It was my third day on the job. I'd never worked in a professional kitchen before. I was still going through culture shock. I go to my endless list of things to prepare and see that I have to make a soup for the day. I look around in the recipe book and find nothing. "Where's the recipe?" I ask. "In your head" Is my reply. I am then told that I must make something up on the spot and utilize as much as the left-over ingredients from other dishes as possible. I look at the shelf in the refrigerator and see a shelf marked "miscellaneous." These are the left-over, extra, discarded, flotsam and jetsam of the kitchen. All good. All eat-able. But quite a hodgepodge. I look it over. I see black beans. I see tomato pieces. I see bell pepper pieces. I see salsa. I see...... Chicken Tortilla Soup.
I bake off a few extra chicken breasts.
I grab celery, onion, and bell peppers. (The Holy Trinity.)
Visiting the dry-storage room, I gather up my spices: cumin, cayenne pepper, chili powder, salt, and black pepper.
Why these spices? Well...let's just stick to the star of this piece: Cumin.
During the Middle Ages, it was believed that this magical spice kept chickens and lovers from wandering. This may have a kernel of truth to it. Cumin is incredibly aromatic. You don't have to use much to let the whole neighborhood know that you're having tacos for supper. I mention tacos because (I shiver at the thought of typing these words. ) "Tex-Mex" is a popular type of food these days in the U.S. of A. But cumin has been around for centuries. The ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans used it. It's even mentioned not only in the New Testament of the Bible, but in the Old Testament as well. Today, its used in Mexican, Thai, Vietnamese, and Indian cuisines. You may come across a cook book stating that ground cumin and ground corriander are the same spice. Do not trust that book. Put it away. It is evil. Cumin is completely different to the discerning pallet. Corriander is not it's only evil twin. Oh no, there's an evil triplet...caraway. Although they are similarly umbelliferous (having blossoms shaped like umbrellas), caraway is not nearly as hot to the taste and is much darker in color.
Thus end'th the lesson on cumin.
Like most good soups, I start with a Mirpois. I utilize the Holy Trinity of celery, onion, and bell peppers (including garlic) by sauteeing for a few minutes in olive oil. Then I deglaze with lime juice and add the chicken stock and spices. After that gets brewing, I put in my tomatoes, salsa, blackbeans, and chicken (cut into bite-sized pieces). I try it. It's not bad. But it's missing something. Ah...it lacks a certain fresh-herbiness. Cilantro is best suited for this dish. It's another herb that's used in .... (shivers) "Tex-Mex" cooking. I choose not to thicken this soup. I like the way it smells like chili, but has a kind of potage brothiness about it.
I tell the chef that I'm all done and she asks me to write down the ingredients and make a garnish for the soup. "A garnish?" I ask myself. I didn't even think about that. I told her that it didn't really matter what the cooks used, but I mentioned some suggestions. She told me that the soup was my creation and that the garnish should not be a suggestion, but a command as to how the soup will be presented. I felt so proud that I got to create something of my own. I had no idea that this was a task I would be performing 2 or 3 times a week. For the garnish: a dollop of jalapeno sour cream in the middle, a few tortilla slivers, and a sprinkling of lime zest.
It was heavenly. Light but filling. Spicy but not too hot. Chef described the soup as "excellent." She then informed me that this was a test and I did well, commenting on my "perfect" balance of spices. This made me very pleased with myself......because I plan to open my own restaurant that specializes in soups and breads. It's good to know that I have a knack for soup.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Sweet Potato Bisque
The chef has thrust upon me several bags of sweet potatoes. "Use these," she says. So what comes to mind? A big fat baked yam with brown sugar, cinnamon, and butter. My grandmother's recipe for sugary bliss on Thanksgiving burried under a mantle of marshmallows. The southern favorite, Sweet Potato Pie. Mashed, Whipped, Boiled, Beaten, Baked, Braised, anyway you cook 'em Sweet Potatoes will always bring a smile to my face. What do you get when you cross a filling starchy tuber with sugar and spice? A true comfort food.
But how to make this different? How to put my own signature on this dish? I decide that the starchy orange chunks are ideal for being pureed into a bisque. A bisque is always pureed and is traditionaly made from shellfish and usually contains cream. This soup is not meant for a nice light lunch with saltines. "Thick" and "rich" are the two words that best describe a bisque.
First, the Mirpois. This is a French term for the genesis of every soup. The French begin by sauteeing celery, carrots, and onion before doing anything else. In Creole cooking, this is called the Holy Trinity but they relieve the carrot and sub-in bell pepper. In Indian cuisine, they use a trio made up of onion, garlic, and ginger. Perhaps its the magic number of three? Perhaps its the Holy Trinity moving us? Whatever it is, it works! I decide to create my mirpois of celery, onion, and garlic. I sauteed these in vegetable oil until translucent. Salt helps this process.
There was no sherry on hand, so I used orange juice to deglaze the pot. (That means to dissolve and scrape up all the little brown carmelized bits stuck to the bottom of the pot.) Then I added some vegetable stock and the 15 pounds of sweet potatoes cut into small cubes. I used some traditional sweet potato spices. Cinnamon, Clove, and Nutmeg. Then I added some brown sugar and maple syrup to balance the spicy clove. I used white pepper....aesthetics. And a litte cayenne pepper to perk it up. (Cayenne pepper goes a LONG way. So unless you're used to using this spice, I would advise adding with your light hand, not your heavy hand.) To give it an aromatic touch, I put 3 bay leaves in the pot (to be removed later.)
After letting this concoction simmer for quite a long time, I pureed the whole thing until is was very smooth. Then I added some cream to give it a little richness and to thin it out. I was left with something that looked like runny mashed potatoes and smelled like sweetpotato pie. But a taste test revealed the true nature of the soup behind the facade of sweet aromas and seeming thickness: A creamy-smooth spicy comfort food that warms your bones. Perfect for this chilly, damp, Indianapolis spring-time weather.
But how to make this different? How to put my own signature on this dish? I decide that the starchy orange chunks are ideal for being pureed into a bisque. A bisque is always pureed and is traditionaly made from shellfish and usually contains cream. This soup is not meant for a nice light lunch with saltines. "Thick" and "rich" are the two words that best describe a bisque.
First, the Mirpois. This is a French term for the genesis of every soup. The French begin by sauteeing celery, carrots, and onion before doing anything else. In Creole cooking, this is called the Holy Trinity but they relieve the carrot and sub-in bell pepper. In Indian cuisine, they use a trio made up of onion, garlic, and ginger. Perhaps its the magic number of three? Perhaps its the Holy Trinity moving us? Whatever it is, it works! I decide to create my mirpois of celery, onion, and garlic. I sauteed these in vegetable oil until translucent. Salt helps this process.
There was no sherry on hand, so I used orange juice to deglaze the pot. (That means to dissolve and scrape up all the little brown carmelized bits stuck to the bottom of the pot.) Then I added some vegetable stock and the 15 pounds of sweet potatoes cut into small cubes. I used some traditional sweet potato spices. Cinnamon, Clove, and Nutmeg. Then I added some brown sugar and maple syrup to balance the spicy clove. I used white pepper....aesthetics. And a litte cayenne pepper to perk it up. (Cayenne pepper goes a LONG way. So unless you're used to using this spice, I would advise adding with your light hand, not your heavy hand.) To give it an aromatic touch, I put 3 bay leaves in the pot (to be removed later.)
After letting this concoction simmer for quite a long time, I pureed the whole thing until is was very smooth. Then I added some cream to give it a little richness and to thin it out. I was left with something that looked like runny mashed potatoes and smelled like sweetpotato pie. But a taste test revealed the true nature of the soup behind the facade of sweet aromas and seeming thickness: A creamy-smooth spicy comfort food that warms your bones. Perfect for this chilly, damp, Indianapolis spring-time weather.
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