So you think you're an adventurous eater?

"Organ meats—they don't go out of fashion," chef said, sliding his fingers over a glistening veal liver. He began separating the thin membrane from the red, fleshy mass that sat on his cutting board, pulling the sheen off like peeling skin from a sunburn.

Last night we cooked organs. We made crispy fried sweetbreads with brown butter caper sauce, lamb tongue with potato salad and ravigote vinaigrette, sautéed calf's liver, and sautéed kidneys. In all honesty, I was excited to try some of these organs for the first time, but that excitement began to dwindle when I took a bowl of lamb tongues out of the refrigerator.

"Begin blanching your tongues, guys," chef said, instructing us to put the tongues on the stove with cold water. They were tight and curled, slightly purple, and still attached with larynx tissue. Contrary to how I feel about tongues near my mouth, I knew I did not want these animal tongues anywhere near my face.

They began to simmer, changing from a reddish/purple color to a blue/grey color. There's no way around it—they were ugly. When I think fine food and dining, the image of tongue does not enter my mind, and I never thought I'd peel a tongue, let alone cook one. I actually never planned on eating tongue either, but I consumed it on accident last January on a visit to Angel's Share in NoHo with my father and my sister. What I thought was a skewered piece of poultry turned out to be beef tongue, and surprising, it was good.

Not this tongue... Oh no. After poaching the tongues for three hours they were tender enough to serve. They were peeled, sliced, and presented on a mound of créme fraiche potato salad drizzled with a vinaigrette of fresh herbs and hard boiled eggs. Sounds like a picnic dish, does it not? Maybe it appeals to some people, but all in all, I'm not too fond of poached tongue, especially served with potato salad.

Sweetbreads, the on the other hand, are pretty delicious.

"Not only are they, in my mind, the most delicious, but the most agreeable," chef said. "It's the closest to 'normal' protein." Sweetbreads, which are thymus or pancreas glands of cows and sheep, are spongy proteins usually sliced and fried.

Normal? Well, maybe. My introduction to sweetbreads was in August when I dined at L'Ecole, which is an arm of the FCI curriculum. After my roommate and I expressed some curiosity to our server, he brought us a plate of sweetbreads during our meat course.

Last night we prepared the sweetbreads the same way they are made in the restaurant with a brown butter sauce. The browned butter is spiked with lemon to preserve the nutty brown color and peppered with capers and minced parsley. We served the sweetbreads on top of goat cheese polenta and sautéed spinach.

As a rule of thumb, cooked organs should be served with a sharp sauce to cut the strong flavor, which often requires vinegar or in the case of sweetbreads, acid from lemon. It's pretty common sense actually. Distract attention away from a less desirable taste by masking it with a decadent sauce.

When we prepared the liver, the sauce was just that. Sautéed onions release one of my favorite aromas, especially when they're sauteed in butter. Add some demi-glace, vinegar, and some fresh parsley, and you've got a real keeper. Add in the liver... and you've got a real nasty marriage of flavors, or atleast in my mind. The liver ruined the sauce before the sauce could really make the liver.

After one success and two fails, the kidneys were either going to end the night with a pleasant surprise or solidify my belief that organs as a focal point of a dish just aren't for me. I specify focal point because I know organs create fantastic pâté, charcuterie, and sauces. Kidneys literally left me with a bad taste in my mouth. I never spit food out, but I just couldn't continue to chew something so awful. Maybe I have poor, unsophisticated taste, but I just couldn't do it, even if they were served with a sauce made out of brandy, demi-glace, and cream. Sorry, but no thank you.

The beginning of my relationship with organs isn't off to a great start, but I do have hope. In level four we'll be exposed to cooking brain and foie gras, which is fattened (diseased) duck liver. Until then, I'll enjoy cooking the "normal" proteins.

The art of interpretation

"All things are subject to interpretation whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth." -Nietzsche

Communicating a recipe has always fascinated me. It's almost crippling when a picture sets beside a recipe because it crimps some creative possibilities. In class we observe cooking demonstrations where a final product is presented and then we must duplicate the dish in teams for the chef's approval. This exercise is very helpful because it teaches us traditional technique and presentation. I really like when our chef shows us multiple presentation possibilities, usually one from classic cuisine and another from contemporary influence.

Today I had some time to play with presentation a little bit. Over the weekend I visited the Union Square market and selected some items I thought would marry well together and decided to incorporate them into a salad. I used a few preparation techniques I learned in school and made homemade croutons out of aged loaf of rosemary bread and I also made my own interpretation of a champagne vinaigrette.

I knew I wanted to use pears. Most of the market tents house beautiful pears of varying shades. I toyed with the idea of using Asian pears but opted for bosc pears, which have a warm brown color and slightly more slender pear shape. I knew fennel was a common component in salads with pears, so I also bought a fresh fennel bulb to deliver a light anise flavor with the similar crunch of celery. My final selections included a slice of local New Jersey Gorgonzola, some buttery field greens, and some delicate micro greens.

I sliced my pears, making a few julienne cuts to toss with the micro greens. I took some pale field greens and sliced them into lettuce ribbons and tossed them lightly with a variation of champagne vinaigrette that I read about in Sondra Bernstein's the girl & the fig cookbook. Instead of using quality Dijon mustard with mustard seeds I used some cheap spicy brown mustard (it's actually all I had in my refrigerator) and instead of granulated sugar I used brown, which was the only sugar I had on hand.

Sondra Bernstein's Champagne Vinaigrette

2 1/2 T. Champagne vinegar

1 t. minced shallots

1 t. Dijon mustard

2 t. sugar

5 T. extra virgin olive oil (use the good stuff!)

salt & pepper

The champagne vinaigrette is lovely because it has the light taste of champagne vinegar, the subtle tang of mustard, the slight crunch from minced shallots, and a soft sweetness of sugar. Together with the croutons, which were toasted in a pan with butter, the salad was pretty perfect, but then it dawned on me that I forgot to use my Gorgonzola.

So I tried the salad again, this time with a different approach to the presentation. Rather than using croutons, I made a thin piece of toast, and instead of shaved fennel, I took a fennel stalk and made it mirror the julienned pears. With some crumbled Gorgonzola, this salad was also delicious.

Hopefully I'll have some interesting presentation photos to share after tonight's class, which will cover organ meats. Yum...

I stood before legends

Ferran Adrià, Spanish chef of El Bulli and master of molecular gastomy

&

Colman Andrews, founder and former editor-in-chief of Saveur magazine, columnist for Gourmet magazine, and food authority of Spanish cuisine

I think I'm paranoid

New York City has officially made me a paranoid freak. Last week I convinced myself my roommate and I had bed bugs and went on a cleaning rampage, getting on all fours to examine every floor particle and every craves of my bed. I spent two hours eyeing every seam of my futon and collected an assortment of fibers and clusters of dirt that I thought might be dead bugs. The truth is, we really just had a few mosquitoes buzzing around at night that gave each of us a few itchy bites, but I was convinced, damnit!

Last night I got home and slammed the door in frustration because I thought I had another iPod stolen at work. My little brother sent me the Nano I had handed down to him when he heard my large iPod had been stolen. When I got to work I zipped it in my jacket pocket and stuffed it in my locker, or so that's what I remember. When I went to change out of my clothes last night, the jacket was gone, along with the pocket contents, including a mail key. I began cursing in anger, which caught the attention of the cooks that were changing their clothes. The sous chef asked me what color my coat was and we began looking around the stuffy locker room. When we turned to the coat rack hidden behind a corner, there it was, draped over the abused coat rack. I searched the pockets, finding nothing.

I left the locker room, fuming, and stomped up the stairs where a new manager was closing the restaurant. He told me to email our boss, tell him what happened, and that he was sorry. I was already half way out the door when he was offering me his meaningless suggestion and attempt at sympathy. When I arrived to the subway station I took a pad of paper from my bag and began drafting the email I was going to send to management.

"I'm honestly freaked out right now. Tonight I had my jacket taken from my LOCKED locker and my small iPod Nano and mail key were taken from it's zipped pocket. The jacket was left draped on the hanging closet in the locker room. My cheap Walmart pants were also taken from underneath the locker where I stuffed them because they would not fit in my locker. Needless to say, I'm fed up with the theft that is going on in this restaurant."

The subway arrived and I put my notebook away. I stared out the subway windows, boiling with frustration, realizing this could be the end of my employment. I began thinking about how difficult it would be to get another job, especially around the holidays. I had already booked a flight home for Christmas and I had already secured time off for a few visits from friends and family. There was no way I would have time to look for a new job. This was the worst timing.

When I got off of the subway I started my journey home and finally arrived home to write my email to management. I began telling the story to my roommate, who watches Law & Order religiously. She wasn't about to take this crime lightly and she'd seen my unrest with the two prior thefts months before. I reached my hand into my jacket pocket, looking for the piece of paper I had scribbled a manager's email, and pulled an folded envelope from the pocket. What is this? I unfolded the envelope to find a note written in capitalized Spanish.

"Lauren, you can't work there anymore, this is scary," my roommate said. "You could sue. I'm not kidding. You can't work there anymore."

My email to management was about to change in tone. I kept what I had written and nixed the idea of offering suggestions for a solution.

"When I returned home to begin this email, I reached in the pocket of the jacket where my iPod had been stolen and found a note on a torn envelope written in permanent marker that says 'TENGO TU IPOD SOY EL PRIMO DE ANDRES yo te lo regreso,' which if my roommate's translating skills are accurate, means 'I have your ipod I am the cousin of Andres I will return it.' I don't know who Andres is, I don't know why he took my iPod with plans to return it, or why he took my mail key. Why is a cousin even in the locker room?! Who is Andres? This frightens me. I have removed everything from my locker, including the lock, because a locker is pointless. I don't feel safe. I have every reason to believe that my locker, with my name on it, was targeted, and this person took my key thinking it was my home key. I don't feel as though I am safe, that my things are safe, or that I can walk to and from work without thinking someone is watching me. I have not called the cops, but this has gone too far. Please call me as soon as you read this. I'm sure I'll be awake."

I sent it off, had a moment of emotional eating with some chocolate, and tried to sleep. It was useless. A few hours later and after phoning a friend, I fell asleep. I woke up this morning to a phone call from a manager and she said she was going to address the issue as soon as she arrived to work. An hour later I received a phone call that Andres was a delivery boy and his cousin had returned my things to management. My coat had been found on the floor and it's contents had spilled out when it was picked up.

I felt relief. Embarrassment. But why? Why should I feel bad for panicking after the experiences that I've had with theft? I'm still trying to settle that feeling.

Atleast I still have an iPod.

20 Things I learned in level 1

After a comprehensive test covering knife skills, recipe recall, and general culinary knowledge, I am now officially done with my first level of culinary school at FCI! Only five more!

On Saturday I walked into a small kitchen where my knife skills were observed for 1 1/2 hours. Each student had a station to perform the necessary taillage skills, as well as access to a range top to prepare tomato fondue (oil/butter, tomatoes, shallot/onion, garlic, herbs, seasoning).

I imagined it would be intense, and it was. A chef instructor paced around a table of 10 students with his clip board, jotting down observations and grading each cut. I should know my final grade for level one when I arrive to class this evening.

20 things I learned in level 1

1. "Yes, Chef." Always.

2. If you question if there is enough salt, there isn't.

3. I'm not being trained to be a dietitian. Bring on the butter!

4. Always taste food before giving it to the Chef.

5. I hate cocottes. Really, I do.

6. Mayonnaise is rather simple - eggs, acid (lemon or vinegar), mustard, and seasoning. Aioli, which is a derivative of mayonnaise, traditionally includes garlic and sometimes saffron. If you see the word "emulsion" on a menu, it's probably a derivative of hollandaise or mayonnaise. Remoulade? Fancy mayonnaise with capers, herbs, cornichons (little pickles), and anchovy. Tartar? Mayonnaise dressed with scallions, chives, and extra vinegar.

7. Dull knives are more dangerous than sharp knives when you're cooking. Oven doors are also dangerous, as my new large forearm scar will prove.

8. It's not sanitary to wear work clothes out in public. I never really thought about this, but people come in contact with a lot of germs when they're going to and from work, especially in NYC.

9. Baby carrots are reject carrots that couldn't be sold as whole carrots.

10. Taking the time to make your own stock makes a BIG difference in the final product AND it's super easy to do, with the exception of veal stock and fish stock. Not every home cook has access to veal bones and fish carcases, but vegetable and chicken stock are very home cook-friendly.

11. There are atleast 20 different ways to cut vegetables, and yes, I can cut them all.

12. Consommé is an overrated, pointless labor.

13. Contrary to what Rachel Ray has been telling her audience for years, olive oil is not the most ideal cooking oil, and no, she did not invent the garbage bowl. It has a distinct flavor that can overpower dishes. Many chefs prefer using neutral oils, like canola. Olive oil is great for dressings, however, and is still the most commonly

used oil in the world.

14. Active birds have darker meat because their muscles produce more myoglobin, which is a protein responsible for the color of meat. This would explain why duck is dark and ostrich resemsbles steak. Active birds also produce greater amounts of fat, which seems a little backwards, right?

15. Chicken must be cooked all the way through because of the risk of salmonella. There is not a risk of salmonella associated with other poultry.

16. "Black & Blue" refers to a temprature for cooking meat. The meat is charred (black) on the outside and cold on the inside (blue). "Black & Bleu," which is often an option for hamburgers and steaks where I'm from, is a cute play on the words and refers to the use of black peppercorns and bleu cheese when grilling.

17. There are eight USDA grades for beef: prime, choice, select, standard, commercial, utility, cutter, and canner. I wonder what the kids in public schools are eating... Maybe the same thing they're serving in prison?

18. It is only a requirement that meat is graded for safety, not quality. A company has the choice to have the USDA grade for quality.

19. It's never safe to eat raw fish, but I don't care. I still love sushi.

20. Free range means nothing in reality. The best thing we can do as consummers is know where our food is coming from because lables are just lables- forms of marketing. As a side note, not all free range meat is organic, but all organic meat must be free range.

Japanese Crab Cakes & Avocado Wasabi Cream

Sunday nights have a new meaning for me these days. I used to spend my Sunday night with a cup of coffee at my desk preparing for the next day's test or in front of my TV during the good o'l days of owning a TV and subscribing to HBO. These days Sunday has become my fun day, or atleast my fun night. It's the only night I'm not working or in class.

My roommate and I now invite a small group of friends over for dinner and drinks. We all pick a theme in week in advance during dinner. It started with an evening of fresh Mexican food and margaritas and has since progressed into vague themes like texture, childhood, and spice. This last Sunday was spice and I made Japanese-inspired crab cakes with avocado wasabi cream. I looked at several recipes for crab cakes and combined elements from a couple, eventually coming up with my own recipe.

Japanese Crab Cakes & Avocado Wasabi Cream

For Crab Cakes

1 lb lump crab meat

1/2 a small red bell pepper, ciseler

2 stalks of green onions, white parts only, chopped

1 small leek, emincer

1/2 a fresh jalapeno pepper, minced (without seeds)

1 tablespoon chives, hacher

2 eggs

1 1/2 cup panko crumbs

Cayanne pepper, to taste

Salt & Pepper, to taste

Canola oil

For Avocado Wasabi Cream

1 cup heavy cream

1 avocado

1 tablespoon wasabi paste

1 tablespoon fresh lime juice

1 teaspoon fresh jalapeno, minced

Crab Cakes:

Chop vegetables and combine in a small bowl. In a large bowl, whisk eggs until mixed and add crab meat. Coat the crab meat and add the chopped vegetables, mixing ingredients well. Add 3/4 panko crumbs and mix well. Season according to taste preference. The mixture should be moist. Refrigerate for 1 hour.

Avocado Wasabi Cream:

Combine all ingredients in a blender and mix until smooth. Refrigerate until ready to use.

Cooking:

Remove crab cake mixture from the refrigerator and make small crab patties, rolling each in the remaining panko crumbs. Reserve patties on plate or dish with parchment paper. If pan-frying, heat canola oil in a saute pan on medium high heat. If baking, heat oven to 350 degrees. Fry each cake until golden brown and drain of excess oil on plate with paper towels. If baking, allow cakes to bake for 20 minutes or until golden brown.

Serve crab cakes with avocado wasabi cream and fresh lemon.

This Sunday's theme is breakfast. I'm still scheming on what I'll be making.

Ocean Treasures

If there's one reality of French cooking it's that butter is the ruler of all fats. Well, ideally, duck fat is the supreme sultan, but butter is most common. Butter is a nice suit, and duck fat is a tuxedo. The French even drop tablespoons of butter over sauces to prevent film from developing on the surface - a technique called "tamponner" (tahm-pun-ay). Butter is the real McCoy, and we're using plenty of it in class.

The last three classes haven't been an exception. We've dedicated our attention to fish and learned how to fillet and prepare them in several delicious ways. Tonight we focused on shellfish and prepared mussels, lobsters, and scallops. Here's a look at some of the dishes we've made.

"Coquilles Saint-Jazques, Coulis Au Persil" / Seared Scallops with Parsley Coulis

A "coulis" is a thick sauce made from puréed vegetables or fruits.

Poached Lobster in Sauce Américaine

Sauce Américaine is a rich sauce made from lobster trimmings, fish stock, vegetables, white wine, tarragon, tomatoes, and cream.

"Moules A La Marinere" / Steamed Mussels

The mussels were steamed in white wine and shallots and finished with a reduction of white wine and cream.

"Filet De Truite A La Grenobloise" / Sautéed Trout, Grenoble Style

Grenoble style is a variation of cooking fish that has been lightly floured and fried in butter. Capers, lemon supremes, and croutons define the variation.

"Poisson En Papillote" / Fish Baked in Parchment

This dish is extremely straight-forward and simple. We took striped bass and baked it in parchment paper with white wine, julienned vegetables, and fresh thyme. The parchment envelope creates a steam oven for the fish during baking.

"Goujonettes De Limande Aux Deux Sauces" / Bread Crumb-Coated Flounder With Two Sauces

The flounder was presented in a potato fry basket and served with a red bell pepper purée and sauce rémoulade, which is a mayonnaise emulsion with herbs, capers, anchovy paste, and cornichons.

There hasn't been a hungry moment.

It just feels right.

This place screams my ex-boyfriend. It's eccentric and decorated with odd paintings, faded strained glass windows, plants that look like they belong to my grandmother, and small strands of Christmas lights draped across brick walls. Each table is small, wooden, and tarnished from sweaty glasses. None of the vintage chairs have mates and water is served in old jam jars. I love it here. It feels slightly familiar.

The menu reminds me of Saturday mornings in Lawrence when I would roll out of bed with a growling stomach, wanting eggs and a cup of coffee. The place is called Mud, where the strong coffee, or "mud," attracts people from all over The East Village. It doesn't matter that there's a Starbucks down the street and another local coffee shop around the corner. People come here. People come here for real coffee and real conversation that is only interrupted by a good song. Today they are playing Led Zeppelin and The Doors. Jim Morrison's "People Are Strange" carries me through each page of the menu. It all sounds perfect for a rainy day with my journal and my textbook.

I think I'll order a cup of leek soup. The waitress confirms this is the best choice. Unlike some places I've been in New York City, the baristas and servers here are friendly and they genuinely want you to enjoy your coffee and whatever time you have to spend at their little rock 'n rock flee market haven. I drink the cappuccino that was made by a man that is surely going to become my East Village barista crush. He smiled when I walked in, ready to take my order. "Do you cards?" I asked, forgetting I had cash, dumb-struck by his good looks. "Cash only," he answered. I returned to the street, looking for an ATM. As I fed my card to the machine I looked down to notice bills peeking from my wallet. I'm such a sucker for cute bartenders and bartistas.

My leek soup arrives and it's the perfect consistency. It's served with sliced wheat toast. The server introduces herself. Her name is Summer and she's from Kentucky. We already relate. She tells me that here are extremely busy and brunch is only $12 with drinks included. Even if I'm not patient enough to stand in line for brunch, I think this will have to be a place where I am a regular. It just feels right.