Archive | August, 2011

A Day at Ballymaloe Cookery School

19 Aug

Every day I spent at Ballymaloe Cookery School was different – challenging, interesting, intriguing. I did things I never thought I would do (milk a cow!), I sat for exams (my first in 20 years) and I changed – subtly, indelibly, and for good.

I wish I could explain what was so empowering and positive about the experience, but things happened, and changed, in incremental ways. The satisfaction of cooking something, presenting it, tasting it with your teacher and knowing … that was damn good! The joy of watching the earth unfold its bounty – picking fresh peas off the pod, planting corn and watching it grow, picking herbs and salads in the gardens, making friends with and knowing the animals on the farm.

And being around a glowing, enthusiastic (for the most part!), intelligent, dynamic group of people – teachers, students, support staff – who all were immersed in the culture of Ballymaloe, and who all appreciated good food, from the source – that was just so inspirational. I learned something from everyone I met, and was so humbled to be a part of such a rich tradition.

These images were probably not all taken on the same day (may be a day or two apart, because they are in order in my camera)… but they represent for me, in my memory, what a day at Ballymaloe was like – full of colour, flavour, joy, achievement, quiet amazement, and pure, pure happiness.

Waking up in the gorgeous early morning (again, not something I did regularly in my old life) was always a revelation to me. Granted, I didnt do it every day … but when I did… walking through the gardens before class, saying hi to Trevor and his sister as they waited for their mothers to be milked … all these things sang to me of real abiding joy.

and his luckier sister

I fell in love with Trevor at first sight. Just to be able to interact with the animals on the farm was such an eye opening experience. And one day, I walked into the school, and was motioned into the front office by Tim. There, to my amazement, was a small incubator with eggs that were literally hatching before my eyes. Tiny baby chicks. And we got to hold them in our hands as they were born! For a city-bred woman like me, this was truly beautiful (and also raised some interesting questions as to how baby chicks are made… but thats another story!)

Just born!

And then … the morning spent cooking. In uniforms that in the first few days felt stiff and slightly strange. It made me self conscious to wear a chef’s jacket … but after a while, it got to feel like a second skin. At our house, Mrs Walsh’s Cottage, we were constantly doing laundry to make sure we had our whites and our aprons! Prepping for a days cooking is no easy feat. But when you cook with presence and in the company of people who are in the same rhythm… well, magic happens. Our teachers were so knowledgeable – and shared their depth of cooking expertise freely and with grace.  And they were so incredibly accommodating to me as a vegetarian cook. I was allowed to adapt recipes, and challenge myself to cook vegetarian, the Ballymaloe way. And honestly .. the bounty of the gardens, the farm, the kitchen. It would be difficult to mess up such fresh, extraordinary produce.

And sometimes… I looked at what I had made, and I was proud.

A Caesar’s Salad to start.

Fresh egg from the chickens, fresh salad + flowers from the garden, home made bread

A vegetarian Shepherd’s pie for main course.

With a salad of fresh greens and flowers

And a simple dessert – Victorian sponge cake, layered with whipped cream and home made raspberry jam.

with home made raspberry jam and whipped cream

Of course, sometimes, some of my classmates, decided to show off with a flurry of cakes that were beyond gorgeous!

And then… we would sit down as a group and eat together. Starters of all sorts, main courses, vegetable side dishes, a cheese tray, green salad (always green salad), and desserts of every possible description. And we ate… and ate … and ate…

Sometimes we would have a few minutes before our afternoon demonstration, or else we might have chores to do. But whatever the case, at around 2pm, we would be in the demo room to watch Darina Allen, Rachel Allen or Rory O’Connell demonstrate the dishes we would cook the next day. All three lecturers had their different styles, but they were all vibrant, interesting, and so knowledgeable about food. It was a master class each and every day.

with a big fish!

And yes, in case youre wondering… we got to taste everything they demonstrated… so that we knew what it should taste like when we attempted it the next day!

And sometimes… in the afternoon… after such a full and multi-faceted day…happy and replete, I would look out the window of the demonstration room, to the small courtyard outside the school. The green of Eire and that huge beautiful sky soothed my soul.

And one day, beneath a ponderous sky…. there it was. A breathtaking double rainbow. So perfect. So Ballymaloe.

Perfection

Making Cheese at Ballymaloe Cookery School

17 Aug

One of the wonderful things about going to Ballymaloe Cookery School is that you really get a chance to understand where food comes from – how its sourced, how it is produced, and sometimes… you even get to see the entire cycle. Its a very humbling process, and incredibly powerful. It makes you stop and think about the food that you eat, and how important it is for body, mind and soul to try and eat as cleanly and carefully as possible.

While I was at Ballymaloe, I dont think I ate very many things that were processed. The milk came from the Jersey cows on the farm, and they provided some of the butter, the buttermilk, and the cheese that we ate too! And we got a chance (if we wanted to) to make our own cheese. Mine is still awaiting me at Ballymaloe … I will pick it up in a few weeks and sample it. I cant wait!

Cheese making is a very zen process. Its all about feeling the milk turning into cheese, and knowing when each step is complete. A group of us gathered in the milking shed to help Tim turn milk into a cheddar style cheese… and it was such a powerfully beautiful process…

You can make cheese on the stovetop, but Ballymaloe has a very cool industrial sized container that heats the raw milk very slowly to the correct temperature.  After making sure we had all washed our hands, put on aprons, and hairnets (can you imagine finding a stray curly hair in your cheese?!), Tim added a vegetarian rennet to the warmed milk. This made it solidify … he then checked the temperature.

Making cheese!

When he felt the curd was at a proper temperature, he felt it by dipping his hands into it. He told us that once you start making cheese regularly, you can begin to get a feel for when its ready to be cut. There is a smoothness, a responsiveness to it that happens only at a certain moment.

He then got out what looked to be a massive square metal tennis racquet, and started cutting the curd into smaller chunks. This is when it got fun!

with a big metal tennis racquet!

The curd started separating from the whey – the liquid obviously inherent in milk. Once the curd had been cut by the metal tennis racquet apparatus, we were allowed to plunge our hands into the container and start squeezing and separating the curds out. A small tap was opened at the bottom of the container for the whey to drain out.

For the piggies!

I have to say, the process of separating the curd from the whey was very therapeutic. It felt so lovely to be elbow deep in this textural stuff, knowing that this movement was actually part of the making of the cheese. Tim told us that cheese makers have wonderful skin on their hands! I can believe it … the feeling of dipping into the vat was soft, smooth, warm, comforting. And cheese is a live thing, so you have to treat it with respect, no squeezing too hard, or sudden movements. It was beautiful.

No wonder cheesemakers have such young looking hands!

Once most of the whey was drained off, we started packing the curds into round plastic molds, with holes that allowed drainage. Each of us filled one mold full, and then covered the molds with heavy weights.

Making the cheese!

After about fifteen minutes, we were actually able to take the cheese out of the mold, and flip it over. We then covered it again with the weights (and some extra just for good luck) and waited again for another few hours. This process of flipping the cheese over ensures an even distribution of curd, and gets as much moisture out of the cheese as possible.

in their molds

After a day or two, and some regular flipping (my housemate Gina and I traipsed to flip cheese at midnight!) .. the cheese would be removed from the mold, salted, and set in this temperature controlled ripening cave. We had the responsibility of coming to flip our cheeses on a regular basis. They would be ready in about three months!

Yum ..

Very thorough notes were kept about each batch of cheese. When it was made, how it was made, how much milk, temperature, time of day. But this was not the end of the process! Gina and I accompanied Tim to distribute the whey on the farm…

It was like they knew we were coming!

It was like they knew we were coming! They were extremely happy to drink up every last bit of the whey, and Tim told us that it is very good for them.

They loved it!

The little ones loved it so much, they actually got into the trough to drink it. There was a little bit of a fight to drink it all up, so the runt took advantage of the ruckus, and went directly to the Mama source.

being clever

And this was just one evening in Ballymaloe .. magical, full of learning, part of the cycle, and so very wonderful. It taught me so many things … but most of all that I am connected to all that is around me, and if I treat the earth with respect, and a conscious understanding… well, then, the joy is infinite.

What I Cooked Today – and an Apology

17 Aug

Yes, I know. I havent posted in literally months. I was so excited about the prospect of blogging Ballymaloe Cookery School – and when I got there, I was quite good … but suddenly … I was just immersed. Its not that I didnt have time – it was just that there was so much going on internally and externally, that I needed a moment, every day, to just be.

And unfortunately, that moment that I took for myself on a regular basis, would be the moments when I would have, should have, blogged instead. Apologies. To you, and to myself, for not having documented this extraordinary experience as it was happening. But it was so deep, so life-changing that … to be honest, I didnt have the words.

However, I took loads of photographs … and over the next few days, I will go over them, and share some of my most special Ballymaloe moments with you.

As for now … I am sitting in Provence, in the golden sunshine, at the home of my dear friend… and I am cooking in a brand new way. I learned so many techniques at Ballymaloe which enriched the way I cook, and also the way I see food. Nothing goes to waste… a grapefruit eaten for breakfast gets considered, and the peel gets turned into candied fruit. Stale bread becomes breadcrumbs. And raspberries, which were fresh yesterday, but might not be utterly perfect today, get turned into raspberry jam.

Simple Easy and Gorgeous

And thats what I made today. Raspberry jam – dark, deep, so delicious slathered on a fresh croissant, perfect and bursting with the sunshine and the fruit. And simple beyond words.

To make this jam, you need equal parts fruit and sugar. And thats it. Yes, its really that simple.

I had 125 grams of fresh raspberries, which I washed quickly under the tap. With the water still clinging to them, I put them in a little pot, over a medium high heat. They began to sizzle and disintegrate, and I helped them along a little with a spoon. As soon as they became a glowing red mush (a matter of a few minutes), I added an equal amount (125 grams) of sugar. The sugar melted into the raspberries, and I boiled this mixture for about 4 minutes, or until it had “set.”

You can tell that jam has set if a little of the jam spooned onto a cold plate sets into a wobbly sort of solid consistency. You can draw a line through the jam with your finger, and the line stays.

I poured the jam into a little pot (gorgeous isnt it? It was a yogurt pot from the supermarche!) and set it down to cool. And then I decided to write.

I am glad to be back. If you have a few berries, consider making some jam today. Fresh jam is like nothing else, and it really takes only a few minutes.

Be well!