Bacon Faro

I debated with myself whether or not I should add the word “risotto” to the end of this recipe’s name. Though the end result is undeniably risotto-like, the method is not strictly a risotto method, and so, I don’t think it quite deserves the title. But what’s in a name, right? This is a delicious recipe I created that would work equally well as a side or a main course. I was inspired by the bacon-infused faro I sampled off a friend’s plate at Anchovies & Olives recently, as well as the quarter pound of bacon that I needed to finish up. It was all in all one of those look through the refrigerator, find a bunch of stuff that needed to be consumed, and throw it in there-type situations. So, I’d encourage you to get creative and do the same if you find a number of half-finished items in your fridge, like the cup of chicken stock, one half of an onion, and almost empty bottle of wine I found in mine.

 I started by chopping up the bacon and rendering the fat over low heat until it crisped up. You could keep all that beautiful, bubbly, golden fat in the pan, but I chose to pour some of it off, because a quarter pound of bacon does render a quite a bit of fat. Next, I added half a diced onion, and let that sweat for a bit. Then, some garlic and red pepper flakes.

At this point, I added the faro, and stirred it to get each grain covered with fat and distributed evenly throughout the rest of the ingredients. Then, in went about a half cup of wine, which I stirred until it had almost completely reduced and been absorbed. Up until this point, my technique was very much a risotto technique: sweat some primary ingredients, stir in the grain and get it coated in fat, and then add a small amount of liquid. Here, though, is where I departed from a risotto method. I did not painstakingly stir in a little liquid at a time, waiting for it to be absorbed, before adding more, and standing over the pot the whole time, ensuring that each grain was cooked evenly. Nope, I decided to keep things simple, and I threw in the rest of the liquid (I used a combination of chicken stock and water), brought it up to a simmer, covered the pot, and let it cook away.

To finish the dish, I went back to my risotto roots again. Once the faro had been cooked through, I stirred in some butter and parmesan, giving the dish just a touch more richness to complete it. Also, it’s worth noting, I used a little bit more liquid than I needed to cook the faro through, so that there was still some liquid left that had become thick with starch and rich from absorbing all the wonderful flavours in the pot.

What I was left with was a very risotto-like faro dish tasting of bacon, and a hint of garlic and spice. I made it as a side-dish, but it would be more than substantial enough as the main component of your dinner. I ate it with a feeling that I had made a great discovery, some well-hidden secret that Italian chefs don’t want you to know: you can make something that looks, tastes, and acts a lot like risotto with about half the effort. Who knew?

Bacon Faro
Serves 4 as a side dish, or 2 as a main course

¼ lb. bacon, chopped
½ medium onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
½ tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
1 cup faro
½ cup dry white wine
2 ½ cups chicken stock (or a combination of stock and water, or just water)
1 tbsp. butter
½ cup finely grated parmesan
Salt and pepper, to taste

Heat a wide, heavy-bottomed saucepan, over medium-low heat. Add the bacon and cook it, stirring it occasionally, until the fat has been rendered and the bacon is very crispy. Pour excess fat from the pan until about 2 tablespoons remain. Increase the burner to medium, and add the onion; sweat it until it is soft and translucent. Stir in the garlic and red pepper flakes and cook for one minute.

Increase the heat slightly, and then stir in the wine. Let the wine simmer away until it has reduced and has been almost fully absorbed, stirring constantly. Stir in the stock, water, or stock and water combination. Bring the liquid to a simmer, cover the pot with a tight-fitting lid, and reduce heat to low. Cook until the faro has been completely cooked through, about 45 to 50 minutes.

When faro has been cooked to the desired tenderness, turn off the heat, and stir in the butter and parmesan. Season to taste with salt and pepper, and serve immediately.

My Favourite Salmon Recipe

After several consecutive days of sunshine and relative warmth, Saturday was cool, cloudy, and occasionally drizzly here in the Seattle area. Despite this turn for the worst in the weather, I had a lovely day. Andrew and I spent the morning wandering around the Redmond Farmer’s Market and buying ingredients for a decidedly summery dinner, and then we got tamales and ate them while watching the market’s live entertainment. During the afternoon, a friend and I scoped out a couple of wineries and distilleries that were having release parties, and I got a bottle of Soft Tail’s crisp, clean vodka. Then, it was home again to rebel against the weather and put together that summer-invoking meal. I made something I have made many times before, but, incredibly have never blogged about here.

Since moving to the Pacific Northwest, Andrew and I have been consuming a fair amount of the wonderful wild salmon that is so plentiful around here, and I have come up with my absolute favourite way of preparing it. The dish consists of three complex (not really) layers of multi-textured goodness that all work together in perfect harmony (yes, really). Layer one: the spice rub.

The rub I make that differs slightly each time, depending on my mood and what I have on hand, but always with the same general flavour profile. If I had to name it, I would call it a chilli-chipotle rub. I use quite a bit of regular chilli powder, chipotle chilli powder, and paprika (often smoked), along with some garlic powder, cumin, salt, and a little cayenne. I rub most of it on the salmon and let that sink in for about ten minutes.

The next layer is really just an extension of the first, a way of taking those same flavours from the spice rub and transforming them into something creamy and cool. Allow me to introduce layer two: chilli-chipotle crema.

Layer two is so simple, it’s almost embarrassing. Or maybe it’s beautiful in its simplicity. Either way, it opens the door to a whole array of possibilities for the use of plain old sour cream. All I do here is mix the remainder of the spice rub with some sour cream, and add a few drops of lemon juice for a bit of brightness. Lime juice would work as well. I’m tempted to puree some avocado in with it too—I’m sure it would be outstanding. But before I get too distracted with the multitude of crema possibilities, I had better move on to layer three: caramelized onions.

So actually, I lied; step three is usually not caramelized onions. In the past, I have always made crisp-fried shallots, and they have always been a magnificently successful layer three for this salmon. This time, though, I guess I was feeling adventurous and I decided to throw caution to the wind and try something different. I bought some sweet Walla Walla onions at the market that morning, so I sliced them up and caramelized them. I did not regret the deviation from my usual routine: the caramelized onions were savoury-sweet, a perfect finishing touch to a favourite meal. The shallots are good too, though, so I’ll give instructions for both options below.

To cook the salmon, I pan-sear it and finish it in the oven. This is my favourite way to cook a piece of fish: it gets a lovely caramelized layer of crispness on the outside, while remaining soft, moist, and flavourful on the interior.

I usually serve this with some kind of rice (this time, brown), and a vegetable side. In this case, I took full advantage of the start of asparagus season by roasting some with olive oil, salt, pepper, and herbs.

I have given this recipe out to several people, and they have all come back with stories of success, both on the cooking and the eating fronts. It’s a recipe I know I will come back to again many times, because it always makes for a good ending to any day.

Chilli-Chipotle Rubbed Salmon with Crema
Serves 4

1 lb. onions, preferably sweet OR 2 shallots

If caramelizing onions:
1 tbsp. butter
2 tbsp. olive oil
1 tsp. salt
Pinch sugar

If frying shallots:
1 tbsp. flour
Vegetable oil for frying
1 tsp. salt

1 tbsp. chilli powder
1 tbsp. chipotle chilli powder
2 tsp. smoked paprika
1 tsp. garlic powder
1 tsp. ground cumin
2 tsp. salt
¼ tsp. cayenne pepper
2 lb. salmon fillet, skinned, and pin bones removed
½ cup sour cream
1 tsp. lemon juice

If caramelizing onions: thinly slice the onions. Heat a sauté pan over medium-low heat. Add the butter and olive oil. Once the butter has melted, add the onion, and toss. Cook slowly over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally. After about fifteen minutes, stir in the salt and sugar. Continue cooking until the onions have turned a deep golden colour, about 25-30 minutes total. Set aside.

If frying shallots: in a small, heavy-bottomed saucepan, heat ½” vegetable oil over medium heat until it shimmers. Meanwhile, thinly slice the shallots and toss with the flour. When the oil is hot enough, add the shallots in in batches, being careful not to overcrowd the pan. They will crisp up in about a minute. When they do, remove them with a slotted spoon to a paper towel, and sprinkle with salt. Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 350 F. Prepare the spice rub by combining the chilli powders, paprika, garlic powder, cumin, salt, and cayenne. Gently rub about two-thirds of the mixture onto the nicest-looking side of the salmon. Let it sit at room temperature for about ten minutes. Meanwhile, combine the remainder of the spice rub with the sour cream and lemon juice. Taste the crema and adjust seasoning as necessary.

Heat a large, heavy, oven-safe skillet (preferably cast-iron) over medium-high heat. Add 1 tbsp. olive oil. Slice the salmon into four even portions. When the oil is shimmering, place each of the salmon fillets in the skillet, spice-rubbed side down, being gentle with the delicate fish. It should sizzle as it hits the skillet. Do not move the fish once it is in. After about twenty seconds, reduce the heat to medium.

Continue cooking on the stovetop for about four minutes, until about ¼” of the salmon has gone opaque, looking at a fillet from the side. Place the skillet in the oven, and cook for about four more minutes. Remove from the oven and check for doneness. If you are not used to cooking fish, use a thermometer: it is recommended that fish be cook to 145 F. We like our fish a little less done than that, and probably go a few degrees lower, but do so at your own risk, and only with fish you know is fresh. Once you are more accustomed to cooking fish, you won’t need the thermometer and will be able to check for doneness by sight and feel.

Serve the salmon topped with a couple tablespoons of the crema, and some of the onions or shallots.

On a Whim: Spaghetti al Limone

I tend to be a planner, and this applies very much to my cooking habits. Most of the time, I take time out of my weekend to plan out meals for the week ahead. I try to incorporate variety into the seven meals, use up ingredients I have around, and keep things exciting and mouth-watering. By doing this instead of winging it and coming up with dinner on the day I eat it, I save money by not buying a lot of ingredients that will go bad before they are used up, I eat healthier by having a plan, and I save time by not having to figure out what to cook every day. Sometimes, though, I get a whim that I just can’t ignore. When I get a craving—or, we could call it an inspiration—like this, I’ll often give in to it. I never regret it when I do.

This happened to me recently. I was reading another blogger’s post and she mentioned the spaghetti al limone she had recently, and suddenly, dinner had been decided. The rich, yet, somehow, almost refreshing taste of this pasta dish was what I wanted. Fortunately, like many Italian masterpieces, the recipe is incredibly simple, and I already had all of the ingredients on hand. I say, it was a sign.

A lemon, some parmesan, white wine, heavy cream, butter, spaghetti pasta, salt, and pepper are all that’s required. A note on parmesan: good food deserves good parmesan, so don’t skimp out and buy any of the pre-grated stuff, or—heaven forbid—that white powder that Kraft likes to call parmesan. Is this the good stuff pricey? Yup, it sure is, but it’s totally worth it. Keep in mind that you only use a little at a time and it keeps really well, so you won’t have to buy it often. Or, you can do what I do, and buy the ends. A lot of grocery stores will do this: they will sell the ends of the parmesan wheels and other odd little pieces in bags for about half the price they sell the big chunks for. The quality is the same; you’re just not getting one solid, perfect piece.

I used this recipe from the New York Times as a guideline, but made some modifications. A few things in the recipe’s directions don’t really make sense, so I think I’ve written a clearer recipe here. Like I said, though, it’s pretty straight-forward. To start, reduce wine and with lemon zest and some juice until the flavour is concentrated and the consistency is syrupy. Then, incorporate the cream into the reduction.

Meanwhile, cook the pasta in salted water. When it is finished, do not drain it! Use a pasta lifter to lift the cooked spaghetti right out of the water and into the pan containing the cream sauce. With a toss and maybe a little extra pasta water, you’re almost done. Finish it off with some butter and plenty of parmesan.

Finally, plate it simply in a shallow bowl and top with a little more parm and a few grinds of fresh black pepper. In about half an hour, dinner is served, and inspiration is realized.

Sometimes, plans are good. They keep life organized, and they keep you on the right track. But you can’t always follow the plan, and that’s a good thing too.

Spaghetti al Limone
Adapted from The New York Times, January 31, 2007
Serves 4

1 lemon
1 ½ cups dry white wine
1 cup heavy cream
1 lb. spaghetti
3 tbsp. butter, cut into pieces
4 oz. freshly grated parmesan cheese
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Zest the lemon into a large skillet. Juice the lemon, add about a tablespoon to the skillet and reserve the rest. Add the wine to the skillet. Bring to a boil, and then reduce to a simmer. Let the liquid reduce by about three-quarters, until it has a thicker, more syrupy consistency. Keep a close eye on it—you don’t want it to over-reduce, and this will happen quickly.

Once the desired consistency is reached, remove the skillet from the heat and gradually stir in the cream. Put it back on the heat and allow it to come to a simmer again and reduce by about a quarter. Stir in the rest of the lemon juice. Season with about a quarter teaspoon of sea salt, and a quick grind of black pepper.

Meanwhile, cook the spaghetti in a large pot of salted water until it is al dente. When it is cooked, turn off the heat and do not drain it. Use a pasta lifter to lift the spaghetti right out of the water and into the skillet containing the sauce. Set the skillet over low heat and toss to coat the pasta with the sauce. If the combination is looking dry, add a little bit of pasta water. Drop the butter in and sprinkle with most of the parmesan, reserving a little for garnish. Toss again and add pasta water if necessary. Taste and season with salt, as needed. Plate in shallow bowls and finish with a dusting of parmesan, and a sprinkle of freshly ground black pepper.

A Little Unusual: Ramen with Tuna

Sometimes, a recipe looks so unique, I feel absolutely compelled to try it. An unexpected combination of ingredients just has a way of drawing me in. I love it when this happens, when I am surprised by an idea I never would have thought of before. This was the case with a dish described in this May’s Bon Appétit. The recipe was not so much a recipe as a few lines describing how to throw together this quick meal in a brief feature on different uses for canned tuna. This one was tuna with ramen.

So here’s the general idea: store-bought kimchi-flavoured ramen is combined with tuna, vegetables, herbs, and egg to make a more complete meal. I have a soft-spot for instant ramen, but I don’t allow myself to have it often because of the multitude of sins it commits against a healthy, natural diet of whole foods. One glance at the ingredients list will tell you how heavily processed this stuff is, and skimming the nutritional facts will quickly indicate that having this every day would not be wise. Still, a bowl of those salty, slurpy, scrumptious noodles every once in a while is fine by me, and the idea in Bon Appétit seemed like an improvement on having the soup as-is.

This is not the first time I’ve heard of adding other ingredients to store-bought ramen , but it was certainly the first time I had heard of adding tuna. I started by warming sesame oil in a pot with a dash of red pepper flakes.

Next, BA suggests adding some diced vegetables: carrot, pepper, onion, broccoli, and garlic would all be good. I was feeling lazy, though, and decided to omit the extra veggies. Instead, I added the tuna. I used half of a five-ounce can for my one bowl of ramen. Then, I stirred in the flavour packet from the ramen. Actually, I stirred in about three-quarters of the flavour packet—I never find it necessary to use the whole thing.

When the tuna had warmed up, I added vegetable stock and the ramen noodles, and brought it to a boil. Then, I threw in some herbs (basil and cilantro, but feel free to use whatever you have on hand), and cracked an egg into the hot liquid. My thought here was that I would poach the egg, as the BA recipe suggests, but I’m not sure if this is the best method. It takes a while for the egg to cook through this way, and by the time it’s done, the noodles start getting mushy and over-cooked. I would suggest beating the egg a bit first, then adding it in so that you get more of an egg ribbon effect.

So the final results? It was good, but way too salty. I really have to talk about the salt here, because it was a major issue for me. These instant ramen soups are always high-sodium (this one boasts 1021 mg of sodium for HALF the bowl!!!), but I found that this one tasted even saltier than usual, and I didn’t even use the entire flavour packet. I used tuna with no salt added and a low-sodium store-bought stock. My suggestion to reduce the sodium even more: use only half the flavour packet, and use either salt-free homemade stock or just plain water.

What I loved about trying this recipe out, was that it made me want to try out other combinations with ramen. What about a broccoli stir-fry with shrimp ramen? Or chicken ramen with vegetables and bacon added? I figure, if instant ramen is something I’ll only allow myself every once in a while, I might as well make the most of it.

Cooking My Way to a Better Day

It had been one of those days. There was no one to blame but myself, really. I was in a bad mood, and I had allowed it to affect everything I did. Each small annoyance dragged me down, and by the time I got home from work, I was fed up. Have I mentioned that I started a new job recently? I’m a barista at a coffee shop in Redmond. It’s a great place: we roast all of our coffee ourselves, and the café has a unique, rustic atmosphere. For the most part, I like the job, but this had just not been a good day for me. So, of course, I needed to cook.

I wanted something that would cook slowly, preferably in a large pot, and would require the building of layers of flavours, filling my apartment and my nostrils with calming, enticing aromas. The gumbo in this May’s Food & Wine magazine seemed like just the ticket. The recipe comes from Andrew Zimmern of the TV show Bizarre Foods, and had a lot of components that appealed to me. Not only did this gumbo contain oysters, crab, and andouille sausage, but the broth was built with chicken stock, clam juice, and Worcestershire sauce, all of which sounded absolutely delicious. Also, and on this day, probably most importantly, it would require me to make a dark roux. This was exactly the kind of slow, meditative cooking that my mood demanded.

If you have never cooked Cajun food before, you may have never made a dark roux. It is a long, painstaking, and often frustrating process. Do not try to do this in a hurry: it will take as long as it needs to take. Like any other roux, it starts with the combination of equal parts fat (in this case, vegetable oil) and flour. This combination is heated and darkened gently as you stir it constantly or at least once every 15 seconds or so. But don’t let it burn! If black spots start appearing in your roux, you have burned it, and you must start over.

So how long does it take? Well, here is where Mr. Zimmern and I seem to disagree. You are looking for a deep, dark brown color in your roux. His recipe says that this will take 15 minutes. For me, it took 50 minutes, and this is how long it normally takes me. Other recipes I have read suggest the same. Roux can also be made in a 350 F oven, allowing you to go about your business while it cooks, but to me, this just seems like cheating. I like the process of standing over the pot and stirring, and on this day, I needed it.

So as I lovingly made my roux, coddling it into rich, dark submission, I took the time to think, to relax, and to meditate. As the toasty and slightly sweet scent of the roux developed and began to embrace me, I thought about my day, and how I could have made it better for myself. I thought about how much I have to be grateful for, and how many reasons I have to not waste a moment of precious time with negativity. I thought about how something so simple, like making this gumbo, could bring me so much pleasure, and how this was yet another thing to be thankful for. I looked forward to when Andrew would get home and we would enjoy it together. I could vent to him about my day, and let the problems that had seemed so troublesome at the time, shrink into nothingness, quickly forgotten.

Once the roux is made, the rest of the process mainly involves combining the remaining ingredients and letting it all simmer for an hour or so. The oysters and crab are added at the last minute so they don’t become tough and overcooked.

After making the gumbo, I had a better evening, and then a better day after that. Yesterday was fantastic: the weather here in Seattle was stunning. I went out to Georgetown where Heidi Swanson of 101 Cookbooks was doing a book signing. I cannot wait to sink my teeth into her new cookbook, Super Natural Every Day. After that, I wandered around Pike Place Market in the sunshine, had one of the best cappuccinos I’ve ever had at Local Color Café, then met up with Andrew and some friends for dinner at Serious Pie.

It’s easy to let a bad day get the best of you, but with a little effort, it isn’t too hard to have a good day either. And sometimes, all it takes to change a bad mood is time spent cooking.

Andouille, Crab, and Oyster Gumbo
Adapted from Andrew Zimmern in May 2011 Food & Wine
Serves 8

½ cup flour
½ cup vegetable oil
1 lb. andouille sausage, sliced ¼-inch thick
3 large celery ribs, cut into ½-inch dice
1 onion, cut into ½-inch dice
1 red or green bell pepper, cut into ½-inch dice
1 habanero chilli, minced and most seeds discarded
3 garlic cloves, minced
½ lb. okra, sliced ¼-inch thick (I am not a fan of okra, so I omitted it and replaced it with extra bell pepper, which worked out great)
2 tsp. dried thyme
1 bay leaf
3 tbsp. filé powder (find it in the spice section)
5 cups chicken stock
3 cups bottled clam juice
3 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
3 large tomatoes, finely chopped
1 lb. lump crabmeat, picked over
2 dozen shucked oysters in their liquor
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

In a large, heavy-bottomed pot, stir together the oil and flour until smooth. Cook over low-to-medium heat, stirring constantly or at least every 15 seconds, until the roux has turned a dark, chocolaty-brown colour, about 50 minutes. Alternatively, place the flour and oil combination in a 350 F oven for an hour or so, checking often, until it has reached the desired color. Add the sausage, celery, onion, bell pepper, habanero, garlic, okra (if using), thyme, bay leaf, and half of the filé powder. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the onion is translucent. Stir in the stock, clam juice, Worcestershire, and tomatoes, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and simmer, stirring occasionally.

Stir in the remaining filé powder and add the crab, oysters, and their liquor. Simmer gently for a minute or so, until the oysters have just cooked. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve over rice, or with bread.

So there's this salad ...

So there’s this salad. It’s a simple salad, but it tastes like a stroke of genius. I’m a little obsessed with it. It’s the perfect combination of crispy and crunchy, salty and sweet, acid and fat, with just a touch of bitter.

As with most recipes, there is more than one way to make it. The original idea came from the Montreal restaurant, Macaroni Bar. I’ve never been there, but two of my husband’s aunts (my aunts-in-law?) have, and after eating this salad there, they made sure they got the recipe. I have to say, I am very glad they did, because I think my life would be just that much darker without it. Yes, it’s really that good. Have I mentioned how lucky I think I am to have family members who love to cook as much as I do? The original has a base of arugula and pears, but I like to do it with arugula and cherry tomatoes as well.

This salad, as with most salads, really is all about the dressing. It’s about the right ingredients, the best quality ingredients, and the perfect proportions of each. So, remember these three—yes, only three—ingredients: white balsamic vinegar, extra-virgin olive oil, and honey.

Of course, there is salt and pepper as well, and parmesan. You can’t leave out the parmesan. It’s all about the parmesan … OK, it’s all about the dressing and the parmesan.

To make the dressing, combine two parts olive oil to one part balsamic, and a teaspoon or a little less of honey. Whisk, taste, adjust, and season with salt and pepper. You know the drill.

After tossing everything together, season with some more salt and pepper. It’s best to use coarse salt, like kosher or sea salt, because getting a bit of salty crunch in there just puts this salad over the edge. If you have a fancy salt that you never know what to do with, here would be a great place to feature it.

Finally, serve it alongside a delicious meal. Or, have it as its own meal. Trust me, a bite or two of this, and you won’t want to eat anything else.

Arugula Salad
Adapted from Macaroni Bar, Montreal
Makes about 4 side salads

1 tbsp. white balsamic vinegar
½-1 tsp. honey
2 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper
3 oz. arugula (preferably baby arugula)
1 Bosc pear, thinly sliced OR 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
½ cup (or more) freshly grated parmesan

Combine the white balsamic and the honey. Whisk in the olive oil, taste, and season with salt and pepper. If necessary, add more vinegar, honey, or olive oil, as needed.

Toss together the arugula and pear or tomatoes. Toss in the vinaigrette and parmesan. Sprinkle on some additional salt and pepper. Serve immediately.

A Competition, an Internship, and a Graduation

I’ve left you sitting on the edges of your seats, I know. Tales of my pre-competition preparations and jitters were a promise to reveal what became of it all, a promise that you might think I have broken. I haven’t, though: I have lots to tell. The past two months have been eventful for me.

First, the competition: great success, or embarrassing failure? Neither, really. I would describe the experience as a great personal success, although I did not place in the competition. To be honest, I was just happy I finished. Those three hours of cooking were more challenging than I had imagined, mainly because of what the mystery boxes contained. As you know, I practiced for this competition, but I wasn’t prepared for this:

-A live Dungeness crab
-A whole, bone-in lamb shoulder
-Two quail
-1 lb. sweetbreads
-A fennel bulb
-1 lb. Yukon gold potatoes

As you can see, there is no chicken on that list. You also might notice that there are not four or five ingredients: there are six … and four of them are proteins. Keep in mind that we were only to make three courses using these ingredients, and one of those courses was dessert. They’re not simple proteins, either. Two of them, some would argue, take more than three hours of cooking to prepare properly (the lamb shoulder and the sweetbreads), but I suppose that was just part of the challenge. I had never worked with sweetbreads before, and only had a vague idea of how to prepare them. It turned out, I wasn’t the only one—the competitor who came in first was the only one who really knew what to do with them. The black box was full of curve balls, to say the least, but we each made the most of it. I made a composed salad of crab, quail, and tomato for my appetizer, seared lamb au jus, with fennel and Yukon gold purée and braised sweetbreads for my main, and individual berry tarts with a berry reduction for dessert.

Curve balls or no, I am glad that I competed. I am proud of myself for finishing, and for having three complete courses to present on time at the end of the three hours. If I had to do the competition again, I would do some things differently, but that was the point of taking the plunge and doing this: to learn. I learned about time-management, sweetbreads and butchering lamb shoulder. I also learned more about what judges are looking for in culinary competitions, and what is important to them, and what is not.

In other news, I completed my culinary school internship. I was lucky enough to get to work at one of my favorite restaurants in Seattle, Chef Holly Smith’s Café Juanita. The restaurant features Northern Italian cuisine and uses almost entirely local, organic, and seasonal product. Interning there was my first venture into being in a fine dining restaurant’s kitchen, and it was an eye-opening experience. Holly is obsessively committed to quality; each item that leaves her kitchen must meet her high standards. Thanks to this, she has an excellent, award-winning, nationally recognized restaurant.

As an intern, I was on the bottom of the totem pole. I worked four days a week, ten or more hours a day, doing basic prep: stemming thyme, dicing turnips, cleaning greens, shelling crab, and so on. I got to do a few more interesting things, like making some of the basic sauces and curing guanciale and pancetta, but the highlight of the stage was from observing and talking to people. I learned a lot just from watching the line during service, asking questions, and trying to soak in as much information as possible. I was only there for about a month, but it was a month I won’t soon forget.

And, oh, yeah, I finished culinary school. I am now finally, officially, a culinary school graduate, ready to venture out into the big, scary world. Yay! It’s a good feeling to be done. What I will do next is still up for debate, but I hope good things are to come. The future looks delicious.