Okay, okay.
I know I said the next diary in the Culinary Kos group series would focus on the basics of knives. But I've reconsidered only slightly for the sake of:
1. sharing a photo diary
2. telling a story
3. tooting my own horn
Ever heard of Iron Chef? Ever watched it? If not, here's a quick rundown:
1. Chefs compete against one another in a cooking competition.
2. They are informed of a secret ingredient just prior to the start of competition.
3. They must prepare five dishes.
4. Each dish must contain the secret ingredient.
5. All five dishes must be up and plated within 1 hour's time.
We had our very own version of Iron Chef last Sunday at school. It was a big event (the biggest school event outside of graduation) with a very large turnout. It's a time for Culinary Arts students, like me, to showcase their talents and all they've learned thus far. Celebrity judges participate. Local area chefs attend.
Everyone looks forward to The Battle of The Blades.
Me? I dreaded even the thought of it. A number of times I was asked, but I turned them down each and every time. I just wasn't feeling very sure of myself just yet as a first quarter student. I wasn't gonna do it. No way. No how.
But then, I was asked a final time on the Thursday prior to competition. Team Venezuela (three lovely ladies from The Land of Chavez) was down a person. It was crunch time. They needed help. I was there.
And so I joined, not knowing what to expect or any of the rules and regulations.
How would I fit in? What dishes would we make? What would the secret ingredient be?
I was anxious, to say the least.
We were notified three days in advance that the secret ingredient could be one of three:
1. Polenta
2. Buttermilk
3. Chili Peppers
Three possible ingredients? Five dishes to plate? That's a need to know 15 dishes, inside and out, in 3 days. Talk about pressure! We practiced. And practiced. And practiced.
Then, the day of competition came...
The Battle of The Blades
It was a hectic morning, rushing around to make sure we had everything in order. Proteins? Check. Personal ingredients? Check. Plates? Check. And so on. Down the list we went, making sure our mise en place was in order.
All that was left to do was wait patiently (or not so). And take pictures.
Team V!
Then, the time came to find out the secret ingredient. We loaded into a room, cameras rolling. After a brief discussion of the rules, the concealing sheet was lifted.
Buttermilk!
Truth be told, we were hoping for polenta. But Tim Gunn would be happy to know that whatever it was, we were ready to "make it work!".
After a mad dash into the kitchen, the work began. My focus was on the knife cuts. I've gotten pretty damn handy with my knife work in a short period of time. It was decided, given my cuts were the most accurate of the bunch in the fastest time, that cuts would fall to me. And boy, there were lots of them: fine brunoise of leeks and yellow onions and sweet peppers, fine julienne of red onion, minced parsley and cilantro, to name just a few.
The way you could look at it is: the girls were the engine, and I was the gas.
Without cuts, we weren't going anywhere.
So, I started to fill the tank.
For the next hour and more, it was complete and total chaos. But organized, oddly enough. What looked like a crazed, panicked rush of individuals was really an organized, orchestrated symphony of chaos leading to a similar end.
An end that seemed to come all too quickly.
19 minutes remaining?!
Time to make the mayo!
Oh, and what I almost forgot: plate the tuna!
I'll tell ya: never in my life has 10 minutes gone by so quickly. We did find ourselves scrambling at the last minute to finish plating. But I can't say it really showed through too much on the plate.
They still looked pretty tight and clean, without many (if any) obvious plating flaws. One thing that stood out to me as I rushed to plate the tuna was that it should've probably had some sort of garnish on the plate. Or some greens. Something else. But it looked clean, and time was just too short. Not even a second to spare. The plates had to get across the restaurant to the judging table.
For Team Venezuela (later dubbed Las Chicas & El Chico), our menu was as follows...
The Apps
1. Risotto: Fried risotto balls drizzled with a sweet pepper glaze atop a bed of spring mix salad
2. Ceviche: Swordfish ceviche with a buttermilk drizzle
The Entrees
1. Tuna: Seared sesame-crusted ahi tuna with a duo of dips, buttermilk curry mayonnaise and sweet pepper glaze
2. Tilapia: Buttermilk soaked tilapia atop fried sweet plantains coated in a buttermilk cream sauce
The Dessert
1. Tres Leches: three milk cake topped with a buttermilk meringue and sprinkled with cinnamon powder
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. Yummy!
(I tell ya: Antonietta makes a mean Tres Leches! I'll have to bug her for the exact recipe to share in the future. It eludes me at the moment.)
All in all, I felt that our menu was a resounding success.
But, it was up to the judges.
They went around the room critiquing each group's dishes. Some reviews obviously went much better than others. Where there were faults, the judges were careful and kind in their criticisms. Waiting for them to get to us seemed like an eternity.
What would they say? Would it be more of a failure or the success I imagined it to be?
They seemed to be in agreement. Our plates were a success. Such a success that...
WE WON!!!!
That's right: Team Venezuela (aka: Las Chicas & El Chico) took top prize, beating out six other teams of four!
The kicker? Four of those teams competed multiple times before as they are now nearly-graduating students. One of them won four straight competitions in a row. They were primed to take number five, and their dishes made me think they had.
But then came along our team of first quarter students, only in our seventh week!
V. is for Venezuela.... and Victory! Viva!
We put a fork in them. And, by all accounts, it was a blowout. We received rave reviews from a number of other teams as well as many of those in attendance who were given the chance to sample all the dishes.
But the highest of praises came from the local celebrity chefs in the area.
Dish after dish had nothing but compliments. Taste. Seasoning. Flavor. Plating. Each dish had it all. Literally the only criticism I can recall is that our ceviche should've had the buttermilk mixed into it rather than drizzled over the top. We debated that, but decided instead on leaving the drizzle not only for appearance but for the person eating the dish to mix in and make somewhat creamy to their liking. Small error. Live and learn. But judge after judge couldn't help but have nice things to say. Each of them was blown away that we were first quarter students. They had said that if they were told it in advance, they simply would not have believed it. I can only assume that bodes well for us in future endeavors. As a plus, our names are now out there floating around in discussions. Hopefully it leads to some gainful employment.
Anyone hiring?! :)
So, what did we win? Well, there was the first place certificate. We also get our names forever inscribed on The Battle of The Blades trophy which sits in the school restaurant seating area. And, of course, there's the pride.
But most of all?
We will now represent our school in competition with other Culinary Arts institutions in the area come October, chief among them being Le Cordon Bleu of Miami... our biggest rivals!
And I thought the anxiety and pressure was almost too much before!
Now comes the true test, one I hope and believe we will pass with flying colors.
Wish us luck!