Tag Archives: kitchen gadgets

My First Few Days In Culinary School

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I’ve completed my first few days of community culinary school.  Our instructors have mercifully eased us into the semester with introductions, kitchen orientations, and pre-tests.

Of my classmates, I seem to be one of the only individuals in my age range, which I suppose isn’t that much different from my job.

I’m struck by the blunt honesty with which young people directly out of high school speak.  This quality (usually) becomes more subtle with age, and it strikes me as refreshing.

I’ve never found myself pondering my age so frequently.

As a result, I find myself having maternal conversations with my high-school self during class.  Most of them are reassuring.

I’m terrified of the school’s death trap parking lot.  My car’s almost been T-boned, sideswiped, or backed-into at least four times, now.  I think there was a fight yesterday.  And by fight, I mean an enraged student on a motorbike shouting expletives.

Today’s pre-test revealed that I know nothing about increments of measurement and how they relate to one another.  The same applies to knowing the proper names of kitchen utensils and vesicles.

I broke into a cold sweat as I tried to demonstrate that I could dismantle and reassemble a large slicer in front of my classmates.

Today, I picked up my first knife set.  They’re not Wusthofs and I don’t care.  They are vastly superior to the chipped Rachel Ray Santoku knife I’ve been using since college.

We’ve been reminded many times that as culinary students, we must not forget that we’re always on display.  The kitchen lab is surrounded by windows, meaning the school can observe us as we prepare foods before and during meal service.  This can basically be interpreted as, “Please don’t throw noodles.”

Waking up in the mornings to learn about food feels surreal.  Even during the most trying days in culinary school this semester, I know I’ll be happier slinging salads or disinfecting industrial deli slicers than doing what I have, full-time, for the past nine months.

What we truly love will never go away.  Our interests and passions won’t diminish with time or fade gently into the night.  My interest in all things food hasn’t and won’t.

Unfortunately, I have the sinking feeling that this enduring passion for food will not make me any better at kitchen math class.

Fractions or ratios, anyone?

The Saddest Santa Bear Cookies: Cookie Fail, Frosting Win

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The other weekend, I brought home this amazing Santa Bear Sandwich Cookie Pan, circa 1986.

So many of us who grew up in the Twin Cities have fond memories visiting Dayton’s 8th floor Holiday displays in Downtown Minneapolis.

Jake and I both remember cuddling with lots and lots of Santa Bears in our childhood rooms.  My mom did not collect as many Santa Bears as Jake’s, but accumulated this heavy, cast iron Santa Bear sandwich cookie pan around Christmas of 1986.  I have no idea where my mom stored this cookie pan as I have never seen it before.

I stayed in my apartment with a cold on Saturday and spent the morning seasoning my unused, cast-iron pan by heating it and brushing it with oil, letting it cool, and repeating.

I made homemade frosting and followed the cookie recipe on the box, making a double batch.

The recipe seemed strange and included a large proportion of flour, corn syrup, orange juice, and both vanilla and almond extracts.

The directions instructed me to press the dough into the mold.  Therefore, I assumed my dough was made correctly even though it seemed dry.  I tend to be flighty but made sure I doubled all of my ingredients.

The flour would not fully incorporate into the dough so I kept adding orange juice until it held together.  Then, I pressed the dough into the molds.

I baked each pan for 17 minutes and removed the cookies to cool.

Santa Bear butts, all in a row

Uh oh.

The Santa Bear halves were extremely large and heavy as rocks.  With a double batch of dough remaining, I persevered through my doubts that anyone would want to eat two of these giant rock cookies sandwiching anything.

After making enough Santa Bear front and backsides to make nine, enormous sandwich cookies, I gave up.

With lingering shreds of hope, I optimistically filled the sandwich cookies with a homemade buttercream icing.

Then, I took a bite.

Yuck.

The cookies tasted as dense and they felt and were blandly floury.  How one would ever want to eat a whole cookie is beyond me.  I passed my maimed sandwich cookie to Jake.

After one bite, he handed it back.  We decided that the cookies could not be redeemed.  They all had to go, as well as the leftover dough.

I accidentally dropped a cookie on the floor and was mildly amused when it did not break, let alone dent.  Or chip.

Lonely, unwanted Santa Bear sandwich cookie on a plate

Dear Daytons Company, circa 1986. . . did you actually test these horrible cookie bricks?  Not only do they taste unappealing, but are a hazard in the kitchen.

And in life.

Just one half of these sandwich cookies could severely injure a small individual or maim a large beast, if tossed in their general direction.

I will not re-post the recipe because it’s truly craptastic and I would hate for any of my readers to accidentally make these cookies, Santa Bear mold or not.

What I will post is the yummy frosting recipe I found on this thread on Chowhound.  It may not be authentic butter cream, but it’s good enough for frosting haters like myself and easy to make.  The original recipe came from  a poster named Axalady’s grandmother.

Vanilla Buttercream Frosting: The only redeemeing element of my Santa Bear cookies

Ingredients
4 Tablespoons flour
1 cup whole milk
1 cup of butter (two sticks)
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon real vanilla extract

Directions
Place the flour and milk in a saucepan and slowly heat over medium low-medium heat.

Whisk constantly until the liquid thickens into a paste.

Set the paste aside to cool.

In a bowl, cream the butter and sugar.  Stir in the vanilla extract and slowly beat in the cooled milk-flour paste, little by little.

As you beat the mixture, the sugar will continue to dissolve.  I used granulated sugar and my finished frosting was smooth except for a few, stray sugar granules.

Enjoy your Santa Bear-less frosting.

I Thought Valentine’s Day Was Stupid Until I Got A Potato Ricer

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I’m kind of “meh” about things most people are probably excited about, and I get excited about the “meh.”

I wanted the Superbowl to end so I could watch The Voice, have found The Hodo’s food to be only “o.k.” (though I like the atmosphere), and would rather elope than entertain thoughts of planning a fluffy, white wedding, which I consider horrifying.

Even while I have been in long-term relationship, I have found Valentine’s day to be stupid and yet another occurrence where I have to buy more stuff.

This changed when Jake gave me a potato ricer.

A potato ricer!

I have wanted a potato ricer for the past couple of years but have been too lazy to actually buy one, myself.  Behold, my beautiful potato ricer.  I am jumping out of my pants to make a huge batch of lefse, a food I love dearly and have wanted to make for years.

Yesterday, I found myself in Bernie’s Wines and Liquors, searching for a last minute Valentine’s Day gift.  As I reached for a cheap bottle of champagne, I noticed a small mound of Hopslam sitting undisturbed and untouched.

Omg.

I quickly ditched the champagne and walked up to the small pile of cases for closer examination.  Sure enough, it was Hopslam.  I grabbed a six-pack, and felt thankful I had found Jake the perfect Valentine’s day present, thus ending my search.

As I checked out, I mentioned that I could not believe Bernie’s had Hopslam and that Jake would probably soil himself with excitement.  I had not entertained the possibility of finding Hopslam, except for a glass at the Hodo.  Especially since Twin Cities stores seemed to have sold out hours earlier.

Unable to wait until Valentine’s Day, I unveiled the Hopslam when Jake got home from work.  What was supposed to be a laid-back evening of rest turned into Jake’s crazed Hopslam quest.

Fortunately, it wasn’t too hard to find more Hopslam and we easily secured two cases at Bridgeview Liquors.  We can add “Hopslam is easy to find” to my list of things I like about Fargo.

This past weekend, I went back to the Twin Cities for family celebrations.  As I mentioned in previous posts, my mom passed away in 2008.  My dad and his wife just moved into a new home and brought me a box of kitchen gadgets to sort through.

I just as elated to find my mother’s rolling pin, as I was to receive a sparkly, new potato ricer.  There’s something beautiful about passing down a rolling pin from mother to daughter.

Forget about Hopslam.  I nearly soiled myself when I found an old booklet of recipes from Korean Culture Camp.  If the booklet hadn’t included a recipe for the mandu I cherished by the bagful each summer, I might have been slightly offended by the ridiculous font.

No other mandu has ever tasted the same and I am so excited to make these dumplings.

Finally, I snatched a ridiculously heavy, cast iron Santa Bear sandwich cookie pan circa 1986.  Dear employer, until this weekend, I will be distracted by thoughts of orange-scented Santa Bear sandwich cookies filled with butter cream frosting.