitchen Quotes:

-Occasionally while amy was bending over in the kitchen Simon #2 would dry-hump her. She would respond, “Your limp dick couldn’t get a sheep off.”

–We often listened to BBC rock radio (Martin had great taste in music)while setting up (no music during service) which has a wide spectrum of genres. For example, a tune from Sparklehorse will be followed by Radiohead then Alanis Morisette. One day I was prepping for lunch and Martin was washing his hands directly in front of my window singing along to an unforgetable tune by Alanis. I asked in a ,”What do you think of Alanis?” He pondered for a few moments and stated, “I’d go in Dry.”

-Another day fucking Elton John came on the radio. I asked Simon #2 his thoughts on the Crocodile Rocker. He said, “He’s okay for a chutney ferret.” “A WHAT!?!?” “You know, a chutney ferret.” “No, I have no idea what a chutney ferret is.” I said. He expalined, “Gay guys like to place fruit chutney up their asses and have their pet ferrets get up there and eat it.”

Search Engine Terms (words that lead someone to this blog for whatever reason): Mushroom Trip Bonfire

Band Name of the Week: The Creamy

Present Pandora Kitchen Selection: Vincente Fernandez

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-2 Tablespoons= 1 ounce

-8 oz= 1 cup

-2 cups= 1 pint

-4 cups= 1 quart

-128oz= 1 gallon

-28.3 grams= 1 ounce. This is a great barometer to determine someones drug knowledge. I’ve known many cooks that couldn’t tell me how many ounces are in a cup but they sure as hell know how many grams are in an ounce.

-Eight-ball of cocaine = 3.5 grams an ranges about from about $125-200 depending on the quality, the dealer and market conditions. An eight-ball is an eighth of an ounce. Thus the name. Also called a bump, rail, tug, snort, whitey, 80’s candy, etc…

-Eighth of pot = 3.5 grams Ranges between $40-$80 dollars depending on the quality. Growing up in Louisiana pot was cheap and once I moved to Oregon I realized why. You get what you pay for. Ganja, grass, Mary Jane, lettuce, or ‘that hippie shit’.

-Vitamin V- code for Vicodin. Yellow bellies are 10 mg Vicodin

-OC 20, 40, 80- Code for the milligram amount of Oxycontin. Street value is typically $1 per milligram. One 80OC is equivalent to 16 vicodin. If the time release coating is removed and snorted its prescription heroin. Having a supply of these can be used for a number of bartering possibilities from shifts covered, free drinks, and sex.

-To Braise = To cook something very low and slow for hours in a seasoned liquid. Or “I’d like to braise that ass.” pertaining to getting hot and wet all night long.

-To Sear= To cook something at a very high heat in order to ’sear’ or caramelize the outside. It typically involves a small amount of fat. Or…”I seared that ass last night.”

-Caramelizing- the process of browning the natural sugars of a vegetable, meat, or fruit. Or..
I got Caramelized…I would like to caramelize that thing (such as an ass)…or I use to walk by cooks who were attempting to caramelize onions or fennel and say “who is your friend?” to which they would respond “I don’t know.” “Caramelization, which your not achieving by the looks of things. Everything is better caramelized because it is rich, tasty, and takes patience like a fine wine or woman.”

-China Cap= Cone metal mesh strainer that resembles a Chinese style hat.

-Chinois= A fine mesh metal strainer to pass sauces through that removes impurities. Or…”This cocaine has never seen a chinois”…meaning there are a number of impurities in the product.

-The Old Friend- Term given to the red cooking wine. When the stash was out and the dealers were dry there was always The Old Friend. The first few pulls were tough but cheap red wine cures a nasty hangover, drug withdraw and the shakes.

-Focaccia= Flat oven baked Italian style bread. Or… code for a hot woman to check out ASAP.

-Mixed Grill- termed given to an entree serving at least 2 different types of protein. Or…. code for snorting or using 2 different drugs at same time such as a line of cocaine and Oxycontin.

-Going to My Locker- Code for leaving the cooking line to get high or meet the dealer out back, so cover for me if anyone asks.

-Brown Butter- Caramelizing the milk solids or whey of butter to give a nutty flavor. Or..
Brown Buttah-which refers to a very hot Black woman

-Cornstarch- fine powder starch that is used as a thickening agent especially in Chinese food. Or…
Cornstarch Shower- a light or heavy dusting over the genitalia area to absorb ass and ball sweat while working the grill station in the summer.

There are many more…..

Notes From The Culinary Addict:

Yogism from Sandra (my teacher): “Place one hand on your heart and one on your belly. Take away your name, parents, spouse, job title, email, etc…and connect with the being inside.”

Recent 12-Step Meeting Quote: “I don’t have a lot of hatred, but I have a lot of anger.”

-We have been unseasonable busy.

Kitchen Quotes:

-Greg “Chef, can I move in with you?”

Me “No why?

Greg “Because my mom gets in the way of my masturbation.”

-Chris “I swear pro basketball scouts should check out jails. There are some ballers there, thats where I learned to play. Thats all there is to do.”

-Me “Chris, did you watch that game last night.”

Chris “I started to and the next thing I knew I woke up this morning naked on a bunch of pretzels.”

Search Engine Terms (words that lead someone to this blog for whatever reason): “red wine vomit”

Band Name of The Week- Chump

Present Pandora Kitchen Selection: Calexico

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My first few years I tried to get creative and make various terrines, pates, scallops with purees, poached eggs with Proscuitto and polenta, etc… I’ve come to realize, however, people just want fucking bacon, waffles, and eggs benedict. Moreover, it is a religious holiday. My observations over the years lead me to believe Easter is stressful for many, and exposes the various layers of family dynamics. Here are a few questions and statements that have come my way:

10. “Excuse me, Is there any ketchup for the ham?”

9. “Excuse me, Where are the blintzes with whipped cream?”

8. “Excuse me chef, I know your REALLY busy but I was wondering what I can eat? These are the things I CAN’T eat: Potatoes, Rice, Corn, Dairy, Garlic, Onion, Soy, Meat, Oily Foods and Raw Fruits and Veggies?”

7. One year I cured and served a whole bone-in leg of fresh ham. Many folks decided not to eat it and commented,

 ”That isn’t HAM! It’s NOT pink!?”

6. I spotted a red faced father struggling with his children as he entered the dining room. I asked him how he was doing, He stated,

 ”Christ, where’s the BAR!?!”

5. I made a house-smoked Char Sui Pork and Kimchee Platter (cabbage, cucumber, and radish). After informing the process to an inquiring patron he stated,

 ”So…Uhhh.. It’s Oriental then???”

4. Two youngsters began throwing food at one another at a table when I overheard the mother firmly state, “Jesus would not approve.”

3. I wished a fellow co-worker happy Easter. Her response,

 ”Although I’m from the Midwest, I’m not into Easter. I prefer to call it Zombie Jesus Day.”

2. An Easter bunny showed up to entertain the children. Many folks probably assume the person behind the mask is similar to that excitable leprechaun that is on scholarship at Notre Dame or perhaps a free-lance Disneyland employee. This bunny appeared to be hung-over and/or stoned and wore a Colt-45 sweatshirt underneath his costume. Right before he dawned the bunny headdress he stated,

“Time to play… Grab the bunny!”

1. I observed two unattended siblings woofing down a number of crème puffs and sweets by the dessert station. I spotted the two sometime later by the restrooms cornered by their irate mother. I asked if I could be of assistance noticing the deranged look on here face. She stated,

 ”Jesus may have some company after today.”

Notes From The Culinary Addict:

Yogism From Nina (my teacher): “Breathe into the most challenging aspect of this pose and accept it-that is where the growth happens.”

Recent 12-Step Meeting Quote: “My character defects?!?! Hell, I was a defect of character.”

-Jamie has decided to go to nursing school and quit his job. So he is back on a part-time basis.

-Jamie and his wife have decided to sponsor Julian so he won’t be deported. A tear came to his eye when Jamie told him.

Quotes from the Kitchen:

Me: “Greg, happy Easter! You ready to kick some ass today!” Greg-“Fuck the Easter Bunny!” 

Ron-”Did you know I only have one testicle?”

Jamie: “There something ghetto in her that really turns me on.”

Search Engine Terms (words that lead someone to this blog for whatever reason): “Why are many chefs drunk”

Band Name of the Week: Tomorrow Today

Present Pandora Kitchen Selection: Steve Earle

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-I ended up in the intensive care unit of the Wenatchee hospital for two weeks. Wenatchee is an agricultural township located in Central Washington. I sustained an open compound fracture of my right tibia and tibia, a completely shattered right scapula, deviated septum, and major bruising. Fortunately there was a semi-retired orthopedic named Dr. Starkweather on call. Being an ag-town and close to a ski area, there were a couple of excellent doctors, and he was one of them. The break was severe but his biggest concern was infection. He was irate that the EMT’s enclosed an open flesh wound covered in fecal matter and contaminants. He didn’t want to chance introducing more extraneous elements such as internal hardware so he decide to set the break with an external fixture called a Hoffman device. Risky, and would take a lot of care to ensure that the pin sites didn’t get infected, but turned out to be the right call. I wore the device for 4-5 months then was in a cast for another 5 months.

-My right scapula was shattered which meant I couldn’t use crutches for 6 months. I was bed to wheelchair during that time.

-During the surgery he flushed my leg out for an hour with heavy antibiotics. He also ran 2 series of the strongest antibiotics I could handle in order to kill all bacteria in my body. The hospital was out of one particular kind which was tracked down in the far reaches of a family pharmacy’s refrigerator. The negative of killing the good bacteria is I got horribly sick. I broke out in a full body rash, and my entire throat turned white with puss.

-I was unable to visit any of Wenatchee’s sites, but my sister (LA) and my parents (Houston) said there was a lot of local color. For example, the township was recently exposed for having hundreds of people/families involved in an elaborate incestual sex ring involving all walks of life including policeman, lawmakers, and pastors. Thus, when one walked down the street questioning thoughts and glances arose. They also noticed that the all you can eat buffet at Izzy’s pizza seemed to be the hot spot for lunch.

-After 3 days the doctor wanted to flush my leg in a whirlpool of ’stuff’. My sister, who decided to be my nurse over the next 2 months, decided to come with me. It was a Saturday and I think they had a weekend Temp-Rehab attendant due to her lack of knowledge of what was supposed to transpire. I was painfully moved to a thin metal table that was shaky at best. My leg was to be un-bandaged and gently placed into slowly moving water. What ensued was a seen out of a movie. My sister was sipping on a latte, meanwhile the shy teenage woman fired the whirlpool up on full blast. She began to remove my bandages for the first time since the surgery. I was questioning the speed of the water when life moved quickly. The removed bandages revealed a bloody bruised grayish ’thing’ with 5 screws drilled into the bones, a drainage slit full of bloody-crustiness, and a maroon mass where the bones broke through. The attendant accidentally (?) hit a lever on the table and my leg dropped into the quick moving water. Apparently, my soon to be nurse/sister collapsed at the sight of my leg knocking the morphine dispenser out of my hand (it turns out blood makes her faint). The feeling of fast circulating water on shattered bones felt as though someone was pulling the metal out of my leg. This sent me into a torturous state of screaming laughter. The attendant was speechless as my sister came-to and was attempting to crawl up a near-by chair. I began to gyrate on the table. I attempted to say something but words failed me. Luckily, a close friend Mark G and my dad showed up to check in on the progress. Much to their surprise they found my sister passed out over a chair and me quivering on a table with my eyes rolled back in my head.

-I had a middle-age German night nurse that REALLY like to give me a sponge bath and was very aggressive with my genitalia. Apparently she was part of the Wenatchee sex-ring.

-I was transferred from Wenatchee to a transitional care facility located in Ballard via ambulance. Upon leaving Wenatchee the nurse gave me 20 morphine pills ‘just in case’. Upon taking three, I was convinced that there was colorful Macaw parrot following the ambulance.

-A transitional care facility holds people that are too fucked up to go home yet are relatively stable such as older people with broken hips or late term cancer patients. I was held here for 3 weeks where I worked with a myriad of therapists that taught me how to deal with simple tasks such as getting from the bed to wheelchair or how to attempt to take a sponge bath. After feeling spry a month after the accident I attempted to cross a street in the wheelchair, but made it ten feet from the curb when I began to get nauseous because I could only go in a circle with one good left arm and leg. I rolled back into the curb dejected.

-My father was after me for months to get health insurance. All of the medical professionals were confident that this was a worker’s compensation claim even when I told them I wasn’t covered. It was costing our company about $600/month for my partner and I to be covered by worker’s compensation so I took us off. The day before I left for The Gorge, I re-mailed my health insurance application (it was returned weeks before b/c I forgot to enclose a check). It took a few weeks to clear up, but they found my application on someones desk at Blue Cross-My coverage started at midnight of July 1st, approximately 11 hours prior to my accident.

-MCA concerts who we worked for for years claimed no responsibility. They blamed all of the sub-contracters. No one even sent me a card.

-I was scheduled to go to culinary school in the fall but had to postpone for 18 months until I could rehab. After a year of negotiations the opposing sides offered me $10k over my medical expenses. Thus, we went to trial. The opposing lawyer tried to argue that my nasal surgery was not to correct the deviated septum that occurred during the accident rather a nose job. FYI: There are no punitive damages in the state of Washington.

-During my recovery I rekindled an old college relationship to whom I am married to today. She was a great inspiration during my recovery and today.

-My awesome sister took off 2 months of work to be my nurse and clean my Hoffman device pins which would crust over with scabs 2X a day as well as put up with my emotional ass. My parents were instrumental in providing emotional and financial support during my recovery.

-I found out that I have amazing friends that visited me from all over the country during my 1.5 years of rehab before I could work. A special shout out to Mark G who would come over nightly to cheer me up and hall my ass to Mariner’s game. Also Heather M. was an amazing roommate and friend. She provided many rides to appointments, care, and laughter especially around the drunken smelly ass chef of a roommate that presently has a successful BBQ joint in Ballard. Also, thanks Swedish Medical and all those in  Seattle- Joe, Kevin, Paul, Denise, Sam, Janet W (therapist), and Kevin C.-my friend and only lawyer that actually powdered my rashy ass in the ICU. After a year I moved to Portland for more rehab and great friends: Mark, Heather, Brannon, Zach, etc…

-I was pretty messed up for months and it was tough to do anything so independent/foreign films and TV were essential at all hours of the day. Highlights: Magnum PI-I’m convinced Magnum and Higgins are gay (Magnum says he likes the ladies but never actually ends up with them. He always comes home to Higgins), The Big Unit 1995 amazing Mariner’s run, and there was a 30 minute segment of some DUDE and his bong on public broadcasting that would time his bong hits and say things like. “WOW” and “YEAH, that was deep”.

-People let you go straight to the front row when you have a chunk of metal sticking out of your leg. Plus it becomes quite a conversation piece. Folks couldn’t keep their eyes and mouths shut.-Here are a few:

1. “What kind of motorcycle did you own?” (Apparently it is a common ill-fated chopper result)

2. “Dude, does that hurt?”

3. “Can I touch it?”

4. “Wow that looks like some freaky sex thing.”

5. “Fuuuuccccckk Dude, that sucks.”

Notes from the Culinary Addict:

Yogism From James (my teacher): “From an early age every time you skinned a knee or had a negative emotional response scar tissue has collected. Yoga, through one breath at a time, is the process of releasing that physical or emotional scar tissue.”

Recent 12-Step Meeting Quote: “Its not the years of sobriety that are hard. Its one or two shitty days a month that make me think about the crack pipe.”

-I’m taking 2 weeks off and will be back then.

Search Engine Terms (words that lead someone to this blog for what ever reason): “man skins face after doing LSD”

Band Name of Week: Controls of Error

Present Kitchen Pandora Selection: Delta Blues

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I decided to take a shit.

I co-owned a backstage catering business in Seattle in the 90’s named Eat This Catering. We catered every mid-level to high-end band that travelled through the Northwest. Each summer we had the exclusive contract at the Gorge amphitheater in George Washington (The Gorge). The Gorge sits atop an amazing plateau that peers down onto the Columbia River located in the high desert of central Washington three hours east of Seattle. It has a Grand Canyon feel. It is a spectacular venue, however, my world revolved around figuring out how to shop, transport, properly store, and cook for hundreds if not thousands of rock stars and crews on a weekly basis inside a 40 foot trailer with 1 small coca-cola fridge, 1 6-burner oven, and a large deck. The trailer and deck were connected to the catering yurt where the hordes of musicians and back stage folks would converge for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

On July 1st, 1995 we had a 4 day contract to caterer breakfast, lunch, dinner and provide all dressing room food, liquor and amenities for Lollapalooza (approximately 250 for breakfast, 400 for lunch, and 600 for dinner as well as servicing 15 dressing rooms daily, go here for backstage post). The bands were to arrive during the three days and sound check prior to the opening day of the tour on the 4th of July. Needless to say this was quite an undertaking. We rented a fleet of vans, a portable fridge unit for all cold items, and a semi-truck container for the hundreds of cases of water, beer, and booze which was accessible 10 yards off the backside of our trailer deck opposite the dining yurt. On one corner of our trailer sat the ill fated Port-o-let which was snuggled up to a large ice-storage cooler (with 1000 lbs of ice in it) which was next to the propane tank that fueled our stove.

I had been on site for 3 days prior to the opening breakfast working 16-hour days and we were ready to go. I awoke a bit hung-over ( I was a daily drinker at this point of my life) at 5:30 am to roll out breakfast by 7 am. I wore my favorite shirt at the time- Dinosaur Jr. Green with a girl smoking a cigarette that looks exactly like J Mascis, my board shorts, and Tevas. At the time, I believed we were a professional outfit, but many healthand safety violations were par for the course. It typically was over 100 degrees so open-toed footwear was essential for comfort. More over one of our main cook would smoke and drink beer while he barbecued on the back deck from 9 am-6 pm. With little refrigeration we jerked, smoked, and barbecued just about all meats and fish.

Things were pumping along. Typically we would get hit hard right when we opened by the stage hands which were comprised of a surly dirty bunch of union workers that off loaded all the equipment and built the stages- on a whole very nice grunge laden workers that wore black. Similar to us, they were the first ones in and the last to leave. The next wave was the production people. The local production company employees, in this case MCA concerts as well as all of the touring production people such as: production assistants, personal assistants, record people, tour managers, accountants, site managers, wardrobe managers, image managers (only in the case of Yanni and Michael Bolton…he also had a fucking hair manager, but obviously they weren’t at this show), etc. If any of the musicians were to eat breakfast they would roll in at the last 10 minutes, but most were still sleeping on their buses.

Meanwhile we had a whole crew spearheaded by Heather to deal with the 15+ dressing rooms and buses (there weren’t enough rooms to house all of the musicians so some had to stay on their buses). Each group faxed in what is termed a rider that gave specific food, beverage, and personal requirements weeks early. Thus we had to shop for each item, prep then organize them accordingly and for daily delivery to their dressing room or bus (Go here to see the backstage post). Logistically this is a pain in the ass in the middle of the dessert because of the terrain. One couldn’t use a cart due to unpaved roads so every item hand to be hand carried to multiple locations throughout the backstage property.

Once satisfied with the dressing room progress, I focused on the Latin lunch buffet when were putting out. I was confined to the kitchen with my partner Christine who was finishing the rice and beans while I dealt with the salsas, condiments, and meat. Meanwhile Shawn was smoking and grilling on the deck. We started to put lunch out around 10:30. Once completed, I took a moment and peered down over the beautiful gorge view and took a deep breath. Okay, that’s done, I thought and realized I hadn’t eaten anything and a burrito would comfort my sour stomach. However, I had some intestinal rumblings and it was starting to get hot so decided to step of the deck into the Port-O-let before the bucket became to toasty and stinky.

White Structure to Right is Catering Trailer

The funny thing about a portable toilet is there is only a thin piece of plastic separating the world from your personal business. I had clocked some time in this particular toilet so I was familiar with voices and sounds around me, which arguably saved my life. I was just finishing up when I heard an unfamiliar fierce sound that quickly became frightful. Instinctually, I jumped up off the toilet seat as the wall came crashing onto me.

This is when time stood still.

The volcanic-like force of the collision sent me skyward to my left up and out of the frayed plastic toilet. I came out on top of the airborne ice storage unit. I vividly remember telling myself I better push off of this heavy unit or I will be crushed. I pushed myself off of the unit doing a full midair rotation, which resulted in me landing directly on my right scapula about 30 feet from the point of impact. I came to rest a few feet from the edge of the cliff. My first thought was, “I think I’m alive” my second was, “I better pull up my shorts.” Everything was hazy due to the chemicals and debris in my eyes, but I quickly jumped to my feet realizing my right leg was dragging. Adrenaline took over at this point. Balancing on my left leg I pulled my right thigh upward. Below my right knee I observed splintered grey bones that protruded out of my flesh towards me. Below the fracture my ankle and foot were circled freely like a rubber band that was going around in circles. That particular site and thought brought me back to the ground. My next thought was, “I’m pretty fucked up.”

Shock is an interesting place to be. It surfaced from a deep internal zone located in the depths of my brain that attempted to flood my body with an unnerving psychological sense of fear. A couple of factors helped me get through the next hour and half without going into major shock. Firstly, an EMT trained stagehand by the name of Jon was by my side providing me with a realistic viewpoint of the next hour, which went something like this:

“Dude, we are in the middle of nowhere. It is going to take some time for the EMT’s to get here as well as the fire department. They are going to stabilize you and probably move you to the nearest town. You are pretty fucked up, but nothing appears to be life threatening. I am going to stay by your side the whole time and talk you through it. It is hot as shit right now so we are going to try and get a sheet and have people hold all four corners so your not directly in the heat.”

Secondly, I had been in some intense situations before such as breaking a collar bone, leg, and a really intense mushroom trip where I perceived all of the grass around me as angled module units that were bleeding which evolved into a really bad trip for 3 hours of psychologically hell where I was convinced I was the anti-Christ. Odd that experience should surface, but if I could get through that experience I could get through this.

The chemicals and debris from the toilet began to irritate my whole body. Plus, the crap was in my nose and mouth which became the driest area on the planet, but Jon was adamant not to give me any water due to the fear of because surgery. He finally agreed to wipe my face clean and give me a few ice chips. The next 30 minutes involved focused breathing to keep the shock and pain manageable. Meanwhile, Jon filled me in on what happened.

“Dude, I’m not exactly sure but Jose was driving a large front end loader down the hill and the brakes went out (he came over after the initial shock to make sure I was alive). He attempted to steer it clear of the catering trailer and ram it into the huge metal container but clipped the Port-O-Let before he made contact. Dude, the Port-O-Let is directly under the front loader and the first 1/4 of that container is pierced and crushed from the collision. You’re fucking lucky.” Approximately 50 minutes after the initial accident the volunteer EMT’s and volunteer fire chief arrived.

George is a very rural place, and although I’m sure this crew had seen a fair share of farming accidents I’m not quite sure they were confident securing a half naked long hair man covered in shit that was just shot out of a Port-O-Let. They stabilized my neck and shoulder first with a brace and sling. What proposed the biggest problem was the leg. Protocol was to secure it with an air splint, which is what they ultimately did, however, a lot of debate ensued due to the protruding bones in conjunction with being heavily contaminated with the contents of the toilet.

“Okay, here is what we are going to do,” said the ringleader. “First we are going to cut off your shirt, shoes, and shorts off.” Shit, my favorite shirt, I thought. “Then, we are going to splint your leg then get you into the emergency vehicle and take you to a small town 10 miles away. There is a small medical outpost there where you can get some medical attention by a doctor. Then a paramedic will take from there to Wenatchee Washington which is an hour or so away. Unfortunately, we can’t administer drugs so you’re just going have to hang in there for a little while longer.

I have experienced a lot of pleasure and pain in my life, but when they put the air into that splint my core was pierced with a flash of bright fluorescent white pain and I began to scream and gag. When the compound fracture broke through the skin no resistance existed so the muscles contracted diagonally pulling the lower busted bones upward outside of the skin. Meanwhile the internal frayed bones were pulled downward by the opposing muscles into the bones being pulled outward. So, when the splint was tightened the splintered bones rubbed violently and unnaturally together. Next they attempted to remove chunks of debris and gravel from my sweaty back and ass before they moved me onto a board and ultimately into an emergency vehicle. I felt every bump of road for those ten miles, and it was a gravel road.

Once on the cold metal table in what was a medical facility/post office, my adrenaline and mental focus began to fade, and the gravity and reality of the situation began to take hold- I began to moan, scream, and curse. The on-call volunteer doctor that appeared to be 80 greeted me. He looked me straight in the eyes and said,

“Son! I’m doctor Snelling! I was a doctor in the Navy for a number of years and I haven’t heard a mouth like yours since that time. I know your pretty beat up and your covered with crap, but your going be okay. I’m going to get you some morphine to help with the pain. Then I’m going to take some basic X-rays why we are waiting for the paramedics to get here to take you to Wenatchee.”

Three shots of morphine later the intense pain and psychological trauma were eased but didn’t subside my angst. I focused on the breath while the paramedics transferred me onto a gurney and into the ambulance.

“He man, I’m Greg, and I’m going to be by your side for the ride to talk you through it. I can see you’re in pain so here is another shot of morphine.”

Bam, ten minutes passed. With every sway or bump in the road the bones of my leg would grate together.

“I can see your still in pain. Here is another shot.”

Bam, ten minutes passed, and I still couldn’t get on top of the pain.

“Okay man, I can tell your still hurting. You’re doing a fantastic job of breathing, but I’m going to give you a shot of Demerol.

Wha-Bam. The Demerol hit my veins and shot straight to my brain that blanketed me with nurturing warmth that was tender, calming, and utterly euphoric. It provided an endearing confidence at the core of my soul as to say, I was not only going to be all right, but every part of me mattered. It was a spiritual revelation- For the first time in my life all of the inhibitions and fears I had of myself, people, places, and things including my present position were removed.

“That appears to have given you some relief?” Greg commented

“Oh yes, my friend.” I said with a hazy-eyed grin.

Although the euphoric clarity lasted a mere 10 minutes, it was that internal fortitude of comfort, strength, and sense of a higher power I would seek out over the next eight years through my alcohol and drug addiction.

Notes From The Culinary Addict

Yogism from James (my teacher): “Allow this moment to be a moment.”

Recent 12-step meeting quote: “It feels great to wake up and not be pissed off.”

***There are so many side notes and aftermath to this story that I will cover in next week post. However, I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for the love and caring of my sister Meredith, my mom and dad, as well as a number of friends- two in particular- Heather M. and Mark G. Thank you.

-The chemical smell and taste of a port-o-let will never be forgotten.

-Sometimes I wonder where I would be if I decided to get a burrito.

-I celebrated 6 years of sobriety this week! I am eternally grateful for my family, friends, strangers, and those that I will come to know in the fateful future.

Kitchen Quotes:

-Jamie, my sous chef that left a few months ago has decided to go to school to become a medical assistant then become a nurse. In the interim he is going to work part-time. I asked him how his program was and this was his response: “There are really hot woman in this program. Not like the independent industry-restaurant-ink-type ladies, more like the nurturing or maternal type that want to take care of their man. Plus, the secretaries that work at the school wear those hot business suits and smile.”

Randy:”They had this thing on Fender guitars, and Joe Walsh can really play the guitar.”

Me: “Yeah, but he was in the Eagles.”

Randy: “Only for a few years.”

Me: “Once and Eagle always a fucking Eagle.”

Search Terms (words that directed someone to this blog for whatever reason): “kicked out of college for lsd”

Band Name of the Week: Run Over In a Shitter

Present Pandora Kitchen Selection: Midland

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For others, such as myself, a recovering addict raised with a significant amount of pressure to succeed surrounded by religious guilt and an uneasiness to strive for more, I consistently yearn to challenge myself on an emotional, physical, and professional level.

Enter duck terrine.

The beauty of a terrine is it utilizes the whole animal in a neat little package. Some people grind the whole damn thing and bake it off. I prefer to offer varying textures within each bite which is accomplished by utilizing an assortment of cooking techniques. For this application I deboned the ducks, made stock, braised (confit) the legs, seared the breast, and made a forcemeat (sausage) out of the scrap. Thus, a lengthy process, but the rewarding final product pays homage to my craft.

Butcher 2 Hen Ducks:

1. Use 2 hen ducks or 1 Drake. reserve neck for stock and livers for forcemeat

2. Run knife down both sides of the breast bone and cut down through leg joint.

3. Flip over and run knife along backbone to separate the breast and leg from both sides.

4. Separate the leg from the breast and trim off excess fat.

Cure and Confit Legs:

Cure Mixture:

2 cups kosher salt

1 cup sugar

2 tsp allspice

2 tsp juniper

1 tsp clove

1 T fennel seed

2 tsp crushed red pepper

1 T thyme

1 T oregano

-Grind juniper and fennel seed in coffee grinder and mix with rest of ingredients. You’ll only need 4-5 tablespoons, but use this to cure sides of salmon for lox.

10 cloves garlic minced

3 shallots minced

2 bunches of thyme

-Liberally season the bottom of a pan with 2 tablespoons of the cure mixture and half of the garlic, shallot, and thyme

-Place the duck legs flesh down onto the mixture. Sprinkle remaining garlic, shallot, thyme on top and season with 2 more Tablespoons of cure mixture. Cover with plastic wrap, then another pan and press in fridge overnight.

-Heat up duck fat (buy separately) and submerge legs in fat. Cook, covered for 4 hours at 250 degrees until meat flakes off bone. Discard leg bones and save meat for terrine.

Make Stock, Sear Breasts, Make Farce

1. Toss the duck bones with oil and roast in pan in oven for 1 hour with large dice of 2 carrots, 6 stalks celery, 2 large onions stirring every 15 minutes. Deglaze with 2 cups of red wine, 2 cups white wine. Top with cold water, add 1 T juniper and anise and simmer for 5 hours. Strain and use as stock or reduce down for sauce

2. Cut 2 breast lengthwise, season with cure mixture, and sear over high heat to caramelize. Reserve for terrine

3. Grind scrape meat from duck, 2 duck breasts, and equal amount of pork butt (approx 1 lb each) with 1 clove garlic, 1 shallot, and 1 bunch of thyme. Season with cure mixture and cook off to taste seasoning. adjust accordingly. Reserve for terrine.

4. Thinly slice 20 pieces of bacon off a slab.

Assemble Terrine:

1. Collect all prep work. Line terrine mold with bacon.

2. Place thin layer of farce meat down. Top with seared breast meat and flank with confit legs.

3. Cover with more farce meat. Wrap bacon over to cover and top with tin foil.

Cover and Bake:

1. Lightly weigh down with terrine and place inside a pan with 2″ inch side. Pour 1″  of water into that pan and bake for 40 minutes at 350 degrees.

Rest and Weigh:

1. Remove from oven and take out of water bath. It is important for this to cool at room temperature for 2 hours while weighing so it comes together.

Once it has cooled flip out of terrine and wrap in plastic wrap. This should keep well in fridge for a week. It can be consumed cold with a good mustard and crusty bread or warm with lentils and the duck stock reduction. Or a million other combos.

Notes From the Culinary Addict:

Yogism from James (my teacher): Make posture and self have significance

Recent 12-step Meeting Quote: “I didn’t realize I had a problem until I woke up with a candy cane in my ass.”

Kitchen Quotes:
-Me: “what do you think her intention was?”
Ron: “I’m not positive, but I think it probably involved her ass.”

-Greg: “Chef, you looked pimp fucking daddy last night. Your hot!”

-Me: “Chris how are you feeling after the employee party last night.”

Chris:”Oh, I’m fine. I only had about 14 beers.”

greg

-We had our employee party this week which involved bowling and alcohol. The banquet chef, Heather, is convinced someone slipped something in her drink b/c she only had 3 drinks and completely blacked out. Armed with this information, I convinced her that she was making out with Greg, so she better find a new job b/c Greg is in love. I honestly thought she was going to throw up until I came clean sometime later in which this picture was her response. Note: She has man-fingers

Search Engine Words: (words that lead someone to this blog for whatever reason): drunk cooking

Band Name of Week: Hot Duck Fat

Present Pandora Kitchen selection: Damien Jurado

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Shortly after college I became a daily drinker. My drinking and using matured from social and fun interactions into a vice which subduded my emotional fears and concerns about relationships, life, work, etc…. Once I began working in an industry filled with alcohol and drug use the cycle was complete. All facets of my life revolved around some form of substance.

If I was happy, sad, hungover, high, taking a trip or not taking a trip, a beer, pill, or snort of something boosted my ability to function. For many this is a phase. For me, being predisposed to addiction given the long line of substance abusers on both sides of my family, I came to believe that substances were necessary to deal with life on life’s terms. Eventually, the answer to my problems became the problem in itself, and the fun stopped.  For many years it was the solution which gave me the courage to deal with people, places, and things, on a personal and professional level.

At some point, however, I crossed over and became mentally, physically, and emotionally dependent on substances. I achieved goals throughout my life drunk or high why couldn’t I continue to find success? What happen is the successes became fewer and fewer so I increased the intake earlier and earlier (my motto used to be ‘Never too early, but sometimes too late.’) Thus, the vicious cycle began. In turn my life slowly became unmanageable due to my alcohol and drug use. I made more excuses, I blamed people, I became lazy, apathetic, a poor friend, spouse, son, sibling, and employee. I searched harder by trying various combinations of substance to find the success, fun, and laughter I once found. Unfortunately, the substances stripped any spiritual way of being I once possessed. The lifestyle became too much for my brain and body to handle. The solution-Rehab.

It was a crazy few months until I fully realized my unmanageably, as pointed out by friends and loved ones, but an institution was what I needed to break the cycle. The cycle begins with that first drink. It has taken hard work to stay away from that 1st drink- rehab, 12-steps, sponsors, meetings, yoga, helping others, however, all of that work has meaning. For years I searched for solutions via bottles of booze, pills, and pipes but what I found in those empty vessels was just that- emptiness.

Notes From The Culinary Addict:

Yogism From James (my Teacher):”Let Yoga break the patterns of your past in order to open yourself up to a new challenge.”

Recent 12-step Meeting Quote: “When I was drinking all of my heroes in life were drunks.”

-I first became aware of the vicious cycle with my catering partner and her boyfriend in Seattle. For them it started at 7am with Nicotine-Caffeine-Nicotine-Tylenol-Caffeine-Booze (starting anywhere between 10am)-Nicotine-Lots of Booze-Pot-Booze. Everyday.

-My cycle at the end: Oxycontin-Nicotine-Alcohol-Nicotine-Oxycontin-Coke-Booze , etc…. (Starting right out of bed)

–I mixed so much vodka with passion fruit juice squeeze over the years that the smell makes me gag

Kitchen Quotes:

-Chris “I haven’t been to the dentist in 11 years. I know for a fact that I have 8 cavities, look at the hole in my tooth.”

-Heather: “Speaking of smelling like ass, someone clogged up the toilet in the ladies bathroom.”

-Ron: “Must of been a Mexican. Everyone knows Mexicans take the biggest craps. I know, my ex-wife is Mexican and she clogged the toilet all the time.”

-Kristin, our amazing pastry woman is moving onto greener pastures at Baker and Spice in Hillsdale. A great job for a great lady, she will be missed. If you haven’t been to B&S stop by after you hit the Hillsdale Farmers market.

Fetish/Fantasy #17- I have always had a thing for women with a disability. I find limitations extremely sexy for whatever crazy reason especially a deaf woman that uses her hands more appropriately than most, or a woman with a permanent limp, and don’t get me started on amputees. That’s hot.

Question: What are your fetishes?

Search Engine Terms (Words that lead someone to this blog for whatever reason): “Santa addict”

Band Name of the Week: Mormon Redneck

Present Pandora Selection: Black Fucking Sabbath

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    Occasionally, he would ask a member of the class to be his ‘little sous chef’ which brought out homophobic humor and insecurities amongst the class. A perennial crowd-pleaser was when he demonstrated how to deglaze a pan of seared meat. After browning a number of seasoned beef chunks he stated.

Yogism From Nina (my teacher): “The transition is as important as the depth of the posture.”

Recent 12-step meeting quote: “My marriage isn’t circling the bowl but it is still in the toilet.”

- Chris, “Chef the last day I woke up happy and stress free was when I was 7. The day before my dad remarried. I have no one. I am groundhog day.”

“Chris, “I need a Mexican muzzle for Julian.”

-Julian from Mexico has lived here for 25 years somehow missed an important piece of paperwork to renew his green card for another 10 years. Since he missed the deadline he has to pay $1500 in fees, hire a lawyer, and have an American sponsor him to be reinstated.

-Having moved to New Orleans in 7thgrade I quickly became a fan of the Saints and sat through many arduous seasons. The recent success has me baffled. Having only tasted 2 playoff victories in the last 20 years I came accustom to dealing with mediocrity. An old friend sent me this photo from their first playoff game that I attended with 3 cronies. The Saints jumped out to a quick 3-0 lead then lost 48-10. The best comment I received about this was: “Is that the Flock of Seagulls”. Thats me on the crutches. I have spent approximately 8% of my life on crutches.

Band Name of Week:The Deglazed

Present Pandora Kitchen Selection: Ambulance LTD

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“Chef, you must be excited about Valentine’s Day?” I asked her one day.

“Fat Pat, first off don’t call me chef,” She said with a crust. “Secondly, Valentine’s Day! YOU MEAN FUCKING AMETUER DAY!! Why the HELL would I get excited about the lamest ass capitalistic holiday which caterers to a bunch of losers that need HALLMARK to remind them what love is?”

She went on, “And why the Christ would you ASSUME I’d get excited about a bunch of strip mall corporate diners from the fucking suburbs from places like Martinez and Concord (Bay Area) that invade my restaurant in order to feel part of the food scene probably like you and your family did as a child?”

“Now how the hell would you know that?” I mistakenly asked.

“Because you have a hard time chopping a fucking onion and you go to culinary school.  I can spot them a mile away usually by their hair or cologne. Sometimes they slip by, but once I start getting orders for split house salads and split chicken I’m onto them.”

For the most part The Tuna has been correct. People that normally don’t eat out, eat out. Moreover, many folks from the outlining suburbs descend upon the city to try independent restaurants that were recommended by a friend, the paper, or online. I use to think this was a great opportunity for less educated diners to explore and take some risks. However, it has been my experience that people try to change the food to meet their fearful palettes as opposed to branching out. This causes numerous problems during the heat of service- substitutions, odd vegetable requests (i.e steamed), sauces on side (SOS), special requests (nothing with salt, pepper, or oil), etc… making tickets hard to read. In turn, line cooks get pissed, communication breaks down between stations and the waiters have to hand write crap on tickets all of which leads to a challenging night of service.  Moreover, tables are comprised of two-tops that linger (low sales), people often spilt entrees, many order wine by the glass (some with ice in it), and according to the waiters many are crappy tippers. Thus, the normally whiny waiters become even more bitchy which often leads into numerous stories of past Valentine Day woes. Here are a few highlights of comments made over the years:

Top Ten Amateur Night Comments:

10. “All sauces on side (SOS). For my appetizer, salad, entree, and dessert.”

9. “Can I have the wild mushroom consomme without mushrooms?”

8. “$18 for chicken! I could buy 4 whole chickens for that price!”

7.”Who in their right mind would eat a raw oyster?”

6.”I don’t need that fancy French sauce, just bring ketchup.”

5. “Can you make the bone-in ribeye for two without the bone? I cant eat anything that has a bone because that is just gross.” When the ticket came through the waiter added, “she dont suck cock either ”

4. “What kind of place doesn’t have Ranch dressing?”

3. “What are pomme frites?” Once told, responded, “Oh, you mean FREEDOM FRIES.”

2. “Excuse me, I’m not comfortable being served by that (gay) waiter.”

1. “Can I get that WELL DONE.”

Notes From The Culinary Addict:

Yogism From James (my teacher): “I’m not here to tell you how to breathe, I just want you to breathe differently than you do outside of this room.”

Recent 12-Step Meeting Quote: “It feels great to wake up and not be pissed off.”

-One Valentine night a really wasted dude with his wife approached the line and said, “I don’t know what the hell I just ate but you guys can cook hella better than my woman.”

-One Valentine’s Day, a guy sent a medium steak back 3 times because he thought it was too rare. It was well done before he was happy. Then refused to pay the bill.

-Many waiters I have spoken to are convinced you can tell a lot about a person’s sex life by how they order. A general rule of thumb is the bloodier a woman orders her meat is directly proportional to how much they enjoy giving blow jobs. Thus, a woman that orders a well done steak has very little interest in penis. Moreover, fastidious patrons such as SOS people and those that want to SUB every item are considered high maintenance and would be horrible in bed due to control issues, non-risk takers, and would talk way too much after the deed is done.

-We are tasting all 50 brides (and their entourage) to be in 3 seatings on one day this weekend which means we have to make every appetizer, starch, platter, protein, salad etc…on our banquet menu.

-I am working on a business plan for a Ramen inspired lunch spot- something like Momofuku meets Bunk. I’ll keep you posted.

Search Engine Terms (words that lead someone to this blog for whatever reason): “windowpane LSD sex”

Band Name of Week: The Well Done

Present Kitchen Pandora Selection: “Genre”- Ska Early Reggae

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    I found a stellar 1 bedroom top floor apartment in Potrero Hill with an amazing view of the Mission District up to Twin Peaks. It was a short, but interesting bus ride away to the Tenderloin District that housed The California Culinary Academy (CCA). One unique aspects of the zoning laws in San Francisco is the fact that section 9 housing had to be part of each community. Such an area existed just a shotgun sound away on the back side of Potrero Hill. Many early mornings were filled with such sounds. Meanwhile, my morning bus ride would be a combination of high transvestites that had been up all night returning home to the Tenderloin with a mix of young dot-com professionals as well as welfare dependant single moms with multiple children, and me with my knives.

    The first two weeks of curriculum was safety/sanitation and food chemistry. Safety and sanitation class primarily consisted of us watching paid actors to recreate harmful situations in the work place such as taking a crap, not washing your hands then chopping lettuce on a raw chicken cutting board. The most pertinent and repetitive information for us to digest, however, was The Danger Zone (40-140 degrees). It is pretty simple really. If food sits between 40-140 degrees for more than 4 hours then very bad things can happen usually involving vomit, ass squirts, and in some instances death. Due to some mentally challenged people in the culinary world, however, the CCA deemed it necessary to reiterate this point through various tests, videos, and in some instances role playing for 8 hours a day for 5 days.

Notes From the Culinary Addict:

Yogism from Nina (my teacher): “The posture never ends”

Recent 12-step Meeting Quote: “I went from an emotionally immature 25 year old to a reasonably mature 44 year old in my first year of sobriety.”

-Krisitn flipped a cigarette butt out of the window on the way home in front of a local sheriff. He said, “I should take you in so you can spend the night in jail.” After the tears flowed he was kind enough to let her off with a $500 ticket. Don’t FUCK with Oregon!

-I recently asked Chris if he wanted some spicy sesame noodles I was making. His response, “Mild to me is spicy with asian food so I generally stay away from anything written in Chinese.”

Julian Legal Update: Due to all of his recent legal woes immigration has gotten involved even though he has a green card and has lived here for 25 years. Since he claimed 6 dependents on his W-2 the IRS/Immigration say he is a liability for possibly having to go on welfare even though he has never claimed any state or federal assistance in 25 years. He must find a sponsor that will show last 3 years of taxes in order for him not to be deported.

Band Name of The Week:  Splayed

Search Engine Terms(words that lead someone to this blog for whatever reason): “consequences of being caught with lsd”

Present Kitchen Pandora Selection: Diamond Nights

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The pork loin rib roast is a cut from the center rib area of loin. It contains loin eye muscle and rib bones, and is best prepared by brining, stuffing with caramelized fennel and apple, then roasted. There are 13 ribs to the loin which provides 13 nice thick chops. In terms of stuffing, bread stuffing compete with the pork. Thus, I choose ingredients that meld with the flavor profile of the protein and act as a seasoning agent rather than another component. In the fall and winter I use fennel, apple, bacon, and pear where as in spring and summer I use rhubarb, bacon, and poblano peppers.

In terms of cooking, I brine the whole rack for 24 hours (essential brine recipe), caramelize fennel and apple, fan out loin, stuff, truss, and start cooking at 450 degrees for 10 minutes to get nice sear on meat. Turn oven down to 300 degrees and roast for 1 hour and  fifteen minutes and check temperature.  Pull roast at 145 degrees and let rest for 30 minutes loosely wrapped with tin foil. It is critical that the meat rest on the bone for the juices to reabsorb into the protein. Cross-cut chops and serve.

Brine Loins

-Make a batch of brine (recipe) and completely submerge for 24 hours. Remove and pat dry

Caramelize Fennel and Apple

-In a heavy bottom pan, Place 1/4 cup oil and 2 Tablespoons of butter over medium high heat

-Toss 3 julienned apples and 3 julienne bulbs of fennel in pan. Don’t touch for 10 minutes. Liquid should release a bit then begin to brow.

-Occasionally stir over next 50 minutes. Add a touch of water or stock if begins to brown too much. Season with salt, pepper, and a touch of brown sugar last 5 minutes of cooking. Remove from pan and rough chop or pulse in food processor.

Butcher Pork Loin

-Cut down along rib bones angling knife into the bones. Then cut all the way into the loin stopping just short of cutting through.

-Flip meat over and repeat cutting into the flesh flipping out again in order to open up completely

Season and Stuff

-I season the splayed pork with salt, pepper, fresh thyme, rosemary, sage.

-Cover the pork with 1/4 inch layer of the caramelized fennel and apple

Rolls, Truss, Caul Fat, Roast

-Roll the pork towards the bone. With butcher’s twine tie a knot one rib from the top. Continue to truss between every other rib until complete. Season with herbs on outside. Wrap in caul fat if you have it. *If you have a smoker I suggest cold smoking for 1 hour.

-Roast in 450 degree oven for  15 minutes, then turn down 300 degrees until reaches 145 degrees. REST for 30 minutes before cutting 

 Notes From The Culinary Addict:

Yogism From Dina (my teacher): “Transition with intention.”

Recent 12-Step Quote: “I’m overpaid in this program.”

-If you bang this pork roast out for your next major function you will become a family legend

-Make sure to eat the rib bone because it is a baby back rib.

-We had a managers CPR training this week. There is always a bit of unease with some people when grown adults are working on full size mannequins together.

Quotes:

-Eric: “What’s up sinners”

-Me: “Your envisioning what she would look like in a wet suit aren’t you?”

-Ron: “If you get a vasectomy make sure to clean your balls. I went in there and the shaved my sac with one of those cheap as BIC razors with very little lube. It wasn’t pretty.”

Me: “Do you think having one ball had anything to do with it?”

-Greg: “Don’t mess with the Executive Dishwasher or I’ll kick your sissy ASS! You DICK!”

Band Name of The Week:  Nipple Line

Present Pandora Selection: Pond

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Towards the end of my drinking and using the only expectation I had was to get high and not get caught by those close to me or fired from my job. I did what I wanted to do and if you didn’t like the results then that was your problem not mine. Shellfish, but that was the consequence of my abuse.

Today my life and vocabulary are filled with recovery-based words I once thought were gay- expectations, surrender, acceptance, yoga, and a plethora of feeling words. Expectations are spoke of often in 12-step meetings, and considered a key to healthy sobriety. Specifically, lowering my expectations. A challenging proposition for a controlling chef/addict.

I have heard it said more than once, “My serenity is directly related to lowering my expectations on people, places, and things.” The point being if I put a great amount of energy into anticipating a specific result from a person, place, or thing, chances are they won’t meet my expections because the results are significantly different than my original vision. Thus, the majority of my 12-step and yoga practices focus on attempting to be in the moment and not forming an opinion on a particular person, place, or thing because I don’t have control over the results. This is a prime example why recovery from drugs and alcohol is a life-long PROCESS. Moreover, this is why my sobriety is abstinent of all drugs and alcohol one day at a time for the remainder of my life. Once I take ONE drink or drug then I fall directly back into my self-absorbed way of being. As an addict I wanted to control everything in my life which is a large reason why I drank and used. Once I got sober the need to control was still there, however, I didn’t have any vices to deal.

This is where the 12-steps and yoga come in. The 12-steps offer a solution or road map to navigate through life through action to rid me from me in order to live a more spiritual life. In essence, rid myself from my ego. Likewise, yoga is the process of discovering my inner self via a physical asana practice which builds a greater sense of humility. Both processes point out that I only have control over myself.

This gets very sticky around relationships and in the kitchen. The biggest thing I have learned about relationships was summed up by my sponsor, “Dude, if someone wants your fucking opinion they will ask. And it has been my experience that few will.” This is, and has been, hard for me. As a chef, however, I have clear cut expectations on how to make a proper stock, a parsnip gratin, or how that final plate of food should look in the window. Letting go of my expectations and waiting for the results of others feels as though I am comprising my standards. I am told by my sponsor to look for my part of any situation that causes me to get angry because that anger stems from an insecurity or a fear within. For example, if I snap at a chef because a banquet isn’t set up properly then I need to see if I communicated the set requirements properly or if I missed something on a prep list. 9 out of 10 times the problem lies within me not them. 

I recently had a realization about my profession that explains why many chef’s such as myself drank and used in excess or are just flat out crazy- we search for perfection in an imperfect world. Accepting imperfections within myself and others in conjunction with focusing on strengths rather than shortcomings has been a powerful gift of recovery. Sobriety and yoga has taught me to embrace the imperfections not fight them. Except when the next chef burns yet another pan of fucking croutons.

Notes From the Culinary Addict:

Yogism from James (my teacher):“There is a commonality that exists in all of us. We find ourselves via the practice of yoga which means it is in all of us.”

Recent 12-Step Meeting Quote: “In my mind the train had left the station but the circus was still in town.”

-Too busy for Kitchen Update and Quotes! Go Saints!

Band Name of the Week: Newborn Haze

Search Engine Terms (words that lead someone to this blog for whatever reason) : “Two Snapple Bottles”

Present Kitchen Pandora Selection:Whiskeytown

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