Beating the "Big C" -- Cancer free after 10 years. Party!
Ten years ago, August 1999, Kathy started an arduous regime of surgery, chemotherapy and radiation, for a malignant tumor in her right breast. Metastasized to adjacent lymph nodes, the prognosis wasn't the worst but certainly wasn't the best.
Cancer is nefarious; it wants to consume the body, literally, and getting rid if it seems equally barbaric. You suppress the victim's immune system to the point that the quick-growing cancer cells can't survive, preferably without killing the patient (which would be counter-productive). Excise the bad-bits, dump
poisons into the patient's veins, and nuke the affected areas with gamma radiation. Anyone for a little blood-letting? Couldn't hurt, eh?
Ten years later, she's happy, healthy and free of the little buggers. Time to celebrate!
It's behind us, we are confident. Life is uncertain: it offers great joys and significant challenges. Kathy has met one of those challenges and triumphed over it. We're moving on.
OK enough drama, let's talk about FOOD. To celebrate this transitional anniversary, we connected with the Chef & Owners of
Fuel, arguably the finest restaurant in Vancouver. We eat there from time to time, taking advantage of their "inexpensive"
pre-fixe menus. Served at the "bar" (actually a serving area facing the kitchen) , we get to watch not only our own food being prepared, but the rest of the restaurant's -- and we can (and do) ask the Chef about particular dishes. "How was that prepared?", "Was that cooked
sous vide?". It is a rockin' good time, as if the food wasn't enough, we're getting firsthand accounts of how it is prepared. A Foodies' wet-dream. Scott having been through Culinary school is both paying rapt attention, and experiencing vicariously what Chef Ted is going through.
It's a Tuesday -- normally the slowest day of the week for fine-dining restaurants (many are closed on Mondays). We made the reservation early -- 6pm, so to minimize the potential interruptions to our dialog with Chef Ted (who is cool under fire too, but definitely more communicative when there're fewer things to attend to). We met with Ted and Tom, co-Proprietor, over what we'd enjoy for our special evening. They are delighted to be part of it: "We live for this", says Tom. He's sincere.
The menu: well, basically everything. We looked at the evening's regular menu after we'd finished our
degustation, and we'd eaten pretty much everything they had on offer. Full but not to the waddling stage ("Eat not to dullness, drink not to elevation" -- Poor Richard's Almanac). Kathy took copious notes and we've assembled them into a menu. Nine courses, four and a half hours. Individual wine-pairing for each course.
And the menu is...
here!
Labels: Canada, cuisine, Food, Vancouver
Adventures of "ChickenMan" at the VFMF
I spent 6 months of my advancing middle-age (how many is that in
Dog Years?), 5 days/week, 6 hours/day in intensive
Culinary and
Baking/Pastry School. A couple of years ago. Personal enrichment. Never intended to join "the industry"/"the trade": its a grueling (and not just just when you're making gruel) job, better suited to the "younger generation", a term that would apply to most of my classmates at the time.
Doesn't pay especially well, or perhaps more accurately, few people make big money at it -- and those don't so much cook as manage an enterprise or a "brand".
Emeril...
Wolfgang Puck...
Its a labor of love -- very much analogous to those "starving artists", except getting to eat is one of the perqs of the job. I mean, do
you trust a skinny Chef?
However, I have to admit that having all this exposure to the food industry does leave me with a kind of hunger pang (is this a mixed-metaphor, or what?) for the buzz of the kitchen: "Somewhere I've never traveled". Enter the
Vancouver Folk Music Festival:
Well, I'd
like to have (entered), but the cost is out of sight (about $250 plus food, over two 1/2 days). Unless you're a
Volunteer. Well, I could do a number of things: Safety, Environmental, washin' dishes -- but hey, I'm a "Culinarian", or so they tell me. (Webster's believes that is actually a word, their definitions are simply "Cook", "Chef" -- but hey there's more letters in "Culinarian" than both of those other words combined, so it
must be more important).
I apply for a Cook's position. I'm accepted (what were they
thinking?). I figured Cooks would be skilled labor, but I found that varied; one of the folks on my team had no experience (but was helpful and flexible, better than skilled but rigid in my book). The other teammate had a "kitchen smart" quality that conveyed a certain sense of confidence.
Callin
g this food - preparation - area - for - 2200 - people - two - meals - daily a "kitchen" doesn't really conjure up the right image. First off, it's under a tent. A big tent to be sure. A completely portable operation: this kitchen is setup in the middle of an
urban park (the Festival area is on the left side of that link's photo)
Divided up as a commercial kitchen (one that wasn't under a tent...) might be (separate areas for prep, cooking, refrigeration, foodstuffs etc.), the space looked pretty organized. The staff, almost all volunteers -- well that was organized chaos. Fun, but chaotic.
If you're a home cook, it might be hard to imagine what it takes to successfully deliver 13,000 meals over the course of 3 days (3 lunches, 3 dinners). What it takes is a lot of
organization, a few bosses and a lot of worker-bees like myself. Here're the specs, approximately:
- 6 prep teams with 8 members (on average) + 1 team leader
- 5 cook teams with 2-4 members, depending on team with Chef of the Day as cook team leader (3 chefs of the day)
- 1 BBQ team, 7-ish members + 1 Team Leader
- Lots of "FOH" servers ("front of house" -- the folks that the customers actually see)
Its like a factory: the "parts" are food. For example, cucumbers need to be thin sliced for a
salad for 2200 people. That's 4 people armed with "
mandolines" and
cases of cukes. Add some salt (flavoring; helps the cukes exude some liquid). Vinegar. Mixing these together is the manufacturing process -- "recipe".
Since many foods will "spoil" (bacterial growth) at room temperature, everything has to either be kept cold, kept hot, or served. Think of this as the warehousing aspect of the "food factory".
Back to the
Adventures of Chicken Man. I performed a variety of tasks over the 3 days, but most somehow involved chicken in one form or another. One day my team and I "processed" about 680 chicken leg/thighs. Chicken requires special care: chickens are dirty animals and their meat often carries
salmonella bacteria. Because of this risk, the chicken has to be rinsed, cooked (by poaching in this case) up to a certain temperature (measured), then plunged into ice water to chill it down to a temperature (measured again) where it can be safely refrigerated.
You might think "what's the big deal?: poach a chicken leg, cool it down and put it in the frig". The deal is... when you have to do 500 of them in a couple of hours, you're competing for resources (stove burners) -- and if you don't do it right, a thousand people could get food poisoning! And of course, 500 pieces of chicken
weigh a fair amount; each case is carried from a tractor-trailer refrigerator ("
reefer")
So the process is: wash the chicken. Poach the chicken. Chill in tall "food-safe" containers full of ice water.
Plunge your entire arm into the ice water and fetch the now-chilled chicken. I went home with arms glistening from chicken fat. My watch had blobs of chicken fat on it. My thermometer, shoes, apron... all carried something chicken. My Volunteer badge provides a lasting memory of the experience: the edges soaked up chicken fat.
When you poach 500 chix legs, you get... chicken fat.
Lots of chicken fat. Fat is lighter than water. Fat rises to the service of the 60 quart stock pot. If it spills over, you get flames. Flame is good... when it is where you want it. At the 5 foot level, flame... not so good. So we had to skim off the fat layer and dispose of it. Again -- dinner for 2, no big deal. For thousands, a challenge.
Multiple teams of people did this work; I can't take the entire credit for all it. But this was beyond doubt, the most chicken-intensive experience of my life. The next day, we baked
another 200+ pieces of chicken, and food prep folks (and I) tore it apart, with dishwasher's gloves to protect our hands from the very hot chicken. It became part of a paella later for dinner that night.
BawkBawkBawkBawkBawkBawkBawk!Strangely, I still like chicken.
"Service"When you operate a restaurant, at some point in time the place opens for customers, and all the work that went into preparing the meals (not surprisingly, this is called "prep")
results in delivering meals to the diners. That point is called, you got it, "service". But "service" is more than a just another instant in time (one minute you were doing prep, and the next moment, "service"). Service is the
culmination of the day's labor. It is the point at which the restaurant meets its responsibility to its customer. It is an
intense period in the work day. Particularly when hundreds are lining up for the meal you've been prepping. There's a buzz in the kitchen. It's like the starter pistol has gone off and the race begun.
I genuinely enjoyed the time in the Folk Festival kitchen. The "vibe" of dozens of volunteers working toward a common and worthy goal, is quite compelling. Got to use some of the skills I got in
Culinary School, got some much needed exercise (was sore for 3 days afterwards) -- and access to a very cool festival. See you next year?
Labels: Cooking, Culinary, Food, Volunteering
