I have debated as to whether to blog this or not.
There is no way that I will be able to capture this experience the way my mind remembers it nor as my heart experienced it. I am not that kind of master of the written word. And then, I find myself feeling like a school girl and wondering why and then if it's appropriate. But who wouldn't be just a little star struck after an experience like this one.
Sarah, Doug H. and DixieJo
So you all know that I like to cook. Not just the cook for my family and listen to them complain kind of cooking where I end up making pretty bland and mild food to avoid as much whining and crying on all of our parts at dinner. But really, cook. Prepare, create, relish and enjoy the food kind of cook. I dabble at being good at it, being able to impress people, foodies and non foodies alike. But the truth is, as much as I like making other people happy with food, the enjoyment that cooking brings is almost nearly selfish. I enjoy it. For me. As much of my life that I spend serving others, mostly willingly and because I really do want to, cooking is something I do just for me. I am grateful when others enjoy my creations - but really it is for me.
I practice and strengthen my hobby in many ways. Eating out, eating good food at great restaurants, like Dough (a pizzeria here in San Antonio), is one of those hobby influencing practices. Enjoying good food that is prepared well by others is a great way to learn. I also take culinary classes at Central Market. Just like I don't eat at just any restaurant, I don't take just any classes. I have learned that the best classes are the classes taught by, well, chefs. Even better are the famous chefs. Not famous like celebrity chefs from Food Network but Culinary Instructors or Master chefs that have written cookbooks.
A couple weeks ago Sarah, my best foodie friend, and I attended one of the best classes that I have ever attended at Central Market. Certainly in my top two. Those of you that have read the blog for awhile may remember the class I took from Roland Mesnier the Executive Pastry chef from the White House and author of Dessert University. He used to be the number one Chef/Instructor in my experience, but he may have been displaced by this class. Peter Reinhart. He is, by his own and others acclaim, either the "Best or the second best (bread) baker in the world." (Second only to Jeff Hertzberg)
This master of bread did wondrous things with flour, water, yeast and salt. He made a "lean bread" with just those ingredients that made my mouth water and long for more. Some would call this a french bread. He explained at the beginning of class that it could be an insult to a bread baker to put butter on their bread. My thought was: Who is this butter hater? Imagine my surprise when he was right. This was not bread that I would scarf down and need another piece to try and appease my taste buds. This was bread to be loved, enjoyed and savoured. This was bread that had reached new heights in my expectations of bread.
This was not bread that most Americans would recognize as "good" bread. It had various sized pockets or holes in the bread. It had crispy crust. It had give and stretch. It was NOT uniform or squishy. From the lean bread he moved on to a sweet dough. With that he made fruit filled Kaloches, coffee cake and Cinnamon rolls three ways - including caramelized slurries that would glaze over the sides when inverted. Next he moved on to an even sweeter dough, Challah. (pronounced: halla) This was a fantastic bread. Already a fan of Challah, this loaf won me over for good and I could have gone home happy at this point. The last beautiful loaf he made was Babka. A rich, fatty dough that he then filled with chocolate. This was the heavenly glorious end to the delicious and life changing breads. My taste for bread has forever been altered. Sorry Wonder Bread and my childhood. I have grown up and am now a bread snob.
Peter (yes we are on a first name basis, more on that later) taught, talked and demonstrated all the while keeping track of six or more loaves of various breads in three different ovens and mixing and shaping four doughs on the counter without ever skipping a beat. It was like he had bread radar. He would be in the middle of mixing a dough, telling a story and stop to say "it smells like the third loaf in the first oven needs to be rotated." And then go right back to his mid sentence in the story and to mixing his dough. Or he would walk over to an oven and pull a loaf out with his bare hands. He would tap it and could tell what temperature the bread was inside by the sound it made. (he would insert a thermometer to check for sure, but I think he did that more for us than for him!)
Now, if this had been any other class on any other night that would have been it. We would have walked back to the car and talked all the way home about what we had learned, how impressed we were (and in some classes we were not impressed) and what we would make first. But this was not just any night. No. There was more.
We had sat in the back of class. That is where there were seats left and honestly people, it really is the best place to see. If you sit up front you not only cannot see the counter but you kink your neck trying to see the mirrors and screens. The back is great because you can see and you can look out the windows to the store below if you get bored. Warning though, the AC blows right there and it is COLD! Anyway, there was an empty seat next to Sarah. Just as class is starting in walks a man in a chef's jacket that has Dough's logo on it. Remember the pizzeria I mentioned earlier? Well you see, Sarah and I love it there. Sarah commented on Dough, he kind of ignored her (but we will forgive him because he made up for it later) and looked past her and me to another table. He must have seen better company because he got up to move. Feeling slightly snubbed we tried not to care or notice. But then he stops and says, "I'm Doug." And my mind and I'm sure my eyes did a "wait a minute" jump. I quickly said something like, "Doug? You're Doug H. / Dough, the owner of Dough?" (get it, his name is Doug Horn and he named his restaurant Doug-h?) Why yes, he was him. Doug H.
But like I said, he moved on to another table for better company than a couple groupies. But then, Peter asks during class - Doug how long will your restaurant be open tonight? Doug says, As long as it needs to be Chef. (I am certain as an open invitation to him, Peter Reinhart the world's best baker). And then it happened. Peter says, you hear that everyone - we are all going to Dough after class! Sarah and I exchange looks. Are we dreaming?
We hang out afterwards to find out, was that a real invitation? Are we lame for even asking? If we are, we don't care because this is Dough and Peter Reinhart for heaven's sake! Doug insists - come, enjoy, he even says... please. We conceal our squeals of delight and call home to check on the babies and explain to our hubbies this once in a lifetime chance we have. Babies are fine, go - what supportive husbands we have!
We don't need directions. We know our way. We arrive at Dough after hours. And we sit and eat the best that Dough has to offer. Appetizers. In house pulled Mozzarella. Bread. And Pizza. Delicious Pizza. And at one point Doug gets up to remake a pizza himself that he felt the staff didn't get quite right. And I will testify - he got it right. It was perfect. And then there was dessert.
Did I mention that there were only eight of us? Peter, Doug, Doug's wife Lori, Jay (the friend Doug left us for earlier), two Central Market chef's, Sarah and me. It was quaint. For the most part I sat and listened. Listened as Doug asked questions of Peter. Lisented as Peter told the story of his journey to become the world's best baker- he didn't start baking until he was 36! Listened as tips, tricks and tales of bread, dough and baking were exchanged. And I savoured it all. The food. The people. The talk. The experience.
And then it was time to go home.
And we did squeal when we got in the car.
