What I Learned In Chef School
A Version of Healthy Caprese Salad included!
Healthy classic Tuna Casserole featuring the summer salad
“All recipes are built on the belief that somewhere at the beginning of the chain, there is a cook who does not use them.”
Okay folks! You asked for it!
On my blog post, “Dining Well” I included a recipe for a healthy version of the classic Tuna Casserole and displayed a summer salad as a side for it. Enough of you asked for the salad recipe so here yah go! But not without an explanation.
First of all, I am not going to give you measurements. You linear folks will be able to do this! I promise. My cooking teacher never gave measurements either.
My “Healthy Culinary Arts” class uniform.
When I moved to Toronto, I enrolled in the George Brown Chef Program called “Healthy Culinary Arts”. I was required to have a full chef uniform, black safety shoes and a gamut of hardware exclusive to cooking. We had a prof who is referred to as your chef. In other words, my teacher was addressed as Chef Massey. My experience with the cooking instructors at chef school was similar to the crazy reality TV cooking shows. Professional kitchens are run with a tight fist at the helm; efficiency and order in the kitchen reign.
At the beginning of every class, there was an ingredients list featured on a screen along with the measurements required for that evening’s exploration. Here’s the caveat - no measuring cups allowed. We were instructed to bring a variety of containers in various sizes. We “guesstimated” the amount of each ingredient, placed it in each container and then placed the containers at our kitchen stations before the Chef-led demo started. She would pour a little of this, a pinch of that, a dollop of this and a scoop of that to her pot, masterfully whipping, stirring or boiling as required while she cast her professional spell to bring the consistency to perfection. Not only did her version of the recipe taste divine, she magically plated it, making the dish absolutely irresistible.
Next, she charged each of us to go back our individual kitchens and replicate what she had shown us, yelling, “And I don’t want to see any of you coming back for more ingredients! If you calculated incorrectly, deal with it, modify it until it works.”
One hopeful chef candidate put his hand up and asked at what temperature he should set the oven. Without turning to face him, she responded, “It doesn’t matter. Respond accordingly”, to which the student queried, “what if it’s too hot?”. In angst, because she felt she had already sufficiently addressed the question, she added, “In a big restaurant kitchen, do you think there are different ovens, each set to varying temperatures? No. Whatever temperature the oven is, you cook with it.”
That shut us all up for a while. None of us wanted to ask another dumb question. Eventually, one of the other chef-wanna-be’s called Chef Massey over for help. The consistency of her sauce was all wrong. Our Master Chef immediately fixed it with a dash of this and a little of that while explaining, “Cooking is a relationship with food. You have to learn your own relationship”.
While I found the early classes daunting, I came to develop my own relationship with cooking too. I found I could guess how a new food addition would react in the pan and after a quick taste I could identify what else the dish begged for. Now, I can often tell when an ingredient is called for, even if it’s not on the ingredients list: a little lemon squeeze, a dash of wine, some fresh herbs. One more caveat: each time I make the entrée, the chemistry changes.
I can’t help but transfer what I learned in cooking class to my recent resolve to be more resilient and accept changes that bring me to the Plan B’s in my life (and sometimes the Plan C’s).
Firstly, I learned that we can’t always tightly calculate our lives. I find solace in over-planning. No one likes building chart tables and schedules more than I do. I also figure, if I have anticipated every possible danger or mistake that could happen, I can also preplan the solution before it happens. When I was a teen-age lifeguard, I whittled away the hours on my guard stand by imagining all the accidents that could happen to the children in my charge and I would work out the solutions to each in my mind. A “nothing will be left to chance” thinking. Then, decades later, I found myself with a cooking instructor who prepared me just enough but taught me to effectively adapt if any of my “planned” ingredients were slightly off.
Secondly, I learned you can't always control the temperature and yet, with craft and ingenuity, you can still succeed, regardless of the temperature life gives you. Unlike the poor chef-candidate I spoke of, complaining that the situation is not what I expected, does not change anything; it just slows me down.
Finally, I learned about my relationship with life. As in the kitchen, the more I experience life, the more wisdom is endowed upon me to understand the nuances of the joy I am creating. It has taken me to mid-life to understand that everything doesn’t have to be perfect for me to cook up some joy for myself. Sometimes I will be missing an ingredient in my life (like my mother), sometimes I need more of this and a little of that. Acumen determines when I need to go hard, and when I need to beef up the self care.
And now, I endow you to give this simple, nutrient-rich recipe a try. Don’t measure. Add, toss, taste and add some more of what you and your kitchen has to offer.
Plan B’s Italian Inspired Summer Salad
Ingredients:
Some tomatoes (who cares what kind, sometimes I use heirloom tomatoes, sometimes I just cut grape or cherry tomatoes in half).
some olive oil (or grapeseed in a pinch; why go to the grocery store for one ingredient?)
a wedge of lemon
sea salt (or regular salt if that is all you have)
cucumber
ground pepper (or not, if you don’t like pepper)
fresh basil leaves, cut up into pieces
crumbled feta cheese (or buffalo mozzarella works, ripped into pieces)
Other things you can add if you want:
Green onions or white onion cut into spirals or chives
I think some fresh oregano is a nice addition.
Sometimes I drizzle some balsamic reduction over the salad in a pretty pattern.
Directions:
Chop up the tomatoes, basil leaves, cucumber and onion in ways you think look pretty. And enough to fill your salad bowl.
Pour some olive oil in a small bowl. About 1/8 cup, I don’t know; I just pour. But I will say that I prefer less oil than too much. You can always add more at the end after a taste test.
Stir a pinch or two of salt into the bowl of oil and add the chopped basil leaves, pepper, and squeeze in the juice of your lemon wedge. (Add any other herbs you want).
Pour the oil mixture into the cut vegetables (I know, tomatoes are a fruit) and toss.
Finish with crumpled cheese on top. Squeeze a line or two of balsamic reduction for a sweeter-tasting salad and it looks impressive too.
ADDENDUM
Did you know that the DNA of heirloom tomatoes hasn’t been manipulated in the same way as most other varieties? That’s why they don’t always look as perfect as others in the grocery store; that’s why I love buying them at the Farmer’s Market. There is nothing like a tomato in season that has been ripened on the vine!
Curious about my culinary discoveries converting recipes to healthier versions while still maintaining the glorious relationship with food associated with family and friends? Subscribe for free to Plan B is Better and read this previous post: Learning to Convert Recipes into Healthier Versions
