Confessions of a Stagiere -- Week One

From my first week at Lumiere...April 3/09.

There's nothing like the first day at a new job. You can practically taste the anxiety bubbling up like bile. It crawls up into your throat and chokes you just as you ask the question, "What would you like me to do?"

Once I get in the kitchen there is some surprise at my return but there's always something to do. I learn to start getting into a rhythm of every task: whether it's cutting up the tips of romaine lettuce into "fronds" or picking the tips of chervil.

I've always cooked and helped to prepare food since I was a kid. My mother was always big into making her own food. Whenever we would go out she would inevitably say, "I could make that myself". Money was always tight. But good food was always paramount.

I remember many days sitting in front of the television with a big bowl of snow peas to prepare. It was theraputic, snapping off the ends and taking off the fibrous edges. I always made sure to check them all over once I was finished because there's nothing more unpleasant than eating a snow pea that hasn't been cleaned properly.
There's also a lot of camaraderie while you're preparing food. You're working towards a common goal whose end result (if you did it properly) would only be a good one.

All these "mom" food moments came back as I was helping to make ravioli. Their ravioli consists of a butternut squash filling and shaping the pasta squares into pyramids with square bases...that are also slightly rounded out. I was told to take my time with them.

My mother and I never made ravioli. We made gyoza, a water and flour dough rolled out into circles and filled with a meat mixture. I was never given the responsibility of handling the dough because I was never able to do it to my mother's satisfaction. Whenever I would fill them it was never the right amount of mixture. I was also never able to successfully replicate one of my mother's gyoza. A proper gyoza should be folded in half and crimped by hand so it looks like an elaborately edged purse. Try as I might, I just couldn't get the hang of it and it would always look primitive next to hers. So my sister and I would turn them into barnyard animals and whatever else we wanted, defiantly deformed.

The restaurant had taken a hit since I'd been there last. The number of customers willing to pay top dollar for a world class meal had fallen dramatically due to the recession. It pained me to see the reservation numbers (about half of what the dining room could accomodate). But this also allowed more time for experimentation and invention.

We all got to try the latest invention -- foie gras ice cream. I could see how foie gras would lend itself to ice cream, being pretty much all fat anyway. You could just blend it in. But what would a meat flavoured ice cream taste like? We all found out. The taste was very creamy, and then the foie gras flavour hit you hard and pretty much stayed put. It was cold, sweet foie gras. I didn't really know what to make of it. It was a culinary noodle scratcher. Others seemed thrilled and thought it could've been more savoury. It was definetely one of the more unique food experiences I've ever had.

Another new item being tested was a pheasant and pear terrine. "This terrine is going to be off the hook", one cook commented. I'd never heard a terrine described this way.

I had to ask: what draws people into this very specialized, exhausting, exhilirating road to food?

One was a pre med student in Victoria before he realized he wanted to work in food. He quit school, travelled, then came back and got a job as a dishwasher. I asked him what his parents had thought. "They were horrified." He went off to culinary school and is three years into a promising career. But to this day his family isn't completely convinced. His stories about 16 hour work days has not helped.

Another was studying math and training to be a bioengineer. How does an engineer wannabe go into cooking? "I was always thinking about what I was going to have for dinner." His mother's horrified reaction did nothing to stop his plans. His response is: "I can be an engineer when I'm forty, but I can't cook when I'm forty".

I'm feeling particularly self-conscious because I'm very aware of my position as outsider/interloper. I'm a radio producer who's in the kitchen...performing small tasks...following and observing...for what? People whose curiosity has finally gotten the better of them will ask me, "what are you doing here?" Good question, I think to myself. I'll get back to you when I have an answer. For now, I just reply, "I'm here to learn". It's cryptic but most are not curious enough to inquire further.

Last time during service I stood against one corner of the kitchen trying desperately to stay out of the way and stop my hair from catching fire on the incredibly hot salamander oven above my head. This time the chef looked at me and said "you're going to take care of the amuse bouche so you'll be involved with the service". Great, I thought.

One of the garde manger cooks showed me how to plate the amuse bouche. It consisted of three parts: a crab roll cut into thick coins and placed on top a small pinch ("just what you can hold in your fingers") of spaghetti squash, a squash soup with parmesan foam and a squash quiche cut into a square with yogurt and toasted pumpkin seeds on top. It all had to be assembled at the right time. It was easy enough to organize: you could prepare the bed of spaghetti squash and arrange the quiche ahead of time because they could be served at room temperature. But you had to time the soup just right. The foam came off another station so you had to yell out, "parm foam down" so the person with the foam would know when to pass it to you. The first time I had to do this I couldn't bring myself to yell out the order. "I'll do it next time," I said. And I did. Preparing the foam is fun: you buzz it first and then scoop it off, then drop it vertically from your spoon.

It feels great to be part of this team. All of them work together seamlessly, anticipating, communicating, and watching this culinary ballet up close is a thing of beauty.

At the end of the night, I head over to the office to talk to Dale. I thank him for letting me come in and ask if I can make this a weekly arrangement for the foreseeable future. He has no problems with this, doesn't ask any questions. I leave feeling great, with more skills and revelations and promises of more to come.

Confessions of a Stagiere

It hasn't exactly been a secret -- but not something I've written about either. I think it's time.

You can tell by scanning through my blog that I love food. Well, a few months back, through a series of food related incidents, I figured I should put my love of food and my love of writing together and do food journalism. This after I would tell people about stories on food I was working on. Finally someone asked me, "why don't you do this for a living?" Good question. Because I'd never considered it as a career possibility? Plus there really isn't any training to be a food writer. Everybody eats. But that's not enough to make you an "expert".

So what does make you a food "expert"?

Some people go to culinary school and become chefs. Some just go straight to work in a kitchen. Some travel the world, eating their way through the timezones. Some grow up on farms. Sometimes you're just a loudmouth that gets picked up by the Food Network (you'd like me to name some names wouldn't you? Pick one). In other words, nothing and everything can qualify you as an authority on the edible.

Having expertise to draw on is important to me. So I set about finding ways to do that.

I had originally thought about going to culinary school. In fact, I had applied and been accepted at the Art Institute in downtown Vancouver. It's a long story, but turns out due to recession related money matters and other things, this wasn't going to be an option after all.

After my day long stint at Lumiere back in January, I talked to the chef about my failed culinary school plans. He suggested I work as a stagiere (working for free) in his kitchen and learn that way.

Well, I took him up on it. Every Friday for the past few weeks I've been heading over to Lumiere, putting on whites and spending anywhere between 10 and 12 hours in the kitchen. What am I doing there? I help with prep for the first part of the day and assist with service during dinner, mostly plating the amuse bouche.

I've been dying to blog about this but there are reasons why I haven't. I don't want to make the chef and the staff uncomfortable in any way by making them feel overly scrutinized, especially when I have to work with them every week. Initially I wasn't sure what to do with the whole experience, but I've come to take it for what it is: insight into one of Vancouver's top kitchens, working with some incredibly talented people and doing one of my favourite things: working with food.

I figure if I want to be a food writer, what better time to start? At the very least I'm an expert on my own journey.

My fridays as a stagiere have become the highlight of my week. Whether or not this will eventually put me into any kind of field of expertise is debatable. But for now, I'm thrilled to go along for the ride -- and blog about it all the way. Postings to follow.

Eating Las Vegas

I just got back from four days in Vegas. I don't gamble, drink excessively or pay for sex. So yes, I too wondered why I should go to Vegas.

Turns out, you can have a unique experience no matter what your reason for going. Mine turned out to be food.

I must be the last person in the world to figure out that there is a heavyweight panel of fine dining restaurants in Vegas. I've always associated Vegas with buffets and 99 cent shrimp cocktails, but with that amount of money flowing through the desert you can bet there are fine dining restaurants to soak it up.

We stayed at the MGM Grand so first up on my list was Joel Robuchon. It has three Michelin stars...his only North American restaurant with that kind of pedigree. And if the website is to be believed, his only one ever. Sadly, that remained a pipe dream with a six-course tasting menu starting at $250. Next.

Luckily there is also L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon right next door. And I say next door even though what I mean is their entrances are inside...facing all the slot machines. L'Atelier has its own Michelin star...in other words, no 99 cent shrimp cocktails here. But I figured I better make the most of Vegas. Since I wasn't going to indulge in any of the other "finer" things the city has to offer (read: paying for sex and leaving a trail of watery vomit back to your room) I might as well spend it here.

Service at this restaurant is unique. Most people sit at a counter, facing the kitchen so you can watch everything being prepared. I hate sitting at counters (I'd rather face the person I came to eat with, unless it's a deli or something) but I love watching what's happening in the kitchen. Subsequently the kitchen, the cooks and everything else was tailored to an audience. Everything was black with red trim. I didn't notice any reaming out of the cooks by the chef during this meal, although I've subsequently been told that some chefs will purposely do this to keep diners entertained. Maybe I was just enjoying my food too much.

I do have to say I'm not a fan of the over-the-counter service. Part of it is that it's a departure from the traditional. But also the servers were having a difficult time reaching over the various accoutrements just to serve the food. I'm surprised that after this amount of time they still haven't perfected this.

I did something out of character during this meal. I took photos of all the courses. I hate doing that because I feel extra touristy and frankly, in a restaurant like that, I feel tacky. But boy, was that fear put to rest.

Before I go onto the food, I have to write about this one couple. They were sitting a couple seats down from us at the counter. I was immediately drawn to this woman's purse, which had a large clock built into it. If Flavor Flav was a woman, he'd carry this purse. They were dressed like the typical tourist (unflattering khaki shorts). Clearly they'd been to the restaurant before because the chef and sommelier were all over them. Obviously these people had money that their clothing did not reflect.

Anyway, after a while I looked over and noticed something weird about their wine. Then I watched in horror as they proceeded to scoop ice out of their water glasses and put it into their wine. With their hands.

.....

I still don't have the words to describe my reaction to this. It's more like a series of sputtering noises with accompanying uplifted hand gestures. Why??? These people were spending hundreds on their wine. If you come up with an answer, please let me know.

Anyway, after seeing that, I felt much better about our photos. No, we didn't use a flash. I know that bothers other diners and anyway it wasn't necessary.

We had their tasting menu. The descriptions come from their own website.



Amuse bouche: Foie gras parfait with port wine and parmesan foam. Fantastic. The parmesan foam in particular was very familiar to me, so it was like a taste of home.



Smoked salmon in an herb gelée with a light wasabi cream



Poached baby Kusshi oysters with French « Echiré » butter. Notice a couple are already eaten. We almost forgot to take the picture. The oysters are from BC. Another taste of home.




Maine lobster in a tomato sauce and green asparagus. This was the most oustanding dish I had. It was just perfect.



Foie gras ravioli in a warm chicken broth with herbs. I was really looking forward to this one but I have to say, it wasn't all that I'd hoped. You pretty much had to eat the ravioli naked to taste them.



Dover Sole with a warm leek salad and crispy potato



Lamb shoulder comfit, fava bean stew . We split this one because you had a choice between the lamb and...



Foie gras stuffed free-range quail with truffled-mashed potatoes. They were both wonderful.



Pineapple infusion, Tahitian cheesecake.



This was the only thing we had that doesn't appear to be on their website. Dammit. I know that because this sure as hell wasn't Light coffee cream served with coconut milk and lemon from Corsica. What I remember was that it was a strawberry meringue with some kind of ice cream. It was so light and refreshing. I'm pissed I didn't write this down somewhere. But it's not like I was taking notes.

This is already the longest blog posting I've ever done so I don't want to drag it out more. But I know you want to know...how much was the bill? I hate admitting it even to myself. After wine and taxes...for two...it came up to just over $700 Canadian. Was it worth it? I honestly treasure every food experience I have, and this one is going to give me something to digest for years. It didn't give me a gambling addiction or an STD. If anything, it's given me something to write about.