Sisters Wanting to Cook for Dad Eat Up a Tutorial From Michel Richard
By David Hagedorn
Special to The Washington Post
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
The chef started the lesson with the most elusive concept of all.
"Give me a pinch of salt," he said. "Bigger pinch. Bigger pinch. There you go! Parfait!" He faced his other student. "Now you: Show me the cayenne." She made an overearnest attempt.
"Ohhh, la, la," the chef tsked while sweeping half the fiery powder from the young woman's red-stained palm. "Half of that or else your dad will go, 'Eeeek!' "
Sisters Elizabeth and Julia Rosenbaum, 13 and 11, got more than they bargained for when they contacted Chef on Call for help in preparing a surprise birthday dinner for their father. Michel Richard, Washington's preeminent star chef, showed up in the kitchen of their Potomac home to give them an experience they won't soon forget.
The process went like this: Richard devised a menu for the event and furnished Elizabeth, Julia and their mother with recipes and a list of required ingredients and equipment. The girls got Dad out of the house on a Saturday afternoon while the tutorial took place, then reproduced the meal (with some day-of assistance from Richard) on his birthday, nine days later.
Richard, who teaches classes at his Georgetown restaurant, Citronelle, was the perfect choice to solve Elizabeth and Julia's problem. Diminutive, stout and gregarious, the 59-year-old chef is a bon vivant with a seemingly inexhaustible supply of creative energy. The thick French accent is charming, but it is his grandfatherly mien -- and uncanny resemblance to Kris Kringle -- that sets people of all ages at ease.
He designed the menu using information that his PR coordinator, Mel Davis, had gathered from the daughters. He knew that their father likes fish and all kinds of fresh vegetables, that the girls are into baking, and that the entire family had recently enjoyed their experience at Bezu, an upscale French-Asian fusion bistro that recently opened in Potomac.
With that in mind, Richard chose an amuse-bouche of cream puff-like Parmesan gougeres followed by vegetable bouillabaisse, a main course of slow-roasted salmon fillets with red wine shiitake sauce and snow pea "linguine," and chocolate mousse with raspberries for dessert.
The selections weren't arbitrary. The dishes suited the tastes of the dinner's attendees and, perhaps more important, gave Elizabeth and Julia some foundations on which to build a cooking repertoire.
- The cheese puffs were made with pate a choux, the easiest and perhaps most versatile of all pastry doughs.
- Prepping the bouillabaisse and the snow peas developed knife skills and showed the girls how to handle various vegetables properly.
- The entree taught them how to sear and roast fish correctly and how to combine a wine reduction with a flavor essence.
- The dessert provided an understanding of the delicacy of airy, egg-foam-based concoctions. Plus, who doesn't like chocolate mousse?
Richard never condescends to his audience members, no matter their ages. The lessons were rigorous, to be sure, but within the capabilities of his pupils.
Well within.
The elder sister, Elizabeth, attends Holton-Arms School and is a writer, a pianist and a self-proclaimed bookworm and cheese freak. (On her hand, she had written "Books + cheese = life.") Her younger sister, Julia, is no less accomplished; she studies at the Potomac School, is a gifted painter and plays the cello. Incidentally, their father, Steve Rosenbaum, is a partner in the law firm of Covington & Burling; their mother, Hae-Soon Hahn, was a professional violinist.
When Richard arrived at noon on teaching day, Hahn offered him something to drink. (She knew her audience, too. She had prepared a lavish snack buffet that included a two-pound box of Godiva chocolates.) "Glass of champagne!" the chef boomed, snapping his fingers imperiously. The girls and their mother stared at him incredulously. "Non, non, just water," he continued, grinning mischievously. The girls giggled, Hahn heaved a sigh of relief, and Richard helped himself to some chocolates.
"Okay. Let's get to work. First we're going to make the gougeres."
And they were off. The lesson was completely interactive. Richard performed only the tasks the girls were not yet familiar with, such as cutting vegetables and folding egg whites properly. To keep things moving, he alternated instructions between the two sisters, who scurried to keep up: "Set the oven to 325. Bring me a saucepan. Get a stick of butter. . . ."
When the butter, milk and water came to a boil, Richard had Julia put the flour in the pot. He whisked it into a paste, then beat in one egg. "You beat it until you can't see the egg anymore," he explained as he handed over the whisk for the girls to add the remaining four eggs. When the dough was finished, he piped one small mound onto a baking sheet as a model and relinquished the job to Elizabeth and Julia, correcting their technique along the way until they got the hang of it. Once the puffs were in the oven, Richard issued an order he would repeat throughout the day like a mantra:
"Clean! Clean! It is very important to keep the kitchen clean!"
Then he started the bouillabaisse. He showed the girls the French method of turning a whole artichoke into eight pieces trimmed neatly into hearts, a technique with which many accomplished home cooks are not familiar. As they took to that and every task of the day, Richard lavished them with encouragement.
"Good job! Good job! Parfait! The artichoke was the hardest part. The rest is easy," he assured.
"So basically, the soup is the most complicated dish," Julia said. She was hooked, and Richard lit up.
"Yes, but you use those same techniques for the rest of your life. How to cut an onion, a leek, an artichoke," he explained.
You could almost see the wheels of Julia's mind turning. She had an expert in front of her, so she took full advantage, asking, "Is it true you can throw pasta against the wall to see if it's cooked?"
Richard chortled. "Well, that's how the Italians do it," he replied. "It doesn't surprise me. It's a little strange, non?" Then he moved on, interjecting extra tidbits of knowledge as they occurred to him.
"You know where saffron comes from?" he mused. "They are the little pistils handpicked from crocuses. It takes a lot of people to do that!"
While making the salmon, he said, "Let me show you something. Give me a teaspoon of sugar." He added it to the hot pan where the fish was searing. "If you put some sugar in, it turns to caramel and gets so hot it makes the outside browner, more crispy. This is called the Maillard effect."
A few minutes later, he picked up a mushroom. "Let me show you what I used to do when I was a young kid," he said while incising slivers from the top of the cap to create a decorative, fan-like pattern. The girls were mesmerized. "We used to have a race to make these," he said. "I always won."
Richard completed the entire lesson in 3 1/2 hours. Each course was tasted and discussed. "I love that the salmon is crispy on the outside and moist on the inside," Elizabeth effused.
"You sear the fish and bake it at very low heat," explained Richard. "That makes it opaque all the way through."
The dish was so good, even the lure of dessert could not tear the girls away.
"Oh, oh, employees! Come on, come on. Time for chocolat!" he admonished. Actually, the whole day was time for chocolate; the Godiva box was empty.
The dessert was completed in minutes. Richard started its preparation, the bowl turning like a dervish under his hands. He stood over the girls as they took over, emphasizing the need to gently blend the egg whites, whipped cream and chocolate. "You have to bring it from the bottom and fold it over the top, or else you'll have a bad mousse and blame it on me." No problem. "You girls make the best chocolate mousse!" Richard exclaimed. "Your dad is going to be so happy! Christmas is going to be so nice!"
Well, Hanukkah maybe.
The day was done, and Richard collected his acolytes for a photograph. With Elizabeth standing next to him and Julia on his knee, the scene looked like something out of "Miracle on 34th Street."
It was an apt metaphor, but forget Santa Claus. Michel Richard came to town, and as the girls would attest, he is definitely worth believing in.
David Hagedorn is a professional chef and former restaurateur. His "Chef on Call" column appears monthly.
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