The two years spent in culinary school whizzed by so quickly that it seems like a blur looking back. I learned so much, a seemingly exponential growth in what I was being exposed to and learning to do. I really do think the curriculum was set up well enough that each day was spent learning based on the previous days lesson. Took to it like fish to water I did.
Of course, throwing together a bunch of wannabe chefs, youth and hormones made for an interesting dynamic...OK, organised chaos could reign supreme and often did. What was interesting was how each class manifested its own version of insanity. Into the world of chefs we go.....
Patisserie class was over seen by an Irish chef named Michael. Pound for pound probably the most skilled chef I have had the pleasure to learn from and work with. He was a master pastry arts aficionado but he also knew every other end of the kitchen, having worked his way through all departments...with the scars and stories to prove it. This background was probably the reason he wasn't the typical neurotic "artiste" type pastry chef that you run into. He was simply skilled at what he did and left the pretentiousness aside, thank god, because that might have driven me away from the business....being surrounded by prima donnas would have killed my spirit. Chef Mike was someone that commanded respect from the moment you walked into the class, he didn't come across as someone to trifle with lest he rip your arm off and beat you to death with it. Unlike the other Irish Chef on staff that first year, Bobby, who threatened to do just that except he was 5 foot nothing and good have been pushed over with a stiff breeze. That and the fact that people who have to threaten you usually can't delver on the goods. But I digress....more on Chef Bobby later.
Back to patisserie, the class was about both technique and production. For a pastry department to be able to carry its own weight it has to be able to produce every possible morsel of food that can be used in the kitchen...breads, pastries, desserts, savouries and so on. And in massive quantities to feed the hordes....a tough business to be in since year by year that end of the kitchen disappears to pre-made and out sourced products done cheaper than you can do it yourself. Chef taught us how to make fifty cheesecakes at a time, hundreds of petit fours and a multitude of tortes, flans and pastries. He was no nonsense but he was very warm and funny as hell, you just never knew which way he would go at any given time. He expected perfection when it came to work ethic and cleanliness, so if you worked like a slob or failed to clean up properly once done, you could expect a drenching of hot soapy water on your work station, which meant at least another half hour to clean up the sudsy mess. All this happening with every other student watching you and praying their station was up to snuff. For my final exam in year one I had to prepare a Gateau St Honore, a fruit flan and Chantilly cream. My gateau was beautiful, the flan perfect and the cream made him spit out and rinse his mouth....rookie mistake of pouring the vanilla over the bowl and it spilled into the cream...gross. I can still see his face....I was both mortified and laughing at his reaction. Lesson learned though.
The respect for Chef Mike truly came down to the wealth of knowledge he had and his work ethic, not to mention how quick he was on his feet. His sarcastic and caustic responses were epic to me...while I thought I had some chops coming into school I learned whole new levels there...coming to where I am today. Experience and a dash of wisdom mean a lot in that world and I learned from the best. His willingness to pass on knowledge was what really endeared him to us all. In our final semester in our main class, cooking for the Humber Room restaurant, we were tasked with being chef of the week. Plan and execute a service from beginning to end, all costings, menu planning, work schedules, themes and everything in between. It was both daunting and exhilarating....I loved it. This last semester and this class in particular made me as a chef with my classmates. Not only for my night but for others as well. I was the go to guy along with my buddy Steve. We just seemed to be on a new level for the team....the hardest jobs or the ones requiring the most attention were passed to us by default. Our other cohort Caesar always ended up in pastries because that was where he excelled while Steve and I took the mains. What was also happening is that just the same as I would go to Chef Mike for advice or to pick his brain, other students were coming to me for the same. One of my classmates wanted to do something table-side for his French night, the idea being that you increased the guests pleasure experience with something interactive. He couldn't come up with anything that worked on his menu, so he asked me for advice. He had chosen a lobster bisque for his appetiser and that to me was the only way to go. Bring the soup out on a table side cart, ladle it into your bowl, and then set a spoon of cognac on fire and pour it in from high above, falling flames sort of thing. Awesome!!
When my night came I could point to a number of things that Chef Mike had suggested that I used wholeheartedly. What the hell did I know about Swiss food after all, and he had worked in Switzerland for three years...Zuckerkirhe torte and rösti potatoes to go along with Veal Zurichoise. Without sounding like a brag, my night was epic. Everything worked, even the minor disaster when someone screwed the soup up. I had planned the night well, took students out of their comfort zone and moved them around and according to class surveys, easily the best night of the year to that point. My only negative comment from a former girlfriend in class...I swore too much. Fuck that shit, I don't swear to fucking much...seriously? Fuck! It was a good night...and I paid my respect to Chef Mike with a bottle of Irish Whiskey...it says a lot when I didn't go to the Austrian or German chefs for advice on my Swiss night, I went to the Irish guy. In many ways I have styled myself like him...I supposedly have a death chef stare that generally puts people in line, I am generally respected and I am very approachable. I think I'm more fun than Chef Mike but I may be biased.
A true teacher teaches you more than just what is listed on the curriculum and Chef Mike certainly did. The skills he showed us paled in comparison to the "being a chef" skills we needed. Those of us that picked up on those not so subtle lessons are the ones still involved in the business 25 years later. He was an all around chef instead of being good at only one aspect of the field. By example he showed us work ethic, respect for ingredients and respect for the profession. And he spit out my Chantilly cream...just saying.
Bravo Chef Mike...as a mentor you will always be remembered fondly.
Ciao
D
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