By MICHELLE LOCKE (AP) – You've watched them whip up delectable dishes, and a soupcon of drama, in the Top Chef kitchen. Now, stars of the hit Bravo TV series are ready to school their fans: Pack your knives and go... online.
Top Chef University.com, formally launching this week, is designed to give users the experience of culinary school at their own pace, with 12 courses covering about 60 hours of content.
"It's so unique because it's truly a comprehensive program and it's really the first of its kind," says Nikki Cascone, Season 4 contestant and one of the instructors.
The site was created by Jeff Goldenberg, founder of Post Oaks Productions, a leading provider of live and virtual consumer training. He approached Bravo with the concept after getting hooked on the show. Given the green light, he hired trained chef Anthony Hoy Fong and Top Chef judge and culinary expert Gail Simmons to write the curriculum.
Both Simmons and Fong are culinary school graduates and they wanted to develop a program that felt was professional but also would resonate with home cooks.
While graduates won't come out professional chefs, "if you take this program to the end you will have, I believe, a really strong knowledge of the kitchen," says Simmons.
Read the rest of the story here
Monday, May 24, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Underground Restaurants Come Out of Hiding
Sunday Dinner, a supper-club, sorta-private-sorta-public dinner party held many times a month (and sometimes even on Sundays) by Kendall College graduates Christine Cikowski and Josh Kulp, like many so-called underground restaurants, began with an air of the illicit.
Cikowski was doing an internship at a tiny restaurant in the Rhone Valley in France when she received a newspaper clip about the underground dining scene in Europe — about one-night-only unlicensed supper clubs, sometimes run by professional chefs, sometimes hopeful amateurs, operating like speakeasies. She made a mental note to test the idea in Chicago.
Read the rest of the story here.
Cikowski was doing an internship at a tiny restaurant in the Rhone Valley in France when she received a newspaper clip about the underground dining scene in Europe — about one-night-only unlicensed supper clubs, sometimes run by professional chefs, sometimes hopeful amateurs, operating like speakeasies. She made a mental note to test the idea in Chicago.
Read the rest of the story here.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Not Intolerant to Special Diets
Many restaurants are adding gluten-free options to menus
By Julie Balise, Globe Correspondent | May 15, 2010
About two years ago, Carla Pallotta’s best friend discovered that he had celiac disease.
The diagnosis, which meant that he would no longer be able to eat foods containing gluten, presented an opportunity for Pallotta, a chef and co-owner of the North End’s Nebo Restaurant, to stretch her culinary skills.
“He was so disappointed, and I said, ‘You know something, I’m going to make something gluten-free for you,’ ’’ said Pallotta, who used trial and error to adjust her own recipes for chicken Milanese, eggplant timballo, and a fried seafood platter for her friend, before deciding to roll out a gluten-free menu at her restaurant.
Last July, Nebo unveiled a new gluten-free menu complete with six pastas, chicken, seafood, and more than 20 varieties of pizza, joining the slew of restaurants across the country that are adapting their menus with gluten-free options, including big chains such as Uno Chicago Grill and PF Chang’s China Bistro.
These eateries cater not only to the 1 percent of the nation’s population who suffer from celiac disease — an inherited autoimmune disease that requires a lifelong diet free of gluten from wheat, barley, rye, oats, and spelt — but also those who have other gluten sensitivities and people who want to go gluten-free for other reasons.
“Restaurateurs are very much in touch with their guests,’’ said Peter Christie, president and chief executive officer of the Massachusetts Restaurant Association. “As more and more people are becoming aware that they have gluten intolerance, restaurants are responding with gluten-free items in order to accommodate their guests.’’
Read the rest of the story here.
By Julie Balise, Globe Correspondent | May 15, 2010
About two years ago, Carla Pallotta’s best friend discovered that he had celiac disease.
The diagnosis, which meant that he would no longer be able to eat foods containing gluten, presented an opportunity for Pallotta, a chef and co-owner of the North End’s Nebo Restaurant, to stretch her culinary skills.
“He was so disappointed, and I said, ‘You know something, I’m going to make something gluten-free for you,’ ’’ said Pallotta, who used trial and error to adjust her own recipes for chicken Milanese, eggplant timballo, and a fried seafood platter for her friend, before deciding to roll out a gluten-free menu at her restaurant.
Last July, Nebo unveiled a new gluten-free menu complete with six pastas, chicken, seafood, and more than 20 varieties of pizza, joining the slew of restaurants across the country that are adapting their menus with gluten-free options, including big chains such as Uno Chicago Grill and PF Chang’s China Bistro.
These eateries cater not only to the 1 percent of the nation’s population who suffer from celiac disease — an inherited autoimmune disease that requires a lifelong diet free of gluten from wheat, barley, rye, oats, and spelt — but also those who have other gluten sensitivities and people who want to go gluten-free for other reasons.
“Restaurateurs are very much in touch with their guests,’’ said Peter Christie, president and chief executive officer of the Massachusetts Restaurant Association. “As more and more people are becoming aware that they have gluten intolerance, restaurants are responding with gluten-free items in order to accommodate their guests.’’
Read the rest of the story here.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Chicken and Sausage Gumbo
(Makes 8 quarts)
2 cups (4 sticks) unsalted butter
2 cups canola oil
4 cups all-purpose flour
2 red bell peppers, diced
2 green bell peppers, diced
2 yellow bell peppers, diced
2 medium yellow onions, diced
8 ribs celery, diced
6 cloves garlic, chopped
1 750 ml bottle of red wine
1 15 oz. can diced tomatoes
5 quarts chicken stock, heated
2 tablespoons Creole Seasoning
1 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon ground thyme
2 bay leaves
2 tablespoons kosher salt
1 pound Andouille sausage, sliced
1 whole 4-pound chicken, roasted and deboned, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 pound okra, sliced
1. First you make a roux. Heat the butter and oil in a 12-quart stockpot until the butter melts. Whisk in the flour and cook until foaming. Cook, stirring often, until dark mahogany, about 45 minutes to 1 hour.
2. Add the peppers, onion, and celery. Cook until soft, about 5 minutes. Add the diced tomatoes and red wine and stir until blended. Whisk in the chicken stock (make sure it’s hot), and bring the mixture to a boil. Reduce the heat to simmer. Stir in Creole Seasoning, black pepper, crushed red pepper, chili powder, thyme, chopped garlic, bay leaves, and kosher salt. Cook, skimming fat as necessary, an additional 45 minutes.
3. Add the Andouille sausage and chicken and cook for approximately 30 minutes.
4. Add okra and cook for approximately 20 minutes
5. Taste, and adjust for seasoning.
2 cups (4 sticks) unsalted butter
2 cups canola oil
4 cups all-purpose flour
2 red bell peppers, diced
2 green bell peppers, diced
2 yellow bell peppers, diced
2 medium yellow onions, diced
8 ribs celery, diced
6 cloves garlic, chopped
1 750 ml bottle of red wine
1 15 oz. can diced tomatoes
5 quarts chicken stock, heated
2 tablespoons Creole Seasoning
1 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon ground thyme
2 bay leaves
2 tablespoons kosher salt
1 pound Andouille sausage, sliced
1 whole 4-pound chicken, roasted and deboned, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 pound okra, sliced
1. First you make a roux. Heat the butter and oil in a 12-quart stockpot until the butter melts. Whisk in the flour and cook until foaming. Cook, stirring often, until dark mahogany, about 45 minutes to 1 hour.
2. Add the peppers, onion, and celery. Cook until soft, about 5 minutes. Add the diced tomatoes and red wine and stir until blended. Whisk in the chicken stock (make sure it’s hot), and bring the mixture to a boil. Reduce the heat to simmer. Stir in Creole Seasoning, black pepper, crushed red pepper, chili powder, thyme, chopped garlic, bay leaves, and kosher salt. Cook, skimming fat as necessary, an additional 45 minutes.
3. Add the Andouille sausage and chicken and cook for approximately 30 minutes.
4. Add okra and cook for approximately 20 minutes
5. Taste, and adjust for seasoning.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Coffee Crusted Roast Beef Tenderloin
Another recipe from Class 58's graduation.
(Serves 12)
1 4-lb. beef tenderloin roast
¼ cup finely ground coffee
¼ cup light brown sugar
2 Tbsp Kosher Salt
1 Tbsp Black Pepper
2 Tbsp chili powder
2 Tbsp paprika
2 Tbsp rubbed sage
1 Tbsp onion powder
1 tsp cayenne pepper
Preheat oven to 400. Trim and tie tenderloin. Combine dry ingredients. Rub half over entire surface of the roast, covering generously. Let meat rest 15 minutes and then rub with remaining mixture. Place meat in roasting pan and roast on center shelf until the internal temperature reaches 135º F (for medium rare). Remove roast from oven, cover loosely with aluminum foil and let rest for 10 minutes. Cut into ¼-inch slices and serve immediately.
(Serves 12)
1 4-lb. beef tenderloin roast
¼ cup finely ground coffee
¼ cup light brown sugar
2 Tbsp Kosher Salt
1 Tbsp Black Pepper
2 Tbsp chili powder
2 Tbsp paprika
2 Tbsp rubbed sage
1 Tbsp onion powder
1 tsp cayenne pepper
Preheat oven to 400. Trim and tie tenderloin. Combine dry ingredients. Rub half over entire surface of the roast, covering generously. Let meat rest 15 minutes and then rub with remaining mixture. Place meat in roasting pan and roast on center shelf until the internal temperature reaches 135º F (for medium rare). Remove roast from oven, cover loosely with aluminum foil and let rest for 10 minutes. Cut into ¼-inch slices and serve immediately.
Piña Colada Cheesecake
By request, here's the recipe for the dessert we served at the lunch celebrating Class 58's graduation:
(Makes 1 - 10” Cheesecake)
For the crust:
1½ cups vanilla wafer crumbs
¼ cup coconut flakes, toasted
¼ cup tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
3 Tbsp granulated sugar
For the filling:
24 oz cream cheese, softened
½ cup sugar
5 large eggs
1 cup crushed pineapple, drained
1 cup cream of coconut (make sure it’s CREAM OF COCONUT, not coconut milk)
1 Tbsp rum extract
1 Tbsp coconut extract
For the glaze:
1 Tbsp cornstarch
1 Tbsp pineapple juice
1 cup crushed pineapple
¼ cup granulated sugar
2 Tbsp lemon juice
Preheat oven to 350º F.
Stir together crust ingredients and press into bottom and 1 inch up the sides of a lightly greased 10-inch Springform pan. Bake the crust at 350º F for 10 minutes. Remove from the oven and cool completely. Lower the oven temperature to 325º F.
Beat the cream cheese and ½ cup sugar at medium speed with an electric mixer until fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the pineapple, cream of coconut, rum extract, and coconut extract, beating until blended. Pour mixture into crust. Bake cheesecake at 325° for 1 hour or until center is almost set. Cool on a wire rack.
Stir together cornstarch and 1 tablespoon pineapple juice until smooth. Combine cornstarch mixture, crushed pineapple, ¼ cup sugar, and lemon juice in a saucepan over medium heat; cook, stirring constantly, five minutes or until mixture is thickened and bubbly. Remove from heat and cool completely. Spread the glaze evenly over the top of the cheesecake and chill for at least six hours before serving.
(Makes 1 - 10” Cheesecake)
For the crust:
1½ cups vanilla wafer crumbs
¼ cup coconut flakes, toasted
¼ cup tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
3 Tbsp granulated sugar
For the filling:
24 oz cream cheese, softened
½ cup sugar
5 large eggs
1 cup crushed pineapple, drained
1 cup cream of coconut (make sure it’s CREAM OF COCONUT, not coconut milk)
1 Tbsp rum extract
1 Tbsp coconut extract
For the glaze:
1 Tbsp cornstarch
1 Tbsp pineapple juice
1 cup crushed pineapple
¼ cup granulated sugar
2 Tbsp lemon juice
Preheat oven to 350º F.
Stir together crust ingredients and press into bottom and 1 inch up the sides of a lightly greased 10-inch Springform pan. Bake the crust at 350º F for 10 minutes. Remove from the oven and cool completely. Lower the oven temperature to 325º F.
Beat the cream cheese and ½ cup sugar at medium speed with an electric mixer until fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the pineapple, cream of coconut, rum extract, and coconut extract, beating until blended. Pour mixture into crust. Bake cheesecake at 325° for 1 hour or until center is almost set. Cool on a wire rack.
Stir together cornstarch and 1 tablespoon pineapple juice until smooth. Combine cornstarch mixture, crushed pineapple, ¼ cup sugar, and lemon juice in a saucepan over medium heat; cook, stirring constantly, five minutes or until mixture is thickened and bubbly. Remove from heat and cool completely. Spread the glaze evenly over the top of the cheesecake and chill for at least six hours before serving.
Friday, May 7, 2010
I'll Have a BLT - No Bacon, Lettuce or Tomato
SAN FRANCISCO - It's the first rule of thumb when it comes to the hospitality industry - the customer is always right.
But what happens when that customer wanders into a high-end restaurant expecting a fabulous meal, without meat, fish, wheat, nuts or dairy?
It's happened to chef Joshua Skenes at Saison in San Francisco, despite his fixed menu.
It's happened at La Mar Cebicheria, the Peruvian restaurant specializing in ceviche.
It's even happened to Charlie Hallowell at Pizzaiolo in Oakland.
"When people come to Pizzaiolo and say, 'I don't eat wheat or cheese,' I'm like, 'Why did you come to a pizzeria?' " Hallowell says.
It's a question chefs are asking more and more as diners become increasingly picky about what they want - or don't want - on their plates.
No gluten. No salt. No dairy. No wheat.
No peanuts. No seeds. No fat.
Whether it's someone following a vegan or macrobiotic diet, someone allergic to wheat or nuts, or someone who simply doesn't like mushrooms or eggs, there's a new wave of special requests being made that go far beyond leaving the salad dressing on the side.
"It's like a puzzle," says Andrew Generalao, La Mar's general manager. "You have to try to find the right fit, and sometimes we pull it off with great things. A lot of times, it's just not that exciting."
Like most in the restaurant industry, Generalao wants to wow his customers. But trying to make ceviche without cilantro or jalapenos is like ordering macaroni and cheese without the cheese. Though the dish still might be perfectly good, its essence has been stripped away.
Still, Generalao added three vegan items to his seafood-heavy menu shortly after opening, and says he's happy to accommodate the special requests he gets.
But in an era where cafegoers order split-shot soy mocha lattes with sugar-free vanilla, light foam, no whip - and extra hot, please - restaurantgoers are tailoring even fixed menus to their taste buds.
Skenes offers one nine-course meal at Saison, and though he asks that the menu stay the menu, he still gets several special requests per week.
"We don't rule over the kitchen with an iron fist and say, 'No soup for you,' " Skenes says. "But we do it on a case-by-case basis.
"The other day, we had someone who didn't eat shellfish, didn't eat fish, didn't eat dairy, didn't eat lamb. And on the menu, we had shellfish, we had fish, we had lamb. And they also didn't eat gluten or wheat.
"So that was pretty much impossible. We just couldn't do it."
Skenes says it's mostly a matter of staffing and resources - it's too much of a strain on the small kitchen to constantly handle special requests.
Read the rest of the story here.
But what happens when that customer wanders into a high-end restaurant expecting a fabulous meal, without meat, fish, wheat, nuts or dairy?
It's happened to chef Joshua Skenes at Saison in San Francisco, despite his fixed menu.
It's happened at La Mar Cebicheria, the Peruvian restaurant specializing in ceviche.
It's even happened to Charlie Hallowell at Pizzaiolo in Oakland.
"When people come to Pizzaiolo and say, 'I don't eat wheat or cheese,' I'm like, 'Why did you come to a pizzeria?' " Hallowell says.
It's a question chefs are asking more and more as diners become increasingly picky about what they want - or don't want - on their plates.
No gluten. No salt. No dairy. No wheat.
No peanuts. No seeds. No fat.
Whether it's someone following a vegan or macrobiotic diet, someone allergic to wheat or nuts, or someone who simply doesn't like mushrooms or eggs, there's a new wave of special requests being made that go far beyond leaving the salad dressing on the side.
"It's like a puzzle," says Andrew Generalao, La Mar's general manager. "You have to try to find the right fit, and sometimes we pull it off with great things. A lot of times, it's just not that exciting."
Like most in the restaurant industry, Generalao wants to wow his customers. But trying to make ceviche without cilantro or jalapenos is like ordering macaroni and cheese without the cheese. Though the dish still might be perfectly good, its essence has been stripped away.
Still, Generalao added three vegan items to his seafood-heavy menu shortly after opening, and says he's happy to accommodate the special requests he gets.
But in an era where cafegoers order split-shot soy mocha lattes with sugar-free vanilla, light foam, no whip - and extra hot, please - restaurantgoers are tailoring even fixed menus to their taste buds.
Skenes offers one nine-course meal at Saison, and though he asks that the menu stay the menu, he still gets several special requests per week.
"We don't rule over the kitchen with an iron fist and say, 'No soup for you,' " Skenes says. "But we do it on a case-by-case basis.
"The other day, we had someone who didn't eat shellfish, didn't eat fish, didn't eat dairy, didn't eat lamb. And on the menu, we had shellfish, we had fish, we had lamb. And they also didn't eat gluten or wheat.
"So that was pretty much impossible. We just couldn't do it."
Skenes says it's mostly a matter of staffing and resources - it's too much of a strain on the small kitchen to constantly handle special requests.
Read the rest of the story here.
Chefs Rally to Help Nashville After Flood
(CNN) --Nashville chefs have cooked up plans to keep rescue workers fed and farmers in business and to whet the appetites of tourists to return once floodwaters subside.
"I grew up with the philosophy in my family that when you have a tough time in whatever area of life, a good hot meal makes a lot of things better," said chef Tandy Wilson of City House restaurant.
Though his restaurant was stocked and operational and had planned a "flood menu," his difficulty in getting to the building spurred Tandy to shut down his business and rally his staff to volunteer.
"We got in contact with the Red Cross to see who we could feed. David Lipscomb University had a big shelter in their basketball gymnasium, and we took over homemade bread and pasta with a pork ragu -- it was real good," said the fifth-generation Nashvillian.
But as soul-satisfying as that meal was, Tandy and his fellow chefs knew that with other restaurants having lost inventory and equipment and with the Nashville Farmers' Market under water, there was much more to be done.
Read more about what needs to be done and who's getting it done here.
"I grew up with the philosophy in my family that when you have a tough time in whatever area of life, a good hot meal makes a lot of things better," said chef Tandy Wilson of City House restaurant.
Though his restaurant was stocked and operational and had planned a "flood menu," his difficulty in getting to the building spurred Tandy to shut down his business and rally his staff to volunteer.
"We got in contact with the Red Cross to see who we could feed. David Lipscomb University had a big shelter in their basketball gymnasium, and we took over homemade bread and pasta with a pork ragu -- it was real good," said the fifth-generation Nashvillian.
But as soul-satisfying as that meal was, Tandy and his fellow chefs knew that with other restaurants having lost inventory and equipment and with the Nashville Farmers' Market under water, there was much more to be done.
Read more about what needs to be done and who's getting it done here.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Congratulations to Class #58
Congratulations to Class #58 of the Second Helpings Culinary Job Training Program.
Class #58 graduated Friday, April 30, 2010, putting the total number of graduates since the program's inception to 401.
Pictured below (front row, left to right): Shane Everett, Deadrick Green, Kathleen Blackwell, Alwanna Bradley, Brett Davis, Michael Carruthers (back row, left to right): Chef Conway, Michael Bower, Derek Prezzy, Timothy Rosa, David Upshaw, Conrad Rollins, Robert Snowden, and Michael Hewitt.
Class #58 graduated Friday, April 30, 2010, putting the total number of graduates since the program's inception to 401.
Pictured below (front row, left to right): Shane Everett, Deadrick Green, Kathleen Blackwell, Alwanna Bradley, Brett Davis, Michael Carruthers (back row, left to right): Chef Conway, Michael Bower, Derek Prezzy, Timothy Rosa, David Upshaw, Conrad Rollins, Robert Snowden, and Michael Hewitt.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Food for the Journey
For students in Wilma W. Stephenson’s culinary arts classes at Frankford High School in Philadelphia, cooking is more than a skill. “It is the key to their futures,” says Stephenson. She’s not exaggerating. In the 11 years her graduating seniors have participated in the Careers through Culinary Arts Program (C-CAP) Cooking Competition for Scholarships, Stephenson’s pupils have racked up more than $3 million to be put toward paying for college, earning $637,000 in 2009 alone.
“A lot of these kids in the beginning do not see themselves doing much of anything [as a career],” says the 64-year-old schoolteacher. Stephenson explains many don’t even consider education beyond high school. Some come from broken homes; others are accustomed to financial hardship. Yet when they leave her class, many go on to college and careers where they hold titles such as executive chef and pastry chef at restaurants all across the country.
“My students are successful because they have the motivation to succeed; they have that drive,” says Stephenson who has taught at Frankford her entire 41-year career. But their success is also due in part to the impact of the dynamic woman who runs her classroom like a boot camp. Yelling like a drill sergeant, she presents her classes with a laundry list of rules, including: “You have to be on time, you cannot chew gum, and you cannot wear big earrings.”
For some students, her tough demeanor is off-putting at first. “In the beginning I felt intimidated,” admits Lasheeda Perry, a former student. “She was tough, straight to the point, and didn’t take any mess.” As hard as it may have been under Stephenson’s direction, Perry earned an $80,000 scholarship to Johnson & Wales University in Providence, Rhode Island, to study baking and pastry arts. The 24-year-old is now a pastry cook at the Four Seasons Resort and Club Dallas at Las Colinas in Irving, Texas.
But the students also see another side of Stephenson, whose take-no-prisoners teaching style is the subject of a documentary directed by Jennifer Grausman and Mark Becker called Pressure Cooker (www.takepart.com/pressurecooker [3]). They see the side that buys a student a winter coat, the side that gives out her cell phone number so students can call her when life gets complicated outside the classroom, the side that assigns personal essays to her seniors and returns the writings as many times as it takes for the students to acknowledge how past traumas have held them back.
The lessons Stephenson dishes out in Room 325 don’t just pertain to cooking. No topic is off-limits if putting it on the table can benefit students. “I think I learned more from her [than from anybody else] about becoming a woman,” says Perry. But inevitably the conversation always finds its way back to cooking. In competition, students have two hours to prepare a three-course meal and clean up. Stephenson wants her kids to be ready. While some students will walk away from it with enough cash to further their education in the field, all leave knowing the value of hard work, emotional honesty, and discipline. Stephenson is certain that cooking is a way they build pride.
This article originally appeared in the May 2010 issue of Black Enterprise magazine.
“A lot of these kids in the beginning do not see themselves doing much of anything [as a career],” says the 64-year-old schoolteacher. Stephenson explains many don’t even consider education beyond high school. Some come from broken homes; others are accustomed to financial hardship. Yet when they leave her class, many go on to college and careers where they hold titles such as executive chef and pastry chef at restaurants all across the country.
“My students are successful because they have the motivation to succeed; they have that drive,” says Stephenson who has taught at Frankford her entire 41-year career. But their success is also due in part to the impact of the dynamic woman who runs her classroom like a boot camp. Yelling like a drill sergeant, she presents her classes with a laundry list of rules, including: “You have to be on time, you cannot chew gum, and you cannot wear big earrings.”
For some students, her tough demeanor is off-putting at first. “In the beginning I felt intimidated,” admits Lasheeda Perry, a former student. “She was tough, straight to the point, and didn’t take any mess.” As hard as it may have been under Stephenson’s direction, Perry earned an $80,000 scholarship to Johnson & Wales University in Providence, Rhode Island, to study baking and pastry arts. The 24-year-old is now a pastry cook at the Four Seasons Resort and Club Dallas at Las Colinas in Irving, Texas.
But the students also see another side of Stephenson, whose take-no-prisoners teaching style is the subject of a documentary directed by Jennifer Grausman and Mark Becker called Pressure Cooker (www.takepart.com/pressurecooker [3]). They see the side that buys a student a winter coat, the side that gives out her cell phone number so students can call her when life gets complicated outside the classroom, the side that assigns personal essays to her seniors and returns the writings as many times as it takes for the students to acknowledge how past traumas have held them back.
The lessons Stephenson dishes out in Room 325 don’t just pertain to cooking. No topic is off-limits if putting it on the table can benefit students. “I think I learned more from her [than from anybody else] about becoming a woman,” says Perry. But inevitably the conversation always finds its way back to cooking. In competition, students have two hours to prepare a three-course meal and clean up. Stephenson wants her kids to be ready. While some students will walk away from it with enough cash to further their education in the field, all leave knowing the value of hard work, emotional honesty, and discipline. Stephenson is certain that cooking is a way they build pride.
This article originally appeared in the May 2010 issue of Black Enterprise magazine.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Cajun Food Hides in Plain Sight in New Orleans
April 18, 2010 - New Orleans often seems to exist to be misunderstood by outsiders, and Cajun food — what it is, where to find it, what it tastes like — is a disorienting topic even to people who live here.
Not even K-Paul’s Louisiana Kitchen and Cochon, the city’s two best known Cajun restaurants, are full-blooded Cajun. An early K-Paul’s menu included fettuccine, and Cochon self-identifies as both “Cajun” and “Southern.” The Bon Ton Café, the city’s oldest Cajun cooking stronghold, serves dishes you can find at Galatoire’s.
“It does strike me as a little odd when people say I’m going to New Orleans to eat some Cajun food,” said Frank Brigtsen, who has been cooking Cajun-style food professionally for 30-odd years, most of them at his restaurant Brigtsen’s. “That requires a long explanation.”
I’ll try to keep it short.
New Orleans is an old city, but its reputation as a stronghold of Cajun cooking is relatively new and roughly 136 miles off the mark.
Cajun food comes, of course, from Cajun country, the largely rural swath of marshes, swamps, bayous and plains whose unofficial capital is Lafayette. Cajuns are descendents of the French Acadians who fled eastern Canada in the 1700s. The food is born of the ingredients and challenges unique to rural people. It is porkier that the Creole food indigenous to New Orleans. It is also marked by fewer European cooking techniques, a characteristic that leads many to describe it as simple, which is not to say it isn’t labor intensive or deeply flavored.
That is history drawn in broad strokes, and anyone interested in the full story of Cajun cuisine should visit the library and/or the region itself.
Read a brief guide to Cajun cooking in New Orleans here.
Not even K-Paul’s Louisiana Kitchen and Cochon, the city’s two best known Cajun restaurants, are full-blooded Cajun. An early K-Paul’s menu included fettuccine, and Cochon self-identifies as both “Cajun” and “Southern.” The Bon Ton Café, the city’s oldest Cajun cooking stronghold, serves dishes you can find at Galatoire’s.
“It does strike me as a little odd when people say I’m going to New Orleans to eat some Cajun food,” said Frank Brigtsen, who has been cooking Cajun-style food professionally for 30-odd years, most of them at his restaurant Brigtsen’s. “That requires a long explanation.”
I’ll try to keep it short.
New Orleans is an old city, but its reputation as a stronghold of Cajun cooking is relatively new and roughly 136 miles off the mark.
Cajun food comes, of course, from Cajun country, the largely rural swath of marshes, swamps, bayous and plains whose unofficial capital is Lafayette. Cajuns are descendents of the French Acadians who fled eastern Canada in the 1700s. The food is born of the ingredients and challenges unique to rural people. It is porkier that the Creole food indigenous to New Orleans. It is also marked by fewer European cooking techniques, a characteristic that leads many to describe it as simple, which is not to say it isn’t labor intensive or deeply flavored.
That is history drawn in broad strokes, and anyone interested in the full story of Cajun cuisine should visit the library and/or the region itself.
Read a brief guide to Cajun cooking in New Orleans here.
Monday, April 19, 2010
For Former White House Pastry Chef, Life is Sweet
MARTINSBURG, W.VA. — With his chef’s-eye perspective of life inside the White House, Roland Mesnier served a platter of amusing anecdotes Saturday at a WV Book Faire event.
He recalled former President Bill Clinton’s penchant for big parties and hearty appetite for sweets, which presented a challenge: Clinton was allergic to chocolate, dairy products and flour.
Mesnier — who retired after more than 25 years as the White House executive pastry chef — said he made a low-calorie strawberry cake that Clinton appeared to enjoy; he once ate half of a cake by himself.
One day, Clinton wanted leftover cake and was upset when a butler couldn’t find it. Clinton’s voice rose and he pounded a table.
“We think that Al Gore is the one who took it,” Mesnier quipped.
Mesnier, 65, a native of France, told story after story at Blue Ridge Community & Technical College, where he was a celebrity judge for the book fair’s Edible Book Contest.
“There was a time when he ate alone a lot,” Mesnier said of Clinton. “Even the dog wouldn’t eat with him. I don’t know if you remember those days. They were rough in the White House.”
“No more comment,” Mesnier added as the audience laughed.
Mesnier said thousands of people visit the White House daily during a three-month period around Christmas. If he didn’t start the season with 120,000 pieces of cookies and cake, the pastry shop couldn’t keep up.
Part of the demand was from what Mesnier called “the club of blue-haired ladies.”
Younger women were little trouble — they were usually dieting and trying to fit into size-2 skirts, he said.
But the blue-haired ladies ...
“Beware: Those were cookie thiefs,” he said.
Mesnier described them wandering along, opening their pocketbooks, looking around, whistling — and pushing entire plates of cookies into their bags.
The women later had their husbands drill holes in the cookies, which they would string up and give as Christmas tree ornaments, he said.
“So we had to bake not only for the ... guests, but for all of the neighbors of the blue-haired ladies,” Mesnier said.
Read the rest of the story here.
He recalled former President Bill Clinton’s penchant for big parties and hearty appetite for sweets, which presented a challenge: Clinton was allergic to chocolate, dairy products and flour.
Mesnier — who retired after more than 25 years as the White House executive pastry chef — said he made a low-calorie strawberry cake that Clinton appeared to enjoy; he once ate half of a cake by himself.
One day, Clinton wanted leftover cake and was upset when a butler couldn’t find it. Clinton’s voice rose and he pounded a table.
“We think that Al Gore is the one who took it,” Mesnier quipped.
Mesnier, 65, a native of France, told story after story at Blue Ridge Community & Technical College, where he was a celebrity judge for the book fair’s Edible Book Contest.
“There was a time when he ate alone a lot,” Mesnier said of Clinton. “Even the dog wouldn’t eat with him. I don’t know if you remember those days. They were rough in the White House.”
“No more comment,” Mesnier added as the audience laughed.
Mesnier said thousands of people visit the White House daily during a three-month period around Christmas. If he didn’t start the season with 120,000 pieces of cookies and cake, the pastry shop couldn’t keep up.
Part of the demand was from what Mesnier called “the club of blue-haired ladies.”
Younger women were little trouble — they were usually dieting and trying to fit into size-2 skirts, he said.
But the blue-haired ladies ...
“Beware: Those were cookie thiefs,” he said.
Mesnier described them wandering along, opening their pocketbooks, looking around, whistling — and pushing entire plates of cookies into their bags.
The women later had their husbands drill holes in the cookies, which they would string up and give as Christmas tree ornaments, he said.
“So we had to bake not only for the ... guests, but for all of the neighbors of the blue-haired ladies,” Mesnier said.
Read the rest of the story here.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Cilantro Haters, It’s Not Your Fault
(Even the great Julia Child hated it!!)
By HAROLD McGEE
FOOD partisanship doesn’t usually reach the same heights of animosity as the political variety, except in the case of the anti-cilantro party. The green parts of the plant that gives us coriander seeds seem to inspire a primal revulsion among an outspoken minority of eaters.
Culinary sophistication is no guarantee of immunity from cilantrophobia. In a television interview in 2002, Larry King asked Julia Child which foods she hated. She responded: “Cilantro and arugula I don’t like at all. They’re both green herbs, they have kind of a dead taste to me.”
“So you would never order it?” Mr. King asked.
“Never,” she responded. “I would pick it out if I saw it and throw it on the floor.”
Ms. Child had plenty of company for her feelings about cilantro (arugula seems to be less offensive). The authoritative Oxford Companion to Food notes that the word “coriander” is said to derive from the Greek word for bedbug, that cilantro aroma “has been compared with the smell of bug-infested bedclothes” and that “Europeans often have difficulty in overcoming their initial aversion to this smell.” There’s an “I Hate Cilantro” Facebook page with hundreds of fans and an I Hate Cilantro blog.
Yet cilantro is happily consumed by many millions of people around the world, particularly in Asia and Latin America. The Portuguese put fistfuls into soups. What is it about cilantro that makes it so unpleasant for people in cultures that don’t much use it?
Some people may be genetically predisposed to dislike cilantro, according to often-cited studies by Charles J. Wysocki of the Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia. But cilantrophobe genetics remain little known and aren’t under systematic investigation. Meanwhile, history, chemistry and neurology have been adding some valuable pieces to the puzzle.
The coriander plant is native to the eastern Mediterranean, and European cooks used both seeds and leaves well into medieval times.
Helen Leach, an anthropologist at the University of Otago in New Zealand, has traced unflattering remarks about cilantro flavor and the bug etymology — not endorsed by modern dictionaries — back to English garden books and French farming books from around 1600, when medieval dishes had fallen out of fashion. She suggests that cilantro was disparaged as part of a general effort to define the new European table against the flavors of the old.
Modern cilantrophobes tend to describe the offending flavor as soapy rather than buggy. I don’t hate cilantro, but it does sometimes remind me of hand lotion. Each of these associations turns out to make good chemical sense.
Read the rest of the story here.
By HAROLD McGEE
FOOD partisanship doesn’t usually reach the same heights of animosity as the political variety, except in the case of the anti-cilantro party. The green parts of the plant that gives us coriander seeds seem to inspire a primal revulsion among an outspoken minority of eaters.
Culinary sophistication is no guarantee of immunity from cilantrophobia. In a television interview in 2002, Larry King asked Julia Child which foods she hated. She responded: “Cilantro and arugula I don’t like at all. They’re both green herbs, they have kind of a dead taste to me.”
“So you would never order it?” Mr. King asked.
“Never,” she responded. “I would pick it out if I saw it and throw it on the floor.”
Ms. Child had plenty of company for her feelings about cilantro (arugula seems to be less offensive). The authoritative Oxford Companion to Food notes that the word “coriander” is said to derive from the Greek word for bedbug, that cilantro aroma “has been compared with the smell of bug-infested bedclothes” and that “Europeans often have difficulty in overcoming their initial aversion to this smell.” There’s an “I Hate Cilantro” Facebook page with hundreds of fans and an I Hate Cilantro blog.
Yet cilantro is happily consumed by many millions of people around the world, particularly in Asia and Latin America. The Portuguese put fistfuls into soups. What is it about cilantro that makes it so unpleasant for people in cultures that don’t much use it?
Some people may be genetically predisposed to dislike cilantro, according to often-cited studies by Charles J. Wysocki of the Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia. But cilantrophobe genetics remain little known and aren’t under systematic investigation. Meanwhile, history, chemistry and neurology have been adding some valuable pieces to the puzzle.
The coriander plant is native to the eastern Mediterranean, and European cooks used both seeds and leaves well into medieval times.
Helen Leach, an anthropologist at the University of Otago in New Zealand, has traced unflattering remarks about cilantro flavor and the bug etymology — not endorsed by modern dictionaries — back to English garden books and French farming books from around 1600, when medieval dishes had fallen out of fashion. She suggests that cilantro was disparaged as part of a general effort to define the new European table against the flavors of the old.
Modern cilantrophobes tend to describe the offending flavor as soapy rather than buggy. I don’t hate cilantro, but it does sometimes remind me of hand lotion. Each of these associations turns out to make good chemical sense.
Read the rest of the story here.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Pastry Chefs Rising Stars of the Culinary World
SAN FRANCISCO — Not too long ago, the pastry chef was a bit of an afterthought.
Sure, there was tiramisu and molten lava chocolate cake. But, for the most part, kitchen celebrity was measured by thrills at the grill, not by teaspoonfuls of baking soda.
That's changed.
Artisan cupcakes are everywhere, Bravo TV's "Top Chef" is spinning off a show "Top Chef: Just Desserts," and TLC has "Cake Boss." Then there's Food Network's "Ace of Cakes," following the adventures of Duff Goldman as he and his crew whip up such concoctions as Viking ship wedding cakes, detailed right down to the breaking waves.
Pastry chefs are the rising stars of the culinary world.
"There's definitely a lot of interest," says Peter Reinhart, baking instructor at Johnson & Wales University and author of five books on bread baking, including "The Bread Bakers Apprentice." At Johnson & Wales, one of the nation's leading culinary schools, "we sell out our baking and pastry program faster than any other program, and that tells us a lot."
Dorie Greenspan, author of "Baking: From My Home to Yours," thinks blogging has helped shine a spotlight on sweets. There are cake bloggers, cookie bloggers, macaron bloggers. "There's just been a lot more news about what's going on in the sweet world."
Read the rest of the story here.
Sure, there was tiramisu and molten lava chocolate cake. But, for the most part, kitchen celebrity was measured by thrills at the grill, not by teaspoonfuls of baking soda.
That's changed.
Artisan cupcakes are everywhere, Bravo TV's "Top Chef" is spinning off a show "Top Chef: Just Desserts," and TLC has "Cake Boss." Then there's Food Network's "Ace of Cakes," following the adventures of Duff Goldman as he and his crew whip up such concoctions as Viking ship wedding cakes, detailed right down to the breaking waves.
Pastry chefs are the rising stars of the culinary world.
"There's definitely a lot of interest," says Peter Reinhart, baking instructor at Johnson & Wales University and author of five books on bread baking, including "The Bread Bakers Apprentice." At Johnson & Wales, one of the nation's leading culinary schools, "we sell out our baking and pastry program faster than any other program, and that tells us a lot."
Dorie Greenspan, author of "Baking: From My Home to Yours," thinks blogging has helped shine a spotlight on sweets. There are cake bloggers, cookie bloggers, macaron bloggers. "There's just been a lot more news about what's going on in the sweet world."
Read the rest of the story here.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Young Job-Seekers Hiding Their Facebook Pages
(CNN) -- Justin Gawel says there's nothing too incriminating on his Facebook page.
"There are a lot of pictures of drinking [but] nothing naked or anything -- at least I don't think so," he said jokingly.
Even so, the Michigan State University junior recently changed his Facebook display name to "Dustin Jawel" to keep his personal life from potential employers while applying for summer internships.
Although Gawel ditched his rhyming alias after two weeks when he realized Facebook users also can be searched by e-mail address, school and network, he is not alone in his efforts to scrub his online résumé. Many students and recent graduates say they are changing their names on Facebook or tightening privacy settings to hide photos and wall posts from potential employers.
And with good reason.
A recent survey commissioned by Microsoft found that 70 percent of recruiters and hiring managers in the United States have rejected an applicant based on information they found online.
What kind of information? "Inappropriate" comments by the candidate; "unsuitable" photos and videos; criticisms of previous employers, co-workers, or clients; and even inappropriate comments by friends and relatives, according to the survey report, titled "Online Reputation in a Connected World."
Such prying into his online life makes Gawel uncomfortable.
"I understand that when [employers look] at someone's Facebook page, they're just trying to paint a bigger picture of the people they're hiring -- so they're not just a name on a résumé," he said. "But that doesn't demonstrate whether they can do the job. It shouldn't matter what someone does when they're not in the office."
Gawel said he's not sure that employers would object to the information on his Facebook page. For him, it's more about personal privacy.
"Too many people take pictures of you. I didn't want to go through and 'untag' all of them," he said. "There's nothing illegal or too ridiculous in the photos ... but people don't take pictures of people studying or doing school work. They take pictures of people at parties and doing silly things."
For better or worse, online screenings may be a permanent part of the 21st-century hiring process.The Microsoft survey found that 79 percent of U.S. hiring managers have used the Internet to better assess applicants.
Read the rest of the story here.
"There are a lot of pictures of drinking [but] nothing naked or anything -- at least I don't think so," he said jokingly.
Even so, the Michigan State University junior recently changed his Facebook display name to "Dustin Jawel" to keep his personal life from potential employers while applying for summer internships.
Although Gawel ditched his rhyming alias after two weeks when he realized Facebook users also can be searched by e-mail address, school and network, he is not alone in his efforts to scrub his online résumé. Many students and recent graduates say they are changing their names on Facebook or tightening privacy settings to hide photos and wall posts from potential employers.
And with good reason.
A recent survey commissioned by Microsoft found that 70 percent of recruiters and hiring managers in the United States have rejected an applicant based on information they found online.
What kind of information? "Inappropriate" comments by the candidate; "unsuitable" photos and videos; criticisms of previous employers, co-workers, or clients; and even inappropriate comments by friends and relatives, according to the survey report, titled "Online Reputation in a Connected World."
Such prying into his online life makes Gawel uncomfortable.
"I understand that when [employers look] at someone's Facebook page, they're just trying to paint a bigger picture of the people they're hiring -- so they're not just a name on a résumé," he said. "But that doesn't demonstrate whether they can do the job. It shouldn't matter what someone does when they're not in the office."
Gawel said he's not sure that employers would object to the information on his Facebook page. For him, it's more about personal privacy.
"Too many people take pictures of you. I didn't want to go through and 'untag' all of them," he said. "There's nothing illegal or too ridiculous in the photos ... but people don't take pictures of people studying or doing school work. They take pictures of people at parties and doing silly things."
For better or worse, online screenings may be a permanent part of the 21st-century hiring process.The Microsoft survey found that 79 percent of U.S. hiring managers have used the Internet to better assess applicants.
Read the rest of the story here.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Superbowl Triumph Brings Wine, Osteopaths Back to New Orleans
April 5 (Bloomberg) -- “Ever since the Saints won the Super Bowl people have stopped asking if the streets of New Orleans are still full of water,” said Ted Brennan, whose family owns Brennan’s in the French Quarter. “You can’t imagine how important that game was. People are coming back, eating in the restaurants, and ordering good wines again.”
The last time I spoke with Ted and his brother Jimmy was after Katrina hit in 2005 and destroyed vast quantities of restaurant wine, mainly from heat spoilage after the electricity went out.
On the night after Katrina blew through, Jimmy Brennan and his chef Lazone Randolph kept a vigil with loaded pistols to ward off looters intent on robbing their 30,000 bottle wine cellar of its treasures -- all eventually condemned by the health department.
Antoine’s lost 16,000 bottles, Emeril’s 6,000.
“We’re back up to about 5,000 bottles now, which is $500,000 wholesale,” said Jimmy Brennan. “And prices are coming down fast. It used to be very difficult to buy 2005 and 2006 Bordeaux and Burgundy, but now there’s a lot of wine unsold because of the economy worldwide. They got to get rid of that wine.”
Jimmy, 68, says that the older New Orleans restaurants (Brennan’s opened in 1946 and moved to Royal Street in 1955) “held our own” after Katrina and during the recession. “Everybody’s ordering in the medium price range, with very few high notes.”
He prides himself on low markups. “You get a lot more bang for your buck in New Orleans than you would in New York, Boston, or other cities where they jack up the prices,” he said. “If I pay $10 for a wine wholesale, I charge the guest $30; if I pay $50 or more, I just double the price.”
Read the rest of the story here.
The last time I spoke with Ted and his brother Jimmy was after Katrina hit in 2005 and destroyed vast quantities of restaurant wine, mainly from heat spoilage after the electricity went out.
On the night after Katrina blew through, Jimmy Brennan and his chef Lazone Randolph kept a vigil with loaded pistols to ward off looters intent on robbing their 30,000 bottle wine cellar of its treasures -- all eventually condemned by the health department.
Antoine’s lost 16,000 bottles, Emeril’s 6,000.
“We’re back up to about 5,000 bottles now, which is $500,000 wholesale,” said Jimmy Brennan. “And prices are coming down fast. It used to be very difficult to buy 2005 and 2006 Bordeaux and Burgundy, but now there’s a lot of wine unsold because of the economy worldwide. They got to get rid of that wine.”
Jimmy, 68, says that the older New Orleans restaurants (Brennan’s opened in 1946 and moved to Royal Street in 1955) “held our own” after Katrina and during the recession. “Everybody’s ordering in the medium price range, with very few high notes.”
He prides himself on low markups. “You get a lot more bang for your buck in New Orleans than you would in New York, Boston, or other cities where they jack up the prices,” he said. “If I pay $10 for a wine wholesale, I charge the guest $30; if I pay $50 or more, I just double the price.”
Read the rest of the story here.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Once a Rising Star, Chef Now Feeds Hungry
Madurai, India (CNN) -- Narayanan Krishnan was a bright, young, award-winning chef with a five-star hotel group, short-listed for an elite job in Switzerland. But a quick family visit home before heading to Europe changed everything.
"I saw a very old man eating his own human waste for food," Krishnan said. "It really hurt me so much. I was literally shocked for a second. After that, I started feeding that man and decided this is what I should do the rest of my lifetime."
Krishnan was visiting a temple in the south Indian city of Madurai in 2002 when he saw the man under a bridge. Haunted by the image, Krishnan quit his job within the week and returned home for good, convinced of his new destiny.
"That spark and that inspiration is a driving force still inside me as a flame -- to serve all the mentally ill destitutes and people who cannot take care of themselves," Krishnan said.
Krishnan founded his nonprofit Akshaya Trust in 2003. Now 29, he has served more than 1.2 million meals -- breakfast, lunch and dinner -- to India's homeless and destitute, mostly elderly people abandoned by their families and often abused.
Because of the poverty India faces, so many mentally ill people have been ... left uncared [for] on the roadside of the city," he said.
Krishnan said the name Akshaya is Sanskrit for "undecaying" or "imperishable," and was chosen "to signify [that] human compassion should never decay or perish. ... The spirit of helping others must prevail for ever." Also, in Hindu mythology, Goddess Annapoorani's "Akshaya bowl" fed the hungry endlessly, never depleting its resources.
Krishnan's day begins at 4 a.m. He and his team cover nearly 125 miles in a donated van, routinely working in temperatures topping 100 degrees Fahrenheit.
He seeks out the homeless under bridges and in the nooks and crannies between the city's temples. The hot meals he delivers are simple, tasty vegetarian fare he personally prepares, packs and often hand-feeds to nearly 400 clients each day.
Read the rest of the chef's inspiring story here.
"I saw a very old man eating his own human waste for food," Krishnan said. "It really hurt me so much. I was literally shocked for a second. After that, I started feeding that man and decided this is what I should do the rest of my lifetime."
Krishnan was visiting a temple in the south Indian city of Madurai in 2002 when he saw the man under a bridge. Haunted by the image, Krishnan quit his job within the week and returned home for good, convinced of his new destiny.
"That spark and that inspiration is a driving force still inside me as a flame -- to serve all the mentally ill destitutes and people who cannot take care of themselves," Krishnan said.
Krishnan founded his nonprofit Akshaya Trust in 2003. Now 29, he has served more than 1.2 million meals -- breakfast, lunch and dinner -- to India's homeless and destitute, mostly elderly people abandoned by their families and often abused.
Because of the poverty India faces, so many mentally ill people have been ... left uncared [for] on the roadside of the city," he said.
Krishnan said the name Akshaya is Sanskrit for "undecaying" or "imperishable," and was chosen "to signify [that] human compassion should never decay or perish. ... The spirit of helping others must prevail for ever." Also, in Hindu mythology, Goddess Annapoorani's "Akshaya bowl" fed the hungry endlessly, never depleting its resources.
Krishnan's day begins at 4 a.m. He and his team cover nearly 125 miles in a donated van, routinely working in temperatures topping 100 degrees Fahrenheit.
He seeks out the homeless under bridges and in the nooks and crannies between the city's temples. The hot meals he delivers are simple, tasty vegetarian fare he personally prepares, packs and often hand-feeds to nearly 400 clients each day.
Read the rest of the chef's inspiring story here.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Master Chef Turns His Skills to Cooking for Cancer Patients
By CHRISTINE FISHER
Philadelphia Daily News
JACK SHOOP has owned several top-rated restaurants and is one of just 61 chefs in the United States who've been certified as master chefs by the American Culinary Federation. When the opportunity for a major career change arose, however, Shoop let his mom be his guide.
Less than two years ago, Shoop, a Harley-riding Kensington native, traded in his Florida restaurant gigs to become the executive chef for Cancer Treatment Centers of America at Eastern Regional Medical Center in Northeast Philadelphia. Shoop stresses the clinical and spiritual importance of food in the meals he prepares daily for about 800 cancer patients, their families and CTCA employees.
Shoop's decision to make such a significant career switch was due in large part to his mother's passing. "Even though my mother didn't die of cancer, I just felt like she was telling me to do it," Shoop recalled recently.
Hurricane Katrina played a part, too.
In 2005, the hurricane hit Shoop's restaurant in Destin, Fla. - the fourth such storm to strike the business. At the same time, his father passed away. The coinciding events prompted Shoop to return to Philadelphia to help his newly widowed mother.
She died unexpectedly a few months later.
Upon returning to Philadelphia, Shoop began working at Viking Cooking School in Bryn Mawr. That led to him doing a cooking demonstration for CTCA leaders as a part of a team-building workshop they attended. CEO John McNeil approached Shoop after the event and asked him to join CTCA.
Working in a hospital, he sometimes finds himself thinking of his mother's passing, and it's brought him to tears. "I never cried in my restaurant. Here I've cried about a thousand times," he said. But the opportunity to make a positive difference in the world outweighs any emotional strain from his job.
Shoop sees his work as a way to "redirect passion for the culinary arts to better the lives of cancer patients and their caregivers."
Certainly the job brings special challenges. The National Cancer Institute estimates that 40 percent of cancer-related deaths are due to malnutrition. Cancer and its treatments can affect a patient's ability to taste and smell and lead to nausea, trouble absorbing nutrients, anorexia and fatigue.
At Eastern Regional Medical Center, Shoop and a team of oncologists, naturopathic doctors, nutritionists, mind-body specialists and therapists use a whole-person approach to ensure optimal nutrition for their patients. This approach is based on the idea that cancer does not affect one part of the body but rather the body as a whole - as well as all aspects of patients' lives.
CTCA's philosophy of all-inclusive care centralized under one roof is the result of another man's love for his mother: Founder Richard J. Stephenson started CTCA in Illinois after seeing the unsatisfactory care his own mother received when she battled cancer. CTCA also has facilities in Illinois, Oklahoma, Arizona and Washington state.
The objectives of what CTCA calls its "Mother Standard of Care" are to make a difference in the lives of cancer patients and to treat patients as they would their own loved ones.
Not surprisingly, Shoop enthusiastically embraced that approach. "Every single person can make a difference," he said, adding that he extends that philosophy to how he treats his 52-person staff as well.
Read the entire story here.
Philadelphia Daily News
JACK SHOOP has owned several top-rated restaurants and is one of just 61 chefs in the United States who've been certified as master chefs by the American Culinary Federation. When the opportunity for a major career change arose, however, Shoop let his mom be his guide.
Less than two years ago, Shoop, a Harley-riding Kensington native, traded in his Florida restaurant gigs to become the executive chef for Cancer Treatment Centers of America at Eastern Regional Medical Center in Northeast Philadelphia. Shoop stresses the clinical and spiritual importance of food in the meals he prepares daily for about 800 cancer patients, their families and CTCA employees.
Shoop's decision to make such a significant career switch was due in large part to his mother's passing. "Even though my mother didn't die of cancer, I just felt like she was telling me to do it," Shoop recalled recently.
Hurricane Katrina played a part, too.
In 2005, the hurricane hit Shoop's restaurant in Destin, Fla. - the fourth such storm to strike the business. At the same time, his father passed away. The coinciding events prompted Shoop to return to Philadelphia to help his newly widowed mother.
She died unexpectedly a few months later.
Upon returning to Philadelphia, Shoop began working at Viking Cooking School in Bryn Mawr. That led to him doing a cooking demonstration for CTCA leaders as a part of a team-building workshop they attended. CEO John McNeil approached Shoop after the event and asked him to join CTCA.
Working in a hospital, he sometimes finds himself thinking of his mother's passing, and it's brought him to tears. "I never cried in my restaurant. Here I've cried about a thousand times," he said. But the opportunity to make a positive difference in the world outweighs any emotional strain from his job.
Shoop sees his work as a way to "redirect passion for the culinary arts to better the lives of cancer patients and their caregivers."
Certainly the job brings special challenges. The National Cancer Institute estimates that 40 percent of cancer-related deaths are due to malnutrition. Cancer and its treatments can affect a patient's ability to taste and smell and lead to nausea, trouble absorbing nutrients, anorexia and fatigue.
At Eastern Regional Medical Center, Shoop and a team of oncologists, naturopathic doctors, nutritionists, mind-body specialists and therapists use a whole-person approach to ensure optimal nutrition for their patients. This approach is based on the idea that cancer does not affect one part of the body but rather the body as a whole - as well as all aspects of patients' lives.
CTCA's philosophy of all-inclusive care centralized under one roof is the result of another man's love for his mother: Founder Richard J. Stephenson started CTCA in Illinois after seeing the unsatisfactory care his own mother received when she battled cancer. CTCA also has facilities in Illinois, Oklahoma, Arizona and Washington state.
The objectives of what CTCA calls its "Mother Standard of Care" are to make a difference in the lives of cancer patients and to treat patients as they would their own loved ones.
Not surprisingly, Shoop enthusiastically embraced that approach. "Every single person can make a difference," he said, adding that he extends that philosophy to how he treats his 52-person staff as well.
Read the entire story here.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
"Food Adventure" Clubs Embrace the Unusual
"Food adventure" clubs such as the New York-based Gastronauts are attracting members interested in trying unusual foods such as live octopus or goat kidneys. Pastry chef Jenna Volcheff said she attends Gastronauts events to experience food from different cultures without having to travel.
NEW YORK — Ben Raisher watches as the writhing Octopus on his plate has its tentacles clipped with giant shears, then squirms in amber sesame oil like a pile of bisected earthworms.
With a deft pinch of his chopsticks, the wriggling, still-alive limb is in his mouth and down his throat.
Raisher, 28, smiles. It's what brought him to his local food adventure club, one of a handful of groups dedicated to dining on exotic and bizarre foods from New York to Denver to San Francisco.
The iron-stomached champions of New York City are the Gastronauts, who meet monthly to feast on foods many wouldn't consider, such as pig hearts and intestine in vinegar, goat kidneys or sauteed lamb's brains.
"Nothing's off the table," said co-founder Curtiss Calleo, who grew up in Austria and Italy and wants to bring Old World curiosity to New York plates. "Any restaurant worth its salt has sweetbreads or tongue or pork bellies. There's a food renaissance going on."
Offal is old hat for groups like the Boston Gastronauts and the Organ Meet Society of New York City. There are groups devoted to eating only insects and some that venture into extreme territory, like the San Francisco Food Adventure Club that recently organized a human placenta tasting (the dinner had to be canceled due to potential formaldehyde exposure).
Most of the adventures are in good fun, but some have pushed boundaries. Last week, federal prosecutors filed charges against a restaurant and sushi chef accused of serving endangered whale meat in Santa Monica, Calif.
Read the complete story here.
NEW YORK — Ben Raisher watches as the writhing Octopus on his plate has its tentacles clipped with giant shears, then squirms in amber sesame oil like a pile of bisected earthworms.
With a deft pinch of his chopsticks, the wriggling, still-alive limb is in his mouth and down his throat.
Raisher, 28, smiles. It's what brought him to his local food adventure club, one of a handful of groups dedicated to dining on exotic and bizarre foods from New York to Denver to San Francisco.
The iron-stomached champions of New York City are the Gastronauts, who meet monthly to feast on foods many wouldn't consider, such as pig hearts and intestine in vinegar, goat kidneys or sauteed lamb's brains.
"Nothing's off the table," said co-founder Curtiss Calleo, who grew up in Austria and Italy and wants to bring Old World curiosity to New York plates. "Any restaurant worth its salt has sweetbreads or tongue or pork bellies. There's a food renaissance going on."
Offal is old hat for groups like the Boston Gastronauts and the Organ Meet Society of New York City. There are groups devoted to eating only insects and some that venture into extreme territory, like the San Francisco Food Adventure Club that recently organized a human placenta tasting (the dinner had to be canceled due to potential formaldehyde exposure).
Most of the adventures are in good fun, but some have pushed boundaries. Last week, federal prosecutors filed charges against a restaurant and sushi chef accused of serving endangered whale meat in Santa Monica, Calif.
Read the complete story here.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Dinner is Served, But We Can't Tell You Where
By Jane Black
On Feb. 23, a select group of Washingtonians received an intriguing e-mail: "The orange arrow is pointing at you," the subject line read.
It was an exclusive invitation to "an exclusive underground anti-restaurant," the e-mail explained. "Because the DNA of the magical dinner is unmapped, these events will evolve, month to month, season to season, place to place & plate to plate."
The invitation alone wasn't enough for diners to make the cut, however. For the privilege of attending Orange Arrow's inaugural, $125-a-head dinner, guests had to agree to abide by certain rules.
"If you can't/won't eat certain things, this is not for you."
"No crybabies, whiners or buzz kills can come to our party. This isn't reality television."
"Don't try to sell your ticket on Craigslist. Failure to show basic decency gets you on the blacklist."
Reached by phone, Orange Arrow's co-founder, a James Beard award-nominated chef, made no apologies for the invitation's tone or defiant exclusivity. "We don't want them in if they're not fun or interesting," said the chef, who requested anonymity. "This is a private club. In a restaurant, you're a whipping post. This is a completely different thing."
In a city best known for its see-and-be-seen culinary destinations, a new breed of underground restaurants is emerging. These supper clubs shun pomp, circumstance and plebian steak dinners in favor of more-offbeat dining experiences. Some operate as for-profit businesses. Orange Arrow plans to obtain location and liquor permits for its ambitious suppers, which will host as many as 150 select "hungry, hedonistic gypsies" at venues that range from a museum to an alleyway. Others lurk in a legal gray area, accepting "suggested donations" for the food and wine to get around requirements for business and liquor licenses. Hush, the brainchild of a former World Bank staffer, invites no more than 16 for an intimate evening of home-style Indian food and culinary storytelling. There are even traveling underground restaurants. On Feb. 20, 40 in-the-know hipsters surrounded a long table to eat garlicky shrimp (and learn to suck out the heads) at the area's first Wok + Wine event.
Already, demand is strong. Orange Arrow sold 30 percent of its tickets within 24 hours; it requires visitors to visit http://orangearrowdc.com to list a reference in order to get past the virtual velvet rope. After just one month of taking reservations at http://hushsupperclub.wordpress.com, Hush has an e-mail list of 300 interested diners, and every meal has had a waiting list. "The demand is unbelievable," said the host, who goes by the name Geeta and runs Hush out of her home in Northwest Washington. "I thought, you know, I'd join Twitter and send out some e-mails and maybe some people would check it out. I thought it would take six months to build interest, not 10 days."
Unlicensed restaurants have long prospered overseas. In Hong Kong, si fang cai, or speak-easies, in private homes are considered by many to have the best food in the city. But clandestine kitchens are a more recent phenomenon in the United States. The Ghetto Gourmet, which began serving meals in the basement of an Oakland, Calif., apartment in 2004, was one of the earliest. Soon, the concept spread to big cities everywhere. In Atlanta, RogueApron threw an event in an alley between boarded-up houses. In New York, patrons of A Razor, A Shiny Knife have together learned to carve a 150-pound boar. In Washington, two professional chefs launched a short-lived underground experiment, also called Hush, in Eastern Market in 2007. But it wasn't until this year that the trend took off in earnest.
Washington's new underground restaurants generally divide into two categories: amateur cooks who want to offer a new kind of experience and recovering restaurateurs who want to set their own rules.
Read the rest of the story here.
On Feb. 23, a select group of Washingtonians received an intriguing e-mail: "The orange arrow is pointing at you," the subject line read.
It was an exclusive invitation to "an exclusive underground anti-restaurant," the e-mail explained. "Because the DNA of the magical dinner is unmapped, these events will evolve, month to month, season to season, place to place & plate to plate."
The invitation alone wasn't enough for diners to make the cut, however. For the privilege of attending Orange Arrow's inaugural, $125-a-head dinner, guests had to agree to abide by certain rules.
"If you can't/won't eat certain things, this is not for you."
"No crybabies, whiners or buzz kills can come to our party. This isn't reality television."
"Don't try to sell your ticket on Craigslist. Failure to show basic decency gets you on the blacklist."
Reached by phone, Orange Arrow's co-founder, a James Beard award-nominated chef, made no apologies for the invitation's tone or defiant exclusivity. "We don't want them in if they're not fun or interesting," said the chef, who requested anonymity. "This is a private club. In a restaurant, you're a whipping post. This is a completely different thing."
In a city best known for its see-and-be-seen culinary destinations, a new breed of underground restaurants is emerging. These supper clubs shun pomp, circumstance and plebian steak dinners in favor of more-offbeat dining experiences. Some operate as for-profit businesses. Orange Arrow plans to obtain location and liquor permits for its ambitious suppers, which will host as many as 150 select "hungry, hedonistic gypsies" at venues that range from a museum to an alleyway. Others lurk in a legal gray area, accepting "suggested donations" for the food and wine to get around requirements for business and liquor licenses. Hush, the brainchild of a former World Bank staffer, invites no more than 16 for an intimate evening of home-style Indian food and culinary storytelling. There are even traveling underground restaurants. On Feb. 20, 40 in-the-know hipsters surrounded a long table to eat garlicky shrimp (and learn to suck out the heads) at the area's first Wok + Wine event.
Already, demand is strong. Orange Arrow sold 30 percent of its tickets within 24 hours; it requires visitors to visit http://orangearrowdc.com to list a reference in order to get past the virtual velvet rope. After just one month of taking reservations at http://hushsupperclub.wordpress.com, Hush has an e-mail list of 300 interested diners, and every meal has had a waiting list. "The demand is unbelievable," said the host, who goes by the name Geeta and runs Hush out of her home in Northwest Washington. "I thought, you know, I'd join Twitter and send out some e-mails and maybe some people would check it out. I thought it would take six months to build interest, not 10 days."
Unlicensed restaurants have long prospered overseas. In Hong Kong, si fang cai, or speak-easies, in private homes are considered by many to have the best food in the city. But clandestine kitchens are a more recent phenomenon in the United States. The Ghetto Gourmet, which began serving meals in the basement of an Oakland, Calif., apartment in 2004, was one of the earliest. Soon, the concept spread to big cities everywhere. In Atlanta, RogueApron threw an event in an alley between boarded-up houses. In New York, patrons of A Razor, A Shiny Knife have together learned to carve a 150-pound boar. In Washington, two professional chefs launched a short-lived underground experiment, also called Hush, in Eastern Market in 2007. But it wasn't until this year that the trend took off in earnest.
Washington's new underground restaurants generally divide into two categories: amateur cooks who want to offer a new kind of experience and recovering restaurateurs who want to set their own rules.
Read the rest of the story here.
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