Dominic Zarletti is a culinary student. When he isn’t cooking, he’s usually sleeping, or he might be working out. But one thing he’s usually not doing is going out and carousing with his friends all night. Remember that, especially if your fantasy is to be the next Mario Batali.
“I wanted to be an accountant,” said Zarletti, who is 24 and finishing up his final year at the International Culinary School at the Illinois Institute of Art-Chicago. “And then I got to college and began thinking: ‘I can’t do this. I’ve got to be up and moving.'”
He’s up and moving now. In fact, a day in his life resembles a race.
Just now, at 11:30 a.m., he has arrived by train at Ogilvie Transportation Center from his hometown of Kenosha, 65 miles away, knife case under his arm, wearing checked chef’s pants.
Zarletti has class three days a week (today is his late day, which goes until midnight; otherwise, he is in class by 8 a.m.) Four days a week, he is a restaurant manager at a Kenosha hospital.
On the walk to ICS, he explained how he got into cooking in the first place.
Reader’s Digest version: Started cooking with his mother at age 13 (“We’d make pizza burgers”) after his parents divorced; took high-school home economics, realized he was good at it; worked for Schwan’s frozen food company to help pay his way through college at Southwest Minnesota State, where he played football; got a degree in restaurant management; enrolled in culinary school. “I love the expression on people’s faces when they eat something I’ve made,” he said.
That was then. This is now, and Zarletti is running a bit late.
12:05 p.m. : He makes a beeline for the locker room, changes into his chef’s jacket, and heads to an enormous kitchen for the final session in “Asian Cuisine: India.” He unrolls his bag, starts honing his knives.
“My first few weeks, I was put in charge of making tofu, and I screwed it up every time,” he says.
12:15 p.m. : “Chop-Chop!” yells chef Geoff Felsenthal, the instructor, motioning the class to the front of the room, where they stand at attention. Felsenthal has a high, starchy toque; they’re wearing squished hats that look like deflated popovers.
He gives them the lowdown on the 17-item menu they will execute then serve to Felsenthal, who is judge, jury and jeering studio audience all in one. “Get cracking! Chop-chop!” he shouts, and they scatter.
12:45 p.m .: Zarletti and his team (the class is split into two) collect, weigh and measure ingredients from racks and giant refrigerators and get started. Zarletti drew shrimp and salmon curry with a coriander and currant basmati rice. The others are making potato and fennel samosas, chickpea fritters, spicy cucumber salad, chutneys, tamarind sauce, naan, spinach with paneer (Indian cheese), lamb kebabs and chicken biryani, among other dishes.
12:55 p.m. : “This is called mise en place,” Zarletti says, showing off a tray neatly arranged with his paprika, turmeric, his knob of ginger, his tamarind paste, etc. “You do this before you pick up your knife; it saves time if something happens.” He toasts coriander and fenugreek seeds and black peppercorns in a pan, then grinds them.
1:05 p.m.: “This is my third 10-hour day in a row,” Zarletti says, over the somewhat nerve-racking din created by grinding (spices), squeaking (shoes on floor), chopping, sizzling and general banging. “You get kind of slap-happy.” Nonetheless, he calmly and expertly dices an onion, exhibits a fine seeding technique on two large serrano chilies.
1:20 p.m.: As Felsenthal passes by he says, “Keep the seeds in those chilies; just cut them in half.” (Aargh.) To the room at large, Felsenthal yells, “Who started this fire?”
1:28 p.m.: Zarletti begins sauteing onions, ginger and garlic.
1:35 p.m.: “I need to start my rice as soon as I get this sauce started,” Zarletti tells no one in particular. He disappears for a few minutes, returns with a salmon fillet instead. He tries to remove the skin, which fights him. Chef Felsenthal swoops in, flips the fish over and expertly skins it with a swift, economical motion. Zarletti, chastened, cuts the salmon into squares, keeps going.
1:50 p.m.: Zarletti brings a stainless-steel bowl of shrimp to his workstation. “I was going to do the sauce first, but it turns out that our shrimp comes with the skin on,” he says, beginning to peel and devein it as quickly as possible.
2 p.m.: The elusive sauce is started; to his onion/garlic/ginger mixture on the stove, Zarletti adds chicken broth, the toasted, ground spices, tamarind puree, cayenne, turmeric, the sliced (aargh) chilies, paprika, all of which is to cook for 30 minutes.
2:04 p.m.: Zarletti steps away from the stove for a few minutes; when he returns, the liquid has essentially disappeared. “It was supposed to be on low. … All the liquid burned off,” he says. Did someone turn up his flame? He doesn’t have time to think about it. He studies his recipe again, outwardly calm.
2:10 p.m.: “What time are we serving?,” he asks his teammate Keisha, already re-peeling more ginger, to restart his sauce.
“At 2:30,” she answers.
Zarletti bites his lip, looking like he’s going to faint.
“I’m kidding!” she says. “We serve at 3:30.”
Not laughing, Zarletti heads back to the refrigerator, back to some rolling racks, and grabs entire bottles and bags — his vision of mise en place now mis-placed. He chops, slices, grates, doing 90 mph. “I’m watching this,” he says, gazing into the saucepan for a minute, then disappears.
2:20 p.m.: A sort of mass freaking-out begins taking over the class. “They always do this,” says Felsenthal. “Start out slow, then realize they’re losing time and have a lot more to do.” Someone drops a tray full of cucumbers. A student darts off in one direction, stops himself suddenly, then heads the other way.
2:30 p.m.: Zarletti is stalwart. “I caught myself up!” he says, smiling. “Now we’ll have rice with currants. … You think I can make rice in an hour?”
2:40 p.m.: More smoke. “Who is burning spices?” shouts Felsenthal. “You cannot walk away from the stove!”
2:45 p.m.: Sauce simmering, rice on the stove, Zarletti washes some dishes. He helps another student roll out naan dough. “We’re all basically helping each other out now,” he says.
2:55 p.m.: “You guys gotta GO, it’s five to three!” shouts Felsenthal. “Keisha, what is this?” he says, pointing at a small bowl. “This mango has got to be chopped finer!”
3 p.m.: Zarletti adds coconut milk to his broth mixture, goes back to making naan.
3:10 p.m. Students start setting the table. The lamb kebabs go on the grill. Zarletti goes back to his sauce and drops the salmon and shrimp into it.
3:20 p.m.: The lamb kebabs come off the grill; a chicken biryani comes off the stove. Homemade paneer is folded into steamed spinach.
3:25 p.m.: Zarletti plates up his basmati rice then tops it with the honey-colored sauce and fish, places it alongside the other dishes, and waits to be judged.
3:35 p.m.: “This looks very nice,” says Felsenthal, as he begins his evaluation. “Now the breads were meant to be dipped in chutneys, to get the palate open and excited. Visually, very nice. … Let’s try some: mmmm. The mango chutney is nice, starts sweet, finishes with heat, but not too much.” He says a lot more not-about-Zarletti, who endures it anyway.
3:40 p.m.: Finally: “Shrimp and salmon curry,” Felsenthal says. Zarletti bites his lip, arms crossed, stares at the dish as Felsenthal tastes it: “Good seasoning, shrimp’s a little under, but a dish like this you never serve on the rice, you serve it on the side. See how the rice has soaked it up? Flavors are good, salmon cooked nicely.” And that’s it; Felsenthal moves on. “Roti looks nice, hoppers should be served in a basket.” He says more, but it’s not-about-Zarletti. “Thank you all, nice job, and nice job meeting your time.”
3:50 p.m.: Felsenthal exits. Zarletti and his classmates eat the food, most of it quite delicious. “We’ve got to break everything down and clean this place up,” Zarletti says, looking exhausted, trying not to think about his botched sauce. (“I know I did turn the stove down, but if you get upset, you really can’t deal with it.”)
“And then I have “World Cuisine” at 5. I’ll catch the 9:35 or the 10:35 to Waukegan. Which means I’ll fall asleep tonight at about 1:30 a.m.”
Spinach with paneer
Preparation time: 20 minutes
Cooking time: 20 minutes
Yield: 4 servings
Paneer cheese is relatively simple to make, but it also is available in Indian grocers; firm tofu is an acceptable substitute. Garam masala is a spice blend sold in Indian markets and many supermarkets. This recipe is adapted from the International Culinary School at the Illinois Institute of Art-Chicago.
4 cups whole milk
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 green chili
2 tablespoons water
1 teaspoon minced ginger root
1 teaspoon coriander seeds, toasted, ground, see note
1/4 ground teaspoon turmeric
1/4 teaspoon cumin seeds, toasted, ground, see note
1/8 teaspoon paprika
3 tablespoons canola oil
1 pound spinach
1 1/2 tablespoons cream cheese
1/8 teaspoon garam masala
1. Heat the milk to a boil in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat, stirring to prevent scorching. Reduce heat to low; stir in lemon juice. Remove from heat; stir gently until large lumps form. Cover; let stand 10 minutes. Remove curds with slotted spoon to colander lined with 3 layers of moistened cheesecloth. Twist the cheesecloth to form the curds into a ball; tie. Rinse. Place a pan on top of cheesecloth to weigh it down. Let stand 1 hour; cut into cubes.
2. Cook the paneer in a medium non-stick skillet over medium-high heat until golden, about 5 minutes; set aside. Place the chili, water and ginger in a blender; puree until smooth. Add coriander, turmeric, cumin and paprika; process to blend.
3. Heat the oil in large skillet; add the spice puree. Cook, stirring, on medium-high heat 10 seconds. Lower heat to low; add spinach. Cover skillet; cook 4-5 minutes. Stir spinach, cook 2 minutes. Add cream cheese, garam masala and paneer cheese; cover. Cook 3-5 minutes. Stir well before serving, being careful not to break up cheese.
Note: To toast coriander and cumin seeds, heat in a small dry skillet over low heat until fragrant, about 3 minutes.
Nutrition information per serving: 294 calories, 62% of calories from fat, 21 g fat, 7 g saturated fat, 30 mg cholesterol, 18 g carbohydrates, 12 g protein, 205 mg sodium, 3 g fiber
Shrimp and salmon curry
Preparation time: 30 minutes
Cooking time: 1 hour
Yield: 6 servings
Serve this rich fragrant curry with steamed basmati rice. Adapted from a recipe from the International Culinary School at the Illinois Institute of Art-Chicago. Look for curry leaves, tamarind paste and spices at Indian markets.
2 tablespoons whole coriander
1 teaspoon black peppercorns
3/4 teaspoon fenugreek seeds
5 dried curry leaves, optional
2 tablespoons canola oil
3/4 teaspoon black mustard seeds
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 onion, finely diced
1 teaspoon grated ginger root
1 1/2 cups chicken broth
2 hot green chilies
1 1/2 tablespoons paprika
1 tablespoon tamarind paste
1 teaspoon each: ground turmeric, salt
3/4 teaspoons ground red pepper
1 1/2 cups coconut milk
1 1/2 pounds shrimp, peeled, deveined
1 1/2 pounds salmon, skin removed, cut into 1-inch pieces
1. Heat a large heavy skillet over medium-high heat; add the coriander, peppercorns and fenugreek. Cook, stirring, just until fragrant, about 3 minutes; cool. Grind with the curry leaves in a spice grinder; set aside.
2. Heat the oil in the same skillet over medium-high heat; add the mustard seeds. Cook until they begin to pop, about 2 minutes. Add garlic and onion; cook, stirring, until golden, about 2 minutes. Add the ginger, cook until fragrant, 1 minute. Add the chicken broth, whole chilies, paprika, tamarind paste, turmeric, salt, red pepper and the reserved ground spice mixture; cook over medium heat 30 minutes. Stir in coconut milk; cook 15 minutes. Check seasoning.
3. Add salmon; cook 4 minutes; add shrimp. Cook until salmon and shrimp are just cooked through, 3-4 minutes.
Nutrition information per serving: 502 calories, 50% of calories from fat, 28 g fat, 13 g saturated fat, 244 mg cholesterol, 11 g carbohydrates, 52 g protein, 818 mg sodium, 3 g fiber
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ernunn@tribune.com
COOKING CLASS BONANZA: Turn to the centerspread for our annual roundup of culinary classes.
