Craving Consomee and Cupid

Another perfect match? Cold and Consomee of course.

It's day two of soups and I am finding the liquid diet fad suddenly slurpingly appealing...
And with these two Savory Soups, you do not have to wonder why.



Onion Gratinee, commonly known to all of us as French Onion Soup, is quite possibly the epitome of Savory in my mind. There is nothing more satisfying than soft sweet and sour onions in a sea of salty syrup. And to reach this bed of soup stock you must succeed in sinking the surface of baked cheese baguette boats. It's a food-lover's equivalent of Battleship really, and for me it's the ultimate Gourmand Game.



But for the adults among us, homemade beef stock Beef Consomee seems to go hand in hand with any great sporting event. Often referred to as 'aiming fluid' when paired with vodka in a Bullshot, Beef Consomee is packed with remarkable amounts of flavor despite it's complete clarity and lack of fat.



The art of deception if fully realized in this rather involved recipe, and I just love the whimsical touch of fresh herb crepes chiffonade that swim about the center like savory seaweed. If you asked me what my constant craving is I might have to call on this consomee.



Alison's Consomee that seemed to be channeling the universal constant...

(Yes, her crepe-chiffonade formed the symbol Pi)

And if an ocean of onions and a carafe of consomee wasn't enough to quench my thirst, a little gift from Cupid served to satisfy all my Valentine's Day cravings...


Flowers From my Valentine :)


Darcy Jones

5 Days of Flavor

A Scorched Savory


The week began with a disappointing destruction of practically perfect puff pastry. In an effort to prep, produce, and plate with newfound punctuality, I neglected to double check our oven temperature, entrusting the speed demons of our class with this most important responsibility. Result? Ablaze Allumettes.



This is proof that even 20 degrees can make a major impact on the food at bake. To make matters worse, the too high heat caused the Sauce Mornay (the white cheese roux filling the puff pastry) to boil and break the delicate layers that surrounded it giving the smoking savory a lovely lava oozing effect as I ripped it from the molten oven.

A sauce-less, scorched, smoking, and slightly undercooked pair of allumettes was all I had to show for 2 practicals worth of steam and study. But wait, the worse was far from over.

The lovely pate a choux Gougere dough that I seemed to cook to a pungent perfection and pipe in precise puddles for a stint in the oven never even saw the light of the day’s plating. The traumatizing trickiness of pate a choux: uninterrupted baking time for the first 20min. Early Birds don’t always get the worm it seems: I produced parmesan pitas instead of the desired Gruyere Gougeres.

Fresh From Scratch Fettuccini

Much to my surprise, by the next day I was back in the game. I have renamed this lesson Fun with Fettuccini because it was truly enjoyable. Channeling my imaginary Italian grandmother, I decided to choose the road less traveled and make every strand of pasta by hand. That is NO pasta rolling or cutting machine used, just a sharp knife and my two hands.



What a satisfying success: simple, subtle strands coated in a sauce of seasoned crème fraiche with fresh basil and tomatoes. The power of knowing how to make a personal pasta from scratch has sparked so much creativity that multiple flavor combinations of homemade pasta are currently hanging up to dry across my crowded kitchen. London’s very own Linguini Laundromat.

A Too-Tart-Tart

A Bramley Apple Butter Ball maybe the best way to describe this pucker inducing patisserie production. I admit that this has been the only recipe we have faced that I have taken serious issue with on the account that frankly it is just no good. A way-too-tart selection of apples breeds is broken down into unseasoned crunch-less compote, making the filling into nothing more than a Bradenburn baby puree.



Given the pre-existing wreck of a recipe, I somehow (and after going over it several times ex-post-factum still have no idea how) ended up with an exorbitant amount of butter in my pate sucree. So much so that a mid-blind-bake check up uncovered a butter-bubbling blistered mess. And from this Surface of the Sun Sucree followed a lack-luster layer of compote filling, and a rather anemic apple sliced topping. I truly pale at the thought of it.

TGIF: Thank God It’s French-Trim!

Friday was fraught with fun. Upon entering the demonstration room that morning, I saw nothing but a full frontal lamb and a cleaver besides our head chef.

This was the Lesson of the Lamb: learn it or leave.

It was absolutely amazing. To see our chef reduce an entire lamb into delectable portions with almost no waste was by all accounts brilliant. What a satisfying sight to see three hours worth of work turn a carcass into Carre d’Agneau.




Baby steps for us basic cuisine chefs though. We began with a split best end, from which we had to carve and cook a parsley-encrusted rack of lamb. The carving, or French Trimming task involves removing a particular amount of fat from the bones and eye of the meat, so that the meat retains as much flavor from searing and roasting as possible. The goal here is a palatable and practical presentation.



If you have ever had UK lamb, you will know that very little needs to be done to improve upon its taste, so this classic preparation is both respectful to and rich with natural flavor.

A Jalousie to be, well, Jealous of



More than just a midnight snack, this took the cake this week, or I should say took place of the cake.



Perfect cinnamon sugar syrup poach pears fan out atop fresh almond cream, encased in a lattice puff pastry dough glistening with the sugary shimmer of the sweet syrup nappage.



It is temptation at a taste, sin in a slice, and gluttony by the gram.

But let me tell you, it feels good to be this bad…





Darcy Jones

Warming Trend

7 degrees and climbing today… and in the kitchen a cool inferno! C’est typique- the second the weather turns so do our ovens. By 9am we were cranking at 200 degrees Celcius ready for a morning of roasting whole chickens, an afternoon setting sweet and savory pastry, and an evening baking the infamous Quiche Lorraine.

I must admit that Henry IV understood the human condition more than most. By all accounts a medieval man of instinct, King Henry was clearly leading with his gut when he declared A Chicken in Every Pot the standard for all his subjects’ Sunday evening suppers.



As you can see, I too believe that there is no greater comfort than coming home to roost.

And believe it or not, I have discovered that there is something inherently feminine, something rather domestic, about trussing a chicken. The prepping, the primping, the presenting: the entire procedure is akin to a Victorian-esc corseting custom. Seriously! If you had the opportunity to hear the way our chefs speak about the value in “propping up the breast” you too would understand what I’m getting at. Trussing is all about preparing a bird to look and perform at it’s best, hence it was the women who came out on top in today’s practical. And the hen party only continued as we breached baking…

Hour 6, Sweet and Savory Pastry: somewhere, somehow, and by some miracle I seemed to hit my stride. Pate Sucree and Pate Brisee provide the foundation for any sweet and savory shells. You find the sweet shortbread pastry filled with Crème Patissiere and topped with apricot jam glazed fresh fruits in a typical tarte aux fruits. Where as the savory shortbread crust supports the widely known and loved Quiche Lorraine. Difference between the two? Merely a bent towards either sugar or salt, respectively.

And is the midst of this blistering blind bake-off 'The Golden Quiche' was born.



Honestly, it may be my greatest achievement to date. Here the browned buttery crust hugs what’s known as the Royal Mix (made essentially of double cream, egg yolk, and nutmeg) throughout which rest crisp pancetta lardons and pockets of melted Gruyere cheese. The top’s texture accentuates this savory sun-like appearance and the taste lives up to every bit of its name:


Liquid Gold.

I’m basking in it’s glow.



Darcy Jones