Sunday morning, the surprise party Maxine organized for her mum last night was a resounding success, and I need to get a move on to put together the How to Cook a Perfect Steak lesson plan for Tuesday – Maxine gets her lesson plan and homework on Sundays so it doesn’t interfere with her schoolwork. As is my habit, I try to visualize the session beforehand, to reduce the chances of being caught out by something unexpected, or better said, to have maximum brain-space available when the unexpected inevitably does happen.
I envisage an “easy” lesson – we have plenty of time, there are no complicated steps to do in parallel, we will have time to cook two steaks; one to practice and learn how to tell how cooked the steak is, the other to plate up and serve as a restaurant quality dish. Except…
Oh My Pan
I can’t teach Maxine how to cook a steak to perfection in my tired, $15 supermarket frying pan, used and abused for the past two years. I’m notoriously stingy when it comes to material goods – I wear my clothes until they are threadbare (I hate shopping that much); my 13-year old Kindle is still functional (I barely notice the tiny crack in the screen); I was devastated when my 12-year old laptop committed suicide (it exploded when I plugged it in, fed up of waiting for me to retire it). I spend without care when it comes to experiences and adventures, but I hate buying things. Unless it’s for Maxine, if it’s for my little protégé (or a loved one, for that matter), it’s a pure joy to buy things. More so when it is kitchen things that I would never indulge myself in.
A visit to Meatworks, our local Aussie butcher, is already on the agenda – I am determined to create the ideal conditions for success, starting with prime ingredients bought at a prime butcher. As I am pondering my pan dilemma, I remember the wall of pans and kitchen equipment at the entrance of the butchery, and I figure that’s it: the butcher will have the perfect pan for the perfect steak. Pleased with my plan, I get on with a nice Sunday, not a care in the world until Monday.
Of course, come Monday, I find out that the butcher is discontinuing the concession to his pan supplier, and every other shop I visit either has the same low quality pan I am trying to replace or a very expensive one that isn’t suitable for induction cooking. Doh! Now what?
Beer Is (Not) The Answer
Annoyed, and a little bit anxious that my best laid plans are going awry, I decide the only option is a beer. That will clarify what I need to do next. Or, at least, steady my anxiety. As I walk into our NRL local, Play! Saigon, I spot Chef Titi. Just the man to provide me with the directions I need. True enough, Titi points me to an expensive kitchenware store that stocks every conceivable type of pan. Relieved, I take my cold beer to the terrace to browse their website and pick my pan. Of course, their website isn’t responsive, and no matter how much I try to click on the Pots & Pans menu link, the website is intent on taking me to random pages. Doh, that’s the end of the beer answer, I need to get to my laptop.
Back home, the laptop isn’t much more help, the store’s website is just broken. It’s not yet 6pm and the shop is open until 9.30 – I’ll call the hotline. Nothing. I’ll use their chatbot. Nothing. Last option is to contact them on Zalo – the Vietnamese version of Facebook Messenger. Of course, the shop has a Zalo mini-app that works beautifully. Nearly 12 years in the country, I had no idea there was such a thing as a Zalo mini-app. My spirits lift even further when I find the perfect pan at a 50% discount: a beautiful Kitchenaid pan with a triple-layered, “induction-technology”-bottom that delivers induction results on any type of hob. Nearly 25 years since I trained as a chef, I had no idea there was such a thing as “induction-technology” for gas hobs. I’m out of touch with the modern world, it’s clear.
Persistence Is Not Futile
Unfortunately, my kitchen shop is as out of touch with their customers as I am with modern technology. They have an express delivery option, but no way to verify if that means guaranteed next-day delivery. It is now 8pm – I may just make it, but seeing how my day has gone, I’m not risking it.
On Tuesday morning, as the fighter jets blast over the city for their 4th practice run before the 50th anniversary of the Reunification of Vietnam, I’m standing in front of the Kitchen Concept store before the doors have opened. In and out. That’s the plan. I haven’t been in a kitchen store in close to two decades – with my Maxine-is-worth-anything mindset, I’m terrified I’ll walk out with half the store if I don’t keep my eyes on the prize. In and out.
Finally, my luck turns. The shop tries to sell me a nice looking pan at triple the price, but my determination is real and my Vietnamese just about good enough. “No, I don’t want this pan. I want the Kitchenaid 24-inch frying pan that is currently at half price,” I insist. A helpful colleague fishes the showroom pan out of the shopwindow and re-packs it in its original packaging. Steak Session is on.
The Maillard Reaction
Of course, where I have spent the past 48 hours obsessing about the conditions for preparing a perfect steak, Maxine has forgotten all about homework or preparation. “Okay, Maxine,” I say, trying to hide my exasperation, “we need to cover some basics before we even think about searing this ribeye. You were supposed to watch the video on the Maillard reaction and the steak demo.”
“Well first, I forgot, and then, well, then I forgot again”, she says. Sigh.
The Maillard reaction, Maxine, is what creates that beautiful, flavourful crust on your steak . It’s a chemical reaction between amino acids and reducing sugars, and it happens when you apply high heat to the surface of the meat. Think of it as the steak caramelizing; that browning isn’t just for looks, it’s developing hundreds of flavour compounds . Without it, you’re basically just boiling the steak, and nobody wants that.
She listens, but seems utterly unimpressed by the chemistry lesson. Steak is easy. Flop, flop, turn, turn, done. Why do I have to make it any harder than that? Stubbornly, I persist.
Several factors influence the Maillard reaction, including temperature, time, and moisture. You need high heat to get it going, but not so high that you burn the steak before it cooks to the desired doneness. A dry surface is essential; that’s why we pat the steak dry with paper towels before putting it in the pan. Excess moisture will steam the steak, preventing the Maillard reaction from occurring . The type of pan also matters; a heavy-bottomed pan, like the Kitchenaid one I just risked life and limb to acquire, distributes heat evenly, promoting consistent browning .
“New pan!” Maxine shouts excitedly. “Yes, new pan. And you’ll be the first to ever use it,” I tell her, to which she grins from ear to ear. “But first, you have to watch the two videos, or there will be no cooking at all today.”
Cook It Like Gordon
Maxine watches the chemistry video, while trying to play her Star Trek game on her iPad when she thinks I’m not watching. Sigh. I’m sure something will stick, and we’ll have plenty of time to go over the Maillard reaction, again and again. It’s the single most important reaction in the kitchen. One day you’ll be impressed by this reaction, Chef Maxine. One day.
The second video is longer and more important for Maxine to absorb if she’s going to have a good session in the kitchen. For today’s lesson, I have chosen a Gordon Ramsay video that handily covers the whole dish I want Maxine to recreate: Ribeye Steak with Chimichurri sauce and goat’s cheese mashed potatoes. Maxine loves a British accent – she identifies my mongrel, third-language English accent with British and loves to parrot me. The water in Majorca, and all that. I’m hoping that Gordon’s British accent will keep Maxine engaged and, sure enough, she leaves the iPad alone in favour of parroting Gordon as soon as he says “potato”.
A Verbal Time Plan
Videos watched, Maxine jumps up. “Pan!”. Easy tiger, not so fast. I’m intent on teaching her how to think the whole session through before starting. My pan experience has just reminded me that persistence is not futile. I shall persist. By the time Maxine graduates from MJCC, she’ll be an expert visualizer. If she can master that, she will master anything in life that she sets her mind to – whether becoming a chef or ER surgeon.
“Easy, tiger,” I tell her, “talk me through the order of work first, and don’t give me that Turn, Turn, Flop, Flop business. You’re making ribeye steak, chimichurri sauce, and mashed potato. What takes the longest?”
“Steak? No! Potato.” That’s right, potato. “Ok, so we start there. Talk me through it, how will you make mash?”
“I boil the water, add the potato,” Maxine starts. “We boil potatoes, starting from cold water, remember? Green vegetables in boiling water, potatoes start in cold water,” I interrupt her. “Ok, so the potatoes are boiling, they will take about 20 minutes. What are you going to do in the meantime?”
“Steak?”, she asks more than states. “Well, yes, Gordon started with the steak, and then made the chimichurri while the steak was in the pan,” I reply. “But his workstation is right next to his hob, so he can stay in control of both things at the same time. Your workstation is too far away and, for your first steak, I want you to give it your full attention.”
“Chimi….chimi….chimichanga, then” Maxine replies. “Chimichurri,” I grin, “yes, that’s right, while your potatoes are boiling, you have plenty of time to prepare your chimichurri and leave it to macerate. When the potatoes are boiled, we’ll leave them to steam dry to make sure we have fluffy mash, and we move on to the steak.”
We have a plan.
Lefthanded Potato Peeler
Peeling the potatoes takes nearly 20 minutes. I offer to help, but Maxine is too stubborn for that. I appreciate her independence and drive to be self-sufficient – I get it, I’m not much different – but teamwork is equally important in a kitchen brigade. There might be a lot of shouting and verbal abuse in some kitchens, but there is also a deep trust that you have each other’s back. When the proverbial s*** hits the fan, you stand or fall together.
Maxine is a leftie, and I haven’t found a lefthanded potato peeler yet (if anyone has any pointers, please point me there in the comments!). She also peels potatoes away from her body, which I have never seen anyone do before, but after the Mandoline disaster on Audition Day, I don’t want to risk changing it. A few days later, randomly, our friend Jamie asks if I peel potatoes towards or away from myself – who knew this was a thing? I can’t even imagine barreling (also called turning) a potato or carrot in that direction, there is too little control. Once Maxine has tighter knife skills – or finer “kitchen motor skills” to be more exact – I will teach her.
I decide to busy myself with picking the herbs for the chimichurri while Maxine finishes peeling and chopping the potatoes, to make up for lost time. “What’s next?” I ask her, as she puts the potatoes on the stove. “Chimichanga!” she shouts. “Chimichurri!” I insist, “here are your ingredients, read up on your recipe and get chopping. I know how much you hate coriander, and so for you, we’ll make a chimichurri with parsley instead.”
Grass Fed vs. Grain Fed
Maxine decides on a very coarsely chopped chimichurri, which is fine by me. I don’t mind the rustic look and enjoy the bursts of flavour as you hit a mint leaf and then a bit of red onion or parsley. We taste, adjust seasoning, add another squeeze of lemon, when I click. We forgot the garlic. I hand Maxine a clove and a Microplane. “There, taste that, Max, a perfect, a super vibrant chimichanga.” Maxine bursts out in a fit of giggles, “Hihihihi, now you are saying it too! It’s my favourite word in Shrek!” Go figure.
“Are you ready for steak, Chef Chimichanga?” I ask. “Come take a look at these two ribeye steaks and spot the differences.” Maxine turns around and, pointing at the grass-fed ribeye states, “I want that one.”
“Interesting choice, Chef, why do you want that one?” I ask. “Less fat, I don’t like fat,” she replies. “You mean this big layer of fat on the outside of the steak?” Maxine nods. “We cut that off, it’s not nice to eat,” I continue. “But take a look at this fat that runs through the meat itself. We call that marbling, and the more marbled the meat is, the juicier the steak. Fat is flavour, and how the cow was reared and what it has eaten affects the quality of the meat,” I explain. “The steak you picked was grass-fed and cost half the money of the other steak, the grain-fed one. We’ll taste both, so you can tell the difference, but we will do our practice run with the cheaper steak.”
Turn, Turn, Flop, Flop – No More
The moment has finally come: Chef Maxine does Gordon Ramsay, with a flash Kitchenaid pan, no less. I get the butter out of the fridge and Maxine slices a head of garlic in half so we have everything we need to hand. We talk through the steps to Steak Perfection once more, and she’s off.
“That’s it, place the steak in the pan, away from you,” I encourage her. “Control the heat of the pan, down a bit, then up again – you want to keep that temperature just right for the Maillard reaction to happen, remember?”
She’s cooking like a pro – not moving the steak around too much, adding the thyme and garlic, using the sides of the pan to her advantage. When she flips the steak over, it’s glistening with perfection. Go Max; go Kitchenaid pan; go Meatworks butchery. Is it possible to get emotional about a perfect steak? I think it is.
“Butter!”, Maxine commands. Like an OR nurse, I hand Maxine the butter and a spoon. Two nobs, copying Gordon Ramsay exactly, one on top of the steak, the other in the pan. She tilts, scoops, and bastes the steak while it is cooking. “How do you want your steak cooked, Chef?” I ask her. “Medium?” she responds.
“Remember how your dad and I were tapping our fingers on our thumb on Saturday evening?” I ask her. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“That’s the Touch Test. When you put your index finger and thumb together, the little “pillow” beneath your thumb is quite soft – that’s what a rare steak feels like when you touch it. Change it to your middle finger and thumb, and it gets a little firmer – now you’re looking at medium-rare,” I talk her through the Touch Test while Maxine remains laser focused on her ribeye steak, now prodding it occasionally.
Chef Maxine Ramsay
“Ok, that looks and feels like a medium steak to me, Chef. Take it out of the pan and leave the steak to rest on the plate while you finish up the mashed potatoes and I clean up the frying pan for the presentation steak.”
Maxine cut her potatoes rather unevenly and, in fairness, I didn’t pay enough attention. Rather than a smooth mashed potato, like Gordon’s served, we’re going to end up with a lumpier, bashed more than mashed potato. I choose to ignore it, the star of today is the steak, we can deal with potatoes some other day.
“Why does French cheese always stink?” Maxine asks, pulling up her nose. “You don’t like smelly cheese?” I ask her in turn. “Not really.” I suggest that we split the mash in half and only add the goat’s cheese to one half so she can try it, without risking it spoiling the whole dish for her.
Everything is ready for Maxine to cook her second steak. We’ve sliced up the first steak, tasted it, studied it, looked at the fibers, talked about the thin end of the steak being more done than the thicker end. It’s time for Maxine to put Gordon’s recipe together and serve it, restaurant-style.
I could’ve directed her to trim the fat around the steak a little bit better. The mash is lumpy, with small chunks of undercooked potato. The chimichurri is chunky and rustic. But my, my, my – the seasoning is spot on, the steak beautifully cooked. You’re a talented little chef, Chef Maxine. People would pay money to eat this.
Steak & Stoker – Field Trip
The following Tuesday – lesson 8 – is Fun Lesson week. Fun Lessons conclude the month’s curriculum with a Pop Quiz and a surprise lesson. Our first Fun Lesson, Ready Steady Cook, was a resounding success. I had originally intended for our third Fun Lesson to be a field trip. A special reward for completing the trimester and getting 33% of the way to completing the Beginners Diploma. But Steak Week made it too tempting not to use Fun Week to visit a restaurant and see how the pros do it.
I had cleared it with Maxine’s mum beforehand, who was happy to add a little extra budget to the field trip. Go wild, she said. Go wild, we went.
There is really only one option in Saigon for comparing Maxine’s steak to the pros. Stoker Woodfired Grill & Bar – Thao Dien has an open kitchen with seats at a low bar around it. Maxine can watch the chefs as they, each on their section, prepare the salads, starters and, of course, fire up the steaks. I contact the restaurant upfront, and explain that Maxine is a young, 10¾ -year old aspiring chef. Can we book two seats at the open kitchen for 4pm? And, any chance she can meet the Head Chef? Maybe get a tour of the kitchen? Don’t ask, don’t get – that’s my motto.
Serendipitous Synchronicities
I’ve written before about life happening while you are busy making plans, and sometimes life is more magical than anything you could conceivably have planned. The taxi drops us off at the entrance and Maxine skips into the garden, looking around, taking everything in.
“This is a really fancy restaurant,” she says. I’m not sure if she’s also doing a quick scan of our outfits. “That it is. It is a really nice restaurant too,” I respond as I open the door and see the Head Chef talking to one of the front of house staff. It seems the whole team knows exactly who we are, or more importantly, who Chef Maxine is. I don’t need to give my name, the staff point towards the kitchen bar, and the Head Chef walks over to us.
We’ve met once before, had a brief conversation, but I had completely forgotten until we get close enough to read his name tag. Oh, this is just too good to be true.
Chef Max, Meet Chef Maxine
“Hi, I’m Barbara,” I say as I extend my hand to the Head Chef. “And this is Chef Maxine.”
“Chef Maxine, meet Chef Max,” I pull Maxine in front of me and the two chefs shake hands. “Hi Maxine, I’m Max Wiersma, Executive Chef for Stoker,” Chef Max says. I was prepared for Maxine to be a little shy, but I get the sensation that Chef Max is also a little shy. We’ve also caught him mid-preparations, working through lists and large amounts of general prep. I see a mount of homemade chorizo sausages in one corner, a stack of trays with meringues in front of me. The chefs in the kitchen moving around with fluidity as they get ready for service, the chefs Max and Maxine on the restaurant side shyly making small talk.
“How about we sit down, look through the menu, and let you get back to your preparations?” I suggest, feeling both chefs need to be rescued. “Yes, excellent, take a seat, I’ll get the menus,” Chef Max is quick to respond. Phew, a moment for all of us to get ourselves together, I sense the three of us breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief.
“Do you have any recommendations for us?” I ask as Chef Max hands us our menus. “The BBQ Octopus is great, if you like octopus. The scallop is very popular. Oh, you’re Spanish, you should try our homemade chorizo.” I nod in assent, and continue to scan the mains. As Chef Max points towards the steaks, commenting that the ribeye is a popular choice, life’s plan comes into full, magical, serendipitous focus. I could not have planned this any better.
Battle of the Chefs
Of course, Stoker has Ribeye on the menu. And, of course, they have Mashed Potato. In fact, their Truffle Mash is one of my guilty pleasures and a reason I periodically sneak in a lunch at Stoker, on my own, just for the mash. And, being a restaurant specialized in woodfired steaks, how could they not have Chimichurri on the menu?
Chef Max returns to his prep and paperwork, and I lean over to Maxine. “Do you see anything you fancy on the menu?” I ask. “It’s so long!” Maxine complains, a little overwhelmed by the amount of choices, and not quite yet at ease with the VIP treatment we are receiving. “Do you like octopus?” I ask her. “Yeah, I can eat octopus, I’ve had it before,” she responds. “Ok, well how does this sound to you. We have the BBQ Octopus and the Chorizo to share as a starter. And then…how about a cook-off?”
Maxine looks up at me, not entirely sure what I mean, but intrigued at what sounds like something competitive. “Look,” I say, pointing at the ribeye, then the mashed potato and finally the chimichurri mentioned in small print under the sauce choices. “We can order the exact same dish that you prepared last week and see how well Chef Max does compared to your dish!”
I don’t need to wait for an answer, the wide grin on her face is answer enough.
Pop Quiz & BBQ Octopus
We place our order and I suggest we take a look at the dry meat aging fridge by the entrance. Several ducks are hanging off a rack in one corner, trays with big humps of beef, slathered in lard, each with a tag and a date on it. I explain a little bit about the purpose of dry aging – tenderizing and flavour enhancing – and we look at the marbling on the Wagyu beef that is wet aging in a tray. The benefit of going for dinner at 4pm is that we have the whole place to ourselves, just us and the staff, and we can wander around without disturbing any guests.
We take a quick tour of the garden, with the massive grill pit, chipotles being smoked on a rack on top. When we return to our seats, our starters are served. Not shy any longer, Maxine grabs a fork and stabs a piece of octopus before her bum hits the seat. “Oooooooooh,” is all she says, wide-eyed, before going back for seconds. “This is delicious!” Mind blown.
I admit to Maxine that I have forgotten to print out the Pop Quiz for today. “Just ask me the questions, then!” She seems genuinely excited to do the quiz and it doesn’t take long to figure out why.
“What are the three macronutrients?”
“Proteins, carbohydrates, fats,” she doesn’t miss a beat.
“What are their functions in our diet?”
“Protein to build muscle; carbs for energy; and fat….” she halts. “For keeping our cells supple and producing hormones,” I help her out.
“What temperature do eggs coagulate?”
“White sets at 63°C–70°C., the yolk at 70°C–77°C. It’s safe to eat at 71°C.”
Not a hesitation, not a single question wrong. Maxine studied hard for the Pop Quiz. A meal at Stoker seems an appropriate reward.
Ribeye, Chimichurri & Mashed Potato at Stoker Woodfire Grill
Chef Max continues to offer us special attention while we slowly eat the starters and go through the pop quiz questions. He brings out a tray of baguettes, ready to go into the oven. “We make all our breads on site,” he explains, “this dough takes about 3 days to make – it is not quite sourdough, but we use the natural yeasts in the environment to develop the dough for our breads.” Before the end of our meal, he’s placed a small bag with two freshly baked breads, still warm, for us to take home.
“Here’s a short-rib croqueta,” Chef Max returns not long after showing us the bread dough. “We made them for a function, and being Spanish, I thought you would like to try.” Hell yes, I do. Maxine and I both take half a croquette, the (now three) starters working superbly together. We are eating so slowly, the staff ask me if we are ready for our mains yet. I move the starters to a side, there are still a few bites left, and I will not let it go to waste. Le moment suprême est arrivé.
Three waiters fill the space between us, plates and bowls arriving from all sides. I had insisted on vegetables, but the asparagus are a little bitter for Maxine (all the more for me!) and the broccoli less exciting that the steak, sauces and mash. We both take a taste of everything – Maxine scrunching her face at the tangy Béarnaise; leaning back in extasy over the mashed potato; slowly and intently savouring the beef.
The Verdict
“Well? How’s Chef Max’s version different to yours?” I ask Maxine when we regain the ability to form words. “His mash is on the side,” she says, scanning the plate of meat and the table, “his sauce is not on top of the meat.”
“Sure, it’s like the deconstructed version of your dish – all the same pieces, just not on the same plate. How about the individual pieces though? Whose steak is better?” We both take another piece, chew it slowly, and simultaneously nod. “Same. I agree, your steak was as good as Chef Max’s is!”
“His mash is better than yours, we have to be honest,” I tell Maxine, “but I tell you what, I liked your chimichurri better than his.” Maxine beams with pride and dips a slice of steak in the sauce. “Hm, maybe, but this is pretty nice too,” she says, reaching for the mashed potato again.
“Have you tried Truffle Mash before?” I ask Maxine, holding out the bowl of potato puree that was on my side of the table. She takes a scoop, looks up at the ceiling and shrugs. “It’s alright,” she says, “I like mine better.” Win for Barbara!
Chefs Perks
We continue to eat slowly, conversation turning back to the pop quiz, when Chef Max returns, holding out an shucked oyster on a broken shell. “Have you tried oyster before, Maxine?” he asks her. She looks from him, to the oyster, to me. “Imagine it’s like going into the sea with your mouth open, that’s kinda what it tastes like,” Chef Max continues. Both chefs have completely lost their shyness. Chef Max is clearly enjoying sharing his knowledge – and the restaurant’s care and dedication to the food they produce – with this young girl who, unlike many adults, takes the time to savour food, to analyze flavour, to try new things, to learn about the science of food.
“Try it, the shell is broken so we can’t serve it to the guests,” Chef Max holds out the oyster a little closer. “Chefs Perks!” Maxine and I say in unison. I had explained the term to Maxine in MJCC Lesson 1 – she’s never had to study to grasp the concept 😉
Not one to turn down a Chefs Perks, Maxine grabs hold of the oyster and looks at me a little tentatively. “If you don’t like it, you can spit it out, even though it’s a posh restaurant,” I reassure her, “but give it a go, at least.”
She puts the shell to her mouth and lets the oyster slide into her mouth. She stares up at the ceiling, as she does, and chews slowly, as she does. “Hm,” is all she says when she’s swallowed it, still looking up to the ceiling as if still making up her mind. “It’s alright. Chef Max is right. It tastes exactly like going into the sea with your mouth open. But chewy.” You’re a great kid, Maxine.
The Stoker Kitchen Tour
We’ve been at the kitchen bar for close to two hours, I have missed a message from Maxine’s dad asking for our ETD, and the restaurant is starting to receive the first tables. It’s time to wrap things up – literally. We’re stuffed to the gills and I know how much Maxine likes to share some of the food we prepare with her dad. I ask for the bill and a doggy bag, glancing over the restaurant and the kitchen, wondering if we’ve left it too late for a quick tour of the kitchen. I’d love for Maxine to “feel the heat” and walk through a kitchen that is gearing up for service.
Chef Max doesn’t disappoint – the service at Stoker is always outstanding, but Chef Max and his team have gone well above and beyond to ignite the fire in Maxine.
“Would you like a quick tour around the kitchen before you leave, Maxine?” Chef Max asks. That glance across again, Maxine is wondering if all restaurants give me this treatment. No Maxine, they don’t, I think to myself. But sometimes, if you just ask, you do also get. Life motto reconfirmed.
Chef Max guides us around the stations, talks us through the wood ovens and grills, the bread oven and the pass as we weave our way through the chefs at work – Maxine, once again a little shy, quietly whispering “Behind” as she walks through. “And this is our walk-in fridge, you’ve already seen the dry aging fridge, that’s for the meats, but this is our fridge for everything else – vegetables, prepped ingredients,” Chef Max continues the tour. I don’t think Maxine has ever seen a walk-in fridge in real life before.
Even Cuts, Even Cook
Through the back of the kitchen, we exit into the garden and end up by the grill pit for the final part of the tour. Maxine has learned about cooking with wood, minimizing wastage, maximizing flavour, and what an oyster tastes like. How much she’s taken in, I’m not sure, and it hardly seems the point. She’s buzzing, I’m buzzing, and yeah, Chef Max is grinning ear to ear as well. We take our photo by the Stoker sign, shake hands, and thank Chef and his team for the wonderful hospitality.
Before long, Maxine’s dad arrives on the motorbike, Maxine babbling excitedly – BBQ Octopus, the best octopus I’ve ever had; we kept getting food we didn’t order; we ordered the same dish I cooked last week!
“We did,” I interrupt Maxine’s stream of consciousness review of our dinner, “and Maxine’s steak was just as good as Chef Max’s. Now she just needs to work on her mash, he beat her there.”
“Even cuts, even cook!” father and daughter say in unison. Aha, so dad’s been the study partner that helped Maxine ace her pop quiz. And Maxine has reflected on the mash she made and picked up on my lumpy, undercooked mashed potato dig in the study guide. We’re all set for Level 3 of MJCC to be a winner.
I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends
Maxine has been on holiday in Đà Lạt, the City of Eternal Spring, this past week, while we’ve been sweating it out in Saigon, praying for the rain to start. Next Tuesday, we start Level 3.
Since our dinner at Stoker, I’ve had a chance to talk a few things through with Maxine’s mum, listen to my educator friends Chris and Martin, and Carol, on one of the previous articles, also left some very useful ideas. I am not an educator; I am not a parent; I am an aunt, but an absent one, my nieces growing up while I built a life on the other side of the world – the eldest about to become a mother herself. And so I’m finding my way, teaching an astute, intelligent, funny 10¾ -year old how to cook like a chef.
Carol had good tips on teaching Maxine some of the other things chefs need to do – using leftovers, waste management. I love how Carol draws parallels between nursing and cooking, I fundamentally believe there are important lessons to learn from looking beyond our own industry. It is in large part the inspiration to write this blog.
Maxine’s mum gave me some good tips on working with Maxine’s love of surprises. She’s far more interested in serving food to others and gauging their response than she is in eating her own food beyond tasting it – again, we are so similar in this respect. I love to cook for others, provided I don’t need to sit down and share the meal with them.
Level 3 – Consolidation Month
I think I will use Carol’s suggestion for the Level 3 Fun Lesson in a few weeks. Like a mystery box challenge, but using up any leftovers I have in the fridge. And Maxine’s mum’s feedback gave me the idea for Consolidation Month.
Over the next three weeks, I will ask Maxine to prepare me a dish, any dish. But each week, she’ll have to meet a set of criteria for the food that I set: cook a dish that uses a mirepoix (or sofrito) as a basis; make us any kind of breakfast, one with scrambled eggs, one with omelette; cook a dish that uses a Béchamel or one of its derivative sauces.
Next month is about consolidation and autonomy. I’ll keep you updated on how we go.
I love a good steak! I use a heavy cast iron pan to achieve my Maillard reaction! I can get the temperature in the pan as high as 500 degrees F! It is heavy to be lifting and moving it around but I wouldn’t give it up!
As you may know I am bringing Chef Maxine and her Mom to meet me in Paris this August as a birthday present. I would love for you to consider where and what our young chef might enjoy. Your old cooking school? A place to purchase some supplies.? She is up for learning how to make macrons. I have found classes taught in French or English. Her mom needs to decide. Or it could be bread, considering her last experience,this might be fun to replicate Bob and Blob? Or there might not be enough time for that. Suggestions are welcome.
I loved the experience of taking the chef through a professional kitchen. An understanding that the chef is responsible for so much more than just cooking. The chef’s paternal grandfather owned a restaurant. I fondly recall having to get behind the line when our chef walked out on NY eve! An experience for sure!
Thanks for all you do for our girl!
Carol
Correction Maternal grandfather