It's one of the most original tattoos I've seen. Not entirely sure why you would want to get a cupcake sitting on the toilet, but I suppose stranger things have happened.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
This is the Royal Towers building. See that bridge that connects the two? That's a hotel room that costs $25,000...a night.
There are six buildings on the island for accomodations, a casino, the waterpark, scuba diving, Dolphin Cay, a marine habitat, golf, bars, and even a pottery studio and library in case anybody ever decides to go there and not spend all their time outdoors in paradise.
Jean-Georges, Nobu, and Bobby Flay all have restaurants there. Jean-Georges is one of the biggest restaurants in NYC, and working there is one of the most well-known pastry chefs right now, Johnny Iuzzini. I've never tried his desserts so I don't know if it's because he's really that amazing or if it's only because he's incredibly gorgeous, or maybe a mixture of both. Even Jacques Torres approves of his food though, so his looks could have nothing to do with it. All I'm sayin is, working at a Jean-Georges restaurant would be an incredible oppurtunity...but any of the restaurants on the island would be as well.
It would have to be something to work towards, unless you're aiming for one of the lower positions in the kitchen. Right now they're hiring for a chef de cuisine at one of the restaurants and it requires a minimum of a 4-year degree, five years experience at a 5-star hotel or restaurant, extensive experience in high-volume banqueting, and international exposure. You couldn't simply pick up your culinary degree and expect to be hired.
It does look amazing though...maybe one day I'll make a visit to see if it would ever be the type of place I'd want to work at.
So it looks like I got the job! Yay for me! But that means I may not be posting much on this...because apparently when I'm unemployed and have a lot of time on my hands I do things like make food blogs, however, with school and work we shall see how that goes.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Somehow I had forgotten how heavenly these little cookies are. The simplest thing to make (provided you have some kind of mixer), and just a few ingredients make a lovely, melt-in-your-mouth delectable treat. Not to mention only about 30 calories a cookie and hardly any fat! At some point I'd like to try them with Splenda to see how well they come out...then you'd REALLY be eating a light dessert.
- 2 large eggwhites
- 1/2 cup sugar
- pinch of cream of tartar
- dash of salt
- 1/2 tsp vanilla
- extra sugar, for sprinkling
Thursday, March 5, 2009
- 2 cups unbleached all purpose flour
- 1/2 tsp salt
- 1 1/2 cups milk
- 4 large eggs
- 1/4 cup butter, melted and cooled
- 1 tsp vanilla (only add this if you're making a sweet crepe)
Sunday, March 1, 2009
There were two things wrong with this endeavor: for one, I can't find a recipe in any of my cookbooks that I trust. And for another, I've never eaten it...meaning I have nothing to compare it to and don't know how good it really is.
- 1 cup plus 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- 3/4 cup pitted dates (I actually had a box of chopped, pitted dates, which made my life much easier)
- 1 1/4 cups boiling water
- 1 teaspoon baking soda
- 1/4 cup unsalted butter, softened
- 3/4 cup granulated sugar
- 1 large egg, lightly beaten
- 1 teaspoon vanilla
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 10-inch round or square baking dish. Sift the flour and baking powder onto a sheet of waxed paper. Chop the dates fine. Place in a small bowl and add the boiling water and baking soda; set aside. In a bowl of electric mixer beat the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the egg and vanilla; beat until blended. Gradually beat in the flour mixture. Add the date mixture to the batter and fold until blended with a rubber spatula. Pour into the prepared baking dish. Bake until pudding is set and firm on top, about 35 minutes. Remove from oven to a wire rack and cool.
This is a traditional recipe, but it's a cake that you can easily mess around with the flavors - instead of dates add dried cranberries or blueberries. Like it? Add it!
"The live music will be good for you then," he says. "Why did you change your mind?"
"I'll e-mail you the menu and be in touch." I can't help my smile at this point, shake his hand once more and thank him.
I really didn't think much of it - I've had an extremely hard time finding a decent job, and passed it off as another I probably won't get. But I went to the open interview anyway, and before I knew it, my nerves were setting in. This has been a problem for me in the past. Before I started work at my first real restaurant, I could barely eat for about three days. I did what I could to calm myself - took the car where I can feel confident in my own little bubble, where I can listen to whatever music I like, however loud I like. I thought of all the experience I have - a 3.9 GPA in culinary school that I'm attending, management at a pizza place, sous chef at a fine dining French restaurant where I butchered tenderloin, stripsteak, and removed silverskin from lamb. I learned to fillet Dover sole, though I never got to be great at it, and probably couldn't do it if you asked me to right now. I covered all the appetizers, like crab imperial, stuffed shrimp, smoked salmon with toast, and escargot. I learned a little bit about sauces, though not much relatively speaking. It was the first time I tasted mornay, beurre blanc, and tournedo. The front of the house was one of the most terribly adorned places I had ever seen: the seventy-year old woman owner's doll collection was scattered about, and her presence was further enhanced by massive amounts of doilies. We served our specialty items on gaudy purple and gold plates, like the lamb.
But despite all of this, I think of my weaknesses as I drive to the intersection of 38th and Chestnut. By the time I walk into the building bearing the outdated sign of "Koko Bongo," the business that failed, I'm shaking. The entire building is completely gutted - the walls are all different colors from pink to blue to white, there are giant eight-foot sheets of plywood laying about, while loose nails appear on the floor every here and there. Straight ahead is what looks to be the set up of a stage, and the first thing I reach upon walking in is the giant bar: it looks to be thirty feet long. Standing at the end nearest the door are two girls that look to be around my age, and when I walk closer, I see they're filling out applications taken from a stack laying on the bar. Down at the other end of the bar, sitting at a small fold-out table are three men. In front of the table is a single chair, where another girl about my age is being interviewed. I figure because I have my resume, the application would be obsolete, but as they dismissed the girl from the interview one of the men walked toward me and told me to go ahead and fill one out anyway. His light brown hair is short on top, and he holds a beard that gives him a vague Amish look (pointed out by one of the others during my interview). I hate filling out applications. The next two girls go one by one to the table at the end of the bar, chasing front of the house jobs. The men are blatantly flirting with both of them. I overhear snatches of the conversations, and they both sound a bit ditzy - someone you could easily imagine saying, "I love The Hills!" or "I can't believe I have to miss the Lady Gaga concert." But they could be good candidates to serve food and booze to people that come in and get shitty.
After standing around for what feels like hours, it's my turn. The man on the left is tall with dark brown hair. The one in the middle looks like he could be a linebacker - but has a very gentle smile. And the bearded man on the right turns out to be the one in charge of the music and booking for the place. They are all young, and seem full of excited ambition. Despite my nervousness, I do a good job at swallowing it and throwing big smiles, acting confident and extremely interested in everything they have to say. They ask me if I would rather serve or cook, and I say for now maybe serving. I didn't tell them that this is because the money is better, and I don't want to get stuck making crappy bar food like potato skins and wings. But by the end of the interview, when I was informed that Chef Ross Esner, former chef of Django (the food of which is the second picture shown), would be the head chef here and there was an actual casual dining restaurant next to this large "fun room," they tell me in so many words that I would be working in the back of the house if anything. I'm fine with this - no - I'm great. In fact, I'd felt a little guilty saying I'd rather serve. A funny thing was that they actually spoke a good bit more than I did - it seemed like I could hardly get a word in. They were young and ambitious indeed. I left feeling like I'd at least gotten a little word in about myself.
The very next day Chef Ross calls me and leaves a message saying he would love for me to come by and set something up. As soon as I get a hold of him, he tells me that Thursday he's holding interviews and to come by then.
To be continued...