I Smell Like Fish

A Brief Observation On The FISH

Fish in this trattoria come in three ways ... jarred, frozen and very recently dead.

The jarred (anchovies) are mainly used with tartare (beef and rabbit).

The frozen sometimes are popular ... Cogollo is deep in the mountainous area of NE Italy, and there is no fresh fish outlet here serving crab, shrimp, lobster, cod, hake or scampi. We have to make do with frozen.

The recently dead I have become depressingly familliar with today ... I smell like fish and scallops. I’ve shucked about 6 dozen scallops this morning before 10, and followed that up with about an hour and a half of dealing with a variety of Branzino and Orata.

Each of these comes expired. Dead. And entirely whole, complete; ready for the breath of life, I suppose, if they weren’t packed in ice.

Each starts by having all fins but the dorsal removed with scissors, then removal of the scales with a scale-scraper.

The Orata are gutted from below (slit the belly) and then have the gills removed. Thus the belly can be packed with seasoning, and the fish presented to the customer. It will look like a fish.

The Branzino are dealt with in a more complicated fashion. After removing the fins and scales, I start with removing the gills. Then I make two slits along the back, cutting down into the beast from the top on either side of the dorsal fin, right down to, but not through, the belly-skin. Then I remove the backbone in one piece, gut the fish, remove bones and finish by turning it almost inside-out. The fish is then ready to have the inside dressed (porcini, potatoes, whatever inspires Chef), the fish to be baked or roasted, and served.

Today I had about 20 fish to do in less than two hours, And clean all the scallops. This was to be done before noon. And make bread from scratch ... four different kinds, properly weighed, using a delicious natural fruit yeast starter. And make sure the bread has time to rise (about an hour), and get baked, and the kitchen to cool down so I don’t wreck the fish by working with them in a hot kitchen.

Then the trattoria opened for business and it has been a non-stop day of up the stairs to the large refrigerator, down the stairs to the patisserie. Fetch this, find that. Yes, Chef, No, Chef. Cut up rabbit to make a small ragout to go with mini gnocci, saute beef tournedos, shell and prepare shrimp, deal with a lot of vegetables, make creme brulee in several forms (including a deadly pistachio one!), make gelato, run a vacuum-sealing machine, disembowel and dismember a rabbit, french some lamb chops, make salads, prepare baked bufalo mozarella six times, flambee something I can’t even remember now, and deal with a gazilion small things that just need to be done and right now and fast and 10 minutes ago and why don’t you know what this is in Italian yet? Yes, Chef! A working commercial kitchen at full throttle is an unforgiving place ... the pressure is intense ... the drive for perfection and creativity enormous.

Part of my job is to learn the menu, not by name so much as by the ingredients and processes so I can anticipate what Chef will need. This sometimes means making a run to the freezer in advance of a need, or getting up three hours early so the bread can be made and the kitchen will be free when Chef comes in at 11. Many of my work days start at about 8:30 in the morning, and we just quit a few minutes ago and it is gone midnight.

This student-cook is writing to you, and enjoying a good, well-chilled beer.

Yes, Chef!, and I Am Muffin Man!

Yes, Chef!

Yes, Chef!

Yes, Chef!

I don’t know how many times a day I say Yes, Chef! I would lose count ... hundreds? More? Instructions come thick and fast ... Chef and I are developing a strange working mixture of Italian, English, gestures and some creative muttering. It works. Yes, Chef! Sorry, Chef! Immediately, Chef! It is over there, Chef! What did you say, Chef? Yes, Chef!

Yesterday Chef had some friends come by for lunch at 1:45, and they left at 6. This was in addition to the other 11 customers we had. We had 1 hour to clean the place and turn the kitchen inside-out to get ready for a full dinner service for 14. My Chef from George Brown College called at half past 3 and was a bit surprised that we were still in service at that time ... I phoned him back between 6 and 7 for just a moment, and those were stolen minutes ... there is SO much to do, some days. Other days (today is one of them) there is little or no service ... customers do not come, so we can spend time doing, at a more leisurely pace, what needs to get done anyway but is often hurried.

Yes. Chef!

There is only one vision in the kitchen ... one ego, one idea, one way to do things ... Chef’s. A working kitchen is the furthest thing from a democracy. Yes, Chef! No, Chef! Sorry, Chef! And Chef is Chef, not buddy, not his or her name, never hey! It is Chef. Just Chef. Yes, Chef! Everything that goes out the door into the room has his name on it. La Trattoria all’Isola di Christian Zana (the Desert Island of Christian Zana). You get the hint from the name. Yes, Chef!

But ...

Chef’s girlfriend, Sylvia, once had a muffin. She instantly developed a liking for the things, and she spoke to Chef about muffins. Together, on the second day of my stage, they approached me and asked me to invent a tiny, filled muffin for their patisserie presentation. Neither of them knew how to make a muffin, so I explained the basics of muffinry to them. Mixture of Italian, English, gestures, waving equipment around, some muttering. Finally a decision came down from Chef ... invent a special muffin for me that will be a signature piece in my patisserie.

Yes, Chef!

See the photograph above ... the large muffin is for kitchen consumption only (Chef, Sylvia, Chef’s Mum and me). These and the little loaf muffins are my invention for presentation on the menu. They are filled with a variety of delicious jams and marmalades, sometimes with chopped raisins, and are now featured in the patisserie of the Trattoria. They go out on a lovely platter with several other tempting offerings, and our experience in the past week (since the first muffins went out) is that they are an overwhelming success. Customers have been asking for more. I will be working on a light sauce (a berry and amarone reduction comes to mind) to hop them up for the winter service.

Yes, Chef!

-------------------

I Am Muffin Man!

Hear me bake.

Hunting The Wild Porcino

Hunting the wild porcino ...

means an early start ...

Up at 4:30 for a start in the car at 5:30 to get into the woods at 6:30 and hunt until the need for espresso and some warmth overcomes the excitement of the hunt and the increasing frustration of the hunters ... porcini are wild, nervous mushrooms, hiding themselves under bits of plant, old sticks, a thin layer of dirt ... all this has evolved within the porcini population to avoid the eager sticks poked at ‘em by caffeine-deprived sleuths ...

We started at first light, and took one of the most wild drives I have ever been on up into the Dolomites ... to ‘Alto Piano’ (high level) where there are a series of seven villages within the alpine area. The rule, strictly enforced, is that you stop at a designated little shop and get your porcini-hunting license stamped for that day ... every hunter must have one of these ... at €7 apiece ... to avoid a fine of €70. Quite the incentive!

The highway (?) up to Alto Piano has 15 signed full 180-degree switchbacks; this road is just designed for nimble motorcycles, small, powerful cars and bicycles. (Or vice-versa) The road is a lane-and-a-bit wide in most places ... and the side-drop would be lethal. I am constantly impressed with Italian drivers ... fast, yes, and skilful ... North American drivers have a long way to go.

Porcini hunters do not just stop the car anywhere and wander off into the woods, flicking bits of underbrush aside with a stick to look for tell-tale signs of porcini (which are, truly, darn hard to find). No! The porcini hunters actually drive up the mountain to a place they think they will be private, stop the car, get out and wander off into the woods, flicking bits of underbrush aside with a stick to look for tell-tale signs of porcini.

It is slow, somewhat random and it is hard, to coin a phrase, to see the porcini for the trees. Porcini usually nestle under a thin layer of sticks, or a leaf, or other cover. There are little white mushrooms that are a sort of tell-tale (Sylvia calls them ‘spies’ for porcini) which, if you can find, indicate that this is a good area for likely porcini development ... but no guarantee that there will be what you want. Porcini hunters are very polite to the other porcini hunters they meet in the woods ... we met or saw almost a dozen in our special, unknown area. Success seems to truly vary widely ... a couple who parked right next to Chef’s car showed us their haul ... a few nondescript ‘shrooms, and one lonely porcino. They were quite impressed with Chef’s loot for a morning’s work!

To get a porcino out of the ground undamaged, one has to be careful. After spying the thing, shove the end of a stick under the porcino about 10 cm, then gently lever it out of the ground. Slow and careful are the watchwords of success.

Chef was successful ... after three and a half hours, he’d found 7 – seven! – porcini. Sylvia had found 2, and ... my porcini score was ... the nice walk in the woods overcame my slight disappointment at not being actually able to heave a porcino into the pot. But I understand that frequently there are none to be found. So I am told, with a sympathetic smile.

That evening we sold most of the porcini, thinly-sliced and layered into the unfolded inside of a couple of branzino (type of fish, presented with head and tail on), dressed with a simple sauce to enhance. The rest of them went to the four of us (Chef, Sylvia, Chef’s Mum (our dishwasher), and your humble scribe).

Yum!

My question to me for today is ... how do I actually work for the food I enjoy, or offer others? Has my food become entirely commodified?

Trattoria Life Starts

I live above a trattoria in Italy.

The time in ALMA school is over now, and all of us from George Brown Chef School in Toronto, and ALMA in Italy, are out on stage, at trattorias, restaurants, hotels and fine spas all over Italy. Some students have gone to small places in Sicily, some to large cities. One is in Venice, one in Bologna. Students are in Savona, Piacenza, Cortona, Cuneo, Rome, Parma; all over the place. ALMA has placed us with the finest cooks and chefs in Italy.

A trattoria is not a large restaurant ... it is more of a small, intimate operation, run by two or three people, completely dedicated to the typical produce of the area. For me, the ‘trattoria’ implies a work-in-progress, a personal investigation on the part of the Chef.

In Italy the idea of ‘typical’ is everywhere in the food world ... I see advertisements for typical food on little bars, trattorias, almost everywhere. It is a concept that most people here take enormous pride in, and have deep concern for. Typical implies respect for the land (so it can keep producing), for the methods used, for the presentation, cooking methods, wines available, even the manner of presentation (see the previous blog about Mr. Marchesi for deeper detail on this.) Manner and style are very important here ... nothing is just cranked out and banged down in front of customers who happen to lurch through the doors ... the choice of where to dine, when and with whom is carefully and deliberately made. (Canadians who have not travelled much have SO much to learn from this concept!)

I have the good fortune to work with Chef Cristian Zana at his trattoria, “Trattoria All’Isola” in Cogollo, near Vicenza, about 100 km to the west of Venice. Chef has had the trattoria open for about 7 years. He runs the kitchen and his delightful partner, Sylvia, runs the front-of-house operation. Sylvia is a sommelier, highly-trained and knowledgeable. Sylvia and Chef have welcomed me with open arms into their life of work and play. They are bright, very talented and enthusiastic. And they set one furious pace! Everything here is hand-made. We get along well in a mix of their excellent Italian and our self-generated mash-up of English and Italian. Their concern for my learning is strongly evident. They are unfailingly kind and generous.

A few examples will suffice, I think, to demonstrate the furious pace. I arrived on Friday at about 4 in the afternoon, and after taking a fast nap of 25 minutes , and taking time to change into whites, I went to work in the kitchen starting at about 5 until 1 in the morning. We served 2 people that night ... customers linger ...

Chef had me watch some operations and executions for the first 20 minutes, firing off fairly rapid Italian mixed with some English. Then I had to start producing ... and managed to. Last night (my second in the trattoria) we served 17 customers (a large number for this small place and tiny kitchen) ... our work evening started at about 5 PM and we walked out of the restaurant together at 1:45 AM to go for pizza! I rolled into bed just before 3.

Chef had me making parts of dishes ... steak tartare, prep of many vegetables, making bread, making pasta, making a kind of vegetable tortellini, plating dishes, making octopus salad, peeling spuds, carrots and running for him to the refrigerator (up a flight of ancient stairs), to the freezers, to the patisserie area, helping with making sauces, preparing rabbit ragout, preparing duck legs, running a vacuum-seal machine, forming pasta frolla into tiny baking dishes, and making it all a joy! His Mum comes in at night and runs the dishwasher and cleans, and Sylvia looks after making sure everything goes through the door on time, in order. What an operation.

And what a joy to be part of ... work hard and play hard. As Andrew, one of the other George Brown students said when we were all together at ALMA, “Face it ... We’re a bunch of adrenaline junkies getting our fix playing with sharp objects and peoples’ digestive systems.” He was right.

Everything we were taught at George Brown Chef School in Toronto and at ALMA is absolutely correct. Thanks, George Brown and ALMA.

With this entry are three photos only ... the kitchen at the trattoria and one of the general area of the town. And one of chef Zana and Sylvia.

Cogollo is deep in the Dolomites, and when I look out of my window in the morning I gaze across the road and village at gorgeous mountain scenery and a little hamlet. Cogollo will be home for almost 3 months for stage.

Today’s question is from Chef Zana ... when you put food on a plate, what are you doing?

The Marchesi Code

The past week has been an absolute blur, so for those of you who have been waiting ... just waiting! for another blog entry, I’m sorry, but this is the best I have been able to do. As you read the unfolding story below, I think you’ll understand why ... I am writing from my little room above a trattoria in Cogello ... it has been quite a week ...

Let’s see ... about 30 – 35 years ago a remarkable man, Gualtiero Marchesi (said mar-kay’-zie) single-handedly reinvented Italian cuisine with his book, “The Marchesi Code”. He approached food, cooking and living as an Italian with a strong philosophical focus, reflecting a sensibility of the possibility of art, nourishment (in every sense) and a deep and abiding understanding of what it means to him to be Italian. In this remarkable cookbook and personal statement he elaborates Italian cooking and culture through 13 recipes. (For the interested, you can order the book in English through http://www.marchesi.it/ )

Consider a cookbook, an entire cooking school, arranged around these 13 principles: harmony, beauty, civilization, colour, genius, taste, invention, lightness, myth, territory, tradition, truth, simplicity. These are what my cooking school, ALMA, in Colorno, Italy, is trying to share, get us cooks to consider and aim towards, to be both an initiation and a portal. Sound too weird for words? Try it! This is all our teachers here have been trying to do ... get us all to think more simply. Most of us have our heads so busy with detail that we forget the big stuff. We’ve been given time to consider, to become open, to the big stuff. Maestro Marchesi spent almost an hour with the George Brown students on Thursday of this week, talking about life and answering questions. We didn’t spend too much time talking about the ‘how’ of cooking, but quite a lot on the ‘why’ that he wrote about in his cookbook, and spent his whole professional and personal life developing. Quite a remarkable man, somewhat shy, self-effacing, with a delicious grin that lights him up from the inside. Our cooking teachers at ALMA all worked in his kitchen when he owned a Michelin three-Star restaurant (the first in Italy). Mr. Marchesi refuses to call himself a chef ... he is a cook, embodying everything that the professional cook is and can be.

To get there, we have to understand what we have to work with and who we are, and the tours of producers, of craftspersons’ life-work, has been a series of almost dreamlike trips. The farm visits, the cheesemakers, the prosciutto makers, everyone has been dedicated their whole lives to making something as perfectly as is possible, with the utmost respect for detail, for history, for the area, for every possible input and outcome. If all this sounds too woo-woo for words, let me assure you it is not. Some of the trips started VERY early (up before 5 AM for long trips), and often back late. One of our tour days started at 5 and we got home at half past midnight, and had to be in the kitchen ready to roll before 8 in the morning. Hard work and hard play go together. What a blast! Giovanni, our (probably exhausted) bus-driver is a saint.

An example ... Felsina Winery and olive grove. This gorgeous place is built around three principles; utmost knowledge of the land, respect for the processes of history and customer need, and finding a life balanced properly, with time to work and time to stop and enjoy what one can do. We were welcomed to the winery, given tours of the land, shown the winery and olive oil presses, then greeted by the present owner. His philosophy is profound and simple too ... make something as perfectly as his trained, caring hands can craft, then give it all to his children and hope that they can, and will, do the same. The winery has been in the family for almost 300 years, expanded by the father of the present owner, and is situated in buildings over 1000 years old. The wine ages in history, literally! The olive oils (there are 4 varietals) are presented just as enthusiastically as the gorgeous wines. The wines are available at the LCBO in Ontario (look under Felsina, or Verardenga) and are worth every penny. The family treated us to a gorgeous lunch and extensive, guided wine and oil-tasting.

Our ALMA program included an evening B-B-Q on a farm in the rolling hills of Tuscany. What an evening ... the finest foods imaginable, an outside location, and then a group of local historical entertainers came by and sang typical songs of the area, sharing songs about philosophy, life-troubles and ways of growing as one ages. As Chef Tomaselli told us, we were in for a treat he could not really explain, and he was right. I took a moment out of the evening and texted to my wife “We are having dinner under a Tuscan sun!”. What a gift from ALMA and Italians to us ... examples of the very finest that Italy is, and has to offer, not only to us but to itself.

Question for us all today ... how do we make our dinners special ... how do we make our own Tuscan suns shine?

Monday ... what a lovely day in Chef School!!

On Saturday last I was ready to just cut off my hands and give ‘em away ... felt useless, inept, letting everyone (self included) down. Phooey. Who needs cooking when you can get perfectly OK take-out?

Well, how times have changed. A little sleep does a world of good ... our class spent the morning (from before 9 to after 1) with Chef Maestro Silvio Salmoiraghi in his teaching kitchen ... three dishes, each done to, or nearly to, perfection. We worked on a Beef Sirloin with Herbs, au gratin (which includes making a standard ‘Italian Sauce’), an absolutely georgeous veal fillet following the structure and idea of Chef Maestro Gualtiero Marchesi, and Chicken Kiev. Chef is a superb teacher, making each instruction clear, taking one dish at a time and unpacking it effectively.

As my students at MONARCH Park would say, Oh. My. God. !

Here ... try this at home. Here’s a recipe for the Beef Sirloin.

Take about 100 gm of fine white lard and cut up into thin squares of about 1 cm per side and half of that for thickness. Put into a tall container that will fit a hand-mixer (blitzer). Add some parsley, part of a white onion, some fresh basil (don’t anyone DARE use that ghastly dry stuff!), and some white wine (not much). Blitz this mess to make a sort of ooze ... it will be green and pasty. Take it all out of the container, put it onto a piece of plastic wrap and roll it up to make a tube about the size of a toilet-paper roll, and bung it into the refrigerator for about 1 hour to chill so it can be sliced up.

Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Have about half a cup of fresh breadcrumbs handy for finishing touches.

Take the nice piece of sirloin about the size of your fist (not huge, not petite), and trim it up of all visible fat and connective tissue. Reserve the trimmings. Tie the sirloin with a piece of string around the vertical grain so it does not come apart in the pan, and salt all sides. Reserve on a small late next the stove. Heat a sauté pan to get butter well melted but not browned, and put the sirloin in so it cooks well on one side, then the other. Takes about 2-3 minutes a side. Do not overcook! When the sides are done, turn the meat on the tied-up edge and slowly rotate around so every edge is sautéed. Put the meat on an ovenproof plate and pop into the oven for about 7 minutes. When this is done, remove to counter and reserve.

At the same time you are doing this, make the Italian Sauce ... it will be needed for the final garnish, and takes time to render properly. Take a couple of tomatoes, a white onion, one shallot (a small one is fine) and some thyme, a bottle of white wine and some butter. Roughly cut up the tomatoes and the onion, perhaps some fresh parsley if you have it about the kitchen, and get it all sautéing with the butter in a fairly wide pan. You will need a bit of brown stock (the low sodium stuff, no name from Loblaws will work...heat it up before using), and some OK quality balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper. While the tomatoes and onion are breaking down with the lard, toss in a bit of the beef trimmings from the preparation of the sirloin. Stir occasionally, or give it a wrist-flip or two. Poke the entire thing to get the tomatoes to really break down. Let it al bubble a bit. Add the brown stock (about 150 ml) and about half of that of balsamic. Let it reduce a bit, then pour the entire contents of the pot into a fairly fine, strong sieve (or chinoise) held over a saucepan. Push against the hard stuff that is left to get all the juices out. Add a bit of finely-minced black truffle. Reduce to a gravy that will coat the back of a spoon, and add a little fresh-ground black pepper and salt. Just before using (by about 1 minute, no more than two, add about 1/3 of a very finely cut shallot.

Take the rolled-up green paste out of the frig, and open it on a cool cutting board. Slice off about 4 – 6 slices. Re-heat the sirloin (if needed) for about 1 minute a side in fresh butter in a saucepan, then take the sirloin and top it with the rounds. If you happen to have a truffle handy, add a single thin slice of truffle on top of the green paste. Drizzle a few breadcrumbs on top and put it back into the oven for about 1 – 1.5 minutes, then plate to a suitable dish. Garnish with the Italian sauce on the plate, with a tiny bit over the meat if you wish.

That is one of three dishes we did today! Try it ... enjoy it! Take time to read everything and assemble all the tools you'll need before you begin, and become familiar with all the ingredients. You may choose to go out and buy some items, like the truffle.

After lunch we spent over 2 hours with Prof. Sinigaglia, reminding ourselves of what is important in various Italian cuisines, and how regional or local variations or specialties developed or got that way.

Finally, questions were answered about our rapidly-approaching stage (rhymes with badge, not guage), then off for dinner. I spent part of the lovely evening here on a bicycle ride with some other cooks, and we enjoyed riding the castle perimeter. (Remember, our Chef School is in an old castle!)

Tomorrow is a day-long trip into Tuscany, featuring Sienna wineries and an olive-oil factory. We rise before 5 to be on the bus before 6, so good night all from Colorno.

It is Sunday evening here in Colorno (near Parma). The entire cast and crew of this Italian Chef venture has had today off ... most of us slept until at least 1 in the afternoon, having made quite a night (and early morning!) of it the day before. Even youth must recuperate.

Saturday saw us in school all day, with our class split into two lab sessions (group A and B). I’m in group “A”, and we spent the entire day, from a bit after 8 until nearly 6 in the evening working with Chef Maestro Soldati.

Watching Chef is to see the utmost concentration and creativity at play ... he does not follow a recipe in the usual sense ... he composes as he goes, knowing all the rules and working within them to develop new and stunning food. Stunning in every sense ... the taste, the colours, the composition on the plate ... nothing is left out, nothing is by chance.

And ... the plates are not full!

Each of us knows that a plate of food, like a good book page, or any art piece, needs some blank space ... the viewer, the diner, the participant in the discussion cannot be utterly overloaded all the time. This is one of the things that is constantly emphasized here ... more is not better, more is not (usually) good. Take time to compose, to thoughtfully create. Make the food tell your truth and knowledge and skill.

By the end of the day with Chef I was ready to just cut off my hands, cook them and give them to any needy charity case. I don’t think I have worked so hard for a long, long time. Chef really pushes us constantly, and the results from me were, well, less than hoped-for by him. I have a lot of growing to do. But at the end he was kind enough to offer strong encouragement to us all, and compliments, so all is not lost. We came home completely exhausted ... unable to do anything but raise a glass bottle of refreshing beverage. I said to Chef Tomaselli (our George Brown Chef with us) that the sun would come up tomorrow, and I’d have a chance to learn more and grow. His encouragement is greatly valued by everyone.

Sunday (today) was, truly, a day for rest and relaxation. It rained most of the morning and early afternoon, ensuring that the group could not really go out for much, and we all stayed inside and just did quiet tings. At about 2 the weather cleared, and by that time everyone in my house had risen and we all made a large brunch for ourselves. This was followed by an afternoon of quiet visits, laundry, ironing, a few card games and, tonight, birthday cake for two of our ‘family members’.

Our house has developed a tradition of doing home cooking. Most of the rest of the houses don’t, at least not all the time, but we do. Tonight we had a choice of Jason’s penne, Andrew’s spaghetti, some pizza that Tyler offered, three kinds of wine (red stuff, white stuff and bubbly stuff), beer, watermelon for dessert, with a finale of birthday cake.

Today's question ... how do we leave blank space in our lives for others, and for ourselves?

What a great week-end!

Kitchen Work is HOT !

The past 48 hours have been a complete whirl ... with no pictures to show for it!

Thursday began with everyone heading into the kitchens a bit before 9 in the morning, and with one brief break for a half hour lunch, we emerged at a little after 6 at night, having cooked six dishes and been treated to a production of Risotto alla Gualtiero Marchesi, beautifully yellow, smooth, perfect in every way and garnished with real gold leaf. Wow! This demonstration was by my in-school chef for the day, Chef Silvio Salmoiraghi, who is patient, supportive, exacting. Just what we all need!

The morning had us making three dishes ... a lasagne verdi al forno, a potato ravioli and pasta di castagne con fegatini (chestnut pasta with liver). Everything, pastas included, from scratch. The kitchen is what all kitchens become, I suppose ... a function-first workplace, hot and very structured. Ours, however, has a delightful view of the formal palace gardens. The palace used to be used, for over a century, as an insane asylum, and the gardens were tended with precision and their perfect edging, formality, topiary and layout were added to with a more informal park at the end far from the palace. All this presents a lovely brief respite from the kitchens when glanced at. We have little time for the glances, though. We’re here to work, hard, and learn. What great teachers!

The afternoon saw us work our way through a spaghetti with fresh, FRESH tomato sauce (spaghetti al pomodoro), one of my favourite Italian soups, papa al pomodoro (bread and tomato soup), and we wound up the day with making risotto. Chef made a gorgeous demonstration of Maestro Marchesi’s style, and we did a simpler version.

Following a full clean-up, the entire group met in the ‘Aula Magna’ for a formal demonstration with Maestro Marco Soldati, who demonstrated, then fed us all, a set of delicious Italian ices. What a great way to end up the day!

The evening was spent, as most of them are, in groups in our little agora, sharing stories (some of them true!), enjoying a glass or two, and getting the laundry done!

We cook dinner for ourselves every night, and I will tell you (ladies reading this blog please take note!) that it is truly a delight to hang around with a bunch of men who all love to cook, and are really happy discussing the finer points of a method of dealing with tomatoes, or exactly how to make a particular pasta, or how ‘dente’ is ‘al dente’, or variations on the correct layering for a ‘tarte di nonna’.

All that was yesterday ... today (Friday) we have all been together for 9 hours of technique demonstration and knowledge building. A four hour presentation this morning with Maestro Soldati had students participating somewhat, and we wound up with four students (me included) making the dessert for the entire school for our lunch! “Get creative” we were told.

This afternoon we were treated to a four and a half hour long wine-tasting ... four wines, four and a half hours. Two whites, two reds. Grapes, terroir, the maker’s techniques, history, climate, dozens of other considerations were carefully revealed, discussed and used to make decisions about these four fine wines.

And tonight we are off (in a few minutes) for an evening of fine dining in Parma. Giovanni will roll his bus up; we will all pile in and, with our leader Chef Tomaselli, go off to find out a bit of what Parma has to offer.

More in a couple of days! I’ll blog again on Sunday. Enjoy a lovely week-end, all.

Two entire days of cultural tours have just passed ... what a whirlwind! We’ve been to factories, farms, restaurants, been shown the most wonderful of products, treated like royalty, welcomed into 2,500 year old vineyards and driven all over the place in Giovanni’s bus.

A quick gloss ... today we visited a balsamic vinegar site and tasted the true ‘balsamico’, in three strengths ... the Red is only 12 years old, the Silver is at least 18 and the Gold is over 25. Each has its own characteristics and flavour notes ... the general consensus was that the silver was the best for both tasting and the most versatile for using with a variety of dishes. Most ‘balsamic’ on the market is adulterated or more of a ‘balsamic style’, not the real thing. Many of us bought small bottles of vinegar ... they’ll be enjoyed over the next week and a half as we all work our heads off for the Chefs at ALMA, each other and take more tours.

Another wonderful highlight today was our starting visit, to one of the co-operatives making Parmegiano Reggiano. We saw the entire process from start to finish, watched the Master Cheesemaker work his master’s touch, saw every part of the process and finally enjoyed some of the best cheese I have ever tasted in my life. Two and a half years old, right at the cheesemaker’s door, a perfect cheese under bright sunshine, with 'acqua frizzante’ to wash it down.

Parmegiano, in order to be the real thing, must be made under the strictest of conditions to earn the DOC recognition ... the farms for the milk must be within 20 kilometres of the cheese-maker, the milk must be delivered morning and night, the cattle must be fed no silage, only true hay and grass and some clean grains (nothing fermented, as silage is). The cheese is made with full morning milk and partially skimmed evening milk, and only rennet is added to get the process going. The cheese is salted by floating in a brine bath for about 20 days, and the rest of the process is done through careful ageing and rigorous quality control by an outside body dedicated only to quality maintenance. The real cheese is expensive, but it is, truly, worth it.

Later this morning we were welcomed to the extraordinarily-traditional farm of Massimo Spigaroli. This humble man is revered for his dedication to his various crafts (raising heirloom or traditional strains of vegetables and herbs, raising black pigs for the most traditional culatello, making mouth-watering sausage and prosciutto and running one of Italy’s best restaurants featuring all traditional foods he raises or makes on the farm). We were treated to demonstrations of culatello preparation, and a welcome, (before a truly divine lunch), of wine from his own heirloom grapes, and local cheese, bread and cured meats. This welcome aperitif was followed by a four-course lunch, featuring local (i.e. farm) dry-cured raw meats and gnocchi from his own heirloom products.

Yesterday’s tours took us to a ‘fosse’ (cave) used for ageing cheese. One of Chef Tomaselli’s charming contacts spent much of his day with us on Tuesday, welcoming us to his family’s historical vineyard, then to his wine-press, and then to lunch in his own home! There are very few people in the world who are willing, or able, to have almost 35 people pop by for a 4-course lunch in their home. Renata’s wife is a chef in her own right, and she and the family fed us on the finest produce and skill in the region. What a treat, delight, honour!

Afterwards we went back into town and visited his ‘fosse’ (cave used for ageing cheese) and enjoyed a cheese-tasting. Then a visit to the farm to see (and smell) the source of the raw material. Happy cows all ‘round/

The fosse has been used for over 500 years for this procedure, and is ‘loaded’ with cheese for about 3 months of the year (late August to early November), then the fosse rests and recuperates for the rest of the year. To enter the fosse, one climbs down a ladder! When the fosse is loaded with cheese, the top is sealed with parchment paper and a natural sealing substance around the edge, then the entire entrance is covered with about 30 centimetres of sand. The results are utterly divine. Now, stop reading this blog for just a minute and go get yourself a delicious snack.

These two days of touring have taught me several things ... the incredible value placed on freshness and locality of product here, the sense of maintaining centuries-old, or (in some cases) millennia-old systems and traditions, and an un-hurried pace of life which allows much time to make, maintain and celebrate community and family.

Aside from a couple of gaudy advertisements for Chrysler and Jeep, I have seen no advertisements for north american products of any kind here. No need, no desire; we’re not needed, actually. It is very humbling to come from a culture that really has nothing to offer here. So much for our sense of importance!

My end-question for today needs to be “How does the work of your life, in every facet, honour the lives of those who have gone before? How would they recognize themselves in what we do, ourselves and together?”

Tomorrow is our first time going into the kitchens at ALMA, and I’m excited! So, a good night’s sleep and ready to roll well before 9 tomorrow. Classes finish at 6:30 in the evening. My feet will be killing me.

The Adventure Begins at ALMA -- First Lessons

We’ve been here in Colorno, very near Parma, three days now ... arrived late on Friday, and here it is, already Monday evening, and so much has happened.

To share! A case of pretty-good wine, it seems, is cheaper than a nice, not-large piece of gorgonzola cheese. There’s been some commentary about people having their priorities right. Two whole days to settle in has been a God-send ... George Brown Chef School does so many things right ... and our on-site Chef, Maestro Dario Tomaselli, has been tremendously supportive and helpfull. After all our doubts and wonders and braggadocio, we’re actually pretty-well prepared. And then, completely unprepared at the same time ...

A few notes from today’s “Introduction To Italian Culture, History and Taste” seminar ... a searing 2 ½ hour presentation: “The function of heritage is to let you, enable you, to stop and consider. Taste is an answer to human desire. Food culture is trust culture. Knowledge creates points of no return ... knowledge of the taste of the true food (a cheese, a bread, a meat, etc.) will set taste because it will set the standard. Intelligence is Curiosity grown in a good way.”

Prof. Sinigaglia had us riveted to our chairs ... there was applause at the end of his presentation. He covered not only the concepts of cultures and regions in the context of Italian foods, but also how products are respected and the use of historical techniques. What a start to our time at ALMA!

Our lunch was put on, as it will be each day we are in school and on campus, by the stunningly-skilled staff of the school. A group of about 12 American students had started their (separate) program and we shared lunchtime and took time to welcome each other.

Our afternoon was spent with Chef Soldati. He is highly regarded all over Italy, and is respected as “Maestro di cucina”. Chef spent almost 3 ½ hours introducing us to the composition of four salads ... cold, warm and hot, with pasta, with meat, just vegetables, including fruit. The results were stunning ... simple, each representing magnificent composition and utmost respect for both product and season. Maestro Soldati emphasized “Use the right part of each product for the purpose you need. The dish must keep it’s focus. Use plates with the correct design for the features you present. Humbly present great products well.” Being able to watch Chef Soldati is akin to watching a Mozart or Beethoven compose ... it is a thrilling experience, and somewhat exhausting. Great chefs here are regarded like the most fabulous rock stars ... accolytes to help, and an audience hanging on every word. A show, a lesson, a peek into a life of skill, knowledge and humble taste.

Most of us were trying to figure out what he was doing. His activity. We focused on what was going on with the food products, and Chef Soldati worked hard to get us to stop doing (just) that and think, instead, about what he was doing, and why. It is quite a leap, quite a challenge, to and for each of us. It will take us far, slowly.

At the end of day a group of us made dinner again together at our apartments, and sat down, as I am now, to write the day before it becomes one of too many days.

I’ll leave you with one of today’s challenges; when people eat your food, how will they realise that you know about your self and who you are?

Before ...

Off to Italy, and Chef school, tomorrow. This is how I'm 'spending' my sabbatical year from teaching cooking at Monarch Park Collegiate. A little crazy? You bet ... but I seem to do this rather well ... for example, late last night I helped rescue a dog who'd been hit by a car in front of our place. The result for me was 9 puncture wounds or lacerations on my right hand from its canines. A round of antibiotics later, I heard assurance from my doctor that I probably won't develop an aversion to water (hydro-phobia) in the near future. The poor dog was hit at the same street-corner where I was hit by a car while riding my motorcycle on the last day of my previous sabbatical! The injured dog escaped my generous reach, unfortunately, and ran into the ravine nearby.

Last sabbatical (five years ago) we went around the world -- literally --

It was that camel ride at dusk on Cable Beach in Broome, Western Australia -- only 750 km across the Indian Ocean from Indonesia -- that confirmed for us that this was unlike anything else we’d done. Night had fallen, we had turned off away from the beach, and were lumbering up the dunes into the sand hills to then put the camels to bed. Gail gave me a gentle poke, hugged me, and whispered: “I’m the last person on this camel train. If I fell off right now, I’d truly be lost. I haven’t the faintest idea where I am and the stars in the sky are all backwards.” I could hear the grin in her voice. Shades of Maria Muldaur’s “Midnight at the oasis” and “Heaven’s holdin’ a half-moon shinin’ just for us”….

During that sabbatical year we went to Vancouver, Montréal, Edmonton, San Diego, Dallas, Rio de Janeiro, Fortaleza, Paris, Grenada, Seville, Prague, Bangkok, Sydney, the Great Barrier Reef, Perth/Fremantle, and Broome. In one 3-month stint, we flew more than 45,000 miles, through 19 airports, and traveled in 5 continents.

Snapshots of some of our adventures include:

· Feeding vegemite-on-toast to an orphaned kangaroo co-habiting with us in an Australian B&B

· Riding a train for 3 nights and 4 days across the straightest track in the world from the Indian to the Pacific Ocean ... the mighty "Indian-Pacific"

· Frolicking underwater with “Wally”, a Maori Wrasse in the Great Barrier Reef while scuba diving

· Walking on the bridge over the River Kwai amidst the ghosts of the JEATH Death Camp

· Admiring the bravery and ingenuity of Canadians as documented at the war memorial at Vimy

· Being thrilled to the core by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra at the Rudolphium in Prague

· Being outraged at the rudeness of the sales clerks in Paris when trying to buy an outfit to wear to said concert (Gail)

· Being moved by the power of Federico Garcia Lorca’s poetry, “duende”, and the architecture in Andalusia

· Participating in the ritual of the “padronas’ at a wedding in Fortaleza, Brazil as one of 600 guests (and Gail being the only woman there wearing sensible shoes)

Five years later, things are a little different, with my focus being full-time professional development through chef school. I asked a recent graduate of the program what Italy was like, and he said, "Italy looks exactly like the inside of a kitchen!"

George Brown Chef School has an international exchange program with La Scuola Internazionale di Cucina Italiana in the Parma area. Most of the students are graduates of George Brown Chef School and/or have industry experience. Me? I've been in chef school for a full 6 weeks now. My 'learning curve' is 90 degrees ... I'm standing on my jets ... and it's a blast!

We all arrive in Parma on Friday afternoon. Classes begin (in Italian) on Monday.

Some time while I'm away in Italy, Gail will be in Russia for two weeks studying "The Role of The Fool in Russian Literature". Let's hope she doesn't change her focus to "The Role of The Fool (Martin) in Italy"!

Stay tuned ...