Monday 23 November 2009

Day 64: Fries with that?

As if I weren’t dazed enough from the weekend’s thinking, I had to endure an inexplicable hour of alertness between about 4 and 5am this morning, so when I do eventually rise I am almost deliriously tired. Week ten. Almost impossible to believe, but that’s what I wake up to. And just to put the passage of time into perspective, I’m back in Kitchen One, where it all began nine long weeks ago.

Burgers. Spread thinly and revoltingly around the globe by The Scottish Restaurant, but also the plaything of many a three star chef. Burgers with foie gras and truffles cosy up with tournedos and filet mignons on the world’s most expensive menus. Today it is my turn. Except I am making Beef Burgers with Pesto and Caramelised Onions so I don’t think Daniel Boulud need sign up to jobs.com just yet.

My order of work looks thinner than a flame-grilled Whopper today. I squeeze in an extra half recipe of burger buns that are made using yoghurt, of all things. This should help balance out my morning, since the burgers and chips will all cook late. The dough is extremely wet and won’t come together in a mixer, so I have to hand knead it and try and work more flour in. It has a lovely soft, light consistency, so I won’t complain, but it is a bit of a pain in the ass to handle.

It goes in the proving oven and I get my meat. When making burgers it is essential that you use freshly ground beef, and that the beef be from a good source. You can’t make good burgers with shit mince. End of story. The recipe we use here is simple; softened, cooled onions, thyme, parsley and minced beef. That's it - no binding or rusk. But we do, if one wishes, have caul fat in which to wrap them. Caul fat protects the intestines of pigs. It is a quite beautiful, lacy substance - one of those curious wonders of nature. It is not to everyone’s liking, so I only wrap half of my burgers in it. I like it myself, but wouldn’t be in the mood for it all the time.

I make pesto, but with rocket instead of basil as there is a shortage. Doesn’t work for me. Burgers are made and chilling in the fridge, baps are rising, onions are caramelising on the hob, I cut some chips and rinse and dry them, and I am set. The buns take ages to prove and I won’t have them ready by midday. Luckily someone else got a batch started before me, so I nab one to plate up. We are all trying to finish on time now, since we only get three hours in the exam and we might as well get in the habit.

There was an eerie silence at times in the kitchen today whilst all this was going on. It was the sound of people who knew what they were doing and going quietly, confidently about it. It was quite something to witness, and seemed to almost materialise overnight. I have to clean up one of the sinks, so keep my beady eyes open for anyone dumping their crap in there. They don’t. They come and go and wash and dry, and everyone is happy and gets it done. I hesitate to use the word, because it might seem presumptive, or even pre-emptive, but the whole morning had an air of professionalism about it. That’s what nine weeks will do for you I guess.

I have spent the last two hours sat in the middle of my lounge surrounded by sheets and sheets of paper, slowly, methodically organising my recipes. There are two reasons: mainly, because I have to, secondarily, because I am still seeking inspiration for my exam menu.

I am definitely making Boeuf Bourguignon as my main course. No brainer. There is an issue with accompaniments - I want to make baguettes and serve them, but the examiners will want to see mashed potato. This is bollocks, of course, but you have to play to the crowd. There is also a question of balance. I was planning a pink grapefruit and pomegranate sorbet to start, with my orange-improved Gateau Pithivier to finish up. Concern has been expressed that the Pithivier might be too heavy after the Bourguignon. I don’t think it will be - Boeuf Bourguignon is rich rather than heavy (unless you stuff your face with mashed potato at the same time). But enough raised eyebrows have convinced me to change.

So having got all that thinking out of the way, I am now on the prowl for a dessert, and doubtless thereby condemning myself to a night’s sleep punctuated by thoughts of Tuscan plum tarts, bread and butter puddings and lemon verbena ice cream. Sweet dreams indeed.

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