Life as a Culinary Student: Butchery

When it comes to skills that separate home cooks from professional chefs, there’s perhaps nothing that draws the line more clearly than butchery. Sure, the average home cook doesn’t have very good knife skills (the #1 chef essential), but they can still manage to dice an onion, even if they’re not using proper technique. But home cooks typically don’t even attempt butchery. They barely think about it. And if it weren’t for the fact that many of them need to carve a cooked turkey on Thanksgiving, the concept of breaking down a whole animal might never even cross their minds.

Butchery is a perfect storm of technique and skill. It isn’t something you can intuitively figure out, rather it takes instruction and repetition before you start instinctually understanding where flesh naturally separates from bone and sinew, where the cuts we recognize on the plate are hiding within a giant hunk of raw product.

The least intimidating form of “fabrication” (as butchery is known in the culinary world) is probably fish. Sure, they’re slippery, but just in terms of sheer size and complexity, a fish is pretty approachable. That said, fish can be quite expensive, so any missteps in breaking down their flaky flesh are immediately apparent to both you and your chef-instructor. Our class tested our skills on flat fish (which have both eyes on the same side of their head, like flounder) and round fish (which have eyes on either side of their head, like snapper, mackerel or bass).

We also tried our hand at shellfish fabrication, from shucking oysters and cracking open clams to cleaning shrimp and breaking down live lobsters. From a sheer physical standpoint, shucking is a pretty empowering skill, though you need the right tools to do it safely. And while breaking down lobsters may strike some cooks as inhumane, Chef Mike taught us the fastest way to dispatch these tasty creatures, pain-free.

After fish, we moved on to America’s most popular meat: chicken. We learned how to truss a whole bird for even cooking, as well as how to quarter a bird and use the remaining carcass for stock. We also learned the anatomy of four-legged creatures through a lesson on rabbit butchery. From there, we learn to break down beef loin into noisettes, chateaubriands, medallions and other traditional steakhouse cuts. We also tenderized veal escalope (cutlets for pan frying) and roasted bones for that ever-important restaurant staple: veal stock.

But of all the challenging butchery tasks, breaking down a leg and rack of lamb were easily the most daunting. Lamb is, admittedly, my favorite meat, but removing all the leg bones while keeping the flesh intact was much more complicated than the reverse process of removing protein from bones. And while a lamb chop may seem like an everyday cut of meat, cleaning the unassuming bone “handle” attached to each chop is perhaps the most tedious, time-consuming butchery task of all. Let’s just say I now understand why—at least from a labor perspective—lamb is on the pricier end of proteins on a restaurant menu.

Despite all the challenges thrown our way by fabrication, I think it might end up being one of my favorite parts of culinary school. In a digital world where hands-on activities are disappearing in droves, it’s incredible to learn what goes into the production of the everyday products we take for granted. And on a more superficial level, I feel like I’d be a pretty amazing asset on one of those lost-in-the-wilderness reality shows. No one votes a butcher off the island.

From Art to Artisanal Spices: Savory Spice Shop — Denver

Photos by Lauren DeFilippo

When Mike and Janet Johnston first met in Chicago, they probably never imagined they would one day work together. He was an artist and she worked in marketing, but Mike’s talents weren’t limited to the visual arts. He wooed Janet with an awe-inspiring meal, kickstarting their food-centric romance.

Driven to find additional employment, Mike took a job with a local spice blender and found himself deeply satisfied by both the physical and intellectual nature of the work. Breaking down hearty whole spices such as cinnamon bark is far from a dainty task, and the craft of balancing the elements of spice blends proved to be a formidable creative challenge.

Soon after relocating to Denver, the couple took a bet on Mike’s spice skills and Janet’s business savvy, opening the Savory Spice Shop in a historic building on Platte Street. Just ten years later, their franchise has expanded to nearly 30 stores—a small empire that stretches from from Portland, OR to Princeton, NJ.

In the culinary industry, this kind of widespread success is extremely rare. Even more impressive is the unusual quality of Savory Spice Shop’s spices, sourced from all over the world. In fact, what makes the shop most special is the clear focus on education—ensuring the consumer knows not only the difference between ceylon and cassia cinnamon, for example, but how the country of origin further effects the properties of a product. Even as a well-informed food professional, I found myself learning more in just a few minutes at Savory than I’ve ever learned about spices. Did you know that vanilla is originally not from Madagascar, but rather Mexico? That nutmeg and mace come from the same plant?

In fact, Janet and Mike’s expertise is so respected in their local community that they have produced custom blends for countless chefs, restaurants and breweries—from product lines at Udi’s Gluten Free Bakery to Denver speakeasy Williams & Graham, to the city’s hottest local restaurants, such as Old Major or Potager. There’s even a section of the Denver shop that features artisanal food products made using Savory’s spices, including Chile Billy or The Real Dill pickles.

And yet, Savory isn’t just a shop for professionals and ambitious amateurs. Their highly-trained staff is eager to aid home cooks of all levels, offering recommendations on everything from new popcorn toppings (the shop sells a number of tempting cheese-based blends) to cooking tips for their wide range of fragrant curries.

Their unexpected good fortune isn’t lost on the couple, who credit their success to everything from the early support of the Denver Post’s food editor to a well-placed air vent, which blew intriguing scents from the shop’s original spice grinding room out onto the street. Far from the type to rest on their laurels, the couple continues to find new and innovative ways to engage their local community. For example, each spring, the Denver shop invites customers to bring in outdated spices for a discount on fresher products. It’s a remarkable example of artisans who have stayed grounded—and grateful—as their empire expands, keeping the pursuit of the highest quality products and their customer’s best interest at the core of all they do.

A New Take on Farm-to-Table at North River—NYC

In New York City, there’s no lack of chefs who profess a passion for locally sourced, high quality ingredients. Yet even when the best purveyors and ingredients are a given, how do loyalists to this admirable trend ensure their restaurant doesn’t become just another kale salad spot?

Shockingly, on the menu at East Village newcomer North River, there’s not a leaf of kale in sight. That may not be a conscious choice, but it seems an apt representation for the restaurant’s philosophy, which is to fall squarely within the “farm to table” trend without falling back on the expected clichés.

For starters, the cocktail menu offers a “spring milk punch”: an infusion of gin, yogurt and cucumber, strained into a translucent, frosty glass of what might be called the cocktail cousin of tzatziki. It’s one of those ideas you’re really not sure should work, but ends up surpassing all expectations. Adding a slightly more viscous mouthfeel to the gin, it’s a refreshing (in all senses of the word) new perspective on spring cocktails.

On the appetizer side, given all the pork belly and donuts strewn about this city, I was skeptical of the restaurant’s “belly doughnut.” Yet what could have been another overly indulgent crowd-pleaser turned out to be an unexpectedly elegant and tasty dish. Beautifully presented, the toasted coconut-topped donut was sliced sandwich style and artfully tilted to reveal just enough sliced belly and a contrasting layer of pickled Persian cucumbers. It’s safe to say I’ve never had a more balanced, subtle donut or pork belly dish in my life.

The pork ribs were equally addicting. Rubbed with an intensely savory spice blend that packed just enough lip-tingling heat, the more meaty-than-fatty flesh pulled clean off the bone. Accompanied by a refreshing slaw of purple cabbage, broccoli and apple, it was BBQ, but a bit more buttoned up.

Among the menu’s other innovative moves, a favorite dish was the cauliflower salad. Blanched, then butter poached, but still al dente, these small florets were paired with peppery shaved radish and threads of salty, tangy ricotta salata. My dining companion already has plans to return and eat a whole bowl in one sitting.

For our main course, we shared the Arctic char and buttermilk cavatelli. Far from the subtle flavors often paired with fish, the meaty char was dressed with a spicy green puree and crisped up garnish of shishito pepper and charred shiitake. The buttermilk cavatelli was another unexpected star—creamy, tangy and so ingenious that it could convert even the staunchest supporters of regular old macaroni and cheese. Served with a side of still-crunchy gai lan (Chinese broccoli)  dressed with spicy pork sausage and garlic chips, it was a flavor forward meal that left us fully satisfied but not heavy or stuffed.

For dessert, we opted for the homey pecan tart with butternut squash whipped cream. Far from the saccharine, sticky pecan desserts we’ve all grown up on, this crumblier rectangle of candied pecans and shortbread crust was perfectly salty and, while easy to share, worth hogging.

A crowd of fans has already descended on North River, and it’s easy to see why. Chef Starowicz’s refreshing spin on farm-to-table cuisine turns what could be overly-indulgent comfort food or staid locally sourced classics into surprising dishes that are more witty than weird. It’s an impressive start for a four-month-old restaurant, and diners will be smart to nab a table before admirable nods from the name brand critics start rolling in.