Steak, Rattle & Roll

I remember the way my parents' house used to smell when steak rolls were for dinner. It was a distinct mix of beef, bacon and onions—an aroma I haven't experienced for quite some time.

Recently, a friend mentioned that he made braciole. My mind immediately went to the steak rolls, and I couldn't get them out of my head. I craved the smell—and of course the taste. It was time to leaf through my trusty recipe box and find an old favorite.

I give my Grandma Perron steak roll credit; I think she would be proud of my end result. Thanks to her, my mom learned the recipe. Aside from a couple changes—mostly due to what I had in my apartment—I stayed very true to the original recipe.

Grandma Perron's Steak Rolls

1 1/4 pound thinly sliced top round (or sirloin tip) steak, pounded to 1/4-inch thickness

1 medium red onion, thinly sliced and divided

4 slices peppered bacon

Salt and pepper

AP flour, for dredging

1 tablespoon butter

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 cups beef broth

1/2 cup dry red wine

4 ounces mushrooms, sliced

2 thyme sprigs

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Cut pounded steak into equal-size portions (I cut four pieces into thirds for 12 portions). Slice each piece of bacon into thirds.

3. On each piece of steak, place a strip of bacon and a few red onions. Roll and secure with a toothpick; in some cases, more than one toothpick might be necessary. Season the rolls with salt and pepper, then dredge in flour.

4. Heat a saute pan on medium-high; add butter and oil. Working in batches, add rolls and sear on all sides. Remove from pan and place in an 8 by 8-inch baking dish. Deglaze the pan with wine and reduce by half. Add beef broth, remaining onion, mushrooms and thyme and bring to a boil. Pour sauce over the browned rolls.

5. Bake rolls 45 minutes to 1 hour or until tender.

6. Remove rolls with tongs onto a plate and cover. Pour liquid into a sauce pan and reduce until thickened, about 20 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Serve rolls with sauce—and a mound of mashed potatoes.

Growing up, the recipe was a favorite of my meat-eating family. After seeing my carnivorous husband's reaction, I'm pretty sure this will be a favorite of his, too.

(More than a) Pinch of Salt

What do you make when a fellow culinary grad comes over for dinner? Leave it up to me and it will be an experiment.

For a week, I asked myself what to cook. I didn't want it to be ordinary, and I needed to be sure the meal didn't contain dairy (her boyfriend, who was accompanying her, has related allergies). Why not roast a whole fish in salt, I thought? It's not something I've personally done, but I've tasted it and loved every bite. Plus, my friend is a salt addict—she literally has spent hundreds of dollars on different types from around the world.

The decision was made. On the day of the party, I went grocery shopping in order to secure the freshest fish. The plan was to get a 4-pound fish—preferably a wild striped bass or red snapper—and we could share it. Turns out, I couldn't find a fish that large anywhere. Instead, I ended up with two 2-pound red snapper. The fish were gorgeous and, as it turns out, were a perfect size for my oven. I would have been screwed with a 4-pound fish.

The dish turned out amazing. My friend and I ended up working on it together—a fun, interactive dinner party experience and something we haven't done since culinary school. We loved how impressive the presentation was when we peeled off the salt crust. I think we heard a few "oohs" and "aahs" from the guys, too.

Whole Red Snapper in a Crust of Salt (adapted from chef Jonathan Waxman via Saveur)

Yield: 4 servings

6 large egg whites

3 1/2 pounds kosher salt

Zest of 1 lemon

2 whole red snapper, about 2 pounds each, cleaned and scaled

1 lemon, sliced 1/4-inch thick

1 lime, sliced 1/4-inch thick

1 blood orange, sliced 1/4-inch thick

1 cup flat-leaf parsley

2 rosemary sprigs

2 oregano sprigs

2 thyme sprigs

2 tarragon sprigs

4 cloves garlic

1-ounce piece of ginger, peeled and sliced

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Beat egg whites in a bowl until foamy, then gradually whisk in salt until mixture is slightly moist and has the texture of cornmeal; add a bit of water if necessary. Stir in lemon zest.

2. Pour enough salt mixture onto a sheet pan to form a bed for the fish. (I didn't use parchment paper on the sheet, but it would probably be a good idea as the salt was a pain to scrape off after cooking. You can moisten both sides of the parchment with water.) Place the fish on top of the bed. If it's too long for the pan, trim it's tail. Repeat with second fish.

3. Stuff each fish with half the citrus fruits, herbs, garlic and ginger. Be careful not to overstuff the fish or force in the ingredients—you want the fish to somewhat retain their shape. Pat half of the remaining salt mixture around the top and sides of one fish to form a crust; it's OK to cover the entire fish or leave part of the head and tail peeking out a bit. Repeat with second fish.

4. Bake about 25-30 minutes or until the salt begins to slightly color. Tap knife along the edge of crust to crack the salt and gently lift away from the skin. Portion the fish in filets and serve.

I would love to try this on a grill—if I had one. But that won't stop me from making it again in my miniature New York oven. When I do break out the recipe a second time, I'll be sure to pair it again with the duck fat-fried potatoes sprinkled with Maldon smoked sea salt and invite my friend over to make her maple-bacon doughnuts, which had a perfect salty-sweet balance.

The phrase "feeling salty" may have taken on a new meaning.

Under the Influence

If you want to persuade me, it can be done with bacon. Just wave a slice of cured pork belly before me and I'll write that extra piece/pick you up from the airport/take care of your cat/watch hours of sci-fi. (The latter might be pushing it.)

Flipping through the March issue of Bon Appetit (which influenced me to make pastitsio last week), I stumbled upon a bacon and date scone recipe from acclaimed Venice, Calif., restaurant Gjelina. I'd been hearing a lot about this place recently, so I thought I'd see what all the hype was about and give the scones a shot.

I made a couple changes to the recipe. For one, I used figs instead of dates (I personally love the combo). Also, I used maple bacon—cured by me, of course.

Bacon and Fig Scones (adapted from Gjelina via Bon Appetit)

Yield: 8 scones

10 ounces thick-cut maple bacon slices, diced

2 cups AP flour

1/2 cup sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

3/4 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

3/4 cup dried figs, roughly chopped

1/2 cup (1 stick) chilled unsalted butter

2/3 cup buttermilk

Turbinado (raw) sugar for sprinkling

1. Cook bacon in skillet over medium heat until cooked through but still tender (not crisp), turning occasionally. Transfer to paper towels to drain and cool. Reserve bacon drippings in a bowl.

2. Whisk flour, 1/2 cup sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a large bowl. Add bacon and figs to flour mixture. Toss to coat. Coarsely grate butter into mixture and use a fork to incorporate. Add buttermilk and stir until large, moist clumps form. Knead mixture with hands in bowl until dough forms.

3. Transfer dough to a floured work surface. Pat into an 8-inch round and cut into 8 wedges; transfer scones to parchment-lined baking sheet. Cover and chill 1 hour.

4. When ready to cook, preheat oven to 400 degrees. Brush scones with reserved bacon drippings and sprinkle with turbinado sugar. Bake scones 16-18 minutes, or until they're golden brown and cake tester comes out clean when inserted into the middle. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Turns out, Gjelina is now on my "Must Visit" restaurant list. Browsing its menu, it looks like I'll have to try the crispy Niman Ranch pork belly with soft polenta, bitter greens and apple cider. Or maybe the grilled radicchio with bacon, fontina and tomato confit. Or both.

Gjelina: I'm officially under your influence. Do you need me to watch your cat?

Holy Smoke!

Days 75 and 76

It feels like I'm smokin' through Level 4—maybe 'cause I am.

The wood chips and charcoal have made several appearances in the past few days of class. My team can't get enough of them.

It all started with the duck breasts; they were amazing (I offered a piece to Ryan's parents—

who visited this weekend and have never tried duck—and they loved it.) Next came the trout, cured in a brine of juniper berries, Madeira wine and maple syrup. Also awesome. The spicy Italian sausage wrapped up Friday.

Today, we smoked the bacon we cured last week. Tomorrow, we're smoking salmon, rabbit sausage and more trout.

The smell of burning wood chips certainly evokes feelings of fall. Sometimes I miss having a fireplace. I'm definitely looking forward to heading to Cleveland for Thanksgiving. My mom and I have been planning the menu; deep-fried turkey, leek bread pudding and sweet potato casserole are confirmed.

Oh, and the infamous Level 3 lemon tart might make a reappearance...

This Little Piggy...

Days 62 and 63

At this point, it's probably pretty obvious that I love bacon.

So I was pretty psyched that I had the chance to make it this week. Tuesday, we trimmed the pork belly and rubbed it with a maple solution; today, we flipped the meat and gave it a good massage. Tomorrow we smoke it.

Friday we eat it.

Our suckling pig was also delivered, and we rubbed it down with a marinade. We're serving the little guy at our buffet's carving station Friday. I hope we do him justice.

In addition, we also braised oxtails for a stew (awesome), and seared and simmered whole octopus (doubly awesome). Our menu is going to rock. Friday couldn't come fast enough. But before it arrives, we have a lot of prep work remaining for our Caribbean menu.

We need to get it together, mon.

Four Thought

Day 61

Bacon and sausage and foie gras! Oh my!

Today I learned charcuterie will be a big part of Level 4 as I walked into the kitchen and spotted duck livers and a giant veal head. Sorry, my vegetarian friends. This is a time you might need to look away.

We began with a duck terrine by breaking down several birds, grinding its meat, combining it with pistachios, fatback and port-soaked cherries, and then layering it in a ceramic vessel with ham and seared duck breasts. We vacuum-sealed the terrines and popped them in an immersion circulator for low-temperature cooking. It was a lot of work, but I'm confident it will be worth it.

Tomorrow, we're curing pork belly for maple bacon and we'll start making head cheese. Good stuff.

In addition to the lesson in charcuterie, our group—approximately one-third of the class—discussed our ideas for the buffet we'll put out on Friday for the school. Our theme is Caribbean, so we narrowed down related recipes, including suckling pig, lamb curry and oxtail stew. We'll have until Thursday to prep.

It was nice to get back into the learning groove, but it was equally nice to rest my brain this weekend. Ryan and I headed upstate to Rhinebeck, N.Y., located in Dutchess County about two hours north of the city, to pick apples, pumpkins and fall raspberries.

We visited Rhinebeck for the first time last fall and fell in love. It's a quaint town with not much to do besides eat (well, I might add) and visit the surrounding farms and farmer's market. It reminds me of growing up in the Midwest, so there's something comforting about the whole experience.

Rhinebeck is the apple of my eye in New York.

Experience of a Lifetime

Day 50 (and the weekend)

I can officially say that I sliced Iron Chef Masaharu Morimoto's bacon.

On Saturday and Sunday, I volunteered for the New York Culinary Experience and was able to assist some amazing chefs. The two-day event, hosted by my school and New York Magazine, featured big names like Todd English, Marcus Samuelsson, David Bouley, Alain Ducasse and Jacques Torres. Guests paid $1,600 for four hands-on sessions with the chefs.

I was able to assist Morimoto, who has the most unbelievable knife skills I've ever seen. He made an elaborate sushi platter on crushed ice, and his sous chef demoed takoyaki (octopus balls) and okonomiyaki (a savory Japanese pancake). I also helped out chef Missy Robbins (executive chef of A Voce at Columbus Circle who was named one of Food & Wine magazine's best new chef this year) and chef Anita Lo (owner of Annisa, appearing on "Top Chef Masters").

There was one more chef that I helped, but she will remain anonymous simply because I cannot bear to give her credit. She is a horrible person. I, as well as a number of the volunteers, have decided to never eat at her restaurant because she was so horrible. And if I volunteer again for the event, I will make sure to avoid assisting her like the plague.

Overall, it was an incredible experience. Most of the chefs were talented beyond words. I'm so glad that I was able to be a part of it.

Friday during class was our second mock midterm; I made the fish dish (a fillet of dorade poached in lobster stock) and the lemon tart. I was relatively happy with the outcome, considering I felt like hell. There's a bug going around our school, and I was sick all weekend. A day off would be nice.

Too bad Monday starts now.

Hog Heaven

Day 18

For some reason, I always veer away from pork whenever I'm conjuring up dinner.

I'm not sure what it is. Maybe I associate The Other White Meat with a super-dried out chop that has virtually no flavor. Or perhaps it's just the opposite—falling-off-the-bone St. Louis-style ribs—which are delicious but ultra-time consuming.

What about bacon, you ask? It's a no-brainer the fatty slabs of meat are amazing. I cook with bacon frequently (I even put it on ice cream, as you may have seen in my "Getting Corny" post), but I just have trouble aligning its awesomness with the same animal as a pork chop.

When I eat pork, someone else is usually preparing it. A few of my favorites off-hand are Michael Symon's smoked Berkshire pork chop at Lola, a good rack of ribs from anywhere that does it right, carnitas tacos, and my mom's bacon-wrapped pork tenderloin.

Today proved that a little something extra, such as a sauce, can take a familiar (and awfully boring) piece of meat to the next level.

For the first recipe, we made cotes de porc charcutiere (pork chops with sauce charcutiere). The pork was seared and placed in the oven to finish cooking. Then we turned a bland dish upside-down with a sauce made of demi-glace, wine, onions, mustard and cornichons. The second recipe—rosettes de porc au gingembre, sauce aigre-doux (ginger-marinated pork fillet with sweet and sour sauce)—was also a hit. I took an entire portion home so I don't have to cook Wednesday night.

Despite a long day, which included test No. 4, I came home only to study for our Level 1 final on Thursday. It features a comprehensive written exam as well as a practical, where we're judged on knife skills and basic cooking techniques. I'm worried about the cocottes; apparently we have to turn a potato into eight of them in 15 minutes.

Yeah, when pigs fly.

Lamb Chop Shop

Day 9

"I feel normal here."

That was the quote of the day, whispered to me by my partner. We chuckled over the remark, said during an in-class demonstration where one of the chefs was showing us how to make pastrami, followed by a lesson on curing pork belly for bacon. Many of the students noted how excited they were to go home and try it themselves. I was one of them.

I had to smile because her comment was so true. For me, one of the coolest things about attending culinary school is that people are here because they want to be here. Of course, you'll always get the student who was forced into the field, but most genuinely have a love affair with food. It's great to be around people who feel the same way I do.

One guy who certainly has a love for it is Daniel Holzman, executive chef and co-owner of The Meatball Shop in New York. I was so excited when I heard he would demonstrate how to butcher a lamb that I signed up for his event prior to the the first day of class. In general, I imagine most people wouldn't care to see a lamb taken apart. In culinary school, it's abnormal if you don't want to have a look.

If you haven't heard of Holzman, it's about time you do. Long story short: His cooking career began at age 15 at Le Bernardin, when renowned chef Eric Ripert suggested he head to The Culinary Institute of America (CIA). He eventually opened his first restaurant, SPQR, in San Francisco and received a 3 1/2 star rating (out of 4 by The San Francisco Chronicle) for the laidback Roman cuisine; later he created a novelty ice cream company, KB, where his crispy rice marshmallow ice cream sandwiches were picked up by Whole Foods; and most recently, he debuted The Meatball Shop, which sells sliders, heroes and the balls themselves as well as sides like risotto and polenta.

I love that Holzman has reinvented classic comfort food in such a way that people wait hours to eat it.

I think much of Holzman's success lies behind his willingness to try anything. Today, he used virtually every part of the lamb, spitting out experimental remarks like "Why don't we try this?" and "I've never done this before, but it might be the best thing we eat all night." Eat we did: The list of lamb parts I tried included belly, shoulder, tenderloin, tongue, liver, heart and brain. All were worth a shot—especially the brain, which had the texture of cream cheese.

Hopefully all that iron will provide lots of energy for tomorrow so I can bring my "A" game to Day 10. I won't be the lamb that is led to the slaughter.

Getting Corny

Michael Symon is the man.

For those of you who only know him from "Iron Chef America," it should be made clear that the Cleveland chef was cooking amazing food long before his Food Network days. I grew up in Cleveland myself—proudly, I might add—and I can truly say I have eaten some of the best food of my life at his restaurants. When I go back to visit my parents, I (easily) convince them to hit up one of his places for some beef cheek pierogis, cheesy polenta or a double-cut pork chop.

So when I turned on the Cooking Channel (Scripps Networks' newest venture) and discovered Symon making sweet corn ice cream with caramel-candied bacon and popcorn, I had to give it a go. (Side note: Those close to me know that I'll typically try any food once. They also know that for some reason, I'm not a huge fan of two things: watermelon and creamed corn. I'll eat them, but I'd rather not.) Sweet corn ice cream sounded closely related to creamed corn, but I was willing to give it a try since it was one of Symon's recipes.

I'm so glad I went for it. I omitted the popcorn, but I didn't lose the bacon. Everything is better with bacon. It could make an old shoe taste good.

That has me thinking: What about watermelon and bacon?