Good evening, friends and neighbors! I hope everyone’s spring is going well, and you’re enjoying the warmer weather! 

        Last entry, I talked about how baking was similar to alchemy- a mix of science, art, and magic. Tonight, I’m going to focus on the science part, and specifically how to develop a recipe, tweak a recipe, take notes, keep track of changes, and generally turn your kitchen into a laboratory- just because you don’t have bubbling beakers and Bunsen burners doesn’t mean you can’t do science with an oven and and stand mixer!

     To start with, we go back to basics. A long time back, I told you what the most useful and important tool you can have in a kitchen, baking or otherwise. Remember what it is? Here’s a hint: 


NOTEBOOK.


     Yes, the humble notebook. Pocket size, composition book, binder, whatever you like. Something with blank pages eager to be filled, and a thing to write with. You will be writing down EVERYTHING: Temperatures, procedures, ingredient amounts, ingredient forms and types, scalings and calculations, ALL OF IT. When you want to keep track of all the changes you will be making, having a hard record is vital. 


      Got a notebook? Good. Then we can begin.


All of culinary arts involve some kind of scientific knowledge and method. A fry cook needs to understand how proteins behave with heat so he can grill a steak. 
In baking, the name of the game is chemistry- your goal is to arrange ingredients in such a way that, with heat applied over time, you get accurate replicable results- meaning, if you hand your recipe over to someone else, ideally, your two products should be identical.  


The BHB’s Guide To Scientific Baking 

• Keep the original recipe 

             “Hmmm.. what kind of flour did this recipe have in it to start with? How many eggs? Grr.. where did I put that recipe?” Keep yourself organized. Everytime you make a change, attach it somehow to the original, but KEEP THE ORIGINAL INTACT.

• Work in ONE unit of measure whenever possible. 

             Home recipes out of cookbooks (at least in the US) tend to go off volume (cups, teaspoons, etc.) There are numerous problems with this- a cup could be a level cup, a heaping cup, a scant cup, a packed cup, etc. Professional bakers tend to use “formulas” rather than recipes, and almost all ingredients go by weight, rather than volume (i.e. a pound of flour rather than 2 cups flour) It increases the reliability and replicability of your work. ALWAYS work in the same measuring system- there is no percentage in bouncing between metric and imperial in a recipe.

• Leave space for random notes in your book. 

             Did a little something different that time? Want to remind yourself of something in the future? A garnish? A flavoring? Keep notes.

• Document from ALL 5 SENSES. 

            Your senses are the most basic and finest scientific apparatus you have. Did your cookies taste too sweet? Have a weird smell? Crumbly texture when you want chewy? Don’t JUST rely on numbers. Keep notes on EVERY thing related to your product- what you want to change, what you want to keep the same, and how.

• Quantify as much as possible. 

            Yes, I know I just told you not to rely strictly on numbers. They DO, however, help create exactitude. How many times did you fold the batter? How long did you let it sit after baking? Remember- the goal of a good recipe is to give you the SAME PRODUCT, regardless of when it’s made or who makes it. No flukes- if you got lucky, keep good notes so yo can get that lucky AGAIN.

• Mess up your cookbooks. 

            You know how your folks told you never to draw or write in books? Screw that. Cookbooks are meant for the kitchen- they are SUPPOSED to be scrawled in and messed up with notes, calculations, and food stains.

• Scale into a separate column– NOT IN YOUR HEAD.
  At the moment, I do not care to say how many recipes I’ve botched because I was clever/ in a hurry and tried to scale up or down a recipe in my head, only to get confused and ruin everything. Keep separate columns on your recipes for multiplying or dividing batches. 
• Keep track of variations, and note changes between. 
  You just finished a new batch of a recipe you’ve been tweaking. You’ve been working at it for months now- this batch though is missing something you liked from the one before.  Keep track of all the variations of recipes, and mark down every change between them so you don’t get yourself lost.
• Get and value feedback

          This one is incredibly important. You are naturally going to be biased toward your creations, so you need to get honest feedback from people.  BE OBJECTIVE. Don’t take anything to heart. Learn especially to tell the difference between constructive and destructive criticism- and do not deal with anyone that gives you destructive criticism. 

Tomorrow, I’ll get into baker’s percentages, and give you the development sheets I use for hashing out new products. In the meantime,

Stay Classy,

Good evening, friends and neighbors! I apologize for my absence last week- this month has been very active for me- one activity of which I’ll be talking about here.

First off, I feel like I should mention something personal about me. I do not like titles. They make me feel stuffy and uncomfortable, at least as far a titles directed at me are concerned. I have had a few titles in the past, related to different accomplishments or jobs, and I always specifically asked for people not to use them- “Nurse,” “Counselor,” etc. The most I ever accepted was “Mister” or “Sir” from complete strangers. 

It should come as no surprise then that every time I have ever been referred to as “chef,” I took it with a grain of salt. Chef is a title given from having the job OF a chef- running and managing a kitchen and being the boss of a kitchen crew. In my life, the only person I have ever been in charge of in a kitchen is me, so I always referred to myself as either a baker, a pastry cook, or just a cook.

Bearing all of this in mind, flashback to last week.

I recently joined a gastronomy group called the Chaine de Rotisseurs– an international brotherhood of gourmands, chefs, restauranteurs and professionals that like to get together and encourage advancements in the culinary world. Through this brotherhood, I made the acquaintance of a young chef named Joe Muldoon. Joe own and operates a small restaurant in the South Jersey area called Roberta’s, and has quite a revolutionary mind when it comes to food. He combines French techniques with Asian-inspired ingredients and vice versa to create an exciting, vibrant menu. If you find yourself in the Northfield area, I highly recommend getting a table and strapping in. You WILL be blown away.

Recently Joe was asked to host a dinner for the local chapter (or “Baillage”) of the Chaine, meant to seat something to the tune of 50 people. He has it in his mind to offer a mindblowing 7 course meal- but he needs an intermezzo and a dessert.

He asked me to step in.

At first, I was ecstatic and thrilled- I was being asked to serve a dessert to 50 movers and shakers of the local culinary world!

Then I was terrified- I was being asked to step into a strange kitchen, work with people I have never met before, under a chef I liked but never worked with before, AND serve a dessert and intermezzo to 50 movers and shakers of the culinary world.

The first few meetings with Joe went smoothly and easily- we discussed the menu, and exactly what kind of dessert he was looking for to finish it off. Together, we finalized the intermezzo and dessert- a cucumber- winter melon sorbet with plum sake and sea salt, and the dessert an Earl Grey dacqouise tart with truffle honey buttercream, berries, and Meyer Lemon sugar.

Then came the first night I came in for production. Previously, all of our meetings had been just the two of us talking. This night, I walked in on a full house, and his kitchen staff going balls-to-the walls. He waves me in, ushers me into the kitchen, and quickly says “Everyone, this is Chef Matt- he’s helping us out with the Chaine dinner. Matt, ask anyone for anything. My kitchen is your kitchen. Set up wherever. Later!”
Then he’s gone, and I’m standing there almost catatonic.

“Chef Matt.”

     I’d had friends call me “chef” and laughed it off. I do not think of myself as a chef. I DID not think of myself as a chef. 
      This time, however, it was serious. For the purposes of pastry, this kitchen and these people were at my disposal. A strange kitchen that I was utterly unfamiliar with, and people I had never met before. Initially, I had no idea where to start. 

      But when in doubt- bake. I dropped my stuff, popped open my gear, and got to work. 

      I worked feverishly, my mind constantly bouncing back and forth between getting everything done in the best order and taking up as little space as possible in a crowded, busy kitchen than I still felt like I had invaded. The other cooks and wait staff would come by and eye me curiously- and I had assumed suspicion- as  I worked. 

    Until they started coming up and asked what I was doing. Not accusatory, but interested. 

     INTERESTED. These people had never seen pastry being made before. 

     They showed honest curiosity and interest in what I was doing, how I was doing it, and what the product would be. As I worked, I answered them- and it helped me calm down and go through the step-by-step of what I needed to do. Everyone I met in that kitchen was friendly and warm (in their way, of course- the dishwashing guy started in with cracking jokes immediately, which is kitchen-speak for “Welcome brother! You are one of us!” If they hate you, NO ONE talks to you in a kitchen.) 

 This past Friday was the tasting for the dinner- the head guys of the baillage come in, have the dinner, work out the wine pairings, and give critique on the dishes. It went off without a hitch, and the menu was locked in. My intermezzo and dessert got rave reviews.

     As I left, Joe shook my hand and said, “Chef, thank you very much.” 

 Chef. 
He said it and meant it. 
And for the first time, I didn’t mind- I felt like I had earned it. 

 Stay classy,