As I approached the Culinary Institute of America kitchen in San Antonio for my first official cooking lesson, I couldn’t help feeling a bit of apprehension amidst my boiling anticipation. My worry wasn’t that I wouldn’t be able to “stand the heat” of the CIA kitchen (this was, after all, a class for amatuer chefs), but rather that I wouldn’t be able to stand the food.
The class which I was attending was called, simply: Vegetarian Cuisine. The name brought forth images of grilled tofu and bean burgers, and made me cringe as I relived the days when I would watch my sister with pity as she tried to enjoy the different vegetarian “meals” she confined herself to. I still don’t know why she decided to turn veg-head; she never preached about healthy living or animal cruelty, but simply claimed an aversion to meat (my guess is that some PETA pamphlet-pusher got to her.) She refrained from eating meat for 4 years, and then as abruptly as she’d stopped, she began to call herself a carnivore once more.
It wasn’t only the menu that troubled me, it was the crowd that the menu was likely to attract. I must admit that I harbor some level of bias against vegetarians, or rather, vegetarian fanatics. The fanatics, in my opinion, are the ones trying to mobilize a dietary lifestyle into a “movement.” (i.e. PETA pamphlet pushers). In my experience, this subtype is made up of young “hipsters” or rebels whose allegiance to vegetarianism relies solely on whether its “in” or not.
I remember the first time I attended the Van’s Warped Tour in 2004: as my friends and I were waiting in line at the front gates, a slew of pamphlet pushing pod-people thrust their trifolds upon us. They’ve been known to show up at several large events, confronting optimistic crowds with images rotting cow carcasses and action-shots of chicken debeakings. I say to these vegetarian fanatics the same thing I say to door-to-door evangelists: I sincerely respect your personal beliefs and practices, but get off of my porch!
Despite any misgivings, I was commited to see how the C.I.A. does vegetarian cuisine, and as I was a bit early, I decided to get into the proper mood by shopping for produce at the Pearl Farmers Market, which is conveniently situated directly behind the Culinary Institute on Saturday mornings. Since I arrived just before the opening bell, I had the opportunity to scope out several stalls and find the best looking produce so I’d know where to look when the vendors began selling. I found some pristine zucchini squash and perfect little grilling onions at one stall, some bright green jalapenos at another, and at yet another stall I found some portabellas as big as my head.
Now, with veggies in my hands and on my brain, I made my way to the C.I.A. kitchen. In the lobby, I was greeted by the professor, Chef Hinnerk von Bargen. He was a tower of a man, standing at 7 feet tall at least. He was full of energy and kindness, and after a brief greeting, he handed me a C.I.A. apron, folded up as a sort of envelope to hold a chef’s toque, a packet of papers containing the day’s recipes, and a bar of Lindt chocolate (apparently the C.I.A. has a contract with Lindt, go figure.)
I made my way into the kitchen, where I saw just under 20 classmates waiting. To my surprise, the crowd consisted primarily of middle-aged women. I, at 21 was probably the youngest and “hippest” person in the room. In fact, as I got to talking to people, I found that less than half of the people there maintained a vegetarian diet. Most of these people were just like me, looking for some new and exciting ways to incorporate vegetables into their diet.
As the chef began the demo/lecture portion of the class, he explained that he was raised on a classic German “meat and potatoes diet” while living and working at his family’s inn. He said that it was not until he went to work as a chef in Beijing that he began to see how exciting vegetable-based meals could be. He had a prolific knowledge of every vegetable on the menu--how each one should be grown, stored, and prepared, as well as which nutrients each one provides. I knew I liked him when he dismissed the raw foods movement, explaining that some foods must be cooked down before their nutrients become easily accessible to the human body.
He shared a variety of techniques, including how to create a makeshift smoker on the stove using dry spices and rice. Since some of the dough had to be made the night before, he showed us how each one was mixed, allowing us to feel the density of each type of dough.
After the demonstration, we were broken into teams of four and assigned dishes. My team was to make Mixed Grilled Vegetables, Spinach and Goat Cheese Quiche, and Ribbon Pasta with Pesto. He showed pointed us to a large table which held every ingredient that we’d need for the day’s recipes. It was far more fresh food than I’d ever seen in one kitchen. “At the end of the next two hours,” the Chef said, “every ingredient on this table should be gone. However, if you would like to experiment with any additional ingredients, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
We were each assigned a bay with an oven, grill, stove, and every pot, pan, and utensil we could possibly need. I was happy with my team’s menu. We had to make both pasta and a pie crust, both of which would be new experiences for me. The chef demonstrated how to feed pasta dough through an extruder, and then how it should be folded and cut to make perfect ribbons. He then taught us a very interesting method of keeping pie crusts flat.
He simply molded the dough to fit the pie tin, then covered the dough with a layer of plastic wrap. Then he poured dried kidney beans (any bean will do) onto the pie crust to weigh the dough down, and par-baked the crust, plastic wrap and all, for about 5-10 minutes. Once the pie crust is set, the plastic wrap can be easily lifted from the tin. Just gather the ends of the wrap to make a little sack and use it to remove the beans.
The two hours we had to cook went quickly, and soon we were plating our dishes on enormous white platters. The chef gave us some advice on how to present each dish, and tasted our food, telling us how we could perfect the flavors and textures of each dish. Finally, we tasted the fruits (or vegetables) of our labor.
The food was pretty good. It was obvious that some teams had forgotten about the salt and pepper dishes lying wrapped up at their stations, but the flavors were still all there. One group made an exceptional Thai pea soup, and another made delicious creamed swiss chard. These dishes in particular stick out in my memory, but every dish on the table brought to light an exciting way that vegetables can be cooked.
On my way out, I received a copy of the Culinary Institute’s vegetarian cookbook. I’ve been working through it eagerly, and I’m always excited to work with a vegetable I’ve never used before. Though I’m not going to give up meat, I can admit now that it doesn’t have to be a part of every meal. In the end, we humans are the great omnivores, with the ability to eat just about anything we please, so why not eat a bit of everything?
The class which I was attending was called, simply: Vegetarian Cuisine. The name brought forth images of grilled tofu and bean burgers, and made me cringe as I relived the days when I would watch my sister with pity as she tried to enjoy the different vegetarian “meals” she confined herself to. I still don’t know why she decided to turn veg-head; she never preached about healthy living or animal cruelty, but simply claimed an aversion to meat (my guess is that some PETA pamphlet-pusher got to her.) She refrained from eating meat for 4 years, and then as abruptly as she’d stopped, she began to call herself a carnivore once more.
It wasn’t only the menu that troubled me, it was the crowd that the menu was likely to attract. I must admit that I harbor some level of bias against vegetarians, or rather, vegetarian fanatics. The fanatics, in my opinion, are the ones trying to mobilize a dietary lifestyle into a “movement.” (i.e. PETA pamphlet pushers). In my experience, this subtype is made up of young “hipsters” or rebels whose allegiance to vegetarianism relies solely on whether its “in” or not.
I remember the first time I attended the Van’s Warped Tour in 2004: as my friends and I were waiting in line at the front gates, a slew of pamphlet pushing pod-people thrust their trifolds upon us. They’ve been known to show up at several large events, confronting optimistic crowds with images rotting cow carcasses and action-shots of chicken debeakings. I say to these vegetarian fanatics the same thing I say to door-to-door evangelists: I sincerely respect your personal beliefs and practices, but get off of my porch!
Despite any misgivings, I was commited to see how the C.I.A. does vegetarian cuisine, and as I was a bit early, I decided to get into the proper mood by shopping for produce at the Pearl Farmers Market, which is conveniently situated directly behind the Culinary Institute on Saturday mornings. Since I arrived just before the opening bell, I had the opportunity to scope out several stalls and find the best looking produce so I’d know where to look when the vendors began selling. I found some pristine zucchini squash and perfect little grilling onions at one stall, some bright green jalapenos at another, and at yet another stall I found some portabellas as big as my head.
Now, with veggies in my hands and on my brain, I made my way to the C.I.A. kitchen. In the lobby, I was greeted by the professor, Chef Hinnerk von Bargen. He was a tower of a man, standing at 7 feet tall at least. He was full of energy and kindness, and after a brief greeting, he handed me a C.I.A. apron, folded up as a sort of envelope to hold a chef’s toque, a packet of papers containing the day’s recipes, and a bar of Lindt chocolate (apparently the C.I.A. has a contract with Lindt, go figure.)
I made my way into the kitchen, where I saw just under 20 classmates waiting. To my surprise, the crowd consisted primarily of middle-aged women. I, at 21 was probably the youngest and “hippest” person in the room. In fact, as I got to talking to people, I found that less than half of the people there maintained a vegetarian diet. Most of these people were just like me, looking for some new and exciting ways to incorporate vegetables into their diet.
As the chef began the demo/lecture portion of the class, he explained that he was raised on a classic German “meat and potatoes diet” while living and working at his family’s inn. He said that it was not until he went to work as a chef in Beijing that he began to see how exciting vegetable-based meals could be. He had a prolific knowledge of every vegetable on the menu--how each one should be grown, stored, and prepared, as well as which nutrients each one provides. I knew I liked him when he dismissed the raw foods movement, explaining that some foods must be cooked down before their nutrients become easily accessible to the human body.
He shared a variety of techniques, including how to create a makeshift smoker on the stove using dry spices and rice. Since some of the dough had to be made the night before, he showed us how each one was mixed, allowing us to feel the density of each type of dough.
After the demonstration, we were broken into teams of four and assigned dishes. My team was to make Mixed Grilled Vegetables, Spinach and Goat Cheese Quiche, and Ribbon Pasta with Pesto. He showed pointed us to a large table which held every ingredient that we’d need for the day’s recipes. It was far more fresh food than I’d ever seen in one kitchen. “At the end of the next two hours,” the Chef said, “every ingredient on this table should be gone. However, if you would like to experiment with any additional ingredients, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
We were each assigned a bay with an oven, grill, stove, and every pot, pan, and utensil we could possibly need. I was happy with my team’s menu. We had to make both pasta and a pie crust, both of which would be new experiences for me. The chef demonstrated how to feed pasta dough through an extruder, and then how it should be folded and cut to make perfect ribbons. He then taught us a very interesting method of keeping pie crusts flat.
He simply molded the dough to fit the pie tin, then covered the dough with a layer of plastic wrap. Then he poured dried kidney beans (any bean will do) onto the pie crust to weigh the dough down, and par-baked the crust, plastic wrap and all, for about 5-10 minutes. Once the pie crust is set, the plastic wrap can be easily lifted from the tin. Just gather the ends of the wrap to make a little sack and use it to remove the beans.
The two hours we had to cook went quickly, and soon we were plating our dishes on enormous white platters. The chef gave us some advice on how to present each dish, and tasted our food, telling us how we could perfect the flavors and textures of each dish. Finally, we tasted the fruits (or vegetables) of our labor.
The food was pretty good. It was obvious that some teams had forgotten about the salt and pepper dishes lying wrapped up at their stations, but the flavors were still all there. One group made an exceptional Thai pea soup, and another made delicious creamed swiss chard. These dishes in particular stick out in my memory, but every dish on the table brought to light an exciting way that vegetables can be cooked.
On my way out, I received a copy of the Culinary Institute’s vegetarian cookbook. I’ve been working through it eagerly, and I’m always excited to work with a vegetable I’ve never used before. Though I’m not going to give up meat, I can admit now that it doesn’t have to be a part of every meal. In the end, we humans are the great omnivores, with the ability to eat just about anything we please, so why not eat a bit of everything?
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