I got to Wychwood Barns, off Christie, south of St Clair just after 2pm. There were already other volunteers there – grinding boar, making tiny rhubarb pickles. A little nervous, I was given an apron and my first task. Pearling carrots. Oh? Don’t you pearl your carrots? Well, it’s simple, really. First you peel the carrots, and then with a melon baller the size of a pea, you scoop out the flesh into tiny pearls. I am not kidding.
“I am doing this gruesome task without complaint, because I know the next job you give me will be super awesome.” I reported cheerfully when Chef came to check up on me. He smiled, while picking out any pearls that were not absolutely round. “Here we strive for perfection. Attention to detail. It’s the details that make the difference.”
After an hour of “pearling”, I passed the mini melon baller onto an unsuspecting volunteer.
I was at The Stop Community Food Centre’s Green Barn, having volunteered to help prepare a gourmet five course meal for forty people. Funds raised through ticket sales go directly to The Stop. The Stop strives to eliminate hunger in its community through not only its food bank, but food education programs for families and children. The food cultivated from their greenhouse and gardens not only provide nourishment, but an understanding of where our food comes from – a connection to both the produce itself and the community.
Chris Brown, former executive chef at the once amazing Perigee in the Distillery District runs the show here. For this particular event he partnered with Bertrand Alepee, of the former delectable Amuse Bouche on Tecumseh. The menu was divine, if not slightly aggressive. Two formidable chefs and six volunteers – who made up for their lack of experience in professional kitchens with their desire to learn. There was a lot to do in only four hours.
Bertrand gave me my next task, also with carrots. He wanted them shaved into strands, not too thick, not too thin. He painstakingly adjusted the mandolin until it delivered the shreds that met with his approval. The shreds were to be fried until crispy, garnish for the Digby Scallop Carpaccio with Sweet and Sour Rhubarb Pickle. “You must keep re-adjusting, they all need to be exactly the same size.” He advised/warned me in his charming Parisian accent. “And don’t cut your fingers off.” Right, got it. I entered a sort of zen-like state, shaving the gorgeous multi-coloured heirloom carrots. It was zen except for the focusing on not cutting my fingers off part.
On to crostini making. Cutting multiple baguettes into slices…you guessed it…exactly the same size. Not as easy as it sounds. Try it. I had not concentrated so hard in a long time. I was not very good at this, and every now and then Chris picked one off the tray that was imperfect in his eyes. The volunteer/cop in real life preparing sunchokes next to me was removed from his task and given another – apparently he was not moving quickly enough.
Next, I graduated to eggplant and lamb cotoletta preparation – smearing tapenade on seared lamb, wrapping with eggplant and then carefully breading – all to make a unique Sicilian inspired cutlet, to be served on aforementioned sunchoke caponata.
The clock was ticking. Guests were to arrive in less than an hour, yet there were 150 mini potato and toscano cheese ravioli to make to go with the boar ragu. The first potatoes turned out much too starchy for Chris’ liking – I rushed to get more cooking. A team of us lined up to create an assembly line of ravioli making minions. “We have 20 minutes people, and then guests will be drinking wine right here.” We did not finish on time, and so our little assembly line was moved behind the cloak room, where we clandestinely completed our task.
As more guests rolled in, we crammed into the tiny kitchen to raise a glass of champagne to our efforts. I got a quick lesson in pastry from Bertrand, and began to form the shells for the Almond and Poached Pear Tarts. There was so much butter in his pate sablee – I knew it would be fantastic. Bertrand repeatedly showed me that the pastry must fit exactly into the corner of the pan, with absolutely no air pockets. He was patient, but I could tell that chef was a little nervous letting an amateur touch his pastry. I guess I did alright, as in, I didn’t get re-assigned…
Five courses, and for each one the team gathers around for plating and garnish. Chris and Bertrand have split the menu, so the chef who’s dish is being plated demonstrates one for us to see, then assigns each of us a role. We must move quickly to keep food hot, execute flawlessly on chef’s demands and keep allergen dishes separate. When the ravioli with boar is being plated I get to generously shave black truffle on each plate. I shave rigorously, (while again maintaining focus on not cutting off my finger on the mandolin) and end up losing all feeling in my index finger. “Truffle-it-is.” Only cure was to have a small dish of the pasta with truffle myself.
My favourite dish was the butter poached haddock on leek fondant, with spot prawn – spectacular in its own right. This gorgeous dish was garnished with something each of the volunteers had made: tarragon zabayon, bacon vinaigrette drizzle, deep fried nori wrapped soba noodle, a single carefully placed chive tip, AND…… some pretty darn impressive carrot pearls.
After the Almond Poached Pear tarts, complete with perfect pastry shells and ginger caramel sauce went out, it was time to go home. After over eight hours on my feet, I was exhausted. One of the guests came out of the greenhouse to congratulate the entire team on a fabulous dinner.
“But I have to ask…who did the pearled carrots?”
Are you kidding me? Someone noticed? The “pearlers” of the group raised their hands high, bursting with pride.
“It’s that kind of attention to detail that shows the kitchen really cares. Nice work.”
I am still proud. I am a professional pearler of carrots. I’d be happy to show you how it’s done.
A wonderful evening, for a wonderful cause.
Check out The Stop’s website to see how you can help. There are lots of different ways, but try volunteering at one of the monthly Food for Change dinners. The charge is $100, but you’ll learn a ton, meet interesting people, enjoy some Ontario wines, taste some fabulous food, all while gaining a whole new appreciation for what goes on behind the scenes of a restaurant. But most of all, funds go to The Stop, a most worthy cause.
