Victory

I had a major victory today. In order to move past primeras, or any group for that matter, you must rotate through all of your group’s dishes. Our chef instructor moved me from Ensalada Tibia to the Canelon de Pulpo. I am the first one in our group to be moved from one dish to another.

I am still trying to determine all of the components of the dish. From an aesthetic perspective, the ingredients are plated on a round white plate that has a molded bowl in its center. To start, a 3-inch thick swipe of a spicy oil is painted (with a thick paint brush) across the plate horizontally. The canelon, which is comprised of fatback carpaccio and an oyster and bone marrow mixture, is placed at an angle, vertically, across the swipe. Two pieces of sliced octopus top the ends of the canelon and an additional mixture, which I have yet to determine, tops the octopus discs. On either side of the canelon, a pair of soapy, melting foam spheres are gently dropped onto the plate and finished with a red and green herb.

My job is to slightly melt the bone marrow, leaving chunks still intact. The bone marrow is strained to rid the chunks of the liquid fat and mixed with minced oyster, shallot, chive, mustard, Tabasco, Worcestershire and a type of tomato sauce. Once everything has been combined, I fill the canelon down its center and wrap the mixture from either side, forming a long tube or canelon (cannelloni) with the fatback carpaccio. The canelon is quickly put under the salamander to melt the fatback just until the moment it turns translucent and then placed on the plate by rolling it off its slip of parchment with a spatula.

My heart pounded at a rate that made me feel like it was visible through my veins. During the lunch service, my chef instructor did not allow me to physically perform any of the steps mentioned above. I was instructed to watch and to listen. I attached myself to her like a magnet, ridiculously moving my hands to mimic her movements to get a sense of how to form the canelon and get it from the slip of parchment to the plate.

Finally, our chef instructor gave me the chance to do everything myself once the dish was fired. (I have a very difficult time following service. It’s not a difficult system, but the language barrier presents significant obstacles for me. When tickets are called, I panic a bit because I have to look around, watch what teams are moving into action and ask if the course is being called or fired. I don’t like being so dependent on other people and not being able to automatically know what’s going on. I will never take working in an English-speaking environment for granted again.)

I had been repeating the steps to myself in my head before the dish was called so that I would hopefully execute everything properly and quickly. She kept barking RAPIDA into my ear. Without having practiced the dish, I feared my movements would be awkward, superfluous and take more time than they should. Part of being “good” in a kitchen is having developed muscle memory that allows you to move without thinking. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to plate the dish quickly, but I wanted to do it right so that I didn’t lose my chance to stay on this Canelon de Pulpo.

My chef instructor stood as close to me as she could, talking in Spanish without stopping. She examined every single movement I made and to be honest, I blocked her out. The part that was going to be difficult was not letting the very slippery canelon slop onto the plate from the parchment and break open. Somehow, I nailed it. I think she was surprised—her eyes said as much. Then she actually said, “Muy bueno. Muy, muy beuno. Muy beuno.”

One tiny little task and holy crap, I felt like I had split the atom.