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Quick Pic: Salmonete

,

It's the second week of the BasqueStage, and I'm trying to keep my head above water at Martin Berasategui. I'm currently working on the partida de pescado, the fish station.

Most of my responsibilities thus far have been prep work- cleaning squid, breaking down chickens for family meal, and folding squid ink raviolis (think of wrapping a cold, slippery Christmas present for a Lilliputian). 

However, today I caught a glimpse of the Salmonete dish: roasted red mullet, crispy scales, white chocolate, and wakame. Colors, contrasting tastes, what a gorgeous plate. Long hours and prep work aside, this is why I'm here.

Quick Pic: Pintxos to share

Pintxos (PEEN-chos) are Basque bar bites, small portions of food to grab with txakoli (a white, slightly bubbly wine made here in the Pais Vasco) or a beer for a casual meal. Much like tapas in the rest of the Iberian peninsula, pintxos are the Basque equivalent of fish and chips, wings or nachos, just with top quality ingredients. Meant to be a leisurely meal while standing with friends, pintxos are as much about the culture of eating as the dishes themselves.

Clockwise, from top left: carpaccio with arugula, pinenuts and Parmesan cheese; bocadillos de Jamon Serrano on perfectly crunchy baguettes; left, pulpo a la plantxa- grilled octopus- and right, txipirones (CHEE-pee-rone-es) - mini fried squid; and pintxo de champis- bread, bacon and mushroom towers, a savory skewer that prompts you to- ahem- order another round. 

Martin Berasategui: First Impressions

I’ve just finished a Sunday lunch shift at MB, preceeded by lunch and dinner shifts on Saturday. Since the restaurant is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, I find myself with some time to reflect on my new job and my role here.

The first thing I noticed about this kitchen: the sheer number of people working here. Numbers-wise, we would be very close to a football team: offense and defense, special teams, kickers, coaches, coordinators and trainers. Once everyone is in motion, it can be difficult to find your way through the tangle of people. However, the good thing is: there is always someone to ask if you need a hand with a task, or if you don’t know where something is.

I chose to start on the fish station; previous BasqueStage Marco Bahena had told me the Chef de Partida there was the most demanding. I figured if I could make it on the fish station, I would be able to make it on the other stations as well. This logic of starting with the toughest boss may or may not work out. I have seen more than a few serious tongue-lashings for offenses ranging from talking too much to improperly chopped parsley. 

Yesica concentrates on the raviolis.

For the past two days, I have worked with Igor (from Bilbao) and Yesica (from Argentina), on the Squid Ink Raviolis. To assemble this pouch of shaved squid filled with tinta de calamar, you need steady hands, a miniature offset spatula, and the patience of an origami professional. Intricate and frustrating, while also imaginative and beautiful, these ravioli probably will remain my task for the next week; after seven straight hours of folding these packets, I’m starting to get the hang of it.

En total, it’s a whole new world here. Elisha and I are used to skeleton crews in shoebox kitchens in labor-cost-conscious New York City. I think next week we’ll really get a feel for the ebb and flow of service here. While it’s taxing and at times intimidating, it’s exciting to be in a completely new environment.

Now I’m going to eat pintxos and drink txakoli- tomorrow is my day off!

Quick Pic: Here we go!

Tomorrow will be my first day at Restaurante Martin Berasategui. After stopping by the kitchen to talk to the chef de cuisine and a few chefs de partie, I snapped this shot of the copper nameplate that greets guests as they walk up the stairs to the dining room. Let the games begin...

Quick Pic: The hills are alive...

...with sheep! I went for a run yesterday, and I had to snap some quick shots of these sheep on the green hills of Gipuzkoa.

First couple days in Pais Vasco

On Monte Urgull looking west, above Isla Santa Clara

I've been in the Pais Vasco for two days now, and I'm lucky enough to have this week off to get settled in my new surroundings.


I'm easing back into my Spanish (rusty and sprinkled with Italian). I'm wholeheartedly embracing the laid back approach to life at the moment, because I know once the kitchen gets going, it will be go-go-go until I can figure out how to tread water.


Below is my housemate and fellow BasqueStage recipient Elisha Ben-Haim. He cooked us dinner the last two nights, and he continues to surprise me with his fantastic photo poses.

"Belle Epoque? Or Art Deco?"

Fortunate to have a couple clear, sunny days, Elisha and I have made the most of our luck with two gorgeous strolls through the city. Here are some more shots from Bilbao and San Sebastian:

Pastries in Bilbao. The chocolate drizzled meringue really hit the spot.

The Guggenheim in Bilbao.

Weathered storm doors at the ship yard in the Bahia de La Concha.

A house tiled with vibrant colors, reminiscent of fish scales shimmering just below the water's surface

The Basque fish monger is proud of his monkfish liver...

...and Basque children aren't afraid to touch it.

The promenade at the La Concha

Beautifully restored carousel from 1900, also at La Concha

A view through the trees of Monte Urgull back towards Gros, the beach with the surf break

Small kids, Big church.

Churros with rich hot chocolate: the perfect snack to warm up on a cold January evening.

I'm quickly falling in love with the Basque Country, for obvious reasons!

But there is work involved, and I'm also looking forward to that too. Next on the agenda:

A much-anticipated visit to the Sammic factory to get to know the sponsors of this awesome scholarship and learn more about their products. I previously hadn't heard of Sammic, but I'm now learning they make nearly every large piece of equipment needed in a professional kitchen, from blenders, mixers and meat grinders to immersion circulators and vacuum sealers.

In this video, Marco Bahena (my partner from last year's Pellegrino Almost Famous cooking competition) demonstrates how a Sammic Vegetable Prep Machine can make a cook's life a whole lot easier.

It's probably too late to say All I want for Christmas... 

This upcoming visit to the factory should be enlightening because we will meet the engineers who design tools to help us cook at a higher level. Photos to follow!


Also, we are planning a visit to Biarritz in France to see more of the Basque region. I have a feeling this visit will be especially taxing; there probably won't be any pastries or lovely scenery involved.

Thanks for reading. Agur from Lasarte...

A quick look homeward as I start my next adventure

I’ve just arrived in Lasarte-Oria, Guipuzkoa, a small town outside San Sebastian in the Basque Country. I  traveled for twenty-six hours through Dallas, Frankfurt, and Bilbao. Now I'm so tired, I can't sleep.

Yes, I’m tired, but mostly I’m excited. I’m thrilled for my new job, which I’ll start on Wednesday. I’m itching to go for a run through my new town. I’m dying to go grocery shopping and fill my refrigerator with vegetables, cheeses and txakoli wine.

I’m anxious too, because this level of cooking- three Michelin stars, in Europe, at a gorgeous, respected restaurant- is the highest level I’ve experienced in my career thus far. So how does this young cook deal with nerves? I’m telling myself that I can do it, and I’m thinking about all my wonderful experiences and supportive friends and family who have helped me get here.

So before I start this next adventure in earnest, I'll share some of the beautiful food moments from the past couple weeks. I’m so fortunate that my family embraces and celebrates food. I am fortunate to have friends who value food, and to come from a region that produces some of the best food in the world. 

Here’s a quick snapshot of my holiday meals.

My Ninong Tom carves the lechon for Noche Buena. Roast pig...mmmmm

My father and my uncle, making our traditional Swedish pancake breakfast on Christmas morning

The gorgeous fruits of their labor with the mandatory Lingonberry sauce

Christmas dinner is my grandfather's recipe: garlic-studded, bacon-wrapped rib roast.

Mise en place often involves champagne right up in there with the brussel sprouts.

The Selby men attend to the festive colors of the dining table

Carving the roast, which was a little overdone this year. Chickie wouldn't have been pleased!

With Mama and my friend Caroline at my send-off dinner last week

Just before opening the buffet with Pantesca salad, kale Caesar, risotto, veal breast and lasagne.

That's the last collection of photos from home. For the next six months, it’s going to be all new surroundings, all new faces, and all new challenges.

Stay tuned! Good night...

Olive Oil Shortbread Cookies

The New York Times Dining Section ran two great pieces last week: one, a list of the Best Cookbooks of the Year, and another about the most noticeable trend, the “At Home” style of cookbook.  Julia Moskin’s piece, “What Happens When Chefs Come Home,” underscores a crucial shift in cookbook consumers: people want recipes of stuff they can actually cook. Glossy studio shots of the unattainable sphere are out; hamburgers and Caesar salad are in. 

In her “When Chefs Come Home” piece, Moskin mentions a recipe for Shortbread Biscuits that wisely substitutes olive oil for butter. Still high on my October visit to Tuscany for olive oil crush at Villa Campestri, I thought I have to try this. I found a recipe for olive oil shortbread and then considered my oil choice.

Though vegetal and grassy, the bright green Villa Campestri oil could add an interesting twist to the butter bomb that traditional shortbread can be. Or I could end up with a bitter, greenish biscuit. 

Only one way to find out...

The verdict? Moskin is right: olive oil greatly improves this classic cookie. I could easily see the Villa Campestri restaurant serving them with afternoon tea on the terrace.

Olive oil adds a luxurious yet subtle flavor boost.

Admittedly, these cookies aren’t quite as crumbly as traditional shortbread, but they trade texture for a rich, more nuanced flavor. There’s simply more going on than the average shortbread cookie. I don’t get palate fatigue from butter overload, which is a fancy way of saying “I eat them five at a time.”  

These cookies are also comparatively more healthful since we've lost the saturated fat of butter.

I’m excited to have found yet another recipe that is improved with the addition of quality olive oil. Maybe these cookies will be left by the Christmas tree this year... 

Riding Around Manhattan

Yesterday I rode my bicycle around all of Manhattan. The thirty-two mile loop took me six hours with a few breaks.

My cruiser bike, Bess.

We are cut from the same cloth, Bess and I: both laid-back California girls out of place in a big, fast city. While bike messengers and Brooklyn hipsters dart in and out of traffic, Bess and I cruise only the streets with well-marked bike lanes. We are outsiders here, little girls looking in, thus it makes sense for us to circumnavigate Manhattan, rather than criss-cross it.

In the six years that I’ve been in and out of this city, yesterday’s ride was one of the most enjoyable things I’ve ever done. Here’s how it went.

I left NoHo around 8:45am. I headed southwest and popped out to the West Side Highway via West Houston St. I then started up the Hudson River, shivering and slapping my gloved hands trying to stay warm. Of course I picked the coldest day of the year so far! Yet, the sun was shining, and the crisp air kept me pedaling.

One of the first people I saw on the West Side Highway was... my brother Ben! 

Hustling down to work in TriBeCa, Ben stopped and turned around, and we had to laugh at our happy coincidence.

Two Selby kids, riding bikes in New York, and both with cut-finger gloves too! He wished me a safe ride, and pushed south.

I turned north and kept riding, only to stop again at the sight of the USS Intrepid.

Soon, I was past the strollers and the mothers of the Upper West Side, and I approached the top of the island.

At the George Washington Bridge

I learned that my beach cruiser is quite heavy, but that fact works in my favor in the hills of Harlem.  I learned that riding along the Hudson is much colder than riding the East River. I learned that the New York City Parks and Recreation Department has done a pretty thorough job with the signage for the Greenway path around the whole city. I got lost once- on East 158^th St.-  and only because I didn’t follow the path far enough.

 

Happy to reach the half-way point

As you might expect on these riverside pathways, I saw lots and lots of dogs. I saw plenty of people running, and many people just aimlessly strolling. I heard conversations between old friends about wives and grandchildren; I eavesdropped on a few animated phone arguments. I saw people of all shapes and sizes training at the East River track, including a boxer who couldn’t have been more than 5 feet tall, his fists pumping so fast they blurred his face.

I saw the undergirding of thirteen bridges and one cable car, the completely out-of-place Roosevelt Island Tramway.

 Looking south under the Manhattan Bridge. 

I saw countless delivery guys with plastic bag lunches swinging from their handle bars. I noticed many of the Chinese delivery guys have semi-motorized bicycles that propel them even when they’re not pedaling; I’m not even sure how the mechanics work. The Mexican guys just flat out hustle, some with helmets, some without.  

Most delightful was the view of many elementary school playgrounds from the bike path: I saw hundreds of New York City school children running around, playing kickball, jumping and screaming in the early winter morning. Recess- what a wonderful reminder of the child in us all.

 

A gorgeous burst of color against the granite of the Harlem River Parkway

 Bess looking mighty small in comparison to some Harlem River highrises

Even a day later, I still remember vividly the smells on my ride. I suppose in a car you’re either going too fast to notice, or the cabby’s got his own special aroma. In contrast, on a bicycle, I was going slow enough to really notice the changes in smell. Most were quite pleasant; in the morning part of my ride, I caught many warm bread smells from bakeries. Another frequent scent was fresh laundry; I could actually tell the difference between Mountain Breeze and Fresh Linen!

More than once, I smelled the oregano-sweet of marijuana. Only once did I smell sewage- at the Riverbank State Park treatment plant at West 135^th St.  

Several times I got the unmistakable and familiar smell of deep fryer oil. Doughnuts? Chicken? Empanadas?

The bike path is blocked on the East River from East 70^th St to East 38^th, so I had to cut into the madness of traffic. I took 2^nd Avenue down, hiding in the relative safety of its bike lane. I was pleasantly surprised by the smell of fresh cut pine and fir from Christmas tree vendors lining the sidewalk. Despite the honking, the delivery truck exhaust and the swerving taxi cabs, I had to smile when I smelled Christmas.

I made it down to the Lower East Side, and I was saddened to see the shuttered Fulton Fish Market. I’m currently reading a book called Four Fish: The Future of the Last Wild Food by Paul Greenberg, and the outlook for many fisheries is not good. I suppose the New York harbor and its immediate surroundings haven’t been great fishing waters for at least two generations, but it was sad to see such a tangible reminder that fish are no longer caught here. 

Fulton Fish Market, now just a parking lot

I also tested out the best 99 cents I've spent recently- the 360 app from Occipital. It will stitch together images in sequence to give you panoramic shots with the iPhone. AMAZING.

Bess hanging out under the Brooklyn  Bridge 

I made it down to Wall Street, around Clinton Castle and caught the Statue of Liberty in the auburn afternoon sun.

An enhanced 360 view of New York Harbor 

Still quite cold and by now genuinely hungry (despite my cheese sandwich and hard-boiled egg snack), I stopped in Battery Park City for some fries and a milkshake at the new downtown location of Shake Shack. Unlike the Madison Square Park location, there were NO LINES.

Sated with a little salt and a little something sweet, I returned to the bike path and headed once again up the Hudson. It had taken me a little over six hours, with water breaks, three potty stops, tons of photo ops, some detours and some walking to avoid dense traffic, but I had done it: I rode my bicycle around Manhattan.

 Just before turning off the West Side Highway and heading home

No awards were given, no personal best time record was set. And I wouldn’t even say that the experience changed me. Rather, it was an enjoyable day that reminded me to keep my eyes open wide to the wonder that is this city.

Chestnut Pasta Party for One

It's a rainy night here in New York City. I hurried home and realized I had nothing for dinner. ...Or did I?

Hiding in the freezer was some chestnut pasta dough. Several weeks ago, I made chestnut flour pappardelle for dinner, but the batch was too big for that evening. In Italy, I learned that fresh pasta dough can be frozen with no ill effects, so we froze it.

Fast forward to tonight:

 Cutting fettuccini

 Tiny noodle nests 

 Going for a quick dip...

 Fresh pasta only needs 2 minutes to cook. 

Totally makes up for the hands-on time.

 The sparse toppings I was able to rustle up: 

Olive oil pressed this October at Villa Campestri 

Crumbled blue cheese

Some chopped celery leaves for color. 

Did I mention the fridge was nearly empty? 

 But it all turned out pretty damn delicious. 

Easy Pasta Ratio Rules:
For every one egg, use 100g of flour.
Also, one egg = one portion.
So if you have 10 people coming over for dinner, use 10 eggs and 1kg of flour.
If you want to use chestnut flour like I did for tonight's fettuccini, use 50/50 chestnut flour and Tipo 0 pasta flour.

Thanks to the boys in the Villa Campestri Restaurant in Vicchio di Mugello for all the pasta knowledge. Grazie infinite Jerry e Samuele!

AmorOlio at Villa Campestri

I'm in Vicchio di Mugello, a tiny Tuscan town about 30 minutes northeast of Florence. The hills are perfect for long walks, the pasta is delicious, and the olive oil is like nothing I've ever tasted.  A cold and windy winter is just around the corner, so luckily there are no American film crews and no huge tour buses clogging the roads.

Thanks to the very generous Paolo Pasquali and Nancy Harmon Jenkins, I'm tagging along as an assistant for AmorOlio, a week-long immersion in olive oil culture and Tuscan cuisine. This visit has proved quite timely, as olive oil makes headlines in both the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal.

In the past three days, we have inspected olive groves and visited traditional mills where olive oil is pressed. Through lively tasting sessions, we have discussed the taste of great oil, the different ways it can be spoiled (heat, exposure to oxygen, and light), and how to educate consumers without condescension.  Of course, we have cooked every day to test food pairings with dramatically different oil styles. It's been a great post-graduation trip to decompress from culinary school while still staying inspired by food.

Here are a couple photographs from our time so far at Villa Campestri.

 Green olives one week before harvest

The set-up for olive oil tasting 

 A meat counter in the San Lorenzo Mercato Centrale in Florence. 

The market is a great place to learn food vocabulary, like hen (gallina), turkey (tacchino), or rabbit (coniglio.)

It's also reassuring to see that "Hot Dogs" are the same in Italian. 

 The gorgeous colors of the produce section

 Back at Villa Campestri's kitchen, Samuele puts the finishing touches on dessert: 

olive oil cake with ricotta and wild berry coulis. 

 Chef Jerry holds a beautiful example of a porcini mushroom. 

 In Florence, chocolate truffles come in a too-cute cupola box. 

 Porcini Mushroom Risotto with a glass of Vernaccia in hand

Villa Campestri Olive Oil Resort, my home for the week. 

(I'm still pinching myself!)

I've learned a lot about high quality olive oil; it can be sweet, grassy, peppery or lemony. It can be structured and complex, like wine. It can also spoil rancid or get moldy if it was poorly pressed or improperly stored. Bright green at first, olive oil will lose its color- and its healthy polyphenol properties- as it gets older or if exposed to high heat during storage. If you have a bottle of nice olive oil, use it! Olive oil is best fresh. The longer it lives in the cabinet or by the stove, the less flavor it will bring to your plate.

I'm hoping to bring home a couple cans of high quality oil from Villa Campestri, named Olio di Cosimo for Pasquali's grandson. It's peppery, bright green, reminiscent of artichoke and a freshly-cut lawn. Once I get back to New York (Mon Oct 24th), I'm planning to make salad, some butternut squash soup, maybe even a pizza to find the best pairing with this delicious oil. Give me a buzz if you want to join!

With love, from Vicchio