… If they knew we were putting creme fraiche in our risotto.
Last night at the French Culinary Institute, we made fresh pasta, risotto, rice pudding and potato gnocchi. These are all things I loved to eat before I started at FCI – all things I used to make for myself on a regular basis. [read more ...]
When my roommate told me she was moving back home to Syracuse to take some personal time after a crazy summer in the city, I knew that the next month would be a trying one. I first attempted to find a replacement roommate – but who wants to live with a stranger? Certainly not me. [read more ...]
Perhaps it’s just me, but I don’t think that roasting whole chickens is as easy as everyone makes it out to be.
Food magazines and food writers pretend that it’s a snap – “Just flavor it, truss it, cook it, and voila! You’re done!” Now that I’ve been in school for a few months, I’ve roasted [read more ...]
As the train rattled and clacked toward home, I thought about bouillabaisse.
Bouillabaisse. Boo-ya-base. Booooo-yeh-baze. It sounded complicated. It sounded like an insult. Insult soup. It was the dish we made at school that night, and mine had turned out just all right.
When I told Didier that I was learning to make bouillabaisse in the [read more ...]
My classmates and I occasionally joke that the mangled sentences our Chef speaks in are good enough to be compiled and called “Chef-isms.” Oh, we’ve collected a few good ones over the weeks (I can really even say “months” now):
Make again!
I don’t very get it!
Now don’t start to freaking out!
That is call the mool-tee task!
The [read more ...]
It was my obsession with fine, prestigious, noteworthy dining that first drew me to Didier. I had been planning a trip to the big city, and wanted to eat at some place really special. Not comfortable enough (at all) with the New York dining scene to decide on my own, I consulted whom I held [read more ...]
The following will appear on my good friend Geoff’s blog. He’s a DJ for a Syracuse radio station, as well a writer and mix-CD maker extraordinaire. He bet me, a few weeks back, that I couldn’t take a bad picture. That was a silly bet, because I am not fond of 98% of photos taken [read more ...]
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