Molecular Schmeckular

"Cobbler, stick to thy last"

Those of you who know me know of my previously demonstrated disdain for this "Molecular Gastronomy" thing that's plagued our industry in recent years. I have grown over the course of my career to a place of simplicity. I've enjoyed eating some great meals in some of the nation's best restaurants and the best meals were the ones that were simple but executed well.

Sometimes I think that I've lost my passion when I look at some of these websites with beautiful food that I didn't think of first. So I've tried lately to incorporate some of tenets of M.G. to make me look like I'm a hip, modern chef. It hasn't really worked.

This weekend was the busiest weekend of my entire career. Thirty five or so VIP catering events for 50 to 250 people in 36 hours. Seven chefs flew in from New Orleans and Texas to help out. Quail eggs came from North Carolina at the last minute (because Georgia was flooded and they couldn't get them to me). Lamb racks came by special courier from Memphis because my distributor failed to order them for me. There was green tea powder from Massachusetts that got lost in the mail and didn't show up until 4 hours from plate-up, strawberry powder from California, bonito flakes from Michigan, and chocolates and 23K edible gold leaves from Maryland.

This was Legislative Weekend--the weekend that legislators and major donors come from all over the state to enjoy a lineup of special events designed to make them want to open up their wallets over the next year. This is our centennial year at ASU so the guest list was a little bigger than usual, and the itinerary included a major rock band in concert on campus (The Fray...whoever they are), a football game, a Japanese musical presentation in the Fine Arts Center, and a whole bunch of other stuff for a whole bunch of people.

At times I wondered why I try.

Our P.I.T.A. event planner insisted on a breathtaking display of Waldorf Salad and Ambrosia to be splayed out on a mirror the size of a door on beds of sliced oranges and pineapples. Uh, the 50's called...they want their salads back. And BTW, mirrors and mayonnaise make poor company. We did something different.

Talented chef's from afar hit the proverbial wall on prep night and left before the prep list was done. They didn't bother asking. The day of the big show they arrived over an hour late because their driver overslept from the muscle relaxers he took to ease the pain of a bulging disc that all but paralyzed his right side. I myself suffered back pain and a sore bursitis-ridden shoulder that right now can't even get a PB&J sandwich all the way to my mouth.

By lunchtime Saturday none of us could see straight or stand tall. I had just completely snapped on the event planner lady and screamed so loud I hurt my own ears. I was shaking and almost cried I was so mad. I never get that way! People left the kitchen momentarily to regroup. It was the quietest moment of the weekend. One of those awkward silences that you wish you wouldn't have caused. Hopefully my next blog won't be entitled "God Dammit I Did It Again".

So what does this have to do with molecular gastronomy? Now that you mention it...nothing.

Friday night was a Japanese themed plated dinner for 75 dignitaries and trustees to commemorate the 100 year anniversary. The menu:

Sushi (California Roll, Philadelphia Roll, Crunchy Shrimp Roll, Spicy Tuna Roll, Shrimp Nigiri)

Wasabi, Pickled Ginger, Soy Sauce

Salad of Baby Spinach, Mizuna, Sweet Radish, and Grapefruit, with Rice Wine/Miso Vinaigrette

Roasted Beef Tenderloin with Umami Foam

Spicy Lacquered Eggplant, Zucchini, and Sweet Potato

Banana-Sesame Upside-Down Cake with Strawberry Powder and Green Tea Whipped Cream

We bought the sushi. The idea was that presentations were to be Japanesely minimalistic. The salad was nice...salad. The foam didn't foam. We left the micro greens for the entree back in the kitchen across campus. The banana cake was beautiful and texturally interesting the day before when it was made. Unfortunately it wasn't possible to make them fresh as they should have been. The green tea whipped cream was pretty and tasted interesting, but needed something else...ginger juice maybe...and it went flat by service time. Strawberry powder as a condiment sounds better than it looks or tastes.

Not one of my prouder moments.

Ah well, as Etienne used to always say, "You'll never go broke underestimating the tastes of the American public". As far as I know they were all impressed and happy. I'm finding that many of these events at the college are more about the event than the food. Disheartening but sometimes a saving grace. The tenderloin was "spot on"!

I think that I'll continue experimenting with some of this new stuff. I was really into food science when I was in school 20 years ago. Surely there's something redeeming to it when the top rated restaurant on the planet hangs its hat on the invention of M.G.

Until then I'll keep it in the kitchen until I get good at it.

The Cold, Hard Winter

It was a cold, hard winter…

That was the first line of a book I started writing a few years ago. I’ve since tabled the book for of a number of reasons. One, the theme kept changing as the storyline developed. It was to be the story of a very bleak period in my life and some of the funny things that happened, some of the harsh drama I endured, and a lot of things I discovered about myself.

It started to become a tale of opinions and cynicism brought on by the world’s injustices. And then I went through a period (which has just recently ended) where I didn’t have a place or the resources to become and remain motivated and inspired to write.

So now, through a series of events that have brought me to point of not being able to sleep tonight, I find myself needing to write and to be read, so I am compromising my commitment to writing a food blog to air my innermost thoughts, struggles, and fears with whatever audience I have left on this nearly abandoned forum.

I went to Google and typed in a burning question that at least for the moment I don’t seem to have the answer to -- “How do I stop being an asshole?”

The first hit took me to a bulletin board where the first entry on the page was this…

The asshole inside me seems to keep getting larger. Masked in alcohol, snide comments and passive aggressive behavior. I can blame it on depression, or a shitty childhood, but really, I have to blame it on myself. I have had so many incredible opportunities, squandered most of them, bitterly, and been a shitty person dressed up as a funny man. I’ve also done some straight up asshole stuff like sleep with my friend’s wife, repeatedly. I can blame this on being lonely and rationalize it, but the fact is, that is something only an asshole would do. Also, little things, like expecting the world to treat you different than it does everybody else. Like I deserve better. That’s super asshole stuff, that is a daily thing. Looking down on people is a big part of it I think. Thinking you’re better than them, and not wanting the friends you have because they’re not good enough… but not liking people who think they’re better than you, or perceiving that… Authority issues? You bet. Asshole? Yes. I don’t like being an asshole. I don’t want to be an asshole, and yet – there it is.

I thought to myself, “now there’s a guy who understands me.” We could be great friends, though we’d probably hate each other by virtue of our impossible and insatiable personalities. I wondered if I had gotten up in my sleep one night and written that myself without realizing it.

So then I followed a link to a free personality quiz designed to inspire me to buy something and I took it (I haven’t bought anything yet).

The result...

You are a Self-Knowing Self-Improving Believer

1.40% of the 207164 people who have taken this quiz are like you.

Oh that’s super! It certainly explains a lot. It explains why I’ve gone through life thinking that I’m misunderstood. Hell, I am…by 98.6% of the people on the planet. No wonder I feel so alone most of the time.

Where’d all this come from? I’ll tell you where. I’ve been getting my ass kicked at this new job the last couple of weeks. I live and work in a town where the labor pool is right shallow, and the demands on our understaffed little enterprise have been relentless for a thus far brief period that seems to be without conclusion.

I have been working 12-16 hours a day for about a month now, and have to retrain most of my staff of 40+ people on a daily basis. I finally had the opportunity to take 2 days off for Labor Day weekend and the phone rang constantly. It was like being at work, except I sat at my “desk” naked and chain smoked while I put out the proverbial fires over the phone and tried to maintain a calm and peaceful demeanor.

My core staff, long-term employees are dropping like flies.

One is retiring at the end of this week, seemingly because she doesn’t like the coworker that has been assigned to assist her with the mundane and simplistic task of maintaining a salad bar. But more likely because she is unpleasantly faced with the inevitable results of the aging process and just doesn’t have the stamina to do the job anymore. It’s always easier to blame someone else.

One quit last week to avoid being fired for stealing from us twice in the last 3 weeks on camera.

One just enacted a leave of absence due to a complete emotional breakdown over her grandson’s recent suicide. Perfectly justified!

One got locked up for a month for reasons unbeknownst.

One walked out last week citing that he just can’t tolerate the work load anymore and he wants to see the world while he’s young.

And one is being forced to quit due to medical problems that quite possibly may soon result in the loss of his right foot. He came to me tonight and asked me if he can return to work after losing the foot because he can’t accept retirement and disability. I hugged him as a tear nearly fell from my eye, and told him that he will always have a job with us if I can help it.

And not unexpectedly, there is a faction of the ones that are left that speculate that all these people are leaving because of me, and they’re spreading rumors about me within upper management that is designed to return them to a lack of supervision that allows them to practice the art of sloth and mediocrity. The dangerous part of it all is that it just may work.

The stress level in my life has soared to unfathomable levels and sometimes…on occasion…however infrequently…it seeps out in ugly ways and unkind words in the “heat of passion”. Doesn’t help matters.

And then there’s my chief nemesis. A woman who I like, enjoy, and respect that is as stubborn and immovable as a house-sized granite mule. She means well and has a desirable level of skill at her assigned job, but we just don’t see things in the same light. Unfortunately, she is the one person that I need to have an indivisible alliance with, and I’m really struggling with this. To all appearances it is impossible for her. She is an island.

She is a manager to whom I am equal on the organizational chart, but she fancies herself (in my opinion) the “lead dog”. She has turned our operation upside down, pissed off everyone around her, and is only interested in pleasing our client 100% at all costs. A noble and just interest, but she doesn’t seem to get that doing so within the boundaries of her vision requires resources and collective talent that we don’t currently possess. She’s not the one that has to do the work…and she doesn’t.

Now mind you, the last 19 years of my life have been for the most part focused on self-improvement (with intermittent success). The last month hasn’t been. It’s been about survival. I hate “survival mode”!

I want very much what most humans do…to be liked, loved, admired, desired, and respected. Funny how God seems to have molded my personality in ways that contradict all that is good and pure in human striving. Then I think that it’s this damned business. Why would he give me this one gift and talent that I can’t use successfully? This has always been my struggle, and in 19 years I have not been able to assign a viable and consistent remedy to it.

So tonight I will have another cigarette and return to bed where I will lie awake for a short while reflecting, praying, meditating, and wondering what I will return to tomorrow morning and how it will all turn out. I will try not to lie awake talking to myself...having that conversation with “her” in which I will tell her everything she deserves to hear in order for me to solve our relational problems by getting my way.

I will try to remind myself that I got this job by asking God to give me the perfect job working for an employer who thinks I’m the perfect employee. And I will continue to look only for my part in the misshapen chaos that has become my career…again!

Namaste

"The light within me honors the light within you."

Today was one of the days I’ve been waiting for!

Once the school year gets started, we do a “Taste Changer” once a week; something to keep the kids excited and break up the day-to-day routine. We set up a separate buffet table and put out a small spread with a theme. Might be a different culture’s cuisine, could be a table of upscale desserts…one week we’re doing a bunch of different hot cobblers. Just something different. For our first one I chose Flavors of India, mainly because I love Indian food and there ain’t none in Jonesboro, Arkansas.

Our company has been doing a lot of Indian stuff, and there is supposed to be a line of products available to me to pull some off with, but I can’t get it at my place. In fact, here’s a list of a few other things I can’t get:

Lentils, wild rice, Sriracha sauce, rice noodles, whole cumin, whole cardamom, herbal tea, cinnamon sticks, basmati rice, cous cous, Chinese oyster sauce, hoisin sauce, turnips, rutabagas, seedless watermelons…the list goes on and on.

Seems that the nation’s largest wholesale supplier of food has their most ill-stocked branch in Memphis...the home of ribs, the blues, and Elvis. You would think that such a large city would be more amply equipped to handle the tastes of a diverse population, but I guess they’re not really that diverse over there...pretty much just ribs, blues, and Elvis.

It was kind of embarrassing that I could not accurately represent (and celebrate) the world’s most poverty stricken culture because the tiny legume that has prevented them from slipping into extinction for over 3000 years is only available to me in a fancy little 10 pound box at $35.00 (plus shipping) and a one week wait. Oh well.

So we started out the morning toasting about 4 pounds of various whole spices, chopping ginger, garlic, and mint, and opening cans of garbanzo beans and tomato products. The chicken, potatoes, onions, peppers, and eggplant had been cut the day before…about 200# of chicken thighs, 50# of potatoes, and a bushel or so of onions and peppers. We used something like 3 pounds of mint, 5 pounds of ginger, 3 pounds of garlic, 40 pounds of eggplant, and a gallon and a half of olive oil (should’ve been melted butter or “ghee”).

Our bakers cranked out hand rolled “naan” flatbread the night before, and rolled about a gazillion little dough balls that became the most incredible little “galub jamun”. This is India’s one great dessert in my opinion, and I can eat these things all day and night!

They’re made from dry milk powder, flour, baking powder, and yogurt. You deep fry them and plunge them into divine pool of sugar syrup scented with cardamom and rose water. Then you eat the heck out of ‘em!

They were great, but not the only good thing we had. We made as good a batch of Chicken Vindaloo as I’ve ever had, some kickin’ Saag Paneer (curried spinach with cheese), Eggplant and Chickpeas Kottu Style, Vegetable Biryani, and the ubiquitous Mint Chutney and Onion Relish that is customary at most Indian eateries (except ours was better).

The campus Indian organization showed up with a display that rivaled anything that we conjured up (awkward), and as far as I could tell the feast was a complete hit! The only problem was that I was too busy to sit down and eat any of it, and I’m really feeling bad about that now as I sit here and snack on peppered beef jerky and habanero barbecue almonds.

Now here’s a funny thing I learned just the other day about India…

I’ve always known that India is made of mainly of Hindus and Muslims, but you usually only hear about the Hindus. They greatly revere cows and are frequently vegetarians. Throughout India (with some exceptions) you typically don’t see pork on the menu. We’ve hired a number of Indian students this year and it turns out that some of them are Muslims.

How I know this is that last weekend I stopped by to check on a couple guys that were making omelets, and neither of them would put ham in the omelets they were making (which were otherwise very beautifully crafted). Even with gloves on and 8” tongs they refused to handle the ham at this time of the year citing the fact that we are in the middle of Ramadan.

Ramadan (for those unfamiliar) is the month long Muslim holy season during which Muslims (among other customs) are not to eat while the sun is up, and are apparently not to have any contact whatsoever with pork. So I've got a third non-Muslim employee standing between serving only the purpose of applying ham to the occasional egg pan.

I asked one of the guys who refused to handle pork during Ramadan if he was fasting. He said, “No, I’m not that orthodox”.

I like Galub Jamun!