My Big Fat Greek Easter

Forget the Cadbury Creme Eggs, Peeps and chocolate bunnies. Spring is all about lamb, phyllo, feta and more lamb.

Did I mention lamb?

This Sunday was Ryan and my 2nd annual Greek Easter celebration with our (obviously) Greek friend and his family. The party was at his house in Yonkers, N.Y., which got me pumped for two reasons: 1. I'd finally be able to see his outdoor brick oven in action and 2. His mom would be there with one of my favorite versions of spanakopita.

I'm slowly picking up on Greek Easter traditions—including learning my first Greek phrase, "Christos anesti," which means "Christ is risen." (The response is "Alithos anesti," or "He has risen indeed.") Every person who walks in the door is greeted this way.

There's also the tradition of tsougrisma, where each person receives a hardboiled, dyed egg and taps it against another's; the player with the uncracked egg continues. The last person remaining without a broken shell is declared winner and will have good luck the rest of the year. (For the record, I didn't win—this year or last.)

Not surprisingly, all the food was delicious. The roast lamb, artichokes and lemon potatoes were the centerpiece, surrounded by spanakopita, cheese pie (tiropita), moussaka, roasted chicken, two salads, Easter bread, Greek-style sliders, and on and on. I contributed non-Greek dishes, including a fresh ricotta and smashed pea spread with crostini (thanks to my good friend and fellow culinary grad, Amanda) as well as a shaved asparagus, aged gouda and hazelnut salad with lemon-honey vinaigrette.

Of course, a boatload of desserts followed the gut-busting dinner. I had to laugh when a tray of Greek cookies was accented with a few electric yellow Peeps and foil-wrapped eggs—a little bit of American tradition tossed into the mix.

The feast was not unlike the holidays I grew up celebrating in that it was huge. Leftovers abounded, and every guest took home a 9 x 13 aluminum pan full of food. Ryan and I have been eating Greek all week. I even made a hearty ragu with the leftover lamb and artichokes, adding some diced tomatoes, onions, red wine and other herbs and spices, then topping it with a mound of ricotta cheese (thank you, chef Andrew Carmellini, for the inspiration).

A-tisket, a-tasket, next year I want lamb in my Easter basket.

Hello, Goodbye

Days 71 and 72

Family meal: I'll miss you.

Today was the final day of the rotation—and it was a good one. We roasted six legs of lamb (which a few of us deboned yesterday) stuffed with garlic, rosemary and oregano. I was skeptical—especially considering the pungent smell coming from the oven—but it was amazing. Seriously. Crispy skin and juicy meat... what more could a carnivore ask for?

Per usual on buffet day, the family meal was overshadowed by the abundance of food on the opposite side of the room. It should be: The buffet team plans an elaborate meal for a week in hopes of wowing the school. This week's team settled on the various neighborhoods of Manhattan for its theme.

For yesterday's family meal, we made a version of boeuf bourguignon and served it with polenta. To be honest, it wasn't my favorite day, as I had to man the salad station. What a mindless task. However, I fully understand we have to pay our dues.

Tomorrow is production. Hopefully the family meal mascot (a grumpy French chef PEZ dispenser) will continue to watch over us.

We're gonna need it.

Mutton, Honey

Day 19

Our class had a little lamb—and it all went in our bellies.

For the final Level 1 lesson, the chefs demoed a roasted leg of lamb with Provencal herbs; we prepared cotes d'agneau avec ratatouille (marinated lamb chops with vegetable ragout and roasted garlic butter) and navarin printanier d'agneau (lamb stew with seasonal vegetables). Good thing my chops came out a perfect medium-rare, because that was my entire lunch. And boy, were they good.

We served the stew with carrot, turnip and potato cocottes, which gave us a little extra practice for our practical tomorrow. For the test, each student is required to turn potatoes into cocottes, break down an artichoke, cook tomato fondue, and make specific cuts (julienne a carrot, jardiniere a turnip, ciseler a shallot, emincer an onion, etc.). After all that, we'll take a comprehensive written exam.

I can do this.

The most stressful part, for me, is the fact that someone will be watching over our shoulders while we complete the tasks. Why is it that when you're being monitored, you're more apt to make mistakes?

I can't believe it's almost been a month. With two shakes of a lamb's tail, Level 1 is just about complete.

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.