To age, or not to age? An eggnog drinker's dilemma...

Love it?

Hate it?

There is really no middle ground when it comes the eggnog.  Regardless of your opinions about nog, I think we can all agree that there is really not a single libation so associated with the Christmas season.  So much so, that in addition to the "traditional versions" and sugar-free/soy/rice/dairy-free versions, eggnog is making its way into everything: e.g., eggnog coffee creamers, eggnog milkshakes, eggnog ice cream.

I have always loved eggnog, but my experience as a child was limited to the cloyingly thick-over sweetened-"pretty far from eggnog" stuff that came in a one-quart paper carton.  My first real attempt at making eggnog was for a Christmas beverage feature in a steakhouse near Boston...which just happened to make a great vehicle for the kitchen staff to get sloshed "unnoticed."  That version started out paper-carton-thick as well, but once the brown liquors were added, we had achieved a quite palatable viscosity.

Of course, in the current climate I wouldn't be able to "get away" with serving raw eggs, and the components would need to be replaced with pasteurized versions of their former selves.  But if you believe in the preventative properties of brandy, bourbon, rye, and rhum here are a couple of different options for you: the first is my version, the second is an aged eggnog recipe, based on traditional recipes that date from colonial America, courtesy of Michael Ruhlman:



Beers' Eggnog

• 16 eggs, separated
• 2 cups granulated sugar
• 4 cups whole milk
• 1 qt heavy cream
• 1 ea. vanilla bean, split
• .750 liter bourbon
• 1 cup Cognac or brandy
• .750 liter dark rum
• pinch of kosher salt
• as needed freshly grated nutmeg

The Eggnog

1. Combine the yolks and 1-cup of the sugar in a large bowl and whisk until well blended, pale yellow, and ribbony; heat milk and the vanilla bean over medium-high heat until steaming; temper egg yolks with hot milk and return to pan.  Cook over medium-low heat while constantly stirring until mixture thickens and coats the back of a wooden spoon; strain through a fine mesh strainer into a container set into an ice bath and chill.  Reserve cold. (Can be made up to 3 days ahead of time)
2. Place the egg whites in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whip attachment,whip at medium speed until soft peaks form; reduce speed and, with mixer still running, slowly stream in remaining sugar and continue beating until glossy-medium peaks form.  Reserve cold. (Can be made up to 1 day ahead of time)
3. Place the heavy cream in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whip attachment and whip to soft-medium peaks; reserve cold. (Can be made up to 1 day ahead of time; you may need to re-whip to soft-medium peaks before using)
4. To serve: in a bowl large enough to accommodate the ingredients add the cooked egg yolks and fold in the whipped cream, and the whipped egg whites.  Add the bourbon, rum, cognac, and salt; stir to combine and transfer to a punch bowl. 
5. Serve topped with freshly grated nutmeg 

Aged Eggnog

• 12 yolks (save whites for angel food cake!)
• 2 cups granulated sugar
• 1 liter bourbon
• 4 cups whole milk
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 3/4 cup Cognac or brandy
• 1/2 cup Myers’s dark rum
• pinch of kosher salt

The Eggnog

1. Combine the yolks and sugar in a large bowl and whisk until well blended and creamy.
2. Add the remaining ingredients and stir to combine.
3. Transfer the mixture to a 1-gallon glass jar and tightly seal the lid. (Alternatively, you can bottle it.) Place in the refrigerator for at least 3 weeks and up to 3 years (or till it’s as you like it!).
4. Serve topped with sweet meringue and nutmeg if you wish.

Shallow thoughts

Growing up in a competitive atmosphere can mess up your perspective on success and life; it started with sports for me and transitioned to academics...then music, and finally culinary arts.  I do have some competitive natured/professional issues that I currently struggle with--albeit far less every day...I'm getting "better."

I am not the quickest dude when it comes to self-awareness.

Number one on that list, and some great advice I would give to anyone silly enough to ask is this: success of a colleague or competitor does not affect YOUR success!  This has taken me years to realize and to get over, even though I do have to consciously remind myself from time to time--more or less a daily basis.  It is very easy to focus on someone else's success when you feel as if you should be just as, if not more successful; this lead to years of not speaking to other athletes on the field,  musicians at clubs, or other chefs at community events.

The ego is a powerful, and more often than not stupid, thing to embrace.

Sooner or later I came to realize that my path, and that of others outside of my circle were separate.  And although these trajectories were distinct, who knew what I was going through or was up against better than my peers?  Suddenly you realize that you've wasted a lot of time and energy trying to problem solve in a vacuum!

The Forces of Light & Darkness - Hooper Dunbar

The Hiatus

(Disclaimer: I share the opinion of A-Rod that is held by nearly all Boston Red Sox fans.  Mea culpa.)

Yesterday I listened to an interview with Alex Rodriquez on Mike & Mike and at one point he started speaking about his "hiatus" from baseball in 2014.  He addressed that his career was on a downward trajectory and after sitting out a year he feels better than he has in over a decade.  And as he spoke of professional rejuvenation and fresh starts something resonated with me.  Shudder to think it, but I knew exactly what he was talking about.

Let me start by saying that I am not on a hiatus; I still cook for a living.  However it does feel like I am on a hiatus, as I am not currently working 80-plus hours a week and I actually spend time at home and with friends and family.  My days no longer start before the sun comes up only to end long after the sun has set in the west; I actually get to see my daughter off to school and tuck her in at night--things most people take for granted but I had not done with any regularity for the better part of ten years.

I have a dream job--a literal 1-in-43-opportunity-of-a-lifetime.  Although I no longer work everyday, I work for very intense, relatively short periods of time.  I am grateful for the opportunity, my boss, and the freedom that both allow me with this job.

So how does this all tie into the concept of being on hiatus?

For me it all revolves around my new found "down time."  For the first time in...I'm not sure when I was last able to do the kind of introspection I have been able to do recently.  I find myself being "judgy" towards actions of colleagues, but in a positive--and private--way; in a way that is helping me to see my own shortcomings--hopefully positioning myself to ditch them--and eliminate or correct them, (or at worst, live with them).  By recognizing my foibles in others, I am acquiring the mental skills to be a better chef.

I also have the luxury of sitting on the fringes of the food and beverage industry and being able to see into the industry with a pair of refreshed eyes.  All I can say, is that it is true that you can sometimes be so close to the forest, that you cannot see it through the trees.

The heightened self awareness that comes from being "removed" from the day-to-day grind of 12-hour+ days cannot be underestimated either.  This is one of my favorite benefits of my current situation.  I am able to think about how restaurants operate, kitchens are designed, staff is hired and trained, and ponder alternate methods of doing all of the aforementioned actions--all without being encumbered with having to go do dishes because the steward call in sick, or vacuum the dining room because the staff is shorthanded.  I am able to develop a better way of doing things in the vein of: if I could "do anything I want" within a restaurant.

Of course, with all of this freedom of time and thought comes a downside.  Because I DO sit on the outside looking inward, I am not playing reindeer games anymore.  As I champion my colleagues in their successes, charitable endeavors, pursuit of--and acceptance of--national acclaim and awards, I am no longer pursuing those same goals, and in some cases I am ineligible to.  I am operating in a world of self-imposed professional exile; yes, I do still cook to make a living, BUT I am out of the public eye and my eligibility to be regarded as "one of the guys" has been revoked, (driven home when I submitted a request for a range of samples from a manufacturer and I was told I couldn't have them because I was no longer 'serving the public.')  I have eaten my share of crow and humble pie while having my ego checked on a daily basis.

But once I take the ego out of the equation, I begrudgingly admit I am refreshed--both mentally and physically.  The time away from the line and a brigade have really been good for me, (i only used vacation time in previous positions because I was forced to...I have a super-high old school-blue collar work ethic ingrained in me).  To be able to step away, while at the same time keep my toes in the water of the industry as a whole, has been a blessing--more than it has been a curse, I assure you.  And, yes...I have developed some great new ideas and systems for operating my pie-in-the-sky-maybe-someday-restaurant; I am able to escape the tyranny of "we do it that way because that's the way we have always done it."

At the end of the day, I am glad that with my current "break" from the day-to-day restaurant hustle I have exchanged the pursuit of fame and glory for myself, for the opportunity to meet Joolz when she gets off of the bus in the afternoon.
  

Mise en place! Mise En Place!! MISE EN PLACE!!! pt. 2

It was a lonely walk to the South Side of Syracuse.  One where my anger had slowly become self-loathing.  In the course of 6-hours I had gone from being, (at least what I perceived), "The Chosen One" to a cook not worthy of preparing family meal.  In my mind I was sunk.  Time to move on, but where?  By the time I arrived home I was emotionally drained, and had beaten myself up pretty badly.  I went to bed hoping that things would "sort themselves out" in the morning.

The next morning I woke up.  The sun was shining.  I was still a shite cook.  Almost three years gone of my apprenticeship, nearly 5-years into my cooking career and I.  Was.  Shite.

I threw some ska on the stereo, turned it up so that I could hear it outside, and headed to the picnic table in the front yard armed with coffee, cigarettes, pen and paper to figure it out.  Smoking cigarette after cigarette, I stopped feeling sorry for myself, and turned my venom outward.

"[Bleep], Chef!"

"[Bleep] that place!"

"I don't need to put up with that kind of verbal assault!!!  [Bleep]!!!  Him!!!"

And then, without even realizing it, I turned the corner.  I was going to work tomorrow, Thursday.  If I didn't, Chef would beat me.  And there was NO WAY he was going to beat me!  And then I realized he may have been right about me.

Both that I was a colossal screw up, and that I deserved that shot at a Tuesday night shift.

Up until this point, I had survived my apprenticeship as the comedic foil to the chef, as well as by being THE grammar/spelling resource of the kitchen.  And I did have some average cooking chops at that point.  The day before had really driven home the point that the truth hurts.  I was not ready for service, and what I thought was mise en place wasn't close to actual mise en place.

The Chef could do 25 covers working out of a cooler with one arm tied behind his back because he could, after years of training.  There was no way I could do that then, (I still freak out a little in my head when I have had to cover a line solo).

And like a swift slap to the face, I was enlightened.  I truly understood what mise en place was.  Not only did it mean making sure I have enough food prepared for my section for service- and this is a huge part of it- it also meant making sure that my bain-marie of utensils was stocked with what I needed for service and in the same place every time, that I wasn't just prepping, but setting myself up for success."Why reach into the cooler every time I need a certain condiment instead of keeping it in an ice-bath on the counter?'  "Why not slice and toast my burger buns ahead of time and just reheat them when I needed them?"  It all clicked.

There was nothing cool about failing to do my job and set my section up, and let the Chef down.  I would rather look like a newbie and have every piece of mise en place in ice-bath at arm's reach to make it through service successfully with satisfied guests and a happy Chef.  I was in-it-to-win-it.  My days of being the class clown were over, or at least tempered by the fact that i couldn't just coast by anymore.  I was about to be dumped out of the nest and I needed to get.  It.  Together.

As I walked to work on Thursday I spent the majority of my time thinking about what, and how, I would do things differently.  To make things right; and I made a decision that I was going to do it "the right way" every time for the rest of time.

I slunk in the kitchen door that day, hoping to avoid Chef at all costs.  He saw me.  But, it was never spoken of again, and I know that the fact that I returned to work, (early for my shift even), earned me some respect and credibility from Chef and all of the other cooks who had already heard about my epic ass-chewing!!!

The lesson learned was that mise en place is EVERYTHING when setting yourself up for success.  Most of us keep absolutely meticulous lists of the minutia needed to run our sections down to filling the salt and pepper grinders.  From the outside I'm sure it looks like cooks have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, put without obsessively making sure that every food item, no matter how trivial, is prepared, or making sure that the fish spatula is where the fish spatula belongs in the bain marie the "wheels would come off" during service.

And take it from me that that is NOT what you want to have happen as either a guest or a cook.

Mise en place! Mise En Place!! MISE EN PLACE!!! pt. 1

Mise en place is a fairly common term in kitchens: literally "put in place," it is an essential ethos for making sure that your section is prepared, physically and mentally, with all of the necessary ingredients to execute a service in place.  A place for everything and everything in its place.  I had heard the term mise en place since my days as a dishwasher, so as a cook I was certain I knew exactly how to prepare proper mise en place.

Then one day while still in my apprenticeship, a day that became as pivotal in my becoming a chef as any other -a conscious moment of "this determines what happens from here on out"- I truly learned what mise en place was all about:

My apprenticeship was far more well-rounded than the horror-story-apprenticeships of cooks who did nothing but sit in a basement room and polish copper pans all-day.  Or stand in a scullery 16-hours a day peeling root vegetables that would never be used for more than family meal, just to come back and do the same task day-in, day-out, for months on end...with no chance of ever cooking on the line.  Wednesday's was a heavy prep of mise en place for the garde-manger station for the week and working the occasional cold garde-manger shift on the line.  Thursdays and Fridays were prep and private events.  Saturdays were almost always weddings, the ilk of which featured florist bills that eclipsed my yearly earnings.  Sundays and Mondays were taken up by brunch, prep, and either private or charity events for well over 300 guests.  And then there was Tuesday.

Tuesday night was the "prestige" shift for the young commis and chefs de partie.  It was the night when you worked the a la carte line solo.  No Executive Chef.  No Sous Chefs.  No safety nets.  No one else except for a bartender to take food orders and run food.  It was a young cook's chance to prove to the Chef that they were ready for bigger tasks and to be trusted on the dinner line as more than a "salad shooter."

In retrospect, we probably made a lot more out of it than it was.  The menu was reduced to the Grille Room Menu: sandwiches, salads, and foods of the "fryo-lated" arts for simplicity of prep, execution, and clean-up...and minimizing our chances of screwing it up.  Rarely, if ever, did we serve more than 15 guests between 4:30 and 9:00 PM.  For these reasons it was the one shift of the week that the Chefs were guaranteed to have off.  It was idiot proof.

I finally got my shot at a Tuesday night shift somewhere in the last year of my apprenticeship.  When I arrived the Sous Chef, Jeff, was getting ready to leave for the day.  He gave me a brief rundown of  the lay of the land, pointed out a few small prep items to be completed and then bolted out the back door of the kitchen to enjoy the nearly six-hours of sunlight left in the day.

"I've got this!" I thought as I went about finishing the remaining prep, and setting up my mise en place for service.  Now, when I say that I "set up" it would be more accurate to say that I set up the line like the Chef or Jeff would have: very minimally as to facilitate little to break-down/clean-up at the end of the shift.  First solo shift, I can show that not only can I hang with the Chefs, I can do it just like them.

As we neared the 4:30 opening time I expected the parking lot that was overflowing with cars would start thinning out, and only the after-work golfers would be left to worry about feeding.  Two things I failed to recognize or take into account: 1) the main reason guests didn't come in to eat on Tuesday nights was because the Chef and Doug weren't there and they were loathe to be fed by the likes of me, 2) the Chef WAS there this Tuesday for meetings, menu consultations with future brides, and essentially making busy-work for himself in another part of the building to be my lifeline, but just far enough away so as not to destroy my (over)confidence by seeming like he didn't trust me with his baby.

And because Chef was there, and parked out front of the club house so that I wouldn't see his car, most of those members and guests who would have headed home, or away from the club at the very least, decided to have the Chef cook them dinner this particular Tuesday night.  Right from "Jump!" I was in the weeds.  I was not even remotely organized enough to be considered disorganized.  I had Z-E-R-O real mise en place on the line.  I was clown shoes.  I was going down, and quick...

And then Chef came through the swinging doors,  I must have looked relieved, and given the hint of a "phew! The cavalry is here!" kind of smile, and I watched Chef put an apron on over his street clothes.  What came next was awful.

While I know the gist of the message was about me not knowing what mise en place means/how to prepare mise en place/where is your mise en place?, I can not to this day remember the exact words that were hurled at me that night.

My Chef, my mentor, my friend, was tearing me a new orifice with the kind of veracity and ferociousness I had only heard from sports coaches during my youth.  But this was expletive laden.  Surgically taking me apart word-by-word.  Hours long, and 100% accurate.  I was cooking with both my head and my tail between my legs-on the verge of tears-and with only my stubbornness keeping me from walking off of the line and out of that kitchen, (honestly, I had watched a recent graduate of the Culinary Institute of America get kicked off the line the previous winter, and I knew that if I left the line- let alone the kitchen- it would only make it worse).  As the orders fired out of the printer it seemed as if Chef's tongue lashing only intensified.  After the longest service of my young career, it was over.  Everyone was fed and the parking lot started to empty.  I had survived, even if I had been screamed at maniacally for the last 3-hours.

I was feeling low.  My confidence was beyond shaken; it didn't exist anymore.  As a parting jab, as Chef threw his apron into the linen bag, I was told to make sure I left the place spotless AND to take the next day off.

BOOM.  Being given the day off like that was essentially telling me to eff-off down the road without actually firing me, and I knew it.  I had seen it before.  As I licked the wounds from my first solo service, I was feeling equally sorry for myself and pissed off at the Chef.  I mean, we had done 75 covers on a night when 12 would have been "busy."

After making sure that the quarry tiles under the equipment had been mopped, and that every inch of stainless steel had been scrubbed I made my way to the locker room.  I hurriedly changed, and slunk out the back door; cutting across fairways and greens on my walk home...chain smoking and planning my early exit from my apprenticeship the entire way.