Culinary arts: my new world

My new world is heated with cast-iron burners throwing off 65,000 BTUs of flame with the flick of a wrist.

It has the inviting smell of roasting veal bones, the hiss of sweating shallots, the pale yellow of hollandaise sauce. It is a world of creamy soups that come about as if by magic from seemingly disparate pieces.

My new world is knife blades that rapid-cut carrots and onions, leeks and celery. It is is framed in gleaming, sterile-looking stainless steel.

It is butter that's clarified, pepper that's white, sauce that's deliciously brown.

My new world has a language all its own -- "umami" and mise en place, onion piquet and cartouche, velouté and demi-glace.

This new world tugs the imagination out of one's soul and turns it into a new reality, of flavors and seasonings, all evoking even more imagination that in turn brings more new realities in what is literally becoming a delicious cycle.

(Photo shows the "hotline" -- row of stovetops dominating the center of our kitchen classroom.)

Venison? No, it's me looking into the headlights

Shrimp bisque was on the menu in Culinary Foundations I today. The action:

"May I have a couple of volunteers? One for the mirepoix ... "

My hand shot into the air, but Chef Tony Marano pointed to fellow culinary arts student Rob Park.

" ... and one to make velouté."

What the hey, I thought, my hand going up again.

"Michael, what will your proportions be?" Chef asked.

Uh, geez, what does the recipe say? I thought, glancing toward my open copy of "Professional Cooking," our key textbook.

"No, not from the book. From memory," Chef gently admonished, bringing on my deer-in-the-headlights look. He added: "Am I putting you on the spot?"

"Yes, but I need to be put on the spot," I muttered. I am smart, I thought to myself; just slow.

"What's the proportion I told you to remember for the rest of your lives?" Chef asked me and the rest of the class. "Eight to one."

He was referring to the proportion of stock to roux to make sauce. Hence, 1 gallon of stock, 1 pound of roux; 1 quart of stock, 4 ounces of roux.

I hastened to the stove top, weighed out 2 ounces of flour and 2 ounces of clarified butter, the requisite 4 ounces total for the roux, to be added to 1 quart of fish stock. The stirring began.

Relatively speaking, the rest went smoothly, and we produced a nice flavorful shrimp bisque, with an 8-to-1 proportion of stock to roux.

Eight to one. Eight to one. Eight to one.

I shant forget it again.

(Photo shows the bisque before straining -- with the shrimp shells still in it.)

Making sauces: The heat is on

Culinary school is getting down to the pure culinarity of it. Today, three classmates partook in the making of a white roux, a pale roux and, from them, a bechamél sauce and a velouté sauce.

Chef Tony Marano walked us through the process, which included tasting before, during and after seasonings were applied so we could catch the subtle differences. Salt, white pepper and, in the bechamél a little nutmeg, made subtle, delightful differences.

The "magic" that Chef Tony says occurs in sauce-making was very much present. There was indeed a magic in the way the roux came to color, texture and flavor and then how it combined with the liquids -- milk for the bechamél, chicken stock for the velouté -- to get to the end products (in photo, velouté is in foreground, bechamél behind it).

On Wednesday, yours truly steps to the stove with the assignment of making a brown roux as the key step toward an as-yet undisclosed brown sauce.

Whisk, small ladle, spoon are all at the ready. As am I.