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Geestelike mise en plek: maak u en u kombuis gereed om te kook

Geestelike mise en plek: maak u en u kombuis gereed om te kook


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Die bedoeling van Mad Delicious, my nuwe kookboek van Kooklig, is om jou 'n meer doelgerigte kok te maak, beslis om die 'hoe' te leer, maar die belangrikste is om die kritiese 'waarom' van metodes, bestanddele, bestanddeelkombinasies, tradisies, verskynsels, ens. Ek wil hê jy moet die resep verstaan jy kook, oorleef nie net die proses nie.

Voordat jy begin kook, wil ek die belangrikste kookkunsbeginsel wat daar bestaan, deel:mise en place ('n Franse frase vir 'in plek stel') - om u te help om 'n meer georganiseerde, effektiewe en selfversekerde kok te word. Dit is 'n eenvoudige, fundamentele wet van die kombuis en professionele kokke leer hierdie konsep voordat hulle hul messtelle kan oopbreek. Die korrekte mise en place is ook 'n slim reël om in die huiskombuis te volg, en verwys meer na 'n absolute gereedheidsgraad waarmee 'n kok in relatiewe fisiese en geestelike vloei kan bly tydens kook.

Om gesond te eet behoort nog steeds heerlik te wees.

Teken in op ons daaglikse nuusbrief vir meer wonderlike artikels en lekker, gesonde resepte.

'N Goeie huiskok is deels balletdanser, gedeeltelik chemikus, gedeeltelik jongleren, deels antropoloog, deels arbeider en deels projekbestuurder. Die beste verstaan ​​inherent die volgende vyf beginsels en omhels dit in hul kombuise en hul siele.

  1. Beplanning is die belangrikste stap
  2. Kook volgens u bui, nie u drange nie
  3. Fokus op vloei
  4. Multitasking is 'n mite

7 gesonde kookwenke wat elke beginner -kok moet weet

Om u eie kos te kook, is altyd die veiligste manier om gesonde maaltye te verseker. Maar om te leer kook is nie presies 'n koekwandeling nie. Net so maklik soos die kwylwaardige blomkoolrysvideo's wat u Facebook-feed vul, lyk die resultate nie altyd Pinterest perfek as u dit eintlik probeer nie.

Ons is nie almal gebore met 'n sertifikaat van Le Cordon Bleu en 'n sjefs -toque nie, en dit is goed. Vir die meeste is leer om te kook 'n stadige proses-een wat die regte toerusting, 'n goed gevulde spens en 'n paar maklike vaardighede benodig. Met die hulp van 'n paar advies van geregistreerde dieetkundiges, het ons sewe gesonde kooktoetse saamgestel wat elke beginnende huiskok behoort te ken. Probeer dit, en binnekort sal jy die meestersjef van jou vriendegroep wees.


Hoe om 'n perfekte roerbraai te maak

Dit is maklik om te dink dat roerbraai maklik is. Marineer u proteïen, gooi 'n paar groente in die wok en voeg oorblywende rys by. Reg? As dit u verstandelike resep is vir u middel-week-braai, kry u die basiese beginsels reg, maar mis u die belangrikste element. "Roerbraai het minder te doen met die bestanddele en alles wat met tegniek te doen het," sê Jonathan Wu, sjef en vennoot by Manhattan's Fung Tu, 'n Chinees-Amerikaanse gewrig wat bekend is vir sy kulinêre stamboom (Wu opgelei by Thomas Keller se ster NYC-restaurant Per Se) en sy sterre seisoenale roerbraai (hierdie lente voeg hy sagte dopkrap, opritte, kappertjies en ingelegde mosterdsaad by).

Almal kan roerbraai bemeester-jy moet net slim wees oor hoe jy kook, begin met jou mesvaardighede. 'Alles moet in 'n soortgelyke grootte gesny word, sodat dit vinnig en eweredig gekook kan word,' sê Wu. Vir 'n noodle-roerbraai, sal speserye in knuppels gesny perfek meng. 'N Konsistente medium dobbelsteen werk uitstekend saam met rys. En as u die steak in repies gesny het, sny u groente op dieselfde manier.

VERWANTE: Kimchi gee klassieke Amerikaanse kos 'n nuwe skop

Voordat u die hitte aanskakel, kry u mise en place maak seker dat al u bestanddele gereed is en naby u wok wag. Roerbraai is 'n vinnige proses, dus moenie jou aandete verbrand nie, want jou wortels was aan die verkeerde kant van die kombuis. As 'n algemene reël gaan u proteïene eers in die pan, gevolg deur stadig gekookte groente, soos wortels en rissies, en dan sagter bestanddele, soos sampioene en suiker-ertjies. As dit vleis is wat jy soek, verbruin dit en verwyder dit terwyl die groente kook, en integreer dit aan die einde van die kookproses in die roerbraai.

Sommige sjefs beveel aan dat u u groente gaargemaak het. Dit is verkeerd, volgens Wu. 'As ons van 'n rou toestand na die wok gaan, help ons om groente vars, lewendig en skerp te hou,' sê hy. Om 'n heeltemal sagte binnekant te kry, voeg 'n bietjie vloeistof in die pan - hoenderaftreksel of water werk goed. As 'n bonus, stoom die vloeistof jou rys op.

En oor die rys of noedels: oorblyfsels is die regte pad. 'Omdat oorblywende rys minder vog het, sal dit minder bymekaar bly en minder by die wok bly,' sê Wu. Maak net seker dat dit nie die geval is nie ook uitgedroog, want dit is ook nie goed nie. Hy beveel 'n medium- of langgraanrys aan, wat minder taai is.

VERWANTE: Kruie vir u tuin en rooster

Jou roerbraai benodig 'n wok. Moenie dit oorslaan nie. Sekerlik, jy kan iets roerbraai aftrek esque sonder 'n wok, maar 'mens moet met die voorbehoud ingaan dat dit nie dieselfde sal wees nie,' sê Wu. 'N Regte roerbraai -vereiste wok hooi, 'n rokerige geur wat na vore kom wanneer u 'n wok gebruik om olie tot by die rookpunt te verhit. Wu beveel canola -olie aan, wat 'n hoë rookpunt en 'n neutrale geur het.

"Die Kantonees kan dit nie oorweeg om 'n roerbraai sonder wok hooi om soos slegte wyn te wees, dood en plat, "sê roerbraai-ghoeroe Grace Young in haar kookboek, The Breath of a Wok. Want wok hooi, benodig u twee dinge: 'n warm wok en koue olie. As jy koue olie by 'n koue wok voeg, word groente aan die buitekant verbrand en aan die binnekant sag. Verhit u wok soveel as moontlik voordat u die olie byvoeg om dit te kry wok hooi geur.

Roerbraai is 'n avontuur in hittebestuur. 'As die pan afkoel, is dit nie roerbraai nie,' sê Wu. "Dit is 'n warm sauté. Alles gaan versuip. Deur die wok te oorvol, sal alles afkoel," sê hy. En sorg dat u bestanddele altyd beweeg - wok hooi is rokerig, nie verbrand nie, maar dit is wat jy sal kry as jy nie die wok heen en weer skakel om die kos aan die gang te hou nie. "As voedsel te lank met die wok in aanraking bly, brand dit. Jy moet dit voortdurend roer," sê hy. As u dit reg gedoen het, kry u vinnig 'n heerlike, rokerige roerbraai.

Mark gebraaide rys

  • 160 g bors, gebraai en gesny en in blokkies gesny
  • 20 g gemmer, fyngekap
  • 20 g knoffel, fyngekap
  • 20 g sjalot, fyngekap
  • 500 g jasmynrys, gekook en gedroog vir 'n dag of twee in die yskas
  • 120 g rabarber, in skywe gesny
  • 120 g seldery, in skywe gesny
  • 100 g eiers + 20 g knoffel grasuie, in stukke gesny en roer
  • 15 ml sojasous
  • 5 ml swartrysasyn
  • 50 ml groente -aftreksel
  • 100 g babaspinasie
  • 5 g seldery saad, gerooster
  • 20 g uie groen, in skywe gesny
  1. Verhit 'n wok oor hoë hitte.
  2. Voeg genoeg canola -olie by om die onderkant van die wok te verfilm.
  3. Voeg die bors, gemmer, knoffel en ui -ui by. Gooi vinnig.
  4. Voeg die rys, rabarber, seldery, roereier, sojasous, swartrysasyn en groenteaftreksel by.
  5. Geur met seldery en 'n knippie sout.
  6. Gooi vinnig en gebruik die wokspatel om op te breek en rys wat saamgevoeg is.
  7. Voeg die babaspinasie by, gooi dit en kook vir 'n paar sekondes totdat dit sag is.
  8. Verdeel tussen 4 bakkies. Garneer met die ui -groente.

Teken in op YouTube vir toegang tot eksklusiewe toerustingvideo's, bekende onderhoude en meer!


Wat is Mise en Place?

Mise en place, uitgespreek meez-ahn-plahss, is 'n Franse kookterm wat beteken dat 'n plek in plek is. ” 1 'n Meer presiese vertaling sou iets wees soos “ op sommige plekke plaas ” of “ dinge in plek plaas ” Op TV -kookprogramme, soos Op die Food Network word hierdie term gewoonlik gebruik om al u bestanddele gereed en gereed te hê om in u gereg te gebruik voordat u begin kook. As gekapte groente en al die ander bestanddele vir 'n skottel in klein houers neergelê word, noem die sjefs dit die maklike plek op 'n slag. Dit is tegnies nie 'n selfstandige naamwoord nie, maar dit word so gereeld gebruik dat dit net hier verwarrend sou wees om dit anders te gebruik. Die term het 'n baie breër betekenis, dan is dit net om bestanddele voor te berei of bestanddele bymekaar te maak voordat dit gekook word.

Van al die terme wat aspirant -sjefs op kookskool sal gebruik en hoor, is mise en place die gewildste. Volgens baie voormalige studente in kookkuns is die term mise en place voortdurend gebruik. Instrukteurs sal nie net die belangrikheid van georganiseerdheid en alles gereed vir u ondersoek nie, maar hulle sal u voorbereidingswerk deeglik nagaan.

Wat behels die mise en place?

In 'n restaurant, mise en place verwys na alles wat gedoen word om diens so doeltreffend moontlik te maak. Dit omvat alles wat betrokke is by die voorbereiding en om dinge in orde te hou terwyl die diens voortgaan. Die meer algemene term sywerk is dieselfde ding as mise en place en sommige lynkokke gebruik die woord meez, kortliks. U kan ook sjefs hoor praat oor hoe u die mise en place doen. ”

Om al u gereedskap op hul plek te hê, u stasie skoon te hou en te hou, en gereedskap, panne en ander toerusting terug te plaas nadat u dit gebruik het, is alles deel van mise en place. Maar ook die voorbereiding van aftreksel, souse, of om broodjies of slagoffers gereed te hê, is in elk geval misken.

Ander voorbeelde van Mis En Place

  • vleis, pluimvee of vis sny en sny
  • groente was en voorberei (sny, sny, sny)
  • berei die kombuis voor vir die volgende skof (wat dalk nie dieselfde mense is nie)

Alhoewel die meeste van ons ons nie daaraan steur nie mise en place As u tuis vir 'n paar mense kook, kan u 'n baie beter gereg lewer as u so voorbereid as moontlik is voordat u begin kook. In plaas daarvan om afgelei te word en heen en weer oor die kombuis te loop, bestanddele uit die yskas of kas te haal, of, nog erger, om 'n vermiste mes of lepel te soek, kan u slegs konsentreer op wat in die pan aangaan. Die tydsberekening van 'n gereg is baie makliker as u nie hoef te stop om groente te sny of vleis te sny nie. 'N Goeie voorbeeld van 'n gereg wat behoorlik gemaak word mise en placenoodsaaklik is rissoto. Om 'n goeie rissoto te maak, moet u voortdurend klein hoeveelhede aftreksel by arboriorys voeg en byna konstant roer. As u nie al u komponente in plek het voordat u met u risotto begin nie, kan dit 'n ontstellende ervaring wees, want daar is 'n baie fyn lyn tussen OK risotto en uitstekende risotto.

Opruiming terwyl u kook, is ook 'n noodsaaklike deel van mise en place, kan u kookkuns ook meer doeltreffend maak. Die meeste van ons het nie 'n onbeperkte ruimte op u kombuistafels nie, dus as voedselreste of vuil gebruikte toerusting ophoop, kan dit ons ongeorganiseerd maak en ons vertraag.

In Hoe om alles vinnig te kook: 'n beter manier om lekker kos te kook, daag Mark Bittman uit wat hy die 'mythe van mise en place' genoem het, en sê dat dit onprakties is in 'n huiskombuis:

As u al die voorbereidings vooraf doen, laat u gereeld u duime draai en wag vir kos om te kook.

Alhoewel dit waar is dat alles wat vooraf voorberei is, nie prakties of noodsaaklik is vir 'n huiskok wat nie meer as in 'n restaurant verskeie geregte kook nie, is daar geen rede om nie vooraf te beplan en sekere noodsaaklike komponente voor te berei nie, om foute uit te skakel of afleiding tydens kook. Alhoewel die voorbereiding vooraf nie tyd bespaar nie, is daar min huiskokke wat uiteindelik hul duime kan verdwaal omdat hulle te veel voorberei het.

Hierdie artikel bevat een of meer Amazon -aangeslote skakels. Sien volledige bekendmaking.


Van oneetbare kos tot oormatige afval, onthul skokkende kookgeheime

'N Plasing op die sosiale media -webwerf Reddit het mense wat aan die reeks kosprogramme gewerk het, gevra om die vreemdste dinge wat hulle tydens hul werk gesien het, te onthul.

En die reaksies het nie teleurgestel nie.

Volgens gebruiker 'Elroypaisley' wat aan 'n geselsprogram met daaglikse kooksegmente gewerk het, word 'n kosstilis agter die skerms die meeste moeite gedoen.

Bobby Flay in die & quotIron Chef America & quot; kombuis. (AP lêer foto)

"Die meeste kosse is A) nie eetbaar nie (onder gaar hoender, net bruin aan die buitekant om goed te lyk vir die kamera, of bespuit met glansende spuit om dit glansend te laat lyk) of B) deur die bemanning geëet," skryf die redakteur.

'Die mees verhelderende feit vir my was dat baie van die sjefs nie 'n idee het wat die resep is nie, wat hulle kook wanneer hulle aankom of hoe dit gemaak word. 'N Kosstilis verskyn twee uur voor die opname, nadat hy die hele aand die hele nag' skoonheidsgeregte 'gemaak het - dit is die skottelgoed wat die kamera sal neem om te wys hoe die eindproduk lyk. Dan lê die stilis elke bestanddeel, elke bak, elke gereedskap wat benodig sal word.

'Die sjef kom, maak hare/make -up en kom vas waar die stilis hulle inlig. ‘Sjef, vandag maak jy so en so. Dit is die bestanddele vir die reduksiesous, ens. ' Die sjef gaan 'n paar keer oor die resep, dan gaan ons live en hulle is die deskundige.

Gebruiker 'Landlubber77' het as produksie -intern by 'n voedselnetwerk gewerk en gesê die gereg wat die sjef voorberei het, is gewoonlik nie die een wat op die pragtige foto's verskyn nie.

'As hulle 'n opname van net die kos op sy eie wil maak, die' helde -skoot ', laat hulle 'n stagiaat 'n duplikaat van die maaltyd maak (maak nie saak of dit te gaar is nie, want niemand gaan dit eet nie). om op die oppervlak goed te lyk. Hulle spuit dit dan met 'n aërosolblik met 'n paar goddelose preserveermiddels sodat dit 'bly'.

Kosstyliste kan ure spandeer om geregte voor te berei wat nie eers bedoel is om geëet te word nie. (iStock)

'U kan 'n jaar later terugkom, en dit sou nog steeds gereed wees vir die kamera.'

As dit kom by shows soos Meestersjef, 'Absinthevisions' het geskryf dat "elke gereg verskeie kere gemaak kan word, sodat daar baie vermorsing is".

'As dit 'n wedstrydstyl is, eet die beoordelaars nie die weergawe wat u gaar en bedek sien nie. Die weergawe word weggegooi en 'n nuwe weergawe word spesiaal vir hulle gekook om te eet. Dan neem hulle 2-3 happies van 'n bord en gooi die res weg. ”

As u ooit 'n kookprogram gesien het waar die sjef aan die begin van die vertoning 'n spesiale bestanddeel gekry het, en u was verbaas oor hoe vinnig hulle 'n dinkskrum gemaak en hul gereg uitgevoer het, wel. moenie verbaas wees nie.

"My broer was 'n sous -sjef vir sy (destydse) baas op 'n gewilde koskompetisieprogram," het Reddit -gebruiker 'LadyofRivendell' geskryf.

'Hy het gesê dat die geheime bestanddeel 'n paar uur voor die verfilming onthul is en dat die sjefs met hul sous -sjefs gaan sit het en planne beraam.

Maar die beste verhaal in die draad was van 'n spysenier genaamd 'Astrochef12' wat in die vroeë 2000's gehuur is deur Die Oprah Winfrey Show om 'n aantal verskillende bekendes se gunstelingresepte vir die ateljee -gehoor te maak.

'Ek het pannekoek gemaak (dink ek) vir Harry Connick jr., Gwenyth Paltrow se Miso-korst-kabeljou en veral Tom Cruise se ouma se spaghetti carbonara,' het hulle geskryf.

'Gewoonlik is ek die een wat na die vertoning gaan met 'n paar kokke wat alles opwarm en ongeveer 360 proe -porsies vir die gehoor opdis. Die kos sou binne twee en 'n half minute tydens 'n kommersiële pouse bedien word, so die druk was redelik intens.

'Tom Cruise se spaghetti carbonara steek in my herinneringe vas, want die oproep het tydens 'n stilte gekom en 'n klomp personeel was op vakansie. Ons sou die oproep kry en die kos moet dieselfde week gereed wees, so ek was net op die baan.

'Hulle het genoeg spaghetti carbonara vir 360 gaste aangevra, plus die Mise en Place (voorbereide bestanddele) sodat Tom dit self op kamera kan demonstreer. Hulle het ook die resep gestuur, wat deur 'n assistent voorgeskryf is en per e -pos gestuur is.

'Toe ek die resep lees, het ek in apopleksie gegaan omdat sy resep gebrekkig was. Hy het gesê dat die geklitste eiers in die gesoteerde olyfolie/spek/ansjovis gegooi word en dan in die pasta geroer word (wat roereiers tot gevolg het). Gewoonlik word die eiers ingemeng nadat die pasta bygevoeg is, dan gooi jy alles rond en die eiers, kaas, olyfolie en spekvet maak 'n baie ryk sous.

'Ek staan ​​dus voor 'n dilemma. Maak ek die resep op sy manier sodat die gehoor dieselfde deurmekaar voorbereiding kry, of maak ek dit op die regte manier en wys ek die grootste ster ooit in die gewilde vertoning van 'n groot kliënt?

'Die populis in my het gewen. Skroef Tom Cruise.

'Ek het alles ingepak en saam met 'n ander sjef na die vertoning gestuur. Die sjef bel my sodra hulle klaar is: sekerlik, hulle rol die demo -opstelling uit en hy (Tom Cruise) begin die olyfolie, knoffel, ansjovis en spek braai tot alles smelt. Hy voeg die eiers by en. roereiers! Hy is soos 'Uh oh! Is dit nie reg nie? ’En Oprah strek onder die kar uit en haal 'n bak met my spaghetti carbonara uit en hy sê: 'O ja, dit is hoe dit moet lyk!'


18 Vinnige Sondagaand -etesresepte

Sondagaande is meer as 'n tyd van die dag en 'n dag van die week. Sondagaande het gewoonlik baie gevoelens. En as dit kom by die kalmering van ons gevoelens, is daar niks so effektief as 'n troosvolle ete, soos die Vegetariese Gumbo wat hier getoon word nie. Sondae het maaltye, ma's, oumas of vaders wat by die huis gebly het om te kook terwyl die res van die gesin besig was om te kook, nie meer so waar nie. Om 'n troosvolle Sondagete te hê, beteken egter nie dat u die hele dag moet kook nie. Baie van ons vind ons eie manier om die ete op die tafel te sit, sodat ons minder tyd kan spandeer aan kook en meer tyd kan bymekaarmaak en hergroepeer voordat die week begin, en dit is waar, selfs al beteken dit dat u 'n paar hoeke moet afsny. Daar is egter geen verwerkte voedsel in hierdie voedsame maaltye nie, tensy 'n blikkie boontjies of 'n bottel Chinese swartboontjie-knoffelsous tel. Dit is omdat vars bestanddele net so vinnig gaar is as u weet wat u daarmee moet doen.

As u die naweek wil afsluit met 'n goeie maaltyd, terwyl u energie en tyd bespaar vir die komende week, is 'n bietjie vergifnis 'n goeie idee. Hou in hierdie gees 'n paar maklike resepte in u sak. Dit is die etes wat u wil maak as u 'n besige naweek beleef, maar u moet daaraan voldoen. Of dit nou minder tydrowende weergawes van Italiaans-Amerikaanse klassiekers is, vereenvoudigde weergawes van u gunsteling wegneemetes, of as hulle een pot in plaas van twee gebruik, dit word beslis gereelde gunstelinge op Sondagaand.

Pasta en spinasie kan saam gekook word, en vis en groente kan maklik in 'n pakkie gebak word, en natuurlik wors en boontjies kook feitlik self. Voeg hierdie resepte by die repertoire van Sondagaand wat aansluit by wat ons tydens 'n ontspannende naweek opgedoen het, terwyl die voorbereiding vir die werkweek wat voorlê 'n moeilike balans kan wees. As ons vir ons 'n maaltyd gee wat ons gemoed verlig terwyl ons ons buik vul, weet ons dat as ons Maandagoggend aanbreek, ons goed kan begin.


Hoe om self te leer kook

Hierdie artikel is mede-outeur van Alex Hong. Alex Hong is die uitvoerende sjef en mede-eienaar van Sorrel, 'n nuwe Amerikaanse restaurant in San Francisco. Hy werk al meer as tien jaar in restaurante. Alex is 'n gegradueerde van die Culinary Institute of America en het gewerk in die kombuise van Jean-Georges en Quince, albei restaurante met 'n ster.

Daar word 25 verwysings in hierdie artikel aangehaal, wat onderaan die bladsy gevind kan word.

Hierdie artikel is 244,964 keer bekyk.

Om 'n wegneemete te bestel of 'n voorafgemaakte bevrore aandete in die oond te gooi, kan vinnig en gerieflik wees, maar daar is iets besonders daaraan om jou eie maaltyd te kan kook. Boonop is kosse wat u self maak, byna altyd gesonder en meer gesond as verwerkte of voorverpakte voedsel. As dit intimiderend lyk om te kook, moenie bekommerd wees nie! U het nie spesiale toerusting of baie ervaring nodig om lekker kos te maak nie. Sodra u 'n paar eenvoudige tegnieke bemeester het, kan u allerhande lekker geregte maak. [1] X Navorsingsbron


LPT: Lees die HELE resep voordat u begin kook. Dit spaar u frustrasie, bespaar u tyd en laat u voorbereid wees op elke stap in plaas van om rond te skarrel. Dit laat u ook toe om u bestanddele te mis (meet, sny, kap, ens.).

Help ons asseblief om te besluit of hierdie pos geskik is vir die subreddit deur hierdie opmerking op of af te stem.

As u dink dat dit 'n goeie raad is om u lewe te verbeter, kan u stem. As u dink dat dit u op geen manier kan help nie, stem dan asb. As u nie omgee nie, laat dit aan die ander om te besluit.

Daar is 'n spesiale plek in die hel Vir resepskrywers wat al die bestanddele lys, skryf die instruksies vir die voorbereiding van die gereg op en steek dan 'n klein juweel soos 'roer 'n teelepel gepikkelde feestof by' wat nie in die bestanddeellys genoem is nie, in die teks.

My skoonma het 'n resepteboek gemaak vir die resepte wat sy die meeste hou, sommige dele is so dom (soos 'n paragraaf oor hoe om rys te was en gaar te maak), maar ander dele ontbreek heeltemal metings of laat net bestanddele verskyn die metode. dit maak my waansinnig

Ek bedoel, wie hou nie van sprookstof in hul bechamel nie.

Ek doen dit elke keer, maar sodra dit nie by my opgekom het om te kyk of een van my twee oonde tot 550 o F.

Wat het jy op 550 gekook ?!

Die werklike resep of die oorlog en vrede roman wat gelei het tot die resep?

Hoe weet u anders hoe die skrywer 'n seuntjie was wat depressie oorkom het, sy liefling van die hoërskool teruggekry het, 3 marathons gehardloop het en dan in albei wêreldoorloë geveg het met die hulp van hierdie 3 boontjie -oondbak ??

Sny ook elke bestanddeel vooraf in 'n glasbak van verskillende groottes. Jy lyk fancy, jy voel fancy. Ek kan dit nie bewys nie, maar u maaltyd sal ook lekkerder smaak.

Edit: Probeer ook om sekere woorde te sê met 'n swaar Italiaanse aksent, soos moo-za-rell-ah! en pro-shoo-tow! selfs as u nie die bestanddele gebruik nie. Dit sal u oorheersing bevestig by almal in u kombuis wat u gretigheid durf bevraagteken.


Sjef op die rand

'So Pete, laat ons hierdie resepte fokken uitbars,' het Chang gesê.

'Ons kry môre vis in en begin rondspeel,' het Serpico gesê.

“Vis is maklik. Ek weet jy wil nie, maar jy kan die karringmelk saam met die stabiliseerder gebruik en dit klits sodat dit soos jogurt is. ”

'Ek dink aan 'n pittige karringmelk. Miskien maak ons ​​die konsekwentheid van die tofu. ”

"Het Jean Georges nie die toeval met karringmelk en sjampanjedruiwe nie?" Chang gesê. 'Dit is fokken mal, oor geluk.'

David Chang en Peter Serpico het in die kelderkantoor van Momofuku Ssäm Bar gesit en bespreek wat hulle moes doen voor die opening van Ko. Die stowe was in, en die gas was gereed om aan te skakel, maar hulle kon nog nie daar kook nie, omdat die brandblustelsel nie geïnstalleer was nie. Ssäm Bar was Chang se tweede restaurant, Ko was sy derde restaurant.

Chang is maar dertig, maar in die afgelope paar jaar het hy onverwags, en in sy gedagtes, per ongeluk en waarskynlik bedrieglik, een van die mees gevierde sjefs in die land geword. Hy is egter te neuroties om dit te hanteer, so hy vergoed hom deur hom as 'n struikelende idioot voor te stel. Hy is vyf voet tien, gebou soos 'n bierbeker, en voel dat die meeste kos beter saam met varkvleis smaak.

Serpico is die sjef van Ko. Hy werk 'n paar jaar saam met Chang na 'n werk by Bouley. Hy en Chang maak albei hul hare tot gons snitte, maar terwyl Chang s'n sy kop ronder en meer baba-agtig laat lyk, laat Serpico's hom skerper, slanker lyk, gereed om te vlug.

'OK, die enigste ding wat ons nie het nie en gestandaardiseer is kammossels, wat ons nou gaan doen.

Hulle werk al weke lank aan die kammosselgereg. Dit was 'n pragtige ding: 'n beslag van swart nori -puree op die bodem van die bak, dan 'n laag seekossies en kantarelle en moontlik mossels en dan, bo -op voor die kliënt, 'n sagte hoop skuimende dashi (kelp) en gedroogde bonito-sous), doelbewus onstabiel gemaak met net 'n bietjie metielcellulose, sodat die borrels voor die oë van die klant sou bars en in 'n visagtige vloeistof verdwyn, presies met die snelheid wat skuim van 'n golf na sand verdwyn. Dit het soos die see gelyk en soos die see geproe, en Chang was baie trots daarop. Die enigste ding waaroor hy bekommerd was, was die woord 'skuim', wat vanweë die nuwerwetsheid in die negentigerjare 'n simbool geword het van alles pretensieus en onnatuurlik oor die kombuis van die negentigerjare. In die gedagte van Chang was hy besig om met skuim te spot, maar sommige mense sou dit natuurlik nie verstaan ​​nie en sou dink dat hy net nog 'n oorblywende skuimslaaf was. 'Dit sal mense vies maak,' het hy gelukkig gesê.

Serpico het 'n reuse eierdop langs Chang se rekenaar opgemerk.

"Is dit die volstruiseier wat jy nou die dag gaargemaak het?" vra hy. "Hoe was dit?"

'Dit was aaklig,' het Chang gesê. 'Ek wou dit maklik hê, weet jy - ek wou maak asof ek Fred Flintstone was. So ek het 'n groot rondeau gekry, ongeveer twee sentimeter olie gesit, en ek sou die muffin diepbraai, maar daar was soveel waterinhoud in die wit dat dit net versprei het. Dit het soos maaskaas gelyk. ”

'Maar die eiergeel - die eiergeel was massief. Ekwivalent aan vier en twintig hoendereiers. ”

'Ons sal volgende week gereed wees om te rol,' het Chang gesê. 'Indien nie, kap ek Hiro se pinkie af.' Hiro was Ko se argitek.

'Ek kan nie wag nie,' het Serpico gesê. 'Ek maak myself dood, man. Ek het niks om te doen nie. Ek dink ek kan 'n woonstel soek. ”

Serpico moes binne minder as 'n maand uit sy woonstel wees, maar het nog nie 'n ander woonplek gevind nie. Hy het histories nie veel aandag aan sy lewensreëlings gegee nie. Hy is ses en twintig en het 'n jaar gelede sy eerste bed geërf. Tot dan toe het hy nie eers 'n matras besit nie - hy het net op die vloer geslaap. Hy het nog steeds nie 'n kas nie: hy laat val sy klere by die wasgoed, dan haal hy net goed uit die sak. Hy kook een keer in ses jaar tuis. As hy nie in die restaurant eet nie, kry hy gewoonlik McDonald's of KFC.

Die gewoontes van Serpico is nie ongewoon onder die kokke in Momofuku nie. Chang kook ook nooit tuis nie - hy bestel Chinese of pizza. Hy het 'n bed in sy ou woonstel gehad, maar net omdat dit deur die vorige huurder agtergelaat is. Onlangs het hy 'n plek gekoop, maar hy het geen meubels nie, so op 'n dag het hy hom reggemaak en na Crate & amp Barrel gegaan. Hy het egter net 'n uur om te gaan inkopies doen, so hy het een van die versamelkamers uitgesoek en vir 'n verkoopspersoon gesê dat hy alles wou koop, net soos dit was. Die gevolg hiervan, besef hy toe die meubels aankom, was dat sy woonstel soos 'n hotelkamer lyk, maar daar was darem goed op die vloer.

'U is woes,' het Chang gesê. “Kom ons kook, ou.”

"Hierdie is asemrowend!" Chang het uitgeroep na Serpico en met sy hande langs die tafelblad gehardloop. Vir die eerste keer het Ko soos 'n restaurant begin lyk. Dit was vuil, dit was klein, dit was amper geheel en al gemaak van laaghout - mure, deure, toonbank, kaste - maar dit was 'n restaurant, en binnekort sou hulle daar kook.

'Telepan het dit gisteraand gesien,' het Chang gesê. Bill Telepan bestuur die restaurant Telepan, in die Upper West Side. 'Hy het sy gat gelag. Hy sê: 'Dit is die kleinste plek waar ek nog ooit gekom het.' Jy is 'n dom man, Serpico. Niemand by sy verstand sou so iets doen nie. ”

Chang het gehoop dat die opening van Ko effens minder rampspoedig sou wees as die opening van sy eerste twee restaurante, maar hy het die ergste verwag. Hulle het hulself alreeds gered van verskeie idees wat agterna so ongelooflik dom vir hulle gelyk het dat dit moeilik was om te glo dat hulle dit in die eerste plek gehad het. Die idee dat die kokke byvoorbeeld tydens die bediening al die skottelgoed self sou was. Dit was 'n soort beginsel vir Chang - hy het gevoel dat niemand wat vir Momofuku gewerk het, te trots moet wees om te help met die grootste take in die kombuis nie - maar dit was nog steeds 'n baie slegte idee. Hulle het by die idee gehou dat daar geen bedieners sou wees nie, want Chang wou hê dat die kokke al die wenke moes kry. ("Bedieners is sulke gulsige bastards," sê hy. 'N Bediener by Ssäm Bar kan binne 'n week sewentienhonderd dollar inbring deur twee-en-dertig uur te werk, 'n kok wat dieselfde ure werk, sou driehonderd-en-vyftig verdien.) Aan die ander kant, die meeste kokke was nie ten volle gematig nie, en dit het al baie verwag dat hulle hul werk twee voet moes doen van normale mense wat betaal het om 'n aangename aand te hê. (Ko is opgerig soos 'n sushi -kroeg, met al die kliënte by 'n toonbank wat na die stowe kyk.) Om hulle te vra om ook soos kelners op te tree, kan 'n stap te ver wees.

Dit was ongelooflik hoeveel besluite geneem moes word voordat dit oopgemaak is. Net om uit te vind hoe om die misosop in bakke voor die klant te gooi, het 'n hele gesprek met Cory Lane gevoer. (Cory Lane bestuur die voorkant van die huis - bedieners, opstelling, drankies - by al drie restaurante. Hy het kookskool toe gegaan, besluit dat hy nie 'n baie goeie kok was nie, en het eerder 'n wynkenner geword.)

'Wat makliker sou wees, is miskien 'n klein potjie, soos 'n ghetto, en gooi dit dan in,' het Chang gesê.

'Nee, jy leun oor en gooi dit uit die pan,' het Serpico gesê.

"Dit gaan oral regkom!" Chang gesê. 'U wil dit skep of skep. Soos 'n teepot, ou. "

'Met hierdie karafels kan u dit voor die tyd doen, en dit hou 'n rukkie warm,' het Lane voorgestel.

“Ek weet nie, man. U reik uit en gooi dit reguit in hul bak, ”het Serpico gesê en die vloeistof uit 'n klein kastrol in 'n bak oor die agterkant van 'n lepel gegiet, sodat dit glad vloei en nie spat nie.

'Ek hou daarvan en gooi dit so oor die agterkant van die lepel,' sê Lane goedkeurend. 'Ek bedoel, u kan oral gaan en 'n sop uit 'n kruik laat sit. Ek hou daarvan."

Aan die begin was Chang se hele doel om 'n noedelkroeg oop te maak. Hy het regtig nie veel nadink oor wat hy daarmee sou doen sodra hy dit gedoen het nie. As hy terugdink aan die belaglike manier waarop hy sy eerste restaurant begin het, vier jaar gelede, en die manier waarop dit so wild geslaag het, ondanks sy algehele onkunde oor die onderneming en al die foute wat hy as gevolg daarvan gemaak het, en na 'n ander restaurant gelei het , en dan nog een, en al die sjefpryse wat hy sedertdien ontvang het, lyk dit vir hom na 'n onmoontlike sprokie, en hy word oortuig dat dit op enige oomblik kan verdwyn. 'Ek voel asof ek niks hiervan verdien het nie,' sê hy. 'Ek blameer my ouers vir my skuldige gewete. Toe ek grootgeword het, het niemand ooit vir my gesê: 'Dave, jy is slim, jy is vinnig, jy is slim' - dit was inteendeel. Ek is nog steeds so onseker, ek voel asof ek Forrest Gump is - ek is saggies vertraag, en mense is soos: 'Kyk hoe ver het hierdie man gekom!'

Chang se ouers emigreer uit Korea as volwassenes in die negentien-sestigs, hy uit Noord-Korea, sy uit Suid. Sy pa, Joe, het vyftig dollar gehad toe hy daar aankom. Hy begin werk as 'n skottelgoedwasser in New York, en verhuis later na 'n voorstad van Washington, DC, en maak 'n paar lekkernye oop. He began making real money when David was a teen-ager (David is the youngest of four), with a golf-supplies business. David became a junior golf champion but quit when he was thirteen.

Chang was miserable in school and claims to have failed everything. “I never even made the high-school golf team,” he says. “I was too much of a head case. Remember that scene in ‘The Royal Tenenbaums’ when Luke Wilson’s playing tennis and crying and he throws his shoe? That’s what I was like.” He went to Trinity College, in Connecticut, but says he only got in because he was Asian he smoked pot almost every day. But one thing that interested him was religion—his parents and his sister were very involved with a Korean Presbyterian church, and he had turned against that—so he became a religion major and wrote a thesis on Thoreau. Something about the mindful ordinariness of “Walden” appealed to him—the elevation of daily repetitions into an honorable way of life. “Even menial tasks such as domestic chores were a pleasant pastime,” Chang wrote. “He enjoyed these duties because he completed them with painstaking diligence.”

After college, he spent six months at the French Culinary Institute at the same time, he worked the dinner shift at Mercer Kitchen and, on his days off, answered phones at Craft until he got a job as a cook. Meanwhile, for years he’d been obsessed with ramen (“momofuku” means “lucky peach,” but it is also the name of the man who invented packaged ramen noodles), and he knew he wanted to apprentice in a Japanese noodle shop. Finally, an opportunity presented itself: his aunt was friends with Reverend Paul Hwang, a Korean businessman who had turned a building he owned in Tokyo into a combination church and men’s homeless shelter, with a ramen shop on the first floor. Reverend Hwang said that Chang could live in the homeless shelter and work in the ramen shop. As it turned out, Reverend Hwang’s ramen shop was one of the few really bad ramen shops in Tokyo, so Chang didn’t stay there for long, but his true apprenticeship came from eating around the city and realizing what it meant to live in a food culture where even the smallest, cheapest place served food more delicious than you could get in half the restaurants in Manhattan.

“Sorry, you can’t be Client 9—we’re retiring that number.”

When he got back to New York, he got a job at Café Boulud, a three-star restaurant on the Upper East Side then being run by Andrew Carmellini. He worked six or seven days a week, fifteen-hour days (though only because he felt he had to get there two hours early to keep up). It was brutal. “Café Boulud was intentionally difficult,” he says. “It was chip-on-your-shoulder cooking, like, all these other restaurants have twice as many cooks, all this new equipment, and we’re gonna fucking outcook them with nothing but our sheer will and technique.” But it wasn’t just machismo—it was also beautiful. “Andrew knows how things should taste,” Chang says. “It’s crystal clear in his mind. There were so many instances when he was, like, ‘It’s missing something, do this,’ and it’s fucking perfect.” Chang felt lucky to be working in such a kitchen, but he was preoccupied with trouble at home—fights between his father and his oldest brother over the family business, then his mother being diagnosed with cancer—and he could feel that he was starting to freak out. His hands were shaking so much that he couldn’t sauce plates. Finally, he had an epiphany. “Why can’t I cook something simple?” he said to himself. “I’m not an awesome cook—I just want to make noodles.” He quit Café Boulud and moved home for a while to help take care of his mother. Then he put together a business plan, asked his father for just shy of two hundred thousand dollars in seed money, and started looking for a place to open a noodle bar.

He signed a lease on a six-hundred-square-foot storefront at First Avenue and Tenth Street in early 2004. He asked some of his friends to come in on it with him, but nobody wanted to leave a job for a venture that was certain to fail. Fine, he thought, I’ll do it all myself. But just before the restaurant was due to open he found another cook, a guy named Joaquin Baca, who responded to an ad he’d placed on monster.com. Baca had worked in restaurants in Santa Fe but since moving to New York had been offered only insultingly bad entry-level jobs. He figured he had nothing to lose, and signed up.

At first, it was just Chang and Baca, seven days a week. The menu was very simple: ramen noodles with shredded pork, seven dollars Momofuku ramen with pork and a poached egg, twelve dollars steamed rice noodles pork buns cash only. Chang was living in a horrible little apartment across the street. He would arrive at the restaurant at seven, prep all the food, take deliveries, and cook the lunch service by himself. He left around four, took a two-hour nap, then came back to help Baca with dinner. They had practically no customers. The Japanese place across the street, which was terrible in his opinion, was always packed. They started hiring people—dishwashers, cooks, servers—but nobody could meet Chang’s standards, so he fired them all. Those he didn’t fire quit. Finally, Chang and Baca decided that if they were going to go broke they might as well do it in style, and they started cooking what they felt like—stranger, more adventurous dishes with better ingredients. And then it all began to happen.

Just as Ko was finally coming together, at the end of February, Chang stopped by Noodle Bar one day and saw so much sloppiness in the kitchen that he flew into one of his rages. Most chefs yell, but Chang is on a different level. “No one gets angry like I get angry,” he says unhappily. “I just turn into a complete maniac. My brain feels like it’s gonna explode. It takes me a day to recover—I have to lie down and put ice on my head.”

At Noodle Bar, a junior line cook had been cooking chicken for family meal—lunch for the staff—and although he had to cook something like seventy-five chicken pieces and the stoves were mostly empty, he’d been cooking them in only two pans, which meant that he was wasting time he could have spent helping to prep for dinner. Also, he was cooking with tongs, which was bad technique, it ripped the food apart, it was how you cooked at T.G.I. Friday’s—he should have been using a spoon or a spatula. Cooking with tongs showed disrespect for the chicken, disrespect for family meal, and, by extension, disrespect for the entire restaurant. But the guy cooking family meal was just the beginning of it. Walking down the line, Chang had spotted another cook cutting fish cake into slices that were totally uneven and looked like hell. Someone else was handling ice-cream cones with her bare hands, touching the end that wasn’t covered in paper. None of these mistakes was egregious in itself, but all of them together made Chang feel that Noodle Bar’s kitchen was degenerating into decadence and anarchy. He had screamed and yelled until a friend showed up and dragged him out of the restaurant, and his head still hurt nearly twenty-four hours later.

The following afternoon, Chang called an emergency meeting for the staff. Something was rotten in Noodle Bar, and he meant to cut it out and destroy it before it was too late.

“I haven’t been spending that much time in this restaurant because of all the shit that’s been going on,” he began, “but the past two days I’ve had aneurisms because I’ve been so upset at the kitchen. On the cooks’ end, I question your integrity. Are you willing to fucking sacrifice yourself for the food? Yesterday, we had an incident with fish cakes: they weren’t properly cut. Does it really matter in the bowl of ramen? No. But for personal integrity as a cook, this is what we do, and I don’t think you guys fucking care enough. It takes those little things, the properly cut scallions, to set us apart from Uno’s and McDonald’s. If we don’t step up our game, we’re headed toward the middle, and I don’t want to fucking work there.

“We’re not the best cooks, we’re not the best restaurant—if you were a really good cook you wouldn’t be working here, because really good cooks are assholes. But we’re gonna try our best, and that’s as a team. Recently, over at Ssäm Bar, a sous-chef closed improperly, there were a lot of mistakes, and I was livid and I let this guy have it. About a week later, I found out that it wasn’t him, he wasn’t even at the restaurant that night. But what he said was ‘I’m sorry, it will never happen again.’ And you know what? I felt like an asshole for yelling at him, but, more important, I felt like, Wow, this is what we want to build our company around: guys that have this level of integrity. Just because we’re not Per Se, just because we’re not Daniel, just because we’re not a four-star restaurant, why can’t we have the same fucking standards? If we start being accountable not only for our own actions but for everyone else’s actions, we’re gonna do some awesome shit.”

Although Chang decided early on that he wasn’t going to be doing fine dining in his own career, its titans are still the inspiration for everything he does. A few weeks ago, he took his girlfriend for her birthday to Per Se, a restaurant in Columbus Circle founded by Thomas Keller and now run by Jonathan Benno, who was a sous-chef at Craft when Chang worked there. The meal at Per Se took six hours, and it was flawless. Chang was so overcome by the dazzling perfection of the food, and so drunk from all the paired wines, that he cried.

Chang reveres chefs like Benno and Keller and Wylie Dufresne for bringing adventurous cooking to America, but his idol is the Spanish chef Ferran Adrià. Adrià calls his food “deconstructivist” few of his dishes are what they appear to be. He was the originator of the foam craze, but that was a long time ago. He continues to contrive ever more rococo and outlandish preparations in his laboratory in Barcelona: slivers of sea urchin enclosed in a transparent raviolo of kombu seaweed, which look like goldfish swimming in water balls of puréed hazelnut, formed by dropping the purée from a syringe into liquid nitrogen a two-metre-long spaghetto made of liquid Parmesan jelled in a PVC tube. In Chang’s view, two hundred years from now Adrià is the only chef, besides Escoffier, whom people will still be studying and talking about. “He’s trying to rethink food,” Chang says. “He was the first guy to say, ‘Food can be poetic, it can be abstract.’ ”

Adrià’s aberrant fantasies are not, to be sure, daily reference points for Chang’s cooking, but the idea of Noodle Bar from the start was to take the humblest meal—a bowl of noodles, a pork bun—and, with a combination of obsessive devotion and four-star technique, turn it into something amazing. Take the chicken wings, for instance. All you knew when you were eating them was that they tasted really good. What you didn’t know was that they’d been brined in a salt-and-sugar solution for a whole day (but not longer, or they’d be too salty), then dried out and cold-smoked over mesquite for forty-five minutes, then poached in a vat of pork fat for an hour and a half, then browned on the flat-top, then glazed in a chicken-infused soy sauce combined with mirin, garlic, and pickled chili peppers. Each step, executed perfectly, was vital to the dish. This was what the cooks at Noodle Bar had to understand.

“You guys have to ask yourself as cooks, how bad do you want this?” Chang declared at the meeting, warming up to his finale. “Life and death is what it means to me. And next time I see something that is not up to my standards I’m gonna let you fucking go. What we want are people with high character that are gonna look each other in the eye and be like, I gave you my best effort today. We want the person who fucked up not to be able to sleep at night because he’s so embarrassed, and the next day to be like, I’m gonna get better, I’m gonna get better.

“In four years, we’ve gone from that small-ass Noodle Bar to this fucking big restaurant, when the whole goal in the beginning was, let’s serve better food than that place across the street. I know we’ve won awards, all this stuff, but it’s not because we’re doing something special—I believe it’s really because we care more than the next guy. So the next time you’re at your station and you see someone going down in flames—and every night someone goes down in flames—you gotta ask yourself, Do I have this person’s back? Because when the kitchen’s really humming, you know what? Getting into the weeds is a lot of fucking fun.”

“This is looking sharp, chef!” Chang said, running his hands over Ko’s newly shiny ovens. Serpico had been scrubbing for hours.

“Yeah, I tried to clean the shit out of the floor yesterday but it’s still, I don’t know,” Serpico said.

“Let’s put this table back in.”

“No, I want to clean the floor one more time. I’m weird about some shit, all right? The floor’s fucking disgusting.” The floor looked pretty clean, but not clean enough for Serpico. Every cook had something he was weird about. For Chang, it was badly folded towels. For Sam Gelman, it was spoons and aprons. (Gelman, Ko’s sous-chef, was twenty-six. He was from Iowa and liked to fish.)

They were making progress. The wine fridge had arrived. The glasses had been taken care of—Ravenscroft had donated them. Christina Tosi, the dessert cook, had come up with an awe-inspiring dish: panna cotta made from cornflakes milk, served on a smear of avocado. A middle-aged man in a black leather jacket came in. It was Pedro, the rep from Cascade Linen Supply.

“O.K., so you guys have nice napkins, serviettes?” Pedro asked.

“Can you bring me a sample?” Serpico said. “White. Do you have nicer chef coats?”

“The ones that you have are the standard,” Pedro said. “You want something nice, it’s gonna be more expensive. I don’t know if you want to go into Bragard chef coats.”

“They’re not the real Bragards,” Chang told him. “They’re made in China. They suck.”

“Do you have the bib aprons that are longer?” Serpico asked. “I noticed that all your bib aprons now come down to the knee.”

“One blue apron for chef,” Chang said.

“I’m not wearing a blue apron, dude.”

One of the few things that make Chang happy in life is setting up his friends in restaurants of their own, and the fact that Serpico was going to be in charge of Ko made him feel very good. But there were always more friends, and the thought of opening up new restaurants was always alluring. He’s been talking to some people about opening a huge Momofuku in Las Vegas, with a several-thousand-square-foot kitchen and top-of-the-line equipment. His mind boggles thinking about what he could do with that kind of kitchen—no more worrying about whether a dish could be cooked quickly on a tiny plancha with three guys bumping into one another. Some other people recently offered to help him start a place in Dubai, and he flew out to take a look. He was dazzled—the speed of it, the wild energy, the gigantic buildings going up every day, the indoor ski slope, and everyone seemed to be happy there, even migrant workers seemed to him to have a pretty good deal. He came back feeling as if he’d visited the future and America had no more juice. To be part of something like that—how could he resist?

He knows he wants to open more restaurants, but the question is what kind. The obvious thing would be to open a temple of fine dining that would declare his ascension into the chef firmament, preferably an eponymous temple that would secure his immortality in the public mind, but the idea made him sick. “Why would you name a restaurant after yourself?” hy sê. “I can’t imagine opening a restaurant called David Chang’s—I’d fucking off myself. I just want to make sure that I don’t become a total asshole.” Expansion, like most things in life, seemed to him to offer choices any of which would make him feel that he’d screwed things up forever and lost whatever scrap of honor he once possessed. If he did expand, he’d feel like a whore and an egomaniac, selling his chefly virtue for cash if he didn’t expand, he’d feel like a pretentious artiste throwing away an opportunity that could help his friends because he was so in love with his precious integrity. He’d always liked the idea of starting a fast-food chain—he and Tosi have talked about opening a Momofuku Milk Bar, with soft-serve ice cream, like Dairy Queen. The great thing about fast food was that you could sell out without worrying about it, because fast food was unpretentious and selling out was the nature of the business. Of iets soos dit.

It was always possible, of course, that he would drop dead before he had a chance to do any of this. Some time ago, his doctor told him he had high blood pressure and had to take a vacation, so he went to Costa Rica by himself and sat on the beach and read and felt better. But then last summer was very stressful, what with trying to get Noodle Bar open in a new location, and one day he came into work feeling as if he were dying, and his left cheek went numb. He went to the emergency room, but they couldn’t figure out what was wrong. A couple of days later, he couldn’t get out of bed because of a terrible pain in his back, so he went to a chiropractor, but the chiropractor didn’t know what was wrong, either. The next day, he lost his hearing in his left ear and had a terrible pain in his jaw. Then his face became covered in spots that hurt, so he went to a dermatologist, who told him that he had shingles, and that it meant he was dangerously tense. He told him to take a vacation immediately, somewhere cold and dark where his face could heal, so Chang went to Montreal. He sat in his hotel and went to dinner by himself every night. It was awful. When he got back, he realized that he needed to make some changes in his life, which was why, these days, he was trying to stay out of the kitchen. The trouble was, although not being in the kitchen removed one cause of stress, it replaced it with another. “I’m not cooking every day anymore, and that’s the biggest withdrawal,” he says. “Cooking is honest work. Now I don’t know how to measure myself.”

He never set out to become a famous person. He just wanted to see if he could open a noodle bar. Now he finds that he’s a public figure, criticized and praised—but mostly praised—by people he’s never met. “Getting these awards freaks me out—the last thing I want is a Michelin star—because I know I’m not the best,” he says. When he thinks about the cooks he worked with at Craft and Café Boulud and how they were so much more skilled than he, and had put in more years than he had, and yet here he was getting all these prizes and all this attention, he feels himself starting to panic. Sometimes he tries to comfort himself thinking about all the bands he loves that made great music even though they were terrible musicians, but somehow it’s not the same. “I feel like I’m losing my ability to understand reality,” he says, “like when someone loses their hearing, they can still speak English, but their speech eventually becomes distorted because they can’t hear themselves. I don’t want to be this crazy. It’s tiring. I just want some mental clarity. But I don’t like that I’m becoming more self-aware of all my problems. It doesn’t make me feel better—I just feel unease almost all the time. I’m a total head case right now, I cannot keep this up. All I want to do is fucking move to Idaho and ski and fish and read books. All I want to do is run away and stop.”

There are several mother figures in his life who worry about his health and try to persuade him to run away and stop: Ruth Reichl, the editor of Fynproewers Dana Cowin, the editor of Kos en wyn Alice Waters, the founder of Chez Panisse. “I never thought that I’d be able to be, like, friends with Alice Waters,” he says. “And for her to actually care about me—that is so weird. I think Ruth told her that I had shingles, and that’s when Alice had an intervention at lunch. She was like, ‘You’re not doing anything more, no more, no more!’ ” Then, there are the older-brother chef figures who know he’s not going to stop but who tell him to calm down. Andrew Carmellini bought him yoga lessons. “It was just when Momofuku started to really roll,” Carmellini says, “and I was, like, ‘Dude, I’m telling you from personal experience, you need to chill out.’ ” Mario Batali, who has opened seven restaurants in New York, three in Las Vegas, and two in L.A., while hosting two programs on the Food Network and appearing regularly on “Iron Chef,” comes into Noodle Bar a fair amount and gives Chang counsel. “Mario’s big thing to me is ‘Dave, would you fucking be happy?’ ” Chang says. “He loves it. He loves life. I want to love life as much as Mario loves life.” He sighs. “It’s not that I’m not happy I’m just fearful for the future,” he says. “I’m fearful that everything’s gonna be taken away. Fear is a driving force for most of the things that I do. I don’t know if that’s healthy.”

Sometimes he imagines a way out that wouldn’t be just skiing and reading. He could start up some kind of project in New York like Alice Waters’s Edible Schoolyard, where kids learn to grow their own crops and work in a garden. Growing vegetables, keeping animals, teaching people about food—he would love that. Recently, he picked out a piglet at a small farm in Jeffersonville, New York—the runt of the litter, to go with the Momofuku underdog mentality—named it Squint, and made arrangements with the farmer to slaughter it himself when it got big enough. He wanted to see if he could kill an animal that he had come to know, that was as smart as a dog, in order to understand better where the hundreds of pounds of pork that he cooked every week were coming from. But then he thinks about all the people working for him, and relying on him, and how they could get rich if he gets rich and then could do whatever they wanted, and the farm thing seems kind of small.

“I’m so sick and tired of how awesome it is to work at Google or fucking Apple or one of those tech companies,” he says. “Why can’t it be awesome to work for a food company? Why can’t we create an environment where people are trying to push each other to do great things, and we’re not trying to steal from anybody, we’re trying to be good to our farmers and run an honorable business, if there is such a thing anymore? I feel that it would be cowardly and selfish to say, You know what, screw this.” He is trying to make Momofuku a good place to work: he is sharing ownership with his chefs, and he is buying good health-care plans for his permanent staff and sponsoring English lessons for the prep cooks. “If it was solely about money, I could have sold out a long time ago,” he says, “but I wouldn’t feel good about it, because I’d let everyone down. Ek weet nie. I’m slowly realizing that I’m a highly complex individual.”

Even assuming that he can take on more restaurants and not end up in five years dead or in a straitjacket, there are downsides to expansion. “I’m finally dating somebody that I don’t hate her guts,” he says. “We had dinner yesterday and I was like, I don’t hate you at all! You know?” His girlfriend is also Korean-American, and was also raised to be brilliant at something—where he played golf, she played the violin. She now works in the advertising department of Microsoft. She seems to tolerate him amazingly well. “I am the worst boyfriend ever,” he says. “I’m high maintenance. I mean, you have no idea how high maintenance.” All of this, combined with the fact that he knows his parents want nothing more than for him to marry a girl of pure Korean blood and provide them with grandchildren (none of his siblings seem likely to oblige), has made him think differently about the future.

In Europe, he knows, there are great chefs who open just one restaurant and are happy with that. They have families, they take vacations, they see their friends. On a recent trip to France for a food conference, he and Tosi had an epic meal in Paris at Pascal Barbot’s restaurant, L’Astrance. The kitchen was tiny, and the restaurant had only twenty-five seats. It was open Tuesday through Saturday. It closed in August. And it had three Michelin stars. That was integrity, Chang felt that was dignity. But in America, somehow, a career like Barbot’s just didn’t seem possible.

After all the waiting, the delays, the mess, the cleaning, the decisions, the ordering, the planning, and the cooking, opening day had come. Ko was scrubbed, Ko was stocked, Ko was ready. It would open officially that evening at five-thirty, and at six o’clock its first two customers would walk through the door, sit down at the counter, and be fed dinner. Of course, they wouldn’t be real customers tonight—just cooks from the other restaurants, plus a couple of girlfriends. Chang was nervous, and not just because he was always nervous: something weird was going on. In the past week, four inspectors had shown up at Ko—State Liquor, Workers’ Comp., the Fire Department, and the Buildings Department. That was more inspectors than had shown up at either of the other restaurants in a year. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Was somebody out to get them?

Chang grabbed some plates and bowls and started lining them up along the counter in order to figure out what the various courses should be served in. Anxiety was making him manic. He couldn’t sit still.

“Egg dish in here,” he said, putting down a bowl. “Short rib here.” He stared at the eight bowls and plates in front of him. “It’s a lot of fucking courses, man. Super V.I.P.”

Serpico moved around the kitchen slowly and deliberately. He was keeping very calm. “I’m so scared,” he sang under his breath. Cory Lane squatted down at the expediting station to stock the chef’s mini-fridge with Budweiser and Coke, then leaped up to grab a pile of napkins.

“Eugene!” he called to one of the new cooks.

“His name is nie Eugene,” Serpico said sharply. “His name is James Mark.”

“Chang said his name was Eugene,” Lane said.

“Dave comes up with the worst nicknames for people, have you noticed that?” Serpico said. He paced up and down behind the counter, checking his mise en place, muttering to himself.

“Lychees, I have. Nori. Rice sticks.” He looked down at a checklist he had written out. “Buttermilk. Eiers. Caviar. Scallops. Kimchi.”

“Did you remember to scatter a few spear points and arrowheads back there for future generations to ponder?”

Chang seized a towel and started maniacally wiping down the counter. James Mark was scrubbing the flat-top and the plancha while Serpico sprayed and polished the front surfaces of the ovens. A man showed up at the door, asking for a job as a dishwasher. Chang picked up his BlackBerry and checked his messages.

“Call Tien Ho,” he yelled to Cory Lane. Tien Ho is the chef at Ssäm Bar. “Ask him if he has a spare bo ssäm.” Bo ssäm is Ssäm Bar’s most famous dish—a whole pork butt, plus kimchi and a dozen oysters, designed to be eaten wrapped in Bibb lettuce. It serves eight or nine, costs two hundred dollars, and usually requires ordering several days in advance.

“Jamie Oliver’s coming in to Ssäm Bar tonight.”

“The naked chef?” Serpico asked.

At quarter to five, Serpico began filling up his mise en place with garnishes. He told James Mark to go to Noodle Bar and bring back one quart of turnips, one quart of carrots, and one quart of celery. Chang sat at the counter, thinking about all the things that were going to go wrong.

“Dude, did you add water to that consommé?” he asked Serpico. “It was fucking strong.”

“I got it, I got it.” Serpico was going down his checklist again.

Chang stewed for a moment.

“Hey, you wanna add squid ink to the nori powder to make it blacker? It looks like dirt.”

Chang looked at his watch. “Thirty minutes!”

Serpico leaned back against the stove and closed his eyes, his forearm against his forehead, for one second, and then snapped to attention again. Chang went to inspect the bathroom and discovered that the toilet-paper spindle was loose. Cory Lane began setting up for service: a cork at each place to rest chopsticks on, then a folded napkin, then a menu tucked inside the napkin, then a water glass. He measured to make sure that each napkin was exactly one thumb-length from the edge of the counter. Then he crouched down at the end of the row and squinted to check that everything was lined up.

“Five-thirty!” Chang called. “We’re open!”

“Gelman, you got the short-rib sauce?” Serpico asked his sous-chef.

Chang sat down at the counter and started proofreading the menu. “The ‘Ko’ is overlapping the peach, man,” he told Gelman, who had laid out the menu on his computer. The orange peach was the symbol of the Momofuku brand. “And there’s a double space before ‘Riesling.’ Hey, are we clarifying the smoked solution?” he asked Serpico, who was still fiddling with his garnishes. “Because it’s turning the eggs brown.” He wanted the soft-cooked hen egg—served with caviar, fines herbes, soubise, and homemade miniature potato chips—to taste smoky, but the smoked solution was turning the outside of the egg the color of putty. It looked weird. Maybe even a little gross. White would be better.

He leaned over the counter to inspect Serpico’s mise en place. “Why don’t you have the fish over here?” vra hy.

“I didn’t want to turn my back on customers while I’m working,” Serpico explained. “I think it’s kind of shady.”

“But you’re a shady guy, dude.”

“I gotta take a piss. I may not be back.”

Gelman was suddenly overcome with the significance of the moment. He whooped and grabbed Chang in a big hug.

“It’s the dream, dude!” Chang cried. “The dream kitchen!”

“I love you, dude!” Gelman yelled, still hugging.

“Hey, can we open a bottle of champagne?” Chang called to Cory Lane. “This is a celebration!”

But just then the first customer—Justin, a cook at Ssäm Bar—walked in the door.

“Hey!” Serpico said to Gelman and Chang. “We have a customer in the house.”

“Justin, we’re going to start you off with a pork skin.” Chang placed it before him, perched on a slate slab, and watched intently as he picked it up. The deep-fried skin looked like a chrysalis, its surface all shiny little bubbles, curved around itself. Justin’s teeth closed on the bubbles and broke them.

“Crunch!” Chang exulted. “That’s awesome!”

Tex, another cook from Ssäm Bar, arrived, and sat down in the next seat. Serpico bent low over two dishes of raw madai, the first course on the tasting menu, carefully sprinkling them with poppy seeds and chives.

“You know what’ll suck, Pete?” Chang said. “If someone doesn’t like a dish.”

“Can I take these for you?” Serpico asked as he removed the plates.

“What a gentleman,” Chang said.

“Is it fucked up to take a plate and then dump it in a plastic bus tray?” Serpico asked.

“What’s fucked up is if you finish their food in front of them.”

“James, you got my consommé for two?” Serpico called.

“Hey, Pete, that’s a fucking good-looking dish,” Chang commented. “Soubise getting hot? Scallops getting ready? You got the dashi?” He paused. “This is why I can’t work here, dude. I’m gonna drive everyone insane.”

Tex finished his third course, the hen egg with caviar. There was nothing left on the plate.

“You see, that makes me wonder, Why didn’t you finish the consommé?” Chang asked him. Kimchi-infused consommé, poured over an oyster, a slice of pork belly, and a cabbage leaf, had been the second course. Tex smiled weakly.

“I just didn’t know how to eat it,” he said.

Serpico and Chang were already preparing course number four, the scallop dish with the foaming dashi.

“We need more color on this plate, dude,” Chang said. “We need those chanterelles.”

“I think it looks fucking sexy,” Serpico said. “What do you want, julienne of red pepper?” It was a chef joke. Justin and Tex ate the scallop dish.

“How was it, guys?” Chang asked.

Tex paused. “You have to really like nori,” he said.

“Hey, with all of you guys, if you think something sucks, you’d better fucking say so,” Serpico said.

“You think it sucked?” Chang asked.

“No!” Tex protested. “It’s just . . . ”

“Get out,” Chang said. And then smiled. “So here we have some gelée of Riesling, some pine-nut brittle, and some shaved foie gras.”

This foie dish was something else that Chang and Serpico had been experimenting with for a while. Chang had remembered that when Liz Chapman was the sous-chef at Casa Mono she used to freeze pimentón butter and shave it onto summer corn. He figured he should be able to make foie flakes in the same way, since foie gras had the texture of butter—he just didn’t know whether anyone else had done it already, so he called around. He discovered that some cook had played with it in the kitchen of Café Boulud, but no one seemed to have actually put it on a menu, so he figured he could claim to be first. (Originality was always a concern: Chang had spent weeks puréeing tofu and mixing it with meat glue, as he’d seen Wylie Dufresne do in the kitchen of WD-50. He then steamed it into a ball and inserted a raw quail egg in the middle, thinking that the faux egg would make a perfect amuse, but at the last minute he’d seen a chef on a food blog doing the same egg thing with cauliflower purée, so he’d abandoned it.) He placed the foie on the counter and looked up at Tex and Justin.

“You guys are really uncomfortable, aren’t you?” hy het gesê. “You think I’m going to yell at you?”

Tex giggled. He tried the foie gras.

“Slammin’, man!” Tex said enthusiastically.

“See, I knew it, you didn’t like the consommé.”

It was six-forty-five. Justin and Tex had been eating only for forty minutes but they’d already finished six courses, if you included the pork-skin amuse-bouche. Any faster and it would be KFC.

“Shit,” Chang said. “We’ve got to make everything bigger, man.” He watched as Tex ate his short-rib course and laid his knife—an exceptionally sharp Japanese steak knife that Serpico had been very psyched about when they bought it—on the edge of his plate.

“That’s dangerous, dude,” Chang said nervously, eyeing the knife. “I don’t like it. I mean, he turns to the side, customer walks by, they’re dead. I’m just saying.”

Chang saw James Mark shaving foie gras inelegantly, and he leaped over to stop him. “I can’t be back here,” he said to Serpico. “I’m gonna lose my shit.” He walked out of the chef’s area, sat down at the counter next to Tex, and started to make a list of everything that had gone wrong so far. Suddenly Gelman spotted two customers about to eat the oysters and pork bellies in their bowls, not realizing that they were supposed to wait for Serpico to pour consommé on top.

“Hey, hold it!” Gelman shouted at them. “Don’t eat that yet!”

“You gonna yell at the customers, man?” Chang asked him.

“Yeah!” Gelman said. “Hey, don’t eat that, asshole!” he barked.

“Can you imagine if we did à la carte?” Chang said. They had been going to offer à la carte until about two days ago. “What a fucking disaster.”

Serpico was cleaning up his station when two last customers he’d forgotten about, a cook from Ssäm Bar and his girlfriend, walked in.

“Oh fuck, man, two more,” he said loudly.

Chang couldn’t stop laughing. “Great greeting, dude,” he said. “What a bad idea this restaurant is. We’re gonna be serving steak and cheese in about five weeks.”

When the last customers were on their way to finishing, Chang sent Cory Lane to Noodle Bar for some bourbon to lubricate the postmortem. Serpico squatted in a corner behind the counter.

“It’s been a long time since I went down that bad,” he said.

“That’s not true,” Chang told him. “When we opened Noodle Bar, you got smoked so bad. You got fucking hosed.”

“That’s when you threw me a fun-sized Almond Joy.”

“Pete, we’ll get it right because we can see where all the problems are,” Chang said. Serpico nodded. He knew it was so. He stood up and stretched. Chang clapped him on the shoulder. “And it’s the first fucking day, dude.” ♦


1. Wash and chop produce staples immediately after you buy them.

Wadiak worked as a personal chef for many years and said he always had peeled carrots and onions as well as washed, bagged salad greens ready to go in his refrigerator. "I suggest making this part of your shopping day, so you're not only unpacking the onions when you get home from the store, you're also peeling them, chopping them and putting them in a container," he says. When it's time to start cooking, you'll have fewer tasks to tackle, and as Wadiak says, "you'll also have a neat-looking refrigerator."


Kyk die video: How to salt fish in brine (Oktober 2022).