At The Little Nell in Aspen, we used to hand make all of our pastas- each one almost every day. I started my kitchen career in the banquet kitchen, peeling cases of potatoes, molding ground beef into hundreds of mini sliders, and skewering billions of elk kabobs. It wasn't all that bad though because the pasta machine was in the banquet kitchen and that meant I got to watch the pasta cooks arrive hours earlier than their schedule actually printed and work beautiful mounds of neon orange dough through the pasta machine. I watched as they draped long sheets of pasta back and forth across their wingspan. I'd hover over their shoulder as they piped braised rabbit and mascarpone quickly across the transparent sheets and make perfect folds, followed by perfect pinches, followed by perfect cuts resulting in the prettiest agnolottis I'd ever seen. I knew I couldn't have that job- not yet.
But I could pretend it was my job at home if I learned a little about pasta. My sous chef suggested I read Il Viaggio di Vetri by Marc Vetri- a book I bought two and a half years ago and haven't gone more than a week without referencing since. I trusted Marc's writing on pasta like there was no other way to do it, and still do. His dough recipe was my recipe, still is. I'd make one or two of his actual pasta recipes, but then after awhile, I'd come up with my own ideas. When I thought about..."How would I make this flavor into a sauce, or at what stage should I add this in?" I'd immediately flip open the Vetri book and start reading one of his procedures. I eventually got my hands on a decent amount of pasta at The Little Nell. I never got to work the station but I'd buddied up with the pasta cooks and come in to help them plow through the workload for the day. We rolled spaghetti, ravioli, agnolotti, and extruded rigatoni. At home, I'd use my hand crank pasta machine to replicate smaller batches of what I'd learned that week at work. I'd run over to the pasta station and help plate when they were busy, and in the slow times, I'd ask to be taught how to pick up the sauces...and I'd absorb everything they'd say. At some point in my year at The Nell, I'd moved to the main kitchen, put on bar station, then garde manger before eventually leaving to go to culinary school- where Marc Vetri himself graduated from the bread making program.
When I moved to NY, I was closer to the restaurant Vetri where I knew they were in the kitchen still making perfect pastas every single day. Philly was super close now, I needed to actually try some of the pasta I'd been trying to replicate- but work and school swallowed all of my time. During level 3 in school, as a group we were responsible for making an amouse-bouche each day, and anythime it was up to me to formulate an idea I'd make pasta. We made spaghetti carbonara- delivered in individual bites, pre-twirled on the fork. I made gnocchi the first time we were asked to prepare our exit-dish for level 2. I've clearly been a little pasta obsessed.
So when I staged at Marea and tasted their pastas, hand rolled downstairs every day by an amazing pasta crew that Chef White has had with him for a very long time, I found where I wanted to be. I started on "oyster station." That's not even a real station. It honestly doesn't exist anymore. It was a creative way for luring a culinary student into cutting lemons, making mignotte everyday and stabbing themselves with a dull oyster knife hundreds of times a week. But I didn't care- I had my eye on the prize...I was going to be on pasta, and the oyster station has a great view of the chaos that is the pasta line every night. When school ended, I moved to garde manager where I inherited a sous chef named Ben- the same Ben that worked with me last night, and the same Ben that used to work for Marc Vetri in Philly. You see where this is going.Ben and I chatted about Philly, the restaurant, and how I'd never even been there but somehow known all of Marc's pastas. So when Ben showed me a text from Marc that said he had a spot for me at 10:30 on Friday night- I rented a car. Adios NY, I was Philly bound. I packed a dress, pearls, and heels and I was off. I finally arrived, thirty minutes late for my reservation...after calling 3 times to profusely apologize for the traffic. I put on my tiny dress in the car and ran inside. My boyfriend at the time was still parking the car when Marc came out to my table to say hi. I'm pretty sure I told him how excited I was at least 400 times...and apologized for being late equal amounts. He was extremely kind- and said even though it's late, we'd like to pull your menu and cook for you. Like I'm goon refuse that, Chef? We ate for HOURS. I smiled for HOURS. It was everything I wanted and thought it would be. Everything was so damn perfect...I ate the spinach gnocchi I'd read about in the book...and it was the best spinach gnocchi anyone has ever eaten and anyone has ever made. I'm not willing to entrain any arguments about that- it was the best.
When dinner was over, we toured the charcuterie room downstairs and gawked at the hanging pig legs and came back up for the onslaught of desserts. I drove home the next day thinking about pasta...as usual. I still wanted that to be on that station.
When the risotto person admitted to me she was leaving the restaurant- I went straight to my sous chef and asked him to put me there. So then I was there...right next to pasta where I could watch all the sauces being made right next to me while I formed tendonitis stirring risotto five days a week.
This week- I trained on pasta. And next week- I start on pasta. And last night- I hung out with a pasta god. Not only did I hang out with him- we made plin together...he told me pasta secrets.
He even wrote one down for me. We compared stories about the line...about how to picked up 350 pastas a night where I work and how to pick up 60 pastas at his restaurant. He said that sizzling noise I'm talking about...the one that comes from blaring the flame under your pan so you can pick up a 3 minutes pasta sauce in 30 seconds... is forbidden. If he hears it- he said he turns to see what's gone wrong- Starting pasta sauce in a cold pan is the only way to do it. I agree but I also tell him I've succumbed to the realities of volume and my pans are always hot. I really liked chatting with someone that did it right- he never cut a corner- not just on the pastas, but in all of his food. Nothing was changed to outfit the amount of people eating at the restaurant, and it's not like he was ever put in the position to- the restaurant is small enough that it really just felt like eating at home.I'm not sure how to really emphasize this as much as I mean to, but I admire Marc Vetri so much and my respect for him as a chef, a cook, and an owner of a restaurant is immeasurable. When it's all said and done, I want someone to be able to say the same about me.
It's really weird how everything comes full circle right when it should. Last night was so cool and im so pumped about starting pasta station next week. What have I really learned between the time I first picked up the Vetri book and when I stood with him last night rolling pasta through the kitchen-aid? Alright...a little bit corny, but you know I always am- Everything you want to see or do or be in life can be yours- as long as you have patience, persistence, and a little bit, or a lot, of drive- it will be. It's all just a matter of how bad you want something.
Last night- in photos.
The plin.
Ben was coaching me through the whole pasta process: "This beet filling used to be my nemesis..."
"If you move from the top to the bottom, you wont get beet all over your sleeve...""If you move fast enough, these wont stick to the butcher's block, do one row after the other."
"Shannon...what'd I say about too much water...and you've gotta move faster."
"If you mess them up, just poke them in the middle, and then you can go back and eat them."
"Look at me...I'm Ben...mine are perfect." Ha, Ben actually admitted to me the pounds and pounds of plin he would end up eating while making the pasta, and told me about the time his station partner was blending the beet filling- and it blew up...making him, his chef coat, and the entire room pink.
Sal's Old School Meatballs
Tuna- Ricotta Fritters
Durum Foccacia
Marc- "You're going to keep looking at me and thinking, these are burnt, but keep caramelizing them...they aren't done yet." Caramelizing Cippolini onions with sage for the Rigatoni with-
Chicken livers!Chef explaining how the eye sees when the pasta is done, there's no need to taste it... or as the boys said it last night "Se veer cuando la pasta e cotto."
Tarrgon, butter, pasta water...nothing else. That's the sauce. Chef Marc- "Let it cook....Stop shaking it, let it cook!"
The Plin in action.
Roasted Lamb shoulder and fennel gratin.
Congratulatory drinks and olive oil cakes.
Ey!
And I'm really starting to think I need to change the subtitle of my blog...I'm not really much of an outsider to the kitchen anymore- it feels like home : )
