I know.  I know.  I hear it from you guys all the time.  “But I got into cooking because I suck at math”.  Yes, yes, that’s nice for you.  You still have to have a basic understanding of math to do things properly.  There is no way around that, and the more “molecular” the food you want to make, the more numbers you will have to play around with in your head.

Food is science, and science is math.  Yes you can make a good soup with absolutely no further math knowledge than how to count to 10, but what is your food cost per portion?  How much would you have to sell a bowl of it for to make any money?  What if your tomatoes were half off from your supplier?  How much would it cost then?

Restaurant businesses fail more often than any others, and I’m sure there are a lot of factors around why, but one problem that often comes up is managers and owners who don’t know where all the money is going.  Knowing what amount of money is tied up in product and stock is vital to knowing how your business is doing.  Food costing is easy, too.  I dropped high school math at the first possible opportunity, and the basic classes that I took were not my strongest subjects, but knowing this simple math makes me a better chef.

The basic food costing formula: the cost of all ingredients in a dish divided by the number of servings it makes.

Example –

  • Dry pasta costs $1/kg.
  • Salt is $1/kg.
  • Water is free.

If I cook 1kg of dry pasta in 50g salt and 6l water then:

$1+$0.05+0= $1.05.  1kg of cooked pasta (25 portions)=$1.05

$1.05/25 portions = $0.042 per portion of cooked pasta.

In the restaurant business, food cost should account for about 30% of the price on the menu (the rest goes to labour, and overhead.)  Without a basic idea of food costing, a lot of easy to avoid problems can suddenly find themselves in between you and profit.  There are other things to consider as well, like the yield of a given ingredient [how much is edible] also commonly called the edible portion.  I’ll post a follow up, including examples shortly.

Are you thinking about going to cooking school with dreams of working in the best kitchens in your city or the world? Are you debating between going to culinary school or staying at your current miserable job?  Well, before you tell your boss to go screw off, a few words of advice to mull over.

A little background on myself – I come from a hard working family, and I’ve never been one to turn down an opportunity that I wanted  because it was difficult or whatever.  In my second to last year of high school, I took 11classes and volunteered 40+ hours a week, and directed two school plays.  I have never not had a job since graduating.  Going in to culinary school, I’d read Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential and reasonably thought I knew what to expect.  Work would be long and tough and yeah yeah burns blah blah blah.  It will be different for me.  I really somehow thought it would.  I thought well, maybe I wasn’t that interested in working at a place like that, and labour laws have to apply to kitchens, and most importantly I wanted to do pastry, and that’s all girly and easy.

All though school (all 6 hours a day), I cruised through.  It wasn’t that tough a school, but it was the best that Vancouver had to offer.  The first big shock that I encountered was my fellow classmates.  Out of 25, at most 8 had aspirations to actually do pastry as their career.  A couple were cooks looking to pad out their resumes, a couple were housewives who were bored of looking after their kids all the time, and most of them just loved to bake at home and thought doing what you like to do in your spare time as a career sounded easy.

A year after the end of the program, I was the only one still working as a pastry cook.  A lot of people found the field too competitive, or found that almost anything pays more than an entry level cook position does, others simply decided they didn’t like it.  One out of 25.  Now that percentage may not be typical, but from talking to other people in the industry, it doesn’t actually seem that strange.  Especially for pastry.  People seem to think of pastry as something so inherently different from cooking that it’s an entirely different job, but it’s not.  It’s still life in a kitchen, and working the pastry line can actually mean you are the last to leave for the night, but probably not the last to arrive.

Don’t think you’re cut out to work in a high stress environment like a restaurant kitchen?  Want to do pastry anyway?  Work at a bakery.  Maybe a small catering company.  The reality is that most small, family run, easy to work in kitchens don’t employ a dedicated pastry cook.  If they aren’t buying in their desserts, they are probably made by someone who is also doing garde manger.  Places that employ people to just work on pasty are: hotels with decent restaurants attached or large banqueting facilities, high-end restaurants, busy catering companies, and bakeries.

Think your favourite restaurant might have a pastry chef, but aren’t sure?  Have a look at the dessert menu – does it have apple (or cherry) pie and ice cream, brownie and ice cream, and maybe a cheesecake of some sort.  Yes?  No pastry chef.  At best maybe, maybe an over worked garde manger CDP who has no interest in pastry, yet has to run that section too, and tries to keep the menu simple and boring to keep prep time down and so not too many customers are interested in the menu enough to bother ordering from it.

So, somehow you’ve found yourself at pastry school and are looking to make the best of it, what can you do to improve your chances at getting into somewhere decent to learn right off the bat?  Talk to your chef instructor, and ask if they know anywhere that you can stage.  Staging is basically volunteering, but without any of the glory.  Staging, especially when you are in school will most likely be potato peeling, veg chopping or lemon curd making.  If where you are staging is famous for their clafoutis, you can be pretty sure you’re going to spend a lot of your day cracking eggs and making pie dough.  That’s not to say it’s not good experience.  It is, but more than the skills you will learn, it’s an early opportunity to see if you like the kitchen atmosphere.

Nasty scarred arms

Nasty scarred arms

As a workplace a kitchen is most like a…..construction site would be the best analogy.  But with more towel slapping and inappropriate sexual comments and touching.  Like a construction site it’s a high stress environment with a tight schedule, a very strict hierarchy, and danger everywhere.  Unlike a construction site, everyone is living very close to the poverty line, and has the arms of a cutter.  Also unlike a construction site, the odds of getting something thrown at your head by your boss are significant.  That all said, staging is also really good for making connections.  After your third cooking job, most likely, every job you get after that will be through someone who knows someone who knows that you did pastry at wherever, so you might as well get started meeting people early.

Got kids that need looking after?   Got family obligations?   Like your evenings and weekends to yourself?  FIND A NEW CAREER.  It’s almost that simple;    especially at first.  If you are very lucky and get to write your own schedule, and you are the pastry chef somewhere, many many years down the road, maybe then you might get weekends off.  But not evenings.  And defiantly not Christmas, New Years, Valentine’s day or any other occasion that people like to spend with their loved ones.

Do you need to eat every 4 hours?  Can you only work 8 hours a day before you go all loopy?  Do your feet hurt after a couple of hours of standing?  FIND A NEW CAREER!  The only place in town that I know of where you will actually get your legally owed break time each shift and food to eat during it is at a unionized hotel that is very difficult to get a job at for precisely that reason.  Also, if you are actually busy during your shift, that break time may go out the window.  If you are working the line – forget about it entirely.  There is never, repeat never a time when you are working on the line that you will be able to take a break away from your station.  When was the last time you were stuck waiting minutes for a salad because “the cook is on a break”?

Just because you like to cook at home or bake cupcakes for your office co-workers, it doesn’t mean that you should become a cook.  I have yet to meet a career changer who had a normal job before cooking, that has the broken-ness that it takes to work a line.  However proficient they become at using their knife, or making a perfect butter sauce, there is still that thing inside that tells them that they need a sit down or that they’ve been here a long time and they are tired and isn’t it time to go home soon?  Maybe you’re different.  But I doubt it.

I started cooking at 21 and now at 25 I feel like a senior citizen in the kitchen, with a 21 year old as my sous chef.  If you go in with an attitude that because you are older, or even more experienced than someone, you should be the boss, you will get your ass beat.  Even if all of that is true, that youngster is still technically your boss and the more you fight them the worse your day will be.  Your chef and sous will almost undoubtedly side with your boss because they are part of the same hierarchy, and you will have made a lot more enemies than you ever intended.  The best thing you can do is be humble but confident.  Know what you know well and have enough balls to speak up when you don’t know what you’re doing.

Work cleanly and efficiently.  That was the best advice I ever got about working in a kitchen: You can work too hard, or not hard enough; you can work too fast or not fast enough, but you can never work too clean.  The more time I spend in kitchens and watching other people work, that seems to be the great measuring post of exactly how good you are – how clean you work.  Commis work like a hurricane is sweeping through their station and they are lost inside it, along with everything they have touched all day.  Second cooks make a mess with what they are doing now but clean it up before they move on to something else, and Chefs de partis work like machines, having nothing out of place and everything right where they need it.  If you are stuck at a point in your career and don’t know how to move up – work cleaner.   If I ever found a commis or stagiere who worked clean I would go out of my way to find them a job or a promotion.   If you are just one of those people who can’t seem to keep themselves or their stuff clean and tidy, maybe life in the kitchen isn’t for you.

L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon

L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon - A spotless kitchen

The higher up the fine dining ladder you go, the more cleaning you will have to do.  That may sound strange, but it seems to be true.  At a casual family restaurant, there are probably not going to be too many influential friends of the owner or chef getting a tour through the kitchen, nor is the famous chef from out of town going to ask to see the back of the house when they come to eat, because they probably aren’t going to be coming to eat.  More and more high end kitchens are being built open so that the public can see the cooks making their meals.  People don’t want to watch their food being cooked in a dirty mess.  So, be prepared to get down on your hands and knees and scrub the floor, be prepared to scrub the inside of your vent hoods down at the end of every service if you’re working somewhere really fancy.  A full scrub down of every surface on your station at the end of the day is par for the course.

I’ve made the job sound horrible and miserable and awful, which just isn’t the case.  Cooks form friendships with other cooks in a way that only combat veterans seem to.  If you work somewhere nice, and go out to eat, drop the name of where you work (preferably to a server who knows what they are doing) and you will be treated like royalty.  I have had meals almost on the house that would have cost other people hundreds.  It’s one of the few jobs that will allow you to travel to your hearts content, will let you be creative and methodical at the same time and the only thing I can think of where you use all your senses.  Your job is to create memories for your diners and as long as you do that well and never lose sight of that as your goal, there is nothing better in the world.   But no whiners please.

Herbs in the home kitchen are usually restricted to dusty glass jars of oregano and thyme, and at the very best a bunch of cilantro from the supermarket.  The freshness of both dried and living herbs cam easily separate a home cooked meal from a restaurant quality one.

Restaurants turn over their dried herbs much faster than the average home cook does.  I’ve seen people easily go through a 1LB container of dried thyme in a week.  Compare this to home, where that dusty McCormicks jar has been sitting in the back of the cupboard for 3 years.

Home cooks are often unable to source fresh herbs in a cost effective manner.  This is the other point where the use of herbs can effect the quality of a dish.  Fresh is often best, and restaurants can often pay to use only the best available.

The home cook has two good options here:

  • Set up a small garden, and only pick what’s needed.  This will give you the freshest, and often most delicious herbs you’ve ever tasted.
  • Buy those expensive packets of herbs, use what you need, and dry the rest.  Leftover herbs can easily be dried in the microwave.  Put the herbs on a paper towel lined plate, and place another paper towel on top.  Microwave in bursts of 30 seconds to 1 minute, usually for 3-4 minutes total to dry.  Let cool and package into container or zip top bags.  Your home made freshly-dried herbs will taste much better than what’s available at the store.

Shallots aren’t simply small, irritating to cut red onions, as some people tend to think of them.  In flavour, they are much more mild,  ‘earthy’ taste, and tend to be a lot sweeter.  Since the flavour of the shallot isn’t as intense, it lends itself to many dishes where you wouldn’t necessarily want to be putting a harsh tasting onion.  An example would be a pan sauce where you want the flavours of the stock, sweetness of the cream, complexity of the wine, and aroma of the finishing herbs to come through.

Wine is a staple in many restaurants, especially those doing European cuisine.  Wine is used to clean the delicious brown bits off pans for pan sauces, to cut the richness of cream, and to add depth to stock based sauces.

Both shallots and wine are used together in so many dishes in the restaurant industry, and their use can easily elevate an ordinary sauce.  The cost need not be prohibitive when it comes to using wine for cooking.  Here in BC, even with our ridiculously high liquor taxes, a decent bottle for cooking runs about $9.  That’s a lot of wine to cook with, even if you dip in for a glass.  Shallots can occasionally be had for 50 cents a bag at some Asian markets.  The vast majority of restaurants using wine aren’t using the expensive stuff for cooking, so don’t worry too much if you’re buying plonk.

Having someone over you want to impress without actually knowing too much about cooking?  A neat trick I’ve found out about recently is making “pearls” or “caviar” from a liquid.  You can use liquor, or juice, or well basically any liquid that can be set with gelatin (sorry no raw pineapple juice).

The restaurant I work at uses them for all kinds of things; horseradish pearls on a raw oyster, in cocktails, in desserts, you name it.  They are surprisingly simple for how fancy they are and only require 3 weirdish things, which aren’t even that weird.   You will also need gelatin - we use gelatin sheets here, but granulated will work as well as long as it is dissolved properly.

They are - a squeeze bottle, about a litre of oil (which can be reused and re-purposed), and agar, which is a seaweed extract used to thicken (try your local asian market, it’s pretty common).

To make pearls, first you need to thoroughly chill your oil.  Place it in a deep container in your freezer.  It’s best to use a neutral oil such as sunflower, canola, or grapeseed.  Do not use olive oil.  It is way too expensive, and it will get cloudy and rubbery when chilled.  You can still use it if it’s cloudy, but it won’t look as nice.  The oil is used solely as a liquid that can get colder than water.  You might be able to use something like vodka, which also doesn’t freeze, but I’ve never tried it.

The oil should be as cold as you can get it, so let it sit in the freezer for a while before you start making your mix.  For the mix:  for every 500ml of liquid, you will need to add about 5g of pure agar. (Agar often comes mixed with sugar, so read the packet before you buy it.  If you can only find the kind mixed with sugar, you can still used it for sweet applications, you just need to figure out how much agar is in the mix you bought.  Nutritional information is useful here as you can use the protein content as a guide.  It seems to be around 10% usually.)

You will also need 10 sheets of gelatin.  This will give you a nicely soft yet stable pearl.  You can adjust slightly higher or lower depending on your whim, but don’t go too much below 8 sheets and 4g of agar.  Warm your liquid, add the agar, and bloomed gelatin (for more on gelatin, look here), and whisk well to make sure it’s disolved and well incorperated.  Let this mix chill until it is about room temperature, or just starting to thicken.

Put the mix into a squeeze bottle, and slowly stream drops into your cold oil.  They should form little spheres and sink to the bottom of your container.  If your spheres are too large or you’re having trouble getting them to drop freely from the bottle, warm the mix up ever so slightly until it is just a bit thinner. If your mix is too warm, the pearls will take too long to set in the oil and may clump together and warm your oil up too fast.  Once you’re bottle is empty, and all the pearls are at the bottom of the container, strain your oil into something that will make it easier to pour back into the bottle, I like a measuring jug.  With the pearls in your strainer, rinse them really well under the coldest water you can get.  Rinse them until there is no oil residue in the bottom of the sink.  Keep them chilled until ready to serve.

How do fancy restaurants get their consomme so clear?  Well, there is the old school egg white and raft technique, which adds flavour as well as clarifying.  There is also a much newer method called gelatin clarification.  Gelatin clarification can be done with any liquid that you want to come out clear.

You add bloomed gelatine to your hot liquid, which will melt it.  Set it solid in the fridge.  Freeze it solid.  Remove from the freezer, place the block over a cheesecloth lined strainer or perferated pan, over another solid pan.  Once it is fully defrosted.  All the gelatine will have kept the solids above the cheesecloth, and your clear, gelatine free liquid will be at the bottom.   This can be used to make all kinds of cool things, such as clear chocolate water, and clear soups.

If you intend on doing this with a true consomme, I would recommend that you make a proper raft and cook it out as well as doing the gelatin clarification.

Lately at work I’ve found myself making a lot of clear fruit juices.  We use them for a variety of purposes: to make a clear flavoured syrup, to add some more flavour to a fruit broth/consomme, or to make a clear fruit gelee (like jello, but nice).  It’s also a good way of using up fruit that is not moldy yet, but isn’t to happy and fresh either.  There are a two different methods to making your own clarified fruit juices but they do both take about two days.

Method one:

Take your fruit, cut it into small pieces, and freeze it on a sheet pan 1 layer thick.  The pieces of fruit should be as small as you are comfortable cutting – no smaller than a brunoise, but not large dice either.  Once the fruit is fully frozen, take it out and defrost it over a perferated pan or in a strainer over a container to collect the juice.  This will take a while, about a day or so.

Method 2:

Make a puree with your fruit, the smoother, the better, and hang the puree in a cheesecoth pouch.  To make the pouch, take a nice big piece of cheesecloth and fold it over a few times so it’s about 4-6 ply, tie it well, and hang in the fridge over a bowl for a day or so.  Resist the urge to squeeze the bag too mcuh as this may stop the juice from being clear.  The better you made the pouch, the more you can squeeze.  This technique is very similar to how you make yogurt cheese, and is used by some chefs still stuck in 2002 to make ‘tomato consomme’.

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