When I was in New Orleans a month ago I went to a psychic in the French Quarter. I went because when you are in New Orleans you do things that good New Orleans tourists do like eat po boys, drink hurricanes, and go to psychics. A friend of mine from New Orleans suggested I go to Bottom of the Cup Tea Room and after convincing my friends that’s exactly what we did.
As far as psychics shops go this one was very standard, smelling faintly of incense and freshly brewed mint tea. People browsed the shelves of crystals, oils and other sorts of gadgets that my Catholic upbringing strongly frowns upon and I of course find fascinating. I went into the shop with every intention of finding out my future, letting someone else do all the work for a change instead of racking my overly analytical brain for the answers. Amidst the confusion of changing careers, slowly falling for a talented chef, and the sudden desire to take off and travel at a moment’s notice once again, I needed answers and I wanted someone else to give me them!
I met with a woman with stark white hair that fell just below her chin and bright red lips. She gesticulated her long fingernails every time she wanted to emphasize a point in our conversation. She spoke with a slow drawl and would say things like “oh hunnie” and “gorgeous” (gaaaawgeous) mixed in between her laughter. She smiled wide exposing almost every tooth in her mouth some of which had traces of her red lipstick. All of these attributes made her much more authentic because she looked the part. She made me laugh and wish that she was a strange aunt, the kind that everyone feels the need to say was married into the family. I won’t tell you the private details of our conversation, those are between me and her, but I will tell you something she said that I really loved.
She spoke about the importance of passion, a topic not lost on this culinary student considering I’m pursuing a career in food. Passion is a very important part of life, after all a life without passion is boring and lackluster, even a bit sad. She used an analogy that my food obsessed brain will never forget. With her long fingernails waving in the air she proclaimed to me that although passion is very important, it is just the icing on the cake.
A cake is delicious on its own, but icing makes it that much more interesting, adding flavor and aesthetics that are difficult to achieve with plain cake alone. Think about it, no matter how much you love icing, and I love me some icing, you will never be able to eat a lot of icing without getting sick. Sometimes you can indulge in licking the spoon after icing a cake or dipping your finger into the bowl when no one is looking, but overindulging in the fun sugary part gets boring and frankly will make you want to puke.
This cake analogy has been on my mind since the beginning of the new year. I can go from cautious to completely giving into passions if I allow myself (don’t put a box of girl scout cookies in front of me if you want some for yourself). A good balance is necessary and I find it hard to balance everything. People talk about needing passion in order to have a career in the culinary industry and they are right. Most chefs and cooks put up with the long hours, the heat, and the physicality of the job because they love it. If you are working in this industry, not out of necessity, you need to love it or else you will walk away. But passion and heart alone won’t get you anywhere. You need to put in the hard work and you need to get yelled at a little. You need to push yourself. I have to remember that the next time I’m on the line, burning myself, and the chef is yelling at me about something I did wrong. It’s easy to forget how much you love something when things get difficult.
I have deserted you fair blog. I am aware of this and I feel terrible. I miss cooking at home for fun, writing my food musings, testing out new recipes and force feeding the people around me. Since during the day job I’m in front of a computer and at night I’m in front of the stove, when I get home after midnight I spend quality time with my bed and a few cocktails.
This winter, mother nature has waged a personal vendetta against the east coast, including today where she left the entire tri-state area under a sheet of ice. Below is a small tidbit of my commute.
And this…
You know the weather is bad when they cancel Groundhog Day. He probably came out of his hole and rushed back in before getting struck by a falling icicle.
Before I ventured to culinary school, I did not have any real kitchen experience (my little kitchen at home didn’t really cut it). Now however, I have some exciting news to tell. I am finally cooking for paying customers, in an actual restaurant! Three nights each week I will be cooking at The French Culinary Institute’s restaurant L’Ecole. My first station was garde manger, the appetizer and salad station, a fairly easy station or so I thought.
Last night we had around 80 covers for a private party, which is not a terrible number to get through when the orders are spread out throughout the evening. Since this was a private party however we were slammed with all orders in the span of 30 minutes. At one point, between rushing to get orders from the oven to the plate, the parchment paper on a tray caught on fire causing charred paper flakes to fly through the air lightly coating our prepared petatou. A few of the more seasoned chefs had to step in to help and relieve us floundering culinary students. Amazingly we got everything out there and only one customer returned a plate to the kitchen because it wasn’t hot enough. I unfortunately wasn’t able to take any pictures of the prepared plates, however my friend did snap one shot of our digestif plate. Pears poached in red wine with an arugula salad and goat cheese and ricotta sorbet topped with a parmigiana crisp.
In a couple of days I will switch from garde manger to the fish station. I’m excited to work the line and finally work with more fire. Maybe I’ll be a line girl after all.
This post is part of the Food 2 series. I am writing this series about my experience in the culinary school kitchen for the food2.com blog.
Another post is up on food2.com. We just finished level 4 at school where we were split into three different groups, production, buffet, and family. For buffet my contributions included seafood paella, mini empanadas, mini custard tarts, and seafood stuffed piquillo peppers. Check out food2.
I was excited for Cajun cooking. Who wouldn’t be? I wanted cayenne, Tabasco, brown sugar, sassafras, crayfish, barbecue not to mention anything stewed for hours or deep fried in lard. The plan was to eats lots of soft shell crab and smothered crayfish (which I hear is something similar to braising and covering your food with flavor) either way it sounds good to me. The trip was going to be all about food, except perhaps some live street music, which conveniently we encountered at every turn. This band quickly became our favorite and we stalked them shamefully like street performer groupies dancing on the sidelines.
We went to New Orleans to celebrate the New Year and we couldn’t have picked a more vibrant city in which to celebrate. While New York City is fun at New Years (I have spent many a new year running around Manhattan in my heels and noise makers) we wanted to go somewhere far, somewhere different somewhere warmer. Take that 15 degrees and snow! I’m not one for resolutions which I feel I usually break within a week but at the risk of sounding completely cliche but I wanted to start the new year fresh. Last year had some tough moments and my family, friends, and cooking really pulled me through, so why not start the year with a trip based around all around good food.
To ring in the New Year we wandered around Jackson Square and opened up a cheap bottle of champagne in honor of New York City New Year since New Orleans is one hour behind. Crowds of people lined the Mississippi River as fireworks went off overhead. Soon after my group of friends and I met with my cousin and his friends and they quickly suggested we make our way to Frenchman Street. While Bourbon is more famous and verily more tacky, Frenchman is known for live jazz and the local love of music. After midnight we made our way to Frenchman and noticed the difference right away. This video I took is on Frenchman where people took to the street to dance, despite the police car trying to push through the crowd. In the background, mixed in with the piercing sound of a police siren, you can hear our favorite band performing.
On the other side of the spectrum (and other side of town) there is Bourbon Street. Don’t get me wrong, we had lots of fun on Bourbon catching beads from people fishing lines overhead. By the way I wanted to clear something up. Maybe it’s different during Mardi Gras, but it is a lie that you need to take off your top to get beads. Don’t let anyone fool you, especially the creepy old men with cigarettes in their mouths that never leaves their mouth. We received many beads by batting our eyelashes and reaching up with enthusiastic hands. If I had to describe Bourbon Street succinctly I would say it is an adult’s amusement park, one where people compete for prizes (beads), listen to live bands, engage in friendly sport (drinking), and others watch live entertainment (I’ll let you guys use your imagination on that one).
There are many balconies overlooking the street all the way down Bourbon. Apparently it is prime real estate seeing as some balconies can be rented for parties where party goers can throw beads at the awaiting crowds below.
I was only in New Orleans for a couple of days therefore it was impossible for me to see everything that I wanted to and to get a truly accurate view of the city. My opinion on the city is based purely on the good feeling I got from the warm atmosphere and friendly residents. There is truth to the southern charm stereotype, especially noticeable by someone like myself coming from New York City where people can be friendly but can turn on you if you look at them the wrong way.
Jackson Square is the historic center of the French Quarter where you can visit the old city hall the Cabildo which is now a Louisiana history museum or the Roman Catholic St. Louis Cathedral. Outside these buildings you will be amongst street performers, tarot card readers, and even a couple shoe shiners in case your shoes need some sprucing.
Across from Jackson Square is the original coffee stand Cafe du Monde. You should listen to all those guide books that tell you to go here. I for one am all for any place that serves coffee and fried dough of any kind so I was very looking forward to our visit.
Cafe du Monde is famous for its beignets which are essentially deep fried pastry similar to a donut except they are made with yeast. I believe the yeast gives beignets a thicker more doughlike consistency. Eating these fried morsels of goodness inspired me to try some recipes of my own. I wouldn’t mind adding some more fried dough recipes to my repertoire.
My first meal in New Orleans was this crab platter. The restaurant Deanie’s prepared crab four different ways and plopped them all on this plate right here. It was divine and filling, mostly fried or smothered in spices and cream, just as I hoped my first meal would be.
Later in the trip I had some crayfish etouffee, a cajun dish similar to gumbo that starts off with a dark roux (fat and flour mixture usually made with butter), although some chefs prefer using a lighter roux. Etouffer in French means to smother and frankly you can smother my food with flavor and butter and I’ll be very happy.
As a side note, instead of bread Deanies serves baked red bliss potatoes. Brilliant! Perfect way to start off a meal when you are starving.
Frankly it wouldn’t be the holidays unless someone tried to sneak a big fish eyeball on your plate when you weren’t looking. Admittedly not your normal holiday custom but it is ours nonetheless and I hold it dear to my heart, like a weird good luck charm staring back at me from my tableware. If you turn your back you might get a plate full of pig’s ears. My father thinks it’s hilaaaarious when he plops down a good piece of pork face on your plate. I am fully aware that there is a recurring theme here. Playing with your food may be crude, but when you get this many eccentric people in a room together some strange things are bound to happen.
We have the same dishes year after year around the holidays, as do Puerto Ricans, Cubans, Filipinos, and any other pork loving cultures. Suckling pig (lechon), and roasted pork shoulder (pernil) are often roasted with herbs and garlic until the meat falls off the bone. Sometimes we eat the ever popular Greek favorite goat (cabrito) although we have yet to roast a goat on a spit in our front lawn. Maybe next year.
This year we ate Red Snapper and we bake it whole, with the head on because you know… it’s the best part. Drizzle some olive oil on that sucker and cut up a few lemons and you got yourself a tasty dish.
He’s sad because he got the fish head again.
On Christmas day we had seafood in green sauce. We steamed clams and shrimp and grilled some hake before covering them in a parsley and garlic sauce.
After we ate roasted veal loin paired with peppers, onions, potatoes, and gravy.
Then it is time for dessert. Cañas are a dessert made with pastry cream filled into a fried dough cone. They are addicting and usually the first dessert to go.
Who doesn’t like cheesecake?
The biggest bowl of rice pudding I have ever seen.
I wouldn’t be Christmas without the obligatory flan covered in burnt sugar and leche frita.
This post is part of the Food 2 series. I am writing this series about my experience in the culinary school kitchen for the food2.com blog.
Happy New Year everyone! My first post on the food2.com blog is up. In school we break down a lot of food whether we are slicing vegetables or filleting large fish into smaller steaks. As aspiring chefs we all have a small obsession with our product. Handling meat is not something we grimace at but rather we enjoy working with our hands and breaking something down to the finished product. Check out food2 and don’t let the big picture of a sausage scare you!
This post is part of the Taste of Spain series. This series contains information on Spanish flavors, ingredients, dishes, and culinary culture.
Leche frita means fried milk in Spanish. You may wonder if you can actually fry milk, but I assure you that you can. Spanish grandmothers have been whisking this milk custard for years and its delicious. It is a home-cooked dessert (postre casera) that is often made during the holidays or special events. Everyone has varying recipes for fried milk and each region in Spain makes it a little bit differently, although many take claim to be the birthplace of said dish. Some claim that San Sebastian is the origin of leche frita while others say Castilla Y Leon, all I know is that I’ve have some great leche frita in Galicia made with lots of love by my grandmother.
Every culture has some sort of fried dessert. When you fry bread or custard and then cover in sugar you get something wondrous. A greasy bag filled with churros or fried milk covered in powdered sugar is pure bliss, the type of food you can eat until you get sick, like my cousin who inhale 12 zeppoles at an Italian festival into her small 5 foot frame. I challenge anyone to an eating contest against my family. You will go down.
As with many homemade dishes, fried milk was probably created as a way to make use of all the extra ingredients in the house, using all the milk you had in the refrigerator before it spoiled. Leche frita has a very deceiving reputation of being a difficult dish to accomplish, however I find it very easy if you follow the correct steps. The key is to make sure there are no lumps in the milk and flour mixture and that the flour is cooked sufficiently in order to get rid of the floury taste.
My grandmother in Spain is known for making a really great leche frita. She follows a recipe somewhat but like other colorful cooks, she adds a pinch here and there depending on her mood. She told me the recipe but she always adds more sugar than the recipe calls for, adding one or two extra tablespoons for good measure. The key is to taste it and adjust according to your sweet tooth.
Grandma’s Fried Milk
Ingredients
4 1/2 cups of milk
1/4 cup AP flour
1/4 cup cornstarch
3/4 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
Lemon peel
Cinnamon stick
1/2 cup flour
1 egg
Heat up 2 cups of milk with the lemon peel, vanilla, cinnamon stick, and sugar in a pan until hot but not boiling. Whisk it all together. In another bowl whisk together the flour and cornstarch until there are no lumps. It will be harder to get out the lumps when you heat up the milk. When you finish whisking you can add the milk and flour into the hot milk.
You will notice the mixture start to thicken rather quickly. You have to keep stirring the milk on a medium flame. If you notice to many bubbles boiling up lower the flame. I would suggest cooking the milk for at least 15 minutes in order to cook out the flavor of the flour and cornstarch. Add extra milk from the leftover 1/2 (or more if it gets too thick if you over heat) to get the right consistency. The milk should thicken and look like a smooth custard consistency, enough to coat the back of your spoon. It will set when it cools.
When you finish cooking you can pour the mixture into a lightly oiled pan about 1 inch thick. The mixture will need to set for at least 3 hours. I usually let it set overnight. First let it cool and then cover with plastic wrap.
When the milk is set you can cut it into small rectangles. Oil your knife to help make nice even rectangles. Once you get out the rectangles, first cover them in flour and them put them in an egg wash.
In a heavy skillet heat up canola oil (only about 1 in high) to about 175 degrees or until you see a few bubbles coming to the top. Try one first to see if the oil is hot enough. Fry for a couple minutes on each side until they get a golden color.
Place the fried milk on a cooling rack. You could eat warm or cold. Sprinkle with powdered sugar or granulated sugar with cinnamon.
Monday was the first snow day I’ve had since middle school when I used to look out my window hopeful for a day off from school. New York City was a fluster when the blizzard hit. It caused lots of mayhem what with all the stranded cars and buses left abandoned in the middle of the street and all rail service service suspended in the area. It is hard to feel bad for all those stranded passengers and inconvenienced travelers when you are awarded a day off to spend the day making hot chocolate and walking around in your pajamas. I did feel bad… sorta… a little. Even in my makeshift snuggie and grandma slippers.
As usual on my days spent lazing around the house Nico was right by my side, following me around the house. He liked that I was home to play with him instead of waking up moody at the crack of dawn and running around the house trying to gather my things before I miss the bus. It should blizzard more often I say. Bring on the snow!
We had leftover Christmas dishes in the fridge that I snacked on most of the day. I love how leftovers allow you to mix the most random assortments of food together on one plate, a little bit of fish, some flank steak, rice and beans and roasted potatoes. We finished off a couple of leftover desserts, the usual suspects like rice pudding, cañas (fried cones stuffed with pastry cream), flan, and fried milk. To top off the day we watched Home Alone 2 and Elf because it isn’t the holiday season without an over-sized Elf and Macaulay Culkin taking over Manhattan.
This morning I had Cheetos and gummy bears for breakfast, not really your basic food groups, but I figured I would get in the Christmas spirit by indulging with a meal more like Buddy the Elf, than my usual bowl of Kashi oat cereal stashed away in my desk. My co-worker just brought in some brownies and pecan pie. I feel a terrible stomach ache coming on. I promise I don’t usually eat bright orange cheese puffs that come out of a bag during the holidays.
It’s Christmas time and that means bring on the seafood! A lot of marine life will be coming out of our kitchen and frankly I cannot wait. The Italians got it right, what with 7 fish courses and all. One of my Italian co-workers told me how his family serves Sweedish Fish as the last course on the fish menu, an idea contrived out of pure genius. By the end of that meal I probably would only be able to fit a few Sweedish Fish anyhow. Then again I inexplicably love all things gummy.
One of my favorite part of the holidays are the appetizers. This is where a lot of the seafood comes in. We grill, fry, or stuff whatever we can get out hands on. We eat enough appetizers to stuff a normal person with a normal capacity for food, but not us. No no no. We have been training for years for occasions such as this one. There are a plethora of dishes to chose from but the one dish that you can always count on is fried calamari, something so simple but when done correctly it is so delicious.
My aunt Mercedes makes the best fried calamari known to Spanish man. Her secret is the garlic, olive oil, and parsley rub that most Spanish families have in their fridge. All you need to do is grind a cup of garlic a couple tablespoons of olive oil and some parsley. My aunt covers the calamari with the garlic and parsley rub for extra flavor and then deep fries them in her handy little fryer making them very crispy. She also uses copious amounts of sea salt. She also adds lots of love, there is no other explanation how they taste so good. I’ve tried my best to replicate them at home to similar results, but no one else can compare.
Fried Calamari
Ingredients
1/2 – 1 pound calamari rings
Garlic and parsley rub
Vegetable oil (enough to cover the rings when frying)
1 cup flour
Salt and pepper
Try to get the calamari rings as dry as possible. This will prevent the oil from splattering all over the place and will make for extra crispy calamari. Drain them and dry with paper towels.
When they are nice and dry you can add the garlic and parsley rub. Feel free to experiment as well. Some people add cayenne or paprika, depending on personal preferences. I wouldn’t season with salt and pepper until after they are fried.
After you can toss the calamari in the flour. Make sure they are well-covered. Dust off the excess flour before you fry them. Heat a heavy skillet filled with vegetable oil to about 175 degrees or until you see a few bubbles coming to the top. Try one calamari ring first to make sure the oil is hot enough. You know the oil is ready when you plop the calamari in and they start to sizzle and bubbles form all around. Adjust the heat so that they don’t burn. When crispy you can take the ring out and put on a drying rack or paper towel to get off the excess oil. Add salt and pepper when they are hot.
We change the dipping sauce on occasion to whatever the mood strikes. Marinara dipping sauce is always tasty. We added some cayenne and a bit of paprika to the sauce for some flavor. You also can’t go wrong with some fancy sauce as my family likes to call it… a mix of mayonnaise and ketchup.
We spent the night talking over cider and beer, away from the 20 degree New York City cold swirling around on the streets. Our small group of student cooks decided to nurse the long week of cooking and prep work in a pub called Swift, name after famed Irish writer Jonathan Swift. The dim lighting, wooden paneling, exposed brick, and long benches that forced us to cram close together around the table, contributed to the literary ambiance where drinkers can converse with wit in a way that would make Mr. Swift smirk. More realistically, after a few drinks, everything started to seem funny, and a bit fuzzy, as the mixture of exhaustion and alcohol started to mess with our heads.
Culinary students with hearty appetites and prominent opinions usually talk about one thing and we talk about it often. We can bore you with food talk for hours, going on and on about what we ate, what we plan to eat, what food we bought, the flavors we enjoy, what is fresh, and where to find the best products. You will yawn when we talk about the importance of buying seasonally and never serving your meat well done unless you genuinely enjoy throwing your money away. We may argue for days about which US city has the best food, but I promise you if you stick around long enough you will always be well fed. People obsessed with food have their charms after all. Here is a picture of some of the guys from class, busily working in preparation for our buffet. Most of them tower over me as I try to squeeze my 5 ft tall self around the kitchen. Inconspicuous Napoleon complexes aside, there is always someone around who can reach the top shelf in order to prevent the Spanish girl from jumping to her doom. For all the stress of school we are able to sneak in a few laughs and some beers if you strategically order more than the recipe calls for in the chili. Just don’t let Chef see you.
For all the cooking I’ve been doing, I’ve been neglecting actually writing out recipes. I love cooking and writing, but both work and school are physically draining and sometimes the last thing I want to do when I get home is use my brain for anything productive other than watching reruns of 30 Rock and stuffing my face with leftovers. I’ve been meaning to post this recipe for some time now. It was a dish we made at school during our pasta night and it was easy and fun to make. After I master the art of fresh pasta making I’ll write out some of those recipes as well. I need to test out a bunch before I do. But alas although we were cooking pasta at a French Culinary school we still used lots and lots of butter.
Gnocchi with Brown Butter and Sage
Ingredients
2 cups fresh gnocchi
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup sage, chiffonade
Pecorino grated
Fresh gnocchi cooks extremely fast, as with all fresh pastas. Boil in salted water in small batches. When your gnocchi is ready it will pop up to the surface.
In a saute pan you can start to heat up your butter. Swirl it around in the pan until it starts to turn a deep caramel brown color. By swirling the butter it helps to prevent burning. You know it’s ready when the butter starts to have a nutty aroma. Now you can add your sage and immediately after your gnocchi. By adding the gnocchi you will stop the cooking. You can grate some Pecorino cheese and sprinkle on top if you want extra flavor. The sharpness of the cheese goes well with the brown butter.
The midterm is over! Did I mention that? After breathing out a huge sigh of relief, the reality set in that I am halfway finished with culinary school. The day of the midterm I selected the tiny piece of paper with the number C2. This meant that for the next couple of hours whenever someone yelled out C2 I would look up anxiously at the clock. It also meant I would cook the potage cultivateur soup as well as the pork chops. It seems fitting that a ham aficionado like myself would select the pork dish on the final. It was fate really, after all there is perfectly cured ham leg sitting in the bodega of our house right now, waiting to be sliced and eaten. I cooked those chops to perfection, according to the judge who very distractingly looked like a culinary Robert Pattinson. Little did the comely judge know about the panic in the kitchen as I rushed to get that dish out the door in time. I was a minute late and 1 point was taken off. It’s over! Onto buffet…
Along with the elation of surviving the midterm I have a bit more news. I will soon begin writing for the Food2 blog on food2.com. Myself and some other students at French Culinary Institute will be chronicling our experiences in culinary school. Check out my bio as well as the other students.
The celebration begins early this year. I’m celebrating the midterm and Christmas, basically any excuse to eat, drink and be merry. Tomorrow night my good friend and I will be celebrating a joint Christmas and Hanukkah and she will finally teach me how to make latkes! Traditionally Christmas dinner is chock full of pork dishes but seeing as we are celebrating an amalgamation of Christmas and Hanukkah, pork will be noticeably absent from the menu. Instead we will be indulging in other meaty delicacies wrapped in dough. We plan to wash down our daily stresses with lots of red wine and sparkling cider. I want to kick my feet up and stuff my face with endless amounts of mini empanadas and potato latkes. There will be lots of mindless talk about celebrity gossip and some yelling at the TV during Top Chef. Hootie hoo! It is healthy to avoid studying every once in awhile and I often excel in escaping reality. It’s good for the soul. You know what else is good for the soul… ham. Lots and lots of ham.
Today I saw them, the first flakes of snow to fall in New York City. They were small and inconspicuous, more like a dusting naked to the less eager eye. While I wouldn’t call it the first snowfall, you can tell more snow is imminent. You can smell it in the air, winter is here and the sky is ready to drop its bounty.
Tomorrow is my midterm at the French Culinary Institute. It is hard to believe that I am halfway finished with culinary school. Months have gone by where I have stuck my arms into hot convection ovens, sliced my fingers with my sharp knives, and burned my skin with scorching pans and bubbling oil. I keep band-aids on hand and Neosporin stashed away in my knife kit. I have gotten to the point where a cut is more of a nuisance than something I fear.
We use lots of butter and I mean lots. You don’t go to French Culinary school if you’re shy with your butter. Last class I made potage cultivateur a hearty vegetable soup that gets it’s yellow color from sweating vegetables in copious amounts of butter. When the chef tasted my soup he noted the buttery flavor, possibly too much butter he said, but he’s French and butter runs through his aloof veins. He proclaimed the soup to be excellent a word us needy culinary students love to hear. My motto thus far has been that there can never be enough butter or salt and this motto has gotten me far. As my chef always says… taste your food for seasoning and then add more salt for the chef.
During our past exams we were timed when we made creme anglais, filleted fish, quartered chickens, sliced vegetables into fancy french knife cuts, and piped creme chantilly into rosettes. The midterm will be much more intense. For the first time we will be cooking full dishes in an alloted amount of time, with proctors watching over our every move and judges who will taste and grade our final product. We need to work clean, multi-task efficiently, keep pace, know our technique, and plate with precision. Am I nervous? I was… Actually I am, but I know I need to keep my cool. Keeping calm during an exam is key. If you lose your head you will make mistakes.
Tonight I’m going home to study my recipes and to practice a few techniques. Maybe I’ll saute some pork chops and bake some bass in parchment paper. By far this is the most fun I’ve ever had studying.
This post is part of the 
I was excited for Cajun cooking. Who wouldn’t be? I wanted cayenne, Tabasco, brown sugar, sassafras, crayfish, barbecue not to mention anything stewed for hours or deep fried in lard. The plan was to eats lots of soft shell crab and smothered crayfish (which I hear is something similar to braising and covering your food with flavor) either way it sounds good to me. The trip was going to be all about food, except perhaps some live street music, which conveniently we encountered at every turn. This band quickly became our favorite and we stalked them shamefully like street performer groupies dancing on the sidelines.
