Stagiare: Preston House

About a week after our chance meeting and subsequent meal at The Preston House, Kate came home from a day of work at the Gallic Kitchen Café and told us that Danny, the proprietor/quirky waiter had stopped in and told her to have Jonathan call him.  Did this mean that our day in the life of a Preston House kitchen staffer is going to happen after all?  Sweet!

A couple of days later, it was arranged.  After a few chores around the house and a product delivery to the café, we arrived at The Preston House, our Japanese knives in hand and armed with a gift of hedgehog mushrooms, which were later stuffed into rabbit legs along with beer braised onions, bacon and chives.  Firstly we met the chef, an Englishman named Chris Denney, whose resume and list of fascinating experiences ranged from a stretch in a two Michelin star restaurant in Italy to guest cheffing at an event in India.  We then met a bloke whose real name was an Irish name too difficult for Chris to pronounce so was simply called “Feacle”.  Then came Andy (later dubbed “Butterfingers” for managing to drop both mine and
Jonathan's Japanese paring knives on their points), a young Irish lad who had apprenticed in a butcher shop for a couple of years and found his calling in food.  Finally the red-headed dishwasher whose real name I don’t remember because they always called him “Eddie the Swine with the scarecrow girlfriend”, and they meant that one literally.  Yup, apparently Irish kitchens are the same ass grabbing, dirty name giving, male part measuring saloons that American kitchens are.  Except there was a lightness to the air.  Constant toothy grins, needling each other with quick witted jokes, Chef Chris challenging Andy to eating 20 hardboiled eggs in a half hour, “Cool hand Luke” style (Andy accepted btw), all without sacrificing the precision and seriousness of the food.

Newfangled Gnocchi

Ironically, without any prior PigWizard knowledge, Chef Chris first tasked Jonathan with deboning a poached pig head while my first job was to trim the gnocchi pouches (newfangled technique mentioned in the previous post) and prepare them for poaching.  Traditionally, potato gnocchi is rolled out into a long ¾ inch diameter tube, cut into approximately inch long chunks, boiled and then tossed in their sauce.  These newfangled gnocchi were stuffed into a long tube of plastic wrap, poached until cooked through, and chilled.  When a ticket came up, they were then sliced into perfect two inch tubes, submerged in hot oil to heat them through and basted in butter to finish.  No wonder they were so delicious, right?

Next Jonathan deboned a dozen or so sous vide chicken breasts while I attempted to keep my fingertips intact while slicing raw turnips paper thin on the mandolin.  Ever tried a raw turnip?  Very nice.  Slice them thinly like a watermelon radish and toss in your salad…way better than boiling them to death in the typical Irish way.

While I was sorting through the perfect and the mutilated turnip slices, the first lunch order came through: the seven course tasting menu, €50 per person, €70 if you wanted the matching wines.  The tasting menu is typically the best bits on hand at the time, manipulated into perfect little mini courses designed to take your pallet for a spin.  First up was the Sweet Corn, Salt Cod, which I missed being so immersed in my turnips, fearful that chef Chris would fire my free labor for not producing enough perfect slices.  Not to worry, knowing that we were not so secret offal lovers, he made a special version of the dish for us to share, substitute the salt cod for deep fried lamb brains: crisp on the outside, creamy on the inside, compare to an extra crunchy croquette.  The richness was cut with the sweetness of the charred corn and garnished with one of my expertly sliced turnip slices and other tasty treats from Tanguy’s garden.

Scorched Tomatoes in an Ice Bath

My next task was so engrossing that I honestly have no idea what Jonathan was doing, probably eating bonbons.  Prep cook, Andy equipped me with a paring knife, a mini blow torch, a bowl of ice water and a box of heirloom tomatoes and preceded to instruct me on how to peel the tomatoes without blanching.  Stand back.  Step one: score the tomato skin lengthwise in both directions just enough to break the skin but not enough to cut the tomato.  Set the tomato on a non-flammable surface and torch it until the skin bubbles and starts to peel back.  Submerge in ice bath to cease any cooking from the torch.  When cool, gently remove the skin with ease.   

You are left with a hauntingly perfect exterior of a slightly smoky skinless tomato, glossy even, ten times firmer than if you tried to blanch it for peeling.  Mesmerizing, right?  Eat your heart out.  We then roughly sliced the tomatoes in to six sections and left them to marinate in olive oil, salt, rosemary and crushed garlic.  Serve with a section of fresh buffalo mozzarella and a few crostini.  Clean and perfect.

My clean and perfect task was interrupted half way through with a little plate of creamy and dirty, the second course on the tasting menu: Foie Gras Parfait, Madeira, Fig.  Two smooth squares of foie, topped with a sheet of Madeira geleé, surrounded by dollops of fig preserves and scattered with peanut butter sponges, garnished with micro greens and an edible orange flower petal.  Again, Chef Chris slightly modified our humble taster plate keeping with the fig preserves but substituting sponges with a delicious lightly buttered house made bread.  I savored (I refuse to spell it savoured, even though I am in Ireland) the creamy rich foie gras, knowing that when we do finally return home, our sources for such a delicacy will be slightly limited due to the July 1^st ban on the sale and purchase of foie gras in California.  Don’t feel too sorry for us, we know people.

As some of you know, one of the few foods that Jonathan has an aversion to, along with mayonnaise, avocados, and eggplant, is salmon.  So when our scoobie snack of the next item on the tasting menu arrived, Salmon, Nettle, Horseradish, Apple, Jonathan graciously allowed me the slightly larger piece of salmon.  Sucker!  Even he thought this salmon was delicious!  The low temperature sous vide salmon (yes, it’s fully cooked for the Irish pallet even though it appears raw) was slightly spiced with the cool, smooth horseradish panna cotta while the garnish of oats and a julienne of fresh apple provided texture and a little sweetness.  

I have mentioned nettles in a couple of The Preston House dishes so far (see previous post for the original Preston House food experience).  See that bright, beautiful splash of impossible green in the center of the salmon panna cotta cluster?  That is made from the self-same stinging nettles (and trust me, their sting is the gift that keeps on giving) that rule the Irish weed culture.  Nutritious and a brilliant green, they are blanched and pureed in a little liquid, funneled into a squeeze bottle and used to spruce up any plate that needs a pop.  I think their purpose in this preparation is not so much as a flavorful compound, even less for their nutritional value but more to exploit the beauty of their color, maybe giving a slight nod to their health benefit and definitely providing a thumb in the eye to the next nettle in your garden waiting to sting you.  Haha! I’ve used your evil for good, nettle!  Having said that, nettles are used here in Ireland for their nutritional value in soups, teas, and even in cheeses!

The next two items on the tasting menu, Beef Blade, Shallot, Bone Marrow and Plaice, Shrimp, Grape were a lookie no tastie operation, however, I did manage to snap a shot of the plaice (a halibut-like flat fish) garnished with my expertly formed gnocchi.  A touch of smooth potato puree held the fish in place and balanced its richness, as well as the sharpness of the radicchio and sweetness of the grapes.  Notice how the top of the fish is white, not browned as if should have become in the cooking process?  That’s cause it was cooked skin side down until the skin was crisp and delicious but then removed to again please the mild Irish pallet.  The missing crispy skin was fully enjoyed by Chef Chris, Jonathan and yours truly.  You snooze, you lose, Irish pallet.

In a tasting menu, having more than one dessert course is not entirely unusual; this menu offered two.  The first was a plate of “arranged chaos”, a plating technique which is, for better or for worse, becoming more and more popular.  The Goat’s Curd, Black Olive, Raspberries was truly a unique combination of the cool and creamy goat’s cheese, the salty earthiness of the delicious olive caramel and the sweet and tangy raspberries.  Not being a huge sweets person (once again, I am sweet enough), to me, this dessert was a homerun.  For those of you who crave the rich and decadent, not to worry.  The second dessert course was Peanut Butter, Caramel, Banana, a description which in no way does this plate justice.  Banana two ways, an ice cream with a toasted slice of fresh banana, positioned next to a shining pool of caramel and garnished with a delicate peanut butter brittle.  As a side note, don’t you just love those edgy slate plates?

As the bustle of the kitchen drew to a close in preparation for a couple hour break before the dinner shift, we chatted outside with Chef Chris, laughing (and nearly retching) at his tales of eating “foie gras” in India, which in reality was just a fly-covered mess of leftover offal scraps thrown together and allowed to “marinate” in the scorching sun.  Ultimately I determined that the nationally and culturally experienced chef, a witty and gritty man with an easy but demanding demeanor, ran they type of kitchen perfect for any cook with desire to prove his skills and learn along the way, truly a chef you’d happily bust your butt to please.

Good Kharma in Abbeyleix

Duck Confit Pie, Goats Cheese & Vegetable Quiche, 
Sausage Roll, Steak and Guinness Pie

Farmleigh Farmers' Market, Dublin

Since Jonathan was one of two HelpXers living in this house, including myself, who is older than 25, has a valid driver’s license, and can drive a stick, all it took was one payment of €50 for Patrick to add him to the car insurance and he immediately became an official Gallic Kitchen driver.  This honor included the delivering of pies and quiches to a customer in Kilkenny, about a 30 minute drive; delivering Sarah’s wares (savory pies such as steak and Guinness, shepherds’ pie and duck confit, sweet tarts, quiches, potato rostis, etc.) to the Dublin farmers’ market, about an hour and a half drive; and driving the HelpXers the fifteen minutes to and from the Gallic Kitchen cafe in the town of Abbeyleix.  Patrick and Sarah have kindly allowed me to accompany him on the longer trips and have even encouraged us to take advantage and see the sights!

Kilkenney Castle

Kilkenney City Center

P. Kenna's in Kilkenney was one of many butcher shops that we have visited in Ireland.  They are however one of the sole shops who raise their animals, operate their own abattoir (slaughter house) and butcher the animals for the customers.

One evening, Jonathan the driver asked me to come with him to pick up Kate, another HelpXer from Arizona, from the shop in Abbeyleix.  He thought if we left the house a little early we could have a nice little drink, just the two of us, in Morrissey’s pub next door to the shop.  A chance for a nip of Irish whiskey?  Of course, honey!  Also, Morrissey’s had free WiFi and since the internet is sketchy at best at the house, I thought it would be a nice opportunity to catch up with you fine people.

After informing Kate that we would be next door whenever she was finished closing the shop, we chose two seats at the bar and ordered our respective Jameson on the rocks and pint of Guinness.  About a half hour later, Kate joined us, however, declining my offer of a cocktail as she was attempting an alcohol free week (the red wine at dinner didn’t count since it has been proven that a glass of red wine a night is actually beneficial to one’s health).  No worries, I’ll have another Jameson rocks on your behalf, Kate!

Just as we were about to pack it in and head back to the house for dinner, a coaster came flying through the air and nailed Kate on the side of the head!  The two young Irish men down the bar, who had been enjoying themselves quite fully, turned and apologized, laughingly pointing their fingers at each other in blame.  In fact, one of them even offered to buy us a round of drinks to show how sorry he was!  You all know that I’m always game for a free drink, especially when my husband is sitting right next to me, but as it was quite likely that one or both of the guys would hit on our lovely Kate if we accepted, I left the decision up to her.  Ultimately she decided (ok, I convinced her) that since wine didn’t count as alcohol, one little glass of red wine wouldn’t hurt!  Interestingly, serving a glass of wine at Morrissey’s consists of the bar tender opening a mini bottle and giving you a wine glass to go with it. Noted.

Due to the last few months of deprivation of male contact, I think Jonathan was grateful for this opportunity to have some man talk and quickly scooted his chair over to chat with the guys, Andrew and Conner.  After a few minutes of Jonathan describing the HelpX experience (i.e. exactly how we three Americans ended up in the little town of Abbeyleix), Andrew quickly deemed us "slaves who managed to escape for the night" (hardly, we sleep under a down comforter for crying out loud) and felt “obligated” to buy us another round.  We didn’t say no; even Kate had another wine!

Ancient Meat Slicer

As one good turn deserved another, we then asked them what a guy from Dublin and a guy who lived and worked in London were doing in Morrissey’s Pub in Abbeyleix, a good hour and a half away from Dublin.  Turns out they were best friends of 20 years, best men in each others weddings, who hadn’t seen each other in months and since Morrissey’s National Heritage Pub was voted Pub of the Year in 2004 and is arguably “one of the best pubs in Ireland”, it was a perfect meeting point for the old friends.  Where else could you check out an ancient meat slider, buy a pint of Guinness, a box of Corn Flakes and marvel at how the cans and glasses manage to stay on the sagging, less than sturdy shelves above the bar?  Plus, Andrew had a work colleague, known from here forward as “the very fat man”, who was known to nearly wet himself whenever he was in proximity to Sarah’s delicious duck confit pie, which of course could be found two doors down at the Gallic Kitchen café.  On the very fat man’s recommendation Andrew and Conner had in fact purchased two duck pies earlier in the day from Kate, which also shows exactly how long they had been drinking and chewing the fat at Morrissey’s before we met them around 7:00 p.m. 

We then launched into in-depth and high quality discussions about the tasty but slightly underwhelming experience of cold duck pies vs. the mouthwatering deliciousness of hot duck pies and the amusing lifestyle of one particular very fat man.  (I won’t go into detail as half-drunk conversation is never as funny when explained to someone who was not present.  Kate, Conner, Andrew & Jonathan, go ahead and have another laugh for good measure!)  After yet another round of drinks, Andrew miraculously remembered suddenly that he and Conner had dinner reservations at The Preston House, a fine restaurant down the street.  Still enjoying the company of the “escaped slaves”, Andrew kindly invited us to dine with them as his guest!  How could we turn down an offer to continue hanging with our new Irish mates?  Since Kate was “not drinking” this week (i.e. only drinking multiple glasses of wine), she was not quite able to keep up with the rounds and still had an open mini bottle of wine sitting on the bar when Andrew decided we had delayed the reservation enough.  Into my purse it went!  Waste not; want not, that’s what I always say.

That little bottle of wine came in handy when we arrived at The Preston House and lo and behold our table for 5 was not ready (uh, the reservation was for 2, one moment please).  We sat in the beautiful private living room in front of a quiet fire and passed the little bottle around until our table was ready.  Classy.

Moments later, our table was ready.  We were led through the beautiful and quite formal dining room to the sounds of classic rock on the stereo (a little odd, right?).  We were so mesmerized by the dining room and our luck of the night so far that we neglected to notice that only other Irish family we knew in Durrow was sitting at the only other table at the restaurant, so we rudely ignored them (sorry again Ruth and John!).  We soon found that the quirky and quite entertaining host also turned out to be our waiter and he immediately followed the custom of serving cocktails while we poured over the menu.  Yet ANOTHER Jameson for me and one for Jonathan. 

Andrew couldn’t help joking that we should all order the eight course tasting menu despite the fact that the kitchen had technically closed fifteen minutes ago and they were graciously serving our increased party anyway (surefire way to make the entire kitchen hate you, I’ll leave it at that).  We quickly decided on our starters (“We get starters too?” - Kate.  “Katie, you’ve finally shown your age with that question.” – Andrew) and entrees and Andrew ordered four bottles of wine, two white to get us through the starters and two red to enjoy with the entrees.

Amuse Buche

Before our starters arrived came the pallet tickler, the amuse buche: a squid ink and puffed tapioca chip topped with a dollop of crème fraiche and a touch of caviar and garnished with a “foraged borage flower”.  I could have snacked on a bucket of those suckers and called it quits!  Visually, texturally and flavor wise unlike anything I had ever experienced!  One very tasty bite.  We later learned that the cucumber tasting blue borage flowers, among other beautiful garnishes, were provided to the Preston House by local Frenchman Tanguy de Toulgoet whose amazing garden we were privileged enough to visit later in our trip (stay tuned for that tale).

Carlingford Lough Oysters with Avocado and Teriyaki Caviar

Pallet good and stimulated by the amuse, I was in full drool mode upon the arrival of my Carlingford Lough Oysters with Avocado and Teriyaki Caviar, again garnished perfectly with a foraged borage flower.  Now I know what you true blue oyster connoisseurs out there are saying: there’s nothing like throwing back a fresh oyster garnished by nothing but its own liquor and maybe a splash of Tabasco or lemon juice.  Normally I agree; a fancy schmancy oyster garnish had better be pretty damn inspired to enhance the delicious flavor of an oyster without masking its raw saltiness (unless that’s your purpose and then you shouldn’t be eating oysters anyway).  This oyster’s garnish, however, was perfectly balanced: the avocado added a little healthy fat and richness, the teriyaki, a little tangy umami and the borage a little refreshing acidity.  Even though Jonathan’s lamb cheek, heart and brain garnished with horseradish and cauliflower mash and a gorgeous nettle puree was amazing, what’s a lamb brain when you can role a delicious oyster around your mouth before letting it slither down your throat?

In anticipation for our main courses, our waiter began pouring the red wine that had been breathing in a decanter during the starter course.  I previously described the waiter as “quirky” but that doesn’t even seem to do him justice.  He bobbed and weaved around the table in his slim black suit and slicked back hair, clearing plates, pouring wine and cracking dry humored jokes.  At one point Conner even said, “The food is really good so far but that waiter really makes the place!” 

Lamb Chump, Heirloom Tomatoes, Bulgar Wheat

After more glass clinking and cheers to our health, the waiter delicately swooped in bearing our entrees.  After subsiding on nothing but chicken night after night due to our non-four legged animal eating HelpX buddies Kate and Jordan (bless their hearts), I was craving the Baaa and so ordered the Lamb Chump, Heirloom Tomatoes, Bulgar Wheat which was garnished with the smoothest, richest auborgine (eggplant) puree on the planet.  Seriously, how did they make that freakin’ puree?  As you can see, the chump (sirloin) was rare and deliciously tender, I always love bulgar, and oh, the auborgine puree!  It stood up grandly to Jonathan’s cod served with newfangled gnocchi (stay tuned for the technique) and garnished with grape slices.  Spoiled rotten we were! 

Even though we were stuffed to the hilt, the waiter, Danny, who of course also turned out to be the Preston House proprietor (!), tempted us with dessert and temptation won.  Andrew and Conner each indulged in the cheese platter with fig preserves, Kate a chocolate gooiness, Jonathan the poached rhubarb and rhubarb gelee parfait, and I, being sweet enough as it is, settled on a snifter of Disaronno.

Two Types of Hedgehog Mushrooms

Powered by loads of alcohol and inspired by a great meal, Jonathan struck up a conversation with Danny about cheffing and foraging and proceeded to proposition him with a trade of his newly found mushroom hunting spots in Durrow, which have so far yielded two kinds of hedgehogs, a plethora of chanterelles and a few eatable puffballs, with a day of our help/lingering in his kitchen with Chef Chris.  As tempted as we are by foraged (free) food, Danny gave Jonathan his card and told us to call him!  What a night!

Talk about fate, being in the right pub at the right time, Kate’s big head getting nailed by the right coaster and a group of complete strangers hitting it off so well. Needless to say, we could not thank Andrew and Conner enough for their generosity and truly delightfully hilarious company that evening.  Conner clandestinely paid for the bill while Andrew was in the toilet, horrifying Andrew to no end as he was the one that invited us, prompting him to quickly run across the street to the ATM and then shove a wad of euros under Connor's plate.  Jonathan and I both agreed that even if Andrew hadn't offered to treat us to dinner at The Preston House, it was a dining experience so grand that as soon as we got wind of the restaurant we would have gone ourselves.  As far as accepting his incredible generosity, we were able to do so graciously as we have both been on the treating side of the equation in the past, and knew that we would be again in the near future.

Andrew, Nicole, Conner, Kate, Jonathan

Since clearly we had not yet had enough to drink, or didn’t want the night to end, or something, we all decided to have a night cap back at Morrissey’s and the night came full circle ending where it began.  Around two o’clock a.m., we said our goodbyes, refastened our shackles and hit the road back to slavery.