Chef rolled up his sleeves as he surveyed the restaurant. Every table was set up immaculately, silverware and glasses held not a smudge or trace of lint. His 6 pm reservations were chatting nonchalantly over pre-dinner cocktails at the bar top as they patiently waited to be sat.
It always gave him a bit of jitters to see those first guests. That first order was always an indication of whether or not the night would flow smoothly. Although, his perfectionism would not allow the night to flow any other way.
He turned back to the line and made a quick inventory. Everything was in place, garnishes piled in ceramic bowls, his favorite whipper was set up with the preferred tip, tweezer tongs, and spray bottles.
"Chef, order up." The first order had been placed.
This first order of the night had been one of his first menu inceptions when he had been creating recipes for his restaurant. It was an ambitious dish in its simplicity. Merely a platter of vegetables.
He almost preferred working with vegetables over protein. There were so many complex flavor profiles to create with fresh vegetables. So many different ways to break down the bitterness and toughness and turn it into sweet and caramelized goodness.
Chef sourced all his vegetables from local farmers, only choosing the best. Everything was in season and grown on a farm that he trusted. It was the only way to keep the menu true.
He reached for the solid, polished wood block on which he artfully arranged his composition of vegetables. He sourced these slabs from a guy in Portland. Artisan handiwork at its best, the wood slabs were polished until their rings shown prominently through, a story in itself. The perfect canvas for his vegetables.
An arrangement of parsnips, rutabagas, beets, celery root, red cabbage and onions started to take place as Chef swiftly positioned each vegetable in their place.
These root vegetables were not your ordinary flavors. Chef sous-vide each vegetable overnight, breaking down their solid state in to something one only dreams of. Sous-vide cooking was one of his preferred techniques to use. It always amazed him how taking something, vacuum sealing it, placing it in a water bath and cooking it evenly at a controlled temperature could yield such moisture, such precious textures. Some people called this molecular gastronomy, but to him, it was just second nature.
He drizzled the parsnips with an oil infusion of its own juices, sprinkling grapefruit segments and fresh watercress leaves on top. Each bite would be an explosion of sweet and tart flavors. Taking his whipper, he dolloped parsnip puree next to the roasted parsnips. This puree was otherworldly, its texture like butter, smooth and creamy, it melted in your mouth.
Crimson beets were charred to a crisp in an open wood fire, invoking the flavors of the wood, topped with finely chopped parsley. The beets would be crisp on the outside, tender on the inside with a deep smokiness.
Wedges of red cabbage were braised until their leaves were almost falling apart, still retaining a slight crunch yet perfectly tender. Their flavor was slightly acidic, with sweetness coming through from the sugars that had been broken down into submission.
Rutabagas typically had a mild bitter flavor, but not Chef's rutabagas. He seared his rutabagas so they had a beautiful brown crust then braised them until every single inch of bitterness was removed and all that remained was earthy richness.
Chef stood back, pleased with his efforts. He held up his arm, hand in fist and a slight girl in black stepped forward to deliver the wooden platter to the designated table.
He heard another order come through. "Fire table 33."
No comments:
Post a Comment