As a teacher I’m good at breaking skills down into smaller and smaller pieces so that when people demonstrate to me what they know by what or how they do a task, I can see the logical next step.
My background is in early education, a magnificent endeavor bestowing gifts that last a lifetime. Since the subject became food I find myself thinking how to help people learn about expressions in English like, “Easy as pie.” I’m not sure why we sat it. It’s easy to make mediocre pies, not easy to make good ones. Pie crust should be a national treasure because the simple beauty of transforming flour, butter (I don’t use anything else) and water is magic.
Three ingredients. Five when you add a bit of salt to bring out the flavor of the butter, and acid to tenderize the protein in the flour. Nevertheless, each thing matters. The flour is governed by one principle: when mixed with water and given mechanical action, it produces gluten. Gluten gives strength to flour; something you want when you make bread, and absolutely do not want in crusts.
I’ve watched people struggle and have refined my responses accordingly, for example having them count the number of times they roll out the dough. No ingredient understands where you’re trying to take it; it only understands what you do to it. Roll it twenty times with forced intent, and you get a shingle every time.
Recipes often tell you to gather the flour, butter, water into a ball, and refrigerate it to rest before shaping it to fit a tart pan. Refrigeration firms up the butter, so you need to develop a strategy to get it soft enough to roll. After observing most people resorting to force, I learned to say, “Things turn out the way you make them.” Back away from the pastry bat ….
Flour doesn’t like to be handled when the result demands tenderness. Yet ingredients, particularly the fat, need to be cold. It’s why we add ice the water to the flour after the butter is worked in. Chilled fat either laminates, creating flaking crust, or coats the flour, creating a tender, melting crumb.
If I chill everything beforehand, then I can avoid having to refrigerate a dough later. Cold bowl and flour. The butter is supposed to be cold. I don’t have ice at the studio, so I go to my neighbor, Ken’s Pizza, for a few cubes.
When I use the food processor, I start with flour and a pinch of salt, pulse to loosen it and make it ready to meet the butter. I cut the butter into what I think of as thumb-sized pieces. I pulse to break the butter into smaller pieces, readying the butter to take on the flour.
If I leave the butter in pea-sized pieces, I can get the finished tart to laminate, having created layers of flour, butter and water. The water gives off steam while baking, leaving butter to fry the flour flaky. If I process the butter to sand, before adding water, I end up with a fine crumb.
I add a teaspoon of white wine vinegar to the iced water. There is an argument about whether the vinegar tenderizes the protein or not. I’m of the opinion that it does, so as a matter of belief, I do it. Sometimes intent wins out over science.
With the machine running, I add the water, a tablespoon at a time, until it is just short of gathering. I don’t want that ball to form, because as it rolls around the inside of the processor, and while it’s being worked, gluten develops.
I dust the counter with flour and dump the dough. Depending upon how it looks, whether the butter and flour seem completely incorporated or not, I may gather the dough into a cake, set it on it’s side, and press the top to re-flatten. I’m not kneading.
Now comes the key part. The dough, about an inch thick and as round as a saucer, submits to the rolling pin as I operate with the understanding that time is no longer my friend, I roll the soft dough away from me in one pass making it thin and also wide enough to fit the tart pan. Then I roll from the center toward me creating an oval as wide as the tart pan. So far I’ve only rolled once.
I turn the dough and repeat the same action, one roll away from me, another one toward me. Now with just two passes, I have a tart dough that will fit the tart pan and be tender beyond belief. The dough fits into the tart pan, is trimmed, allowed to rest and firm up before baking. If you don’t win the church bake-off doing this, I’ll be surprised. That took 40 years.
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MARCH TO MID MAY - DAY TIME AND EVENING CLASSES
Come during the day (9AM to 3PM) for any number of days you’d like. We have plenty of time to examine food in greater depth than an evening course. It’s great for people working in restaurants but who may not have formal training. The approach leads to independent thinking, and insight into the bigger picture of food and cooking. It’s also great training for people changing careers, and for people who want to learn about food and bring their skills home. $50 for 1 day - $95 per day subsequently.
Fridays I save a seat for candidates interested in the more formal 8-week course to spend the day with us from 9 till 3. $50 fee would apply to any future classes; talk to me about availability and details.
EVENING CLASSES - 6 to 9PM Monday through Thursday. They all begin with a snack, and end with a meal. Sandwiched in between is hands-on learning (except Tuesday classes which are demonstration classes).
MONDAY EVENINGS - THE SPIRIT OF THE KITCHEN
Monday evenings are specially designed for people who work in disciplines where an understanding of food might help inspire new ways of thinking and improve performance. We think of designers, architects, planners, people who build, who garden—but the list is close to endless.
Come see and experience one actual session at no charge.
This special Monday 4-part series focuses on technique, discipline, and application of theory on how French and Italian cooking sits on a solid foundation that serves cooks, both professional and amateur. Step into the thinking that fuels the design of the cooking space and animates the spirit of cooking. $75 per session (willing to trade some tuition).
TUESDAY EVENINGS (March and April)
4 INGREDIENTS - demonstration classes in which we explain how 4 ingredients can easily produce simple, perfect food. Simple cooking. $30 per session.
WEDNESDAY EVENINGS (Single sessions or 6-part series)
MENU COMPOSITION classes help intermediate cooks focus on how to develop recipes into harmonious menus. $75 per session.
SATURDAY COOK (Special March and April classes)
2- hour demonstration class based on ingredients found at the Farmers’ Market.
4 recipes, 4 ingredients.
Lunch included. $30 per session.
The Chef Studio designs classes for cooks with skills ranging between beginning and advanced. The aim is to give information that will serve you in your daily life. We never go after the next new thing or trend. You’ll never see us do Mexican cooking one time, Indonesian the next. We don’t want you to just come back for more classes, but rather to keep a conversation going because we provided you with knowledge that connects the dots between food and how it is engaged with what you are interested in. We help build real and tangible understanding. We educate.
FRANCE IN THE FALL
Cook everyday, learn the markets, suppliers, and get a feel for what real France is from the inside out.
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