week 12: the crispy-skinned trout that turned my night around

April 16, 2009

meat sauté class didn’t seem to want to go my way. it had started out on a high note. Chef announced that we would make “fresh” veal scallopinis, which translated to him plunking down a massive veal leg on the demonstration table that he would clean of silver skin and excess fat and then break down in front of us into its component parts. he surmised that the calf whose leg he was cleaning was probably closer in age to a bull (roughly six months old) when it was brought to market since the leg was so big and the meat almost resembled the color of beef. he would make the scallopinis, or cutlets, from the tender part of the leg (the tenderloin), which we would then flour and quickly sauté.

Chef cut the cutlets from the bottom and top round of the veal. he instructed us to pound the cutlets into very thin pieces, dredge them in seasoned flour and sauté them quickly in a small sauté pan until both sides were golden brown and crisp on the outside.

we would then make a pan sauce using the drippings along with a little shallot, cream, butter and lemon juice. simple enough, right? well, before one makes a good veal scallopini, one must know that the key to good sautéed meat is searing. whenever we would sear meat in Chef Pierre’s class–whether for roasting or braising large cuts of tougher meat to quickly sautéing tender cuts like the veal that night–we would frequently hear Chef shout as he paced through the kitchen, “you’re boiling!” what he meant was that one element was there that absolutely shouldn’t be when searing: moisture. if moisture is able to accumulate in the pan, the meat will boil instead of sear and become tough.

thus, before setting out to sear, the meat must be very dry. if you’re sautéing a tender piece of meat that needs a little fat to get going, you should heat the oil in the pan on very high heat before adding the meat. if you hover your hand just over the pan, it should feel intensely hot and the oil should shimmer when you move it around in the pan. use a pan that will comfortably fit however much meat you are using. don’t overcrowd it–each piece of meat enjoys the spotlight, as it should. and once the meat hits the pan, do not move it or shake it, as tempting as that may be.

knowing all the cardinal rules of The Sauté, i was prepared to create a perfect little veal cutlet and pan sauce. i pounded out my meat, making sure it was of consistent thickness. i prepared my seasoned flour and grabbed all the ingredients for the pan sauce–i was particularly excited about this simple little dish. i had recently interviewed Chef Dina Altieri who taught advanced sauces at Kendall, and we had discussed the magic of pan sauces at length, since they were such a fundamental part of proper sauce-making. “you use the fond [drippings] to make a pan sauce. you don’t come out of left field and serve braised or seared meat with a cream sauce,” she said. the fond has a specific role as the basis for the sauce that will accompany the meat that was seared in that same pan. the flavorful, crispy bits and remaining melted fat would be scraped up from the bottom through addition of liquid and acid, and they would give a round, savory richness to the sauce. i knew this. i had studied it. unfortunately, i waited too long to grab a pan. i searched the supply cage for a flat-bottomed little sauté pan, but all that was left were the lumpy-bottomed, poorly cleaned, “not so” nonstick rejects left at the bottom of the cage. i scrubbed as best i could and headed back to station, still hopeful.

it all started out well enough. i added a little fat and allowed the pan to get hot enough for a good searing. i dredged my meat and laid it in the pan, fighting the urge to turn it ever so slightly. from there, it was all downhill. a few minutes later, wisps of smoke started rising from my lumpy little pan. i tentatively lifted the meat with my tongs to check that it was searing properly and saw that the leftover crust on the dirty pan was burning itself onto the meat. i turned it, trying to move it over slightly to avoid further trouble, but it was too late. my hopes of a perfect sear and perfect pan sauce were dashed as i watched my little cutlet brown unevenly in the crusty pan. not to mention that the cutlets had already been parceled out, leaving me no hope of starting fresh. i glanced over at pete, who was well on his way to a beautiful, velvety pan sauce. “you know you could have transferred your veal to my pan,” he said in reaction to the outburst of clanging and flying burnt veal going on to his right. “it’s too late. the thing started burning almost right away!” i cried. i complained loudly about my misfortune, my missed opportunity to make the perfect pan sauce, my old pan. but it didn’t bring back my freshly floured pink veal cutlet. i would have no veal to plate for Chef that night. but then Chef called us over to distribute skin-on trout fillets. i had another chance for a good sear.

“remove those bones and leave the skin on,” Chef said, quickly cleaning his trout of bones and slicing off the tail. “make sure you put enough salt on the skin–that’s the best part!”

he dredged the trout in seasoned flour, and dropped it skin-side down in the hot pan into which he had swirled a mixture of light oil and foamy butter. “get that skin side very crispy before you turn it over,” he said. the trout sizzled and protested and popped, but Chef didn’t turn it over for several more minutes.

when he did, i understood why he waited:

the shiny skin was encrusted in a golden brown coat, perfectly succulent. i copied Chef’s work at station, and when i saw the result, my anger about the failed veal cutlet melted away.

just before plating the trout, we browned some butter in the same pan. as i swirled and shook, a wonderful nutty-brown color developed as the butter bubbled away. the smell was heavenly.

i squeezed in a splash of lemon juice (just a splash, or you will get an earful from Chef that it is too acidic) to finish the butter noisette and drizzled the lovely sauce over the fish.

i realized how important it is to live in the moment when you cook. things go wrong. perfect dishes get ruined. but you never stop learning, and you have to move forward or else no one will get fed. but it makes you appreciate the successes you have in the kitchen, however small. indeed, leave it to a dead trout to put me back on top of the world.