This past Thursday morning, my iPhone alarm went off at 4:30 in the morning. On most days, the alarm going off anytime before 6 am would result in a very sleepy and confused response from me, knocking the phone off the bedside table in my attempt to shut off the annoying ring tone. That morning, though, I was instantly wide awake. It was my first morning of boot camp at the Culinary Institute of America.

I’ve wanted to take a real cooking course for some time now. Everything I know about cooking comes from reading cookbooks and food magazines, being observant around people who know what they’re doing, and practicing as often as I can. But I’ve been craving real instruction. When I first learned about the CIA’s boot camp offerings for food enthusiasts, I knew I had to sign up for one. The four- and five-day camps are pretty expensive, so this two-day course seemed like a great way to try it out without feeling overly guilty about the cost or the time spent away from home.

I’ll tell you right now that I was not disappointed in the experience.

Day one began with a dark early morning drive in the rain, through the Hudson River valley, from my friend’s home in New Paltz to the stately – and more than a little intimidating – campus of the CIA in Hyde Park. After finally figuring out where to park, I gathered my nerves and left the safety of my tiny rental car to enter the great unknown of my first day in a professional kitchen.

Fifteen of us were enrolled in the course. There were two young people in the group, both probably just out of high school and both aspiring to become chefs. The rest of us were, let’s say, a bit older than that. We came from a variety of professions and stages in our careers – teacher, personal trainer, international relocation specialist, physician, retiree – and none of us had worked in the food service industry. The one thing we all had in common was a shared passion for food and cooking. And that was enough to bring us all together during those two days.

After a brief orientation and a fantastic, made-to-order, breakfast prepared by the K16 culinary students, we began our day with a one hour lecture by Chef Dave Bruno. He reviewed the basics of mise en place (“everything in place”), knife safety and various knife cuts, and dry heat cooking methods using fats and oils. We were divided into four groups – three teams of four and one team of three (my team) – and we reviewed as a group the recipes we would be responsible for preparing that morning. Those recipes would be transformed from words on a page into finished dishes that would then serve as our lunch.

Team Two – the team consisting of me, Latoya, and Rose – was assigned buttermilk fried chicken with country gravy, french fried potatoes, and a chopped steak house salad with red wine vinaigrette. Other teams were responsible for preparing wiener schnitzel, pan-seared salmon, sautéed pork cutlets with mushroom ragout, and various side dishes to accompany each protein.

While we were oriented briefly to our recipes, we were not really oriented to the professional kitchen we would be working in. We struggled to find ingredients for our dishes. Spices were missing and not where they should be. It took us several tries to figure out how to turn the gas range on without turning out the pilot light by mistake. It was only after an hour in the kitchen that I figured out where the sink for fresh water was located. We got behind schedule. We were hot, pink-cheeked and pouring sweat underneath our no-longer-crisp chef’s jackets. I felt – and probably most of us felt – an intense pressure to not screw up, to get various components of the menu done on time, to not make mistakes. We were in unfamiliar territory, and I was stressed out and overwhelmed.

With no time to spare, and hardly time for a bathroom or water break, we plated our fried chicken and french fries and salad onto large platters to serve the group. We hastily prepared a demo plate for the review and critique by Chef Bruno that would come later. The other teams did the same, and the white tablecloth-covered table soon was overflowing with beautiful food.

As a group, we stood back, admiring the abundance of food we had prepared. We were exhausted, sweaty, hungry…and proud. We were very proud.

Oliver has been asking for tomato soup for several weeks now. At first, I thought he was kidding. This is a kid who has declared his hatred of tomatoes from day one, after all. He and his father are both alike with their tomato aversion.

As it turns out, he has tomato soup at his school occasionally, and he really likes it. I’ve never asked his school what type of tomato soup they serve. I always just assumed it was canned. I even have a soft spot in my heart for canned Campbell’s Tomato Soup. My father used to make that for me when I was a kid and had to stay home from school because I was sick. It may have only happened a few times, but the food memory is permanent. A bowl of hot tomato soup served with a grilled cheese sandwich, cut into two triangles, never rectangles, and perhaps some saltines. That is the meal that will forever remind me of Dad.

Despite my affection for Campbell’s tomato soup, I wanted to make my own soup to serve to Oliver. I roasted the tomatoes for an hour, hoping to concentrate as much of the flavors as possible during the roasting process. I threw an onion on the roasting pan, and added some garlic towards the end. I used my new KitchenAid Blender – which, by the way, I am in LOVE with – to puree the ingredients. Before long, and just in time for lunch, I placed in front of my son a nice hot bowl of homemade roasted tomato soup.

He tasted it.

“Where’s the rice?” he asked. “There should be rice on the bottom.”

What?

Who puts rice on the bottom of their tomato soup? His school, apparently. So, either they serve the soup over rice, or they are serving the other version of the canned variety that I’ve never tasted, Campbell’s Tomato Rice soup.

Despite the harsh critique, he almost finished the bowl. I’ve decided to serve his over rice next time. This goes against all of my own memories of tomato soup, but serving it with rice is the least I can do for my son. Oliver’s memories of tomato soup involve rice, and I won’t deny him that.

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I’m headed to the Culinary Institute of America later this week for a 2-day bootcamp course on basic cooking skills. This is purely for fun, and I’m so excited I can barely stand it. I’m looking forward to the experience and to sharing it with you all, here, when I get back.

Also, I’ve decided to start a new blog, because I have so much spare time and all.* It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for some time, and I hope it’s a worthwhile endeavor. If you’d like to check it out, it’s called Eating Despite Cancer. The blog is in its infancy, so please be patient with me. And if you have suggestions or comments, I’d really like to hear them.

*Sarcasm alert.

Yield: Serves 6.

Roasted Tomato Soup

Ingredients:

3 pounds tomatoes, halved
1 yellow onion, halved
1/8 cup extra virgin olive oil
3 cloves garlic, peeled and halved
1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
3 cups chicken stock (reduced-sodium, if using canned)
1/4 cup heavy cream
Kosher salt
Fresh ground pepper

Directions:

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

On a half-sheet pan, place the tomato halves and onion halves, cut side up. Drizzle the olive oil over the tomatoes and onion, and sprinkle with 1 teaspoon kosher salt. Roast for 50 minutes, then add the halved garlic cloves to the pan. Roast for another 10 minutes.

In a blender, puree the roasted vegetables and any collected pan juices until smooth. Add thyme, oregano, and cayenne pepper. Puree again until well-blended.

Pour tomato puree into a large saucepan set over medium heat and stir in chicken stock. Bring to a simmer and reduce heat to medium-low. Simmer for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add cream at the end of cooking time, stirring well to combine. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

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I have been looking forward to this first official weekend of fall.

Though it will still be close to 90 degrees outside – with humidity to match – I’m going to pretend that we’re having autumn here in north Florida. I plan to sit in my rocking chair on my front porch, listening to the wind chimes, even if I have to turn on the porch ceiling fans to make some cool breezes. I might decorate the front steps with some pumpkins, although they’ll soon begin to decay in the heat and will have to be replaced in a week or so. There might be chili or a hearty stew on the stove at some point. I’ll send my kids on a colored-leaf hunt, and they’ll manage to find one or two leaves that have turned the faintest shade of orange.  I think I’ll bake something. Maybe another pie – pumpkin, maybe? – or perhaps a cheesecake.

I’m planning to enjoy this weekend, no matter what life throws my way.

I might even celebrate with a cocktail. A Moscow Mule would hit the spot perfectly. It’s not a classic fall drink, but it’s certainly refreshing and suitable for our warm weather.

I associate this drink with Gail – for no other reason than she’s the one who clued me into this cocktail. It’s very simple to make and doesn’t require many ingredients, two requirements for an easy and low-key cocktail hour. For me, the hardest part of putting this drink together was finally figuring out that ginger beer is not actually beer flavored with ginger.

Don’t make this with beer flavored with ginger. Trust me on this.

Yield: 1 drink

Moscow Mule

Ingredients:

1 1/4 ounce vodka
1 teaspoon simple syrup
1/2 lime
4 ounces ginger beer

Directions:

In a tall, chilled glass, add vodka and simple syrup. Fill glass with ice, then squeeze the lime over the ice. Drop the lime half into the glass and top with ginger beer. Stir well with a stirrer. Enjoy.

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