Capri, Italy

This is the tomato crop I found running down to the Blue Grotto.I was hoping they were San Marzanos, my favorite tomato on Earth, but I think they are technically Romas. In 1996 the EU gave San Marzanos DOP (Denominzaione d'Origine Protetta) status meaning they have to be from Campagnia and of the exact variety with thinner skin and less seedy to gain the name so I'm not sure if these are actual San Marzanos. They are the sole canned tomato we used in our pasta sauces back at The Nell, probably the choice of most chefs, and definitely the only single tomato you can use in order to call your a pizza true Neapolitan Pizza. Naples happens to be the place where pizza originated. They've probably chosen San Marzanos for a reason.Think canned San Marzanos are going to be hard to find? Amazon baby. And I gave you a link to the one I think is the best. Order them, cook with them, and then try to go back to a regular plum tomato. I just changed your life.

Another EU recognized crop is the Capri lemon, granted PGI (Protected Geographical Indication) in 2000. They can only be grown on the Sorrento Peninsula or on Capri by a designated group of only 200 farmers and must be grown organically at that! They were the first lemons used to make Limoncello- where lemon peels macerate in alcohol and simple syrup giving you a deliscious yet deadly drink. It's probably the best "sitting-on-the-porch-relaxing-on-a-warm-summer-night" drink you can imagine.

Look how freaking gigantic they are!! They're twice the size of an orange.Here's a simple Limoncello recipe if you want to give it a whirl:Ingredients10 Lemons only the peels1 Bottle of Vodka perhaps Grey Goose?4 Cups Water2 1/2 Cups Sugar
StepsPut the lemon peels and vodka in a container, cover it, then steep them at room temp for 4 days.At some point, combine the water and sugar in a sauce pot and heat it for a few minutes until the sugar has dissolved, then cool the liquid completely. You just made a simple syrup!After the 4 day steeping, pour the simple syrup over the vodka/lemons and let them hang out for another day.Strain it.Drink it.(This will keep for a month if you can't polish this off in one night. If you do take this all down in one sitting, seek medical attention.)

Kumquat!!

Ohhh gelato! I'm seeking out the best pistachio gelato in all of Italy during this trip.

What's this guy doing with the platter of whole raw fish?

He's showing us our dinner options. Our options for fish include only what was brought in that day. How awesome is that?!

I took the little prawns for a starter, but opted for their homemade pasta called Scialatielli with Bottarga. The pasta is a traditional shape from the Campagna region of Italy, more specifically the Amalfi Coast that resembles a thicker, more chewy version of spaghetti.The coolest part about pasta is how indicative a shape is of it's history. Just the shape of a pasta gives way to its origins, telling you who made it first, where, and why. What other food is so unique and packed with historical clues?Take the other pasta on the menu last night, Paccheri- Paccheri is similar to rigatoni in shape, but it's a little bit shorter and has a larger diameter. The diameter is about twice as big as rigatoni in order to fit garlic inside the tube, 4 cloves to be exact. Back when Austria was still Prussia, the Prussian government banned garlic trade with Italy in order to protect their own garlic farmers. Since Italy's garlic exports relied heavily on their Prussian market, Italian farmers began smuggling garlic across the border inside of their pasta. PASTA IS SO DAMN COOL!!

The use of Bottarga is also wonderful to see. Outside of restaurants devoted to Italian tradition, you don't get to see Bottarga used a lot in the states. I think this is because the average person doesn't find a pressed, dried, and cured roe sac appetizing. When I see it on a menu, my mouth starts to water. It adds a complexity that you can't get any other way. It's not fishy...it just adds a slightly salty, deep flavor. It's great.

Rocket Scialatielli

A16When I went to San Francisco I ate at A16- a restaurant devoted to bringing the beautiful food of Southern Italy to the states by focusing on simple authentic ingredients and preparations. The spot is named after a road that runs west to east, starting right outside of Naples, so I couldn't resist bringing the cookbook along for the ride to Naples. One of the greatest parts of the books is their passionate focus on Southern Italian Wines. Guided by the book, I've sampled a bunch of native grape varieties. Greco is white grape that arrived here with the Greeks in 6th Century BC and is now predominantly grown in the town Tufo in Avellino. Greco Di Tufo is typically compared to a Sauvignon Blanc and after sampling a few, I've found it's a little too bright for my style. On the other hand, I've totally fallen in love with the Falanghina grape. Falanghina Coste di Cuma by Grotta Del Sole has become my staple here.I found this bottle and a bunch of similar options online if you are interested in a little southern sampling yourself. I like A16's sommelier Shelley Lindgren's description of the grapes taste and history. She writes,"During the Roman times it was literally the toast of the empire...the grape was worth more than gold. Falanghina has since endured wars, the demise of several empires, dodged phylloxera, and been relegated to the role of blending grape in bulk production, from which it is still recover...Falanghina wines are a deep straw color and have a ripe, honey- and almond scented nose with a hint of nectarines." It's a fantastic buttery, earthy white that I'll willingly drink a case of before I leave Capri.Fiano Di Avellino, my current co-pilot, was also a must try after reading A16. It supposedly has perfect balance of sweetness, acidity and body. I'm still trying to figure out where this supposed balance is, it's a little more acidic than I expected.I haven't dabbled with the red wines yet, mostly because it's 9,000 degrees every night and I can't fathom drinking a red in this heat but I'll take notes when I do.

In our hotel, Capri Palace, there's a two Michelin star restaurant called L'Olivo, with Executive Chef Oliver Glowig. I didn't realize I was standing on top of it until I started talking to the room service guy. After everyone left the table, I started clearing the plates in our room when he remarks, "You work in a restaurant, don't you?" Apparently I can't get rid of these symptoms. We started talking about the dish I'd ordered, "Trippa di Baccala con Ricotta, Caviale, Taccole e Pancetta" which translates loosely to: Salt Cod Stomach with Ricotta, Caviar, Snap Peas and Pancetta. It was outstanding, and now I know why. Chef Oliver, who I just met seconds ago, was awarded his second Michelin star in 2008. Yesterday the same room service guy showed up to my room with this gift from the kitchen- a house salumi platter with awesome light and cripsy grissini. I'm giving the room service guy my tripe recipe in exchange for his effort to sneak me the grissini recipe.I couldn't convince the fam of eating at the hotel tonight, so I'm eating solo at my first two Michelin star restaurant- I'm freaking pumped! By the way, It's much easier to get into a kitchen in Italy than in Africa. All I did was ask Chef. Expect a blog about staging in the two Michelin star restaurant L'Olivo soon!

On a side note, while browsing for simple Limoncello recipes, the foodnetworks.com's top recipes for the day are: Baked Macaroni and Cheese, Italian Baked Chicken and Pastina, Shredded Tex Mex Salad, and the finale Buffalo-Chicken Baked Macaroni and Cheese. Wow. After reading this, do me a favor. Throw some noodles in boiling water and while that cooks, sautee some garlic, pop open a can of marzanos, toss this all together with a little salt and olive oil- respect your body and the food we have available to us. Also, the tags on one of the recipes for Limoncello read "Vodka, Lemon, American." What.
Ciao!

A Year in the Kitchen

The first picture documenting my kitchen adventure!In my unpaid month in banquets, I averaged 14 hours a day and 6 days per week earning a grand total of $0 income...but at least the view was nice and I was pumped about the experience.

Chef JuanThe Executive Banquet Chef and the first Chef I worked for- to this day still mentors me on all my career choices.

The first food I put out on a professional level.

Then after a month of free labor, I was finally hired...only to take an externship opportunity at Blackberry Farm in Tennessee with a few of the guys from The Nell. Really great picture quality here. I figured I should get as much experience at as many incredible places as I possibly could and Blackberry was an opportunity I just couldn't pass up.

My knife skills were improving by this point.

Can you tell I missed Chicago a little?

The farm was awesome. It was literally steps away from the kitchen, but we typically took a joy ride on the golf carts. Our prep list often consisted of: "Need to pick 3 things from the farm to use. One for the scallops, two for the Rouget- don't forget to run ideas by Chef before 3." Those were my favorite days where we got to let our creativity run wild.

The boys of Blackberry.

Why is this one of the only pictures of me in the BBF kitchen? Typical, cleaning.

Blackberry's Butcher Sully.Nuttiest guy around! I clocked one too many hours down in the freezing cold butcher shop, a few more and I'd go nutty too. Whenever a new pig came in, Sully knew I'd be in there early to help out.

The line crew on our final day.

Adios Blackberry.

Back at the Nell, I'd been positioned on Bar Station, finally down in the main kitchen but I still squeezed in some hours in butchery, and with the emilio-miti pasta machine!

Mangalista pigs.

Rigatoni!

Playing around with rack of rabbit.

Rabbit Angos.

We started picking up some pretty interesting dishes on bar station including the new sweetbreads on the menu. I learned how to get sweetbreads from this initial disgusting looking stage to a beautiful final plate.

Blanching them.

Peeling the membrane.

Pressing them overnight and cutting them into...

usable little squares.

Orange glazed sweetbreads, onion marmalade and olive oil powder.

I spent a lot of time figuring out what to do with overstocked items.

Mint turned into Mint Gnocci.

Every week, a case of artichokes turned into Artichokes Barigoules.

The never ending quest to turn the perfect artichoke.

Looking pretty damn close to perfect.

Finally after paying my dues on bar station for awhile, I was moved up to Garde Manager. I earned my way onto the line!

My beloved station.

The line crew. Coco, Flip and Goober. The three best guys I know, they might as well be brothers.

Steve and Vinny.Probably the two most important and influential people in my first year of cooking.

My mentor and role model.

Some shots of the drip room...

And finally...the last day of work. These are the people that made my first year in the kitchen the best year of my life. They taught me the meaning of hard work, what passion really looks like, and how to function as a team and a family. I spent more time with them than anyone else including friends and family the past year, they've gotten me through a lot and taught me everything I know about cooking.

Goober, Me, Flipper, Elise, Michelle, Chef Cole, Coco, Ryan, Chef Ryan, Campo, Kate, and Chef Vinny. Thanks guys!!

My First Stage

As my first year in the kitchen is coming to an end, I figured I should write about a few of the moments that allowed me to realize how much I love it in there. My first stage was probably the biggest "ah-ha" moment.
(Loose definition of stage: Working for free in someone else's kitchen in hopes of learning something while cleaning two cases of fava beans, sometimes in pursuit of a job)

First of all, I wouldn't have been able to muster the courage to show up to the stage had I not stumbled on the note Chef S left in my phone. It doesn't look like much, but a little encouragement from the Chef you admire most goes a long way. The guy is an animal on the line, one hell of a manager, and the best cook I've ever met. When I finish school, I'm going to show up wherever Chef S is working and beg for a job. I tell him this everyday, I hope he's taking this seriously.

By the time the stage rolled around, I’d been out of the kitchen for two weeks visiting culinary and grad schools and eating at all the places Chef S suggested. I thought I'd welcome a break from open flames and sharp knives, but after just a few days I was feeling serious open flame/sharp knife wthdrawals. I couldn't have my first stage be somewhere too intimidating, so I researched a place I'll call a “slump-buster.” The food wasn't anything to rave about, but my interest was really in their charcuterie program and their chef who is a reformed Chem major out of the University of Illinois. Stories like that, similar to mine, always intrigue me. It's a sure sign that the Chef really loves food. Anyway, I'd been nervous for days and I hadn't cooked since the off-season started, but getting my chef’s whites on was like putting on my favorite pair of running shoes. I finally felt relaxed again. Buttoning up my coat felt like a really good hug. All was back where it belonged. I’d been out of the kitchen for two weeks, and I realized that was more than enough. I felt like I was back at the DePaul Libarary packing up my notes, books, and calculator before walking into my ECON 350 final. My favorite place- Under pressure.

Finally...
I walk in. I’ve memorized their menu to the point that I could probably tell you what ink they’ve used after looking at it so closely. I find a corner and start setting up my station. It turns out they’ve hidden the cutting board, towels- everything I need. I can't figure out why they've made this some sort of treasure hunt...I can't even figure out how to turn on their pre-historic sink. I finally stumble on some towels and an apron. I fold them once….Okay, twice.
Should I ask what to do? Yeah.
I ask what to do. Slowly but surely, they uncover that I’m kind of a half-wit that has just figured out how to hold a knife properly. At first they're pretty cold to me. Peeling garlic, freaking fava beans. What’s next? Stuffing sausage for what feels like a decade. Once I prove that I can bang out a case of favas pretty fast, Chef asks me what I’m interested in. I pull out my list- I get my hands on all sorts of things I saw on the menu. Chicken balontine, rosemary and thyme bisquits, whatever I ask- they let me do. Chef starts letting me try what we make from their sausages to their pate. I keep my head down, mouth shut, and my hands busy. Service rolls around. Chef comes up and says, “Shannon, you’re goona shadow Jimbo on fish. Don’t be afraid to shove him out of the way and get yourself in there.”
I start thinking of all the maniacal tasks I can plot to keep myself off the line. I’m panicked.Should I just start taking apart the microwave so that I don’t have to go out there? I face the facts. I’m getting on the line. Towels…spoons..what else do I need….umm….I’m too scared to think. Heat. Orders come in and I’m trying to watch Jimbo pick these dishes up….I can’t catch anything. I ask about the mise, trying to put the dishes together through ingredients. I’m lost. I’m sweating. I’m the the freaking way. I think to myself, either I gotta get out of the way or I’m goona get pushed out of the way.

Sink or swim.

I grab a pan and start cooking. I listen to all the mussel orders come in and start picking them up. Jimbo is working around me like I’m F150 parked in front of the burner. I’m still in the way. I clean when people stop to breathe. I stock their mise when I see nine pans running low.I’ve started picking up the Sea Bass and the mussel dish has been mine for awhile. When I finally look up, it’s 9 pm. Lead-line cook Jamie has started calling me "Kid" and has given me some minute plating responsibilities. He's beginning to warm up to me. "Kid, did you try the chicken yet? Kid, have you seen our flank steak pick up?" At this point he's just handing me the pans when he wants them plated. When service starts to slow, the professionalism slacks and they get comfortable with me on the line. They've made a handful of blonde jokes gauging how thick my skin is. They've found out I can hold my own with the boys. Service ends. I clean the hell out of their stations. I clean the coolers. I scrub the walls. Chef R’s voice from back at work is echoing in my head, explaining to his little drones that we are always an employee of that restaurant and to uphold our standards especially cleanliness everywhere we go. I clean harder. They stop me to offer a PBR. They ask me back. What did I learn?

I belong in the kitchen.

I walk in the next day and Chef literally puts a suckingling pig in my arms as I walk in the door.“Take it apart but keep the skin in tact. Not because we need it, because I want you to learn.” A delivery comes in the front of the restaurant. I hear Chef say, “The young lady in the back can sign for that.” My lack of experience and knowledge becomes a little bit of a joke, but also Chef's pet project. At 9 pm when service starts to slow down again, Chef remembers that we have halibut waiting to be butchered in the cooler and he takes me in the back to show me how to butcher my first flat fish.
I came in the third day for a few hours to make Chef chicken liver pate. We work together for a few hours and compare notes on our recipes. I needed something to pair with it. Chef hands over his credit card and sends me to the store and asks me to grab his some Marlboroughs and Skittles. On my walk to the store, I kept thinking that there was no way I would ever get sick of this. Cooking is too much fun, I can't believe I can get paid for this...the kitchen is like my playground.

Chef wrote me an email the next day saying I had a natural talent, a promising future and they were all rooting for me in my next adventure. Is it dorky to say how much that means to me?That was one of the best moments of my culinary career. After a little push from Chef S and smidgen of courage, I got through my first stage, they actually asked me back and then told me I had a promising future. That was the culmination of my first "ah-ha" moment and also the moment I decided against grad school in favor of culinary school. I know what I want- I want to be a better cook and I'm going to go do that even if that means leaving the guidance of an awesome chef and the best group of line cooks I could imagine.

Thanks again Grocery Bistro, and good luck with your new venture.