Turducken - The Story of the Making

When I arrived at Nora Leech and Jeff O'Neill's garden apartment in Williamsburg, my hands were numb and my ears sore from the unseasonably frost bitten weather. Upon entering their home, I was grateful to find that it was warm and cozy, but rather surprised to see the mound of raw meat that awaited me on their kitchen counter.


"Did you know that turducken is like the highest calorie meal you can eat?" Nora said to me. She wasted no time and, before I could settle in, began removing the turkey, duck, and chicken from its butcher's wrapping. "No, I didn't know that!" I said, as I tossed aside my coat and set down my purse, "but hold on a sec, let me get my camera out." Nora - who was wearing tall heals and a casual, yet perfectly assembled outfit – paused to wait for me to get settled. "Ready?" She asked and smiled. I nodded and then she splayed out large turkey, which was, besides its legs, entirely deboned.


Jeff, Nora's long-time boyfriend, was also there and donned a frilly skirt apron to protect his hip jeans from this experiment of meat assemblage. He indicated to me that he was the "turducken muscle" - responsible for holding the bird-enstein together and turning it into the roasting pan because ultimately it would weigh over 30lbs.

"So, you start by laying out the turkey and then just salt and peppering it and maybe putting some garlic powder and paprika over the meat," Nora told me as she tap tap tapped various spice jars, releasing their contents over raw turkey flesh. "And then you spread stuffing on top of it, but not too much, because you don't want the turkey skin to split from being to stuffed when you bake it. That happened last year and it looked like a meatplosion." Jeff shook his head, “Yea, we had to patch the rip with more stuffing. It tasted good though.”

Before I had arrived Nora - a lifelong vegetarian - had prepared three types of stuffings that she was to layer between the different types of birds. She had chosen the flavors for what she perceived as complimentary to the fowl. They sat heavy and pretty in large baking pans on the table. One featured sage, sausage, and cornbread; another cranberries, celery, and almonds; and another apple sausage and carrots. Nora expounded on her dedication to local foods and her recent "obsession" with sage, which she used liberally in her recipes.

The couple - whom I had met through mutual friend - was known to serve delicious food at parties; I myself had been to several wherein some sort of meat or fish dish was prepared by Nora. Up until this point I had no idea that, except for a couple bites of lobster, Nora was a lifelong herbivore (her parents were “big hippies “). When asked if she enjoyed preparing meat due to its forbidden-fruit value, Nora replied, “Yea, I guess that’s part of it.” Jeff chimed in, “I think it’s because Nora’s an artist – she likes the tactile feeling and the making part of it. But, more than anything she likes to feed people. Seeing people enjoy the food is the best part.” Nora nodded in agreement, then laid an entirely boneless chicken on top of the turkey and dressed it with spices.


She began to spread stuffing over the bird. “All the recipes I read say use three different stuffings, so that’s what I do, too. All that work to make three birds, might as well do three stuffings as well…” Once the chicken was finished, Nora did the same to a boneless and skinless duck (the skin proved to be too fatty in previous years, so Nora had used it to fry onions for the stuffing), and then motioned for Jeff to help her; until this point, had been snapping pictures for me.


He handed the camera back to me, and, standing behind Nora, helped her fold the birds together.


She slipped out from under his arms and came back with wooden skewers, which she used to hold the large carcass together, and a large sewing needle threaded with butchers string. “Time to sew this guy up!” With some effort, she pressed through the skin starting at the neck, “If you couldn’t already tell, I like to sew.” As she stitched up the turkey, she adjusted to skewers to ensure that the bird held.


Nora and Jeff’s sweet Midwestern faces and hipster sensibilities provided an odd contrast to massacre of meat before them. The mass was fleshy and bright pink and the sound of the sewing needling entering and exiting the flesh of the birds reminded me of the exaggerated surgery sound effects depicted on a TV medical dramas. Being a recent vegetarian turncoat, witnessing this fleshy event made me feel guilty, but I could see why Nora enjoyed making the turducken - it was messy, kitschy, silly, and fun.

Jeff began to show signs of fatigue as his arms strained under the weight of the layers of meat he was holding together. Just as I thought he was about to lose it, Nora finished her turducken tailoring and told him he could relax.


Looking down at the product he helped to put together, Jeff exclaimed, “This thing looks like some sort of geological survey.” Indeed the varying colors of fowl meat that stuck out from the stitched seam looked like the multi-hued layers of eroded Southwestern bedrock.


It was time to - somehow - flip the giant bird (no pun intended) and get it into a roaster. I looked at the turducken and then back at Jeff, who was calculating how to get the thing into the pan."I hope your not wearing your favorite shirt," I said to him. "I'm not, but I am wearing my favorite apron," Jeff responded then gave me several exaggerated Betty Boop-type winks. Nora and he figured that it would be best to get the pan at a 45 degree angle and then to turn the bird into it. In one quick motion, it was done.


"That was awkward," Jeff stated as Nora drizzled the bird with olive oil and as she used small metal kitchen skewers to suture the gap at by the birds wings to limit any stuffing loss. "Kind of like juggling a bag of eels." Once Nora had finished greasing the turducken, Jeff created a foil tent, covered it, then placed it in the oven. In six to seven hours, it would be ready.

For more of this story, click here.

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Turducken Teaser

This Saturday, Nora Leech, fellow UW graduate, designer, guac-off host, and fabulous home cook will teach me the ways of the, in her words, "menage a trois of the bird world." Excitement is at a high - what could be more perfect, kitchy, and delicious for this blog than a chicken, stuffed in a duck, stuffed in a turkey (rounded out by massive amounts of stuffing of course)?

As I indicated in my previous post, Stuffed, I promised that I would regale you with the words that many friends and acquaintances provided to me about the bird to end all birds. And so, here they are:

Mariclare Lawson, Brooklyn resident, video editor, and avowed vegetarian told me that just "...the thought of this multiple meat massacre gives [her] the willies."

Patrick Somerville, author of Trouble and the upcoming novel, The Cradle, remains "fascinated by turducken" even though he has yet to try it's juicy goodness.

Julia Lind, nurse, recounted that she has heard of the bird only referred to as "salmonella surprise." Not shockingly, she has never attempted to eat it.

Cian Leahy, executive chef for Leprino Foods and Johnson & Wales faculty member, looked into the turducken's multi-fowl history and found out that "either in ancient Roman or French times, they would stuff a squab or small bird inside a chicken, inside a duck, inside a turkey, inside a pig, inside a deer, and slow roast the whole thing. How much of a pain in the ass would it be to de-bone all of those animals?" Wow, who knew!

Finally, I thought I would end with a little art. Jessica Candlin, teacher and former NYCookery subject, wrote a poem inspired by this - as we just found out - ancient treat:

Get Stuffed
A bird within a bird within a bird.
Jeffrey Steingarten does not suffer fools (Retreat!).
Red tweezers pluck feathers that flutter like pages of Vogue magazines.
Take your paltry poultry to the beak, Squab!

See you next time.

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A Three Part Feast: The Recipes - Dessert

Finally, here is the recipe for the individual trifles that Markus so elegantly created for Heike and me. Though this recipe simply calls for diced mango, Markus tells me that soaking the fruit in a tablespoon of amaretto liqueur for about an hour before serving heightens the almond flavor of the cookie and the brittle.

Amaretti and Mascarpone Trifle with Nut Brittle
For trifle
1 cup mascarpone
1/8 cup heavy cream
3-4 T sugar (to taste)
10 amarertti cookies (such as the Lazzaroni brand)
1 ripe mango

For almond brittle
1 tsp butter
1/4 cup sugar
1 cup blanched, sliced almonds

Whisk together mascarpone, 1/8 cup cream, and sugar. Set aside. Crush cookies with a fork, set aside. Dice mango, set aside.

Over a medium-low flame, heat 1/4 cup sugar until it is liquid and just beginning to brown. Remove from heat and immediately add almonds and butter. Return to heat and stir mixture constantly until almonds are well-coated with the caramel, about two minutes. Set aside and let nuts harden and cool completely.

In a wine glass, alternately layer the mascarpone cream, mango, and amaretti cookies. The bottom and top layers should be the cream. Break brittle into large chunk. Top trifle with brittle. Serve immediately.

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A Three Part Feast: The Recipes - Risotto

This was the second course that Markus prepared for me. I absolutely loved the massive amount of perfectly cooked veggies that topped off the dish.

Vegetable Risotto with Pesto and Vanil-Tomatoes

The Risotto 1 T olive oil
1/2 onion, minced
2 cloves garlic, peeled and whole
18 oz arborio rice
1/2 cup white wine
1.5 liters vegetable stock
Salt and pepper to taste


Heat oil over medium flame. Add onion and garlic and cook until onion is translucent (about 5-6 minutes). Add rice and cook, stirring constantly until aromatic and until some of the grains are slightly browned (about 4-5 minutes). Add wine and cook until the liquid is completely absorbed. Begin to add vegetable stock in 1/4 cup increments, waiting until completely absorbed before adding more liquid.

Continue adding stock in about six additions until rice is al dente - chewy, but not overly soft. This should take about 15-20 minutes. You may not end up using all of the stock or needing more.

Remove garlic cloves. Transfer risotto to a bowl or platter, spreading it over the surface of the dish in order that it cools quickly.

The Pesto
2 cups basil
Juice of one lemon
2 T olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Place all ingredients in food processor and blend until finely chopped. You may also place ingredients in a tall measuring cup and puree using a hand blender.

The Vegetables
1 T olive oik
1 garlic clove, peeled
12 stalks asparagus
3 green onions
12 shitake mushrooms
5 crimini mushrooms, halved
1 sprig fresh rosemary

Heat oil over medium flame. Add remaining ingredients and saute until cooked, stirring occasionally.

The Vanil-Tomatoes
1 tsp canola oil
1 tsp honey
1/2 tsp vanilla
10 grape tomatoes halved

Preheat oven to 250.

Combine all ingredients but tomatoes in a small saucepan. Heat over medium-high flame until boiling, stirring frequently. Once boiling, stir vigorously until honey is completely dissolved (about 30 seconds).

Place tomatoes in parchment lined baking dish, cut side up. Spoon honey mixture over tomatoes. Bake at 250 for 10-15 minutes, or until tomatoes are bubbly. Remove from oven and use immediately or let cool. Tomatoes may be made several hours before using.

Garnish
1 cup Parmesan cheese, shredded
1T reduced balsamic vinegar

Assemblage
Combine risotto and pesto in a skillet or saute pan and heat through. Scoop about 3/4 of a cup of the pesto rice onto the center of a large plate. Top with 1/3 of the vegetables and 1/3 cup of Parmesan. Place 5-6 vanilla tomatoes on the plate surrounding the risotto. Drizzle reduced balsamic over the top of the food. Serve immediately.

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A Three Part Feast: The Recipes - Salad

Each of the recipes from this lesson will get their own post as they are each rather long. Though the ingredients to Markus' dishes are all simple and commonplace, the actual dishes are somewhat involved; however, they are totally worth the time they take to complete.

Zucchini-Wrapped Baked Goat Cheese and Tomato Confit Salad

Tomato Confit
1 T olive oil
1/4 cup white onion, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 medium/large tomato, peeled, seeded, and chopped fine
1 sprig rosemary
1/2 tsp sugar
1/8 cup water
Salt and pepper to taste

Heat olive oil over medium heat and then add minced onion. Cook until onions are tranluscent and then add the garlic. Once aromatic, add remaining ingredients. Turn heat to low and cook for five minutes, then add water. Continue to cook until tomatoes are very saucy and completely dissolved about 10-15 minutes. Serves 3. Zucchini-Wrapped Baked Goat Cheese
1 T olive oil
1 garlic clove, peeled and whole
1/2 zucchini
1 twig thyme
4 oz goat cheese
1 tsp honey

Preheat oven to 350.

Using a mandolin or a vegetable peeler, slice zucchini lengthwise into nine, 1/8" strips. Heat olive oil in pan and add zucchini strips in a single layer with garlic and thyme. Cook until zucchini is just pliable, about 3 minutes, turn over the strips and cook for another 3 or so minutes until the zucchini is soft, but not limp or falling apart. Remove from heat.

Cut goat cheese into 1/2" discs. Then cut those discs in half (making them half rounds). Lay zucchini on cutting board and place goat cheese on the end of the piece of squash. Drizzle with just a bit of honey, and then roll the goat cheese up into the zucchini, as you would a sleeping bag.

Place zucchini-cheese packages in a baking dish lined with parchment paper and bake for 10 minutes.

Vinaigrette
1 T balsamic vinegar
1 tsp honey
1 tsp fresh thyme
1 tsp fresh rosemary
1 T dijon mustard
4-5 T olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients except olive oil. While whisking ingredients, add olive oil in a slow and steady stream until the dressing is emulsified. Add salt and pepper.

Toss with 4 cups mesclun greens.

Assemblage
One a large place, place about a cup of the dressed greens. Spoon tomato confit in three spots around the plate and top confit with zucchini-goat cheese packages. Top with a few turns of the pepper mill.

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A Three Part Feast - Part III: Savory and Sweet

Before Heike and I had finished our salads, Markus was back at the stove, this time cooking an array of vegetables over medium heat in a skillet (again with fresh sprigs of thyme and rosemary) and boiling together a bit of canola oil and honey in a small saucepan.


Markus was in full cooking mode at this point and not very talkative, so I asked Heike if she cooked at all. "Oh, I make a great [German] meatball with a lemon caper sauce and I'm pretty good with Thai curry and with putting things together with leftovers." Markus grunted in agreement.

"So what are you doing over there?" I asked Markus, who had seemed to forget about my presence. He replied with an, "Oh just finishing things up." And poured a little vanilla into the boiling honey concoction. Then he very carefully applied the tomatoes with the mixture and put them into the oven.


While the tomatoes baked, Markus whipped up a simple pesto with a hand blender. He lit the flame underneath the cooled arborio and spooned in the sauce. "Now we are almost done... but my favorite part of this dish is the - how you call it - this balsamic," he said as he produced a small dish that contained just a bit of reduced balsamic - black as tar and thicker than maple syrup - one of my favorite substances on earth.


Reducing balsamic is no simple task - you have to watch it like a hawk lest it burns, and while it cooks down the vapors of the vinegar can burn your eyes and the inside of your nose, but once you get the hang of it, it is a wonderful condiment that can accompany and accentuate both savory and sweet dishes. Also, reduced balsamic costs much less than the really expensive vinegars out there, but tastes similarly. Markus had made the stuff before I came over, but I thought I would provide you with a link to the process.

Once the the rice heated, the balsamic reduced, the tomatoes cooked, and the vegetables sauteed, Markus was ready to put our main course together. With the exactitude of a brain surgeon, he plated up the disparate ingredients onto large white plates.


I returned to my place at the table and Heike, again, filled my wine glass. The food looked absolutely beautiful. We all dug in and chewed slowly, enjoying the deep umami flavors of the shitake and the Parmesan. The baked tomatoes on their own were interesting - only slightly sweet; the touch of vanilla added just an essence of a flavor, barely there, like a ghost on my palate. However, taking a bite of tomato with the rest the rice, the vanilla became barely perceptible, but the sweetness of the fruit remained a pleasant contrast to the saltiness of the cheese.


As I was enjoying my first few bites, Markus told me that he was a fan of not "adding ingredients directly to the risotto," like the vegetables that he had cooked and had laid on top of the grains. In traditional Italian cooking, these would have been chopped up and added to the rice (something that I too am not a big fan of).

After we all had the opportunity to dig in a bit, I asked Heike about her post at Parsons. She told me about her students, the work, the grading of papers, and somehow, the talk turned to dress, the interpretation of physical appearance (she did, after all, write her dissertation on the cultural anthropology of textiles), and ultimately to one's perceptions of the presidential candidates (we cooked together just before the election) just from their physical appearance. This conversation, of course, lead to the upcoming election. The three of us were, like most New Yorkers, completely unwilling to let in the hopeful optimism that seemed to start to take hold of the democratic party, political websites, and polls. "If McCain wins, will you two adopt me and take me to Germany with you?" I asked. Heike and Markus laughed. Somehow, it came up that Palin hunted wolves with semi-automatic rifles from helicopters. Heike and Markus did not know this little tidbit of information, and I delighted in telling it to them.

Again, Markus finished his meal before Heike and I had, and was back at the stove before my meal was done, this time he to caramelize some sugar.


Once the sugar melted, he added almonds to it, stirred it quickly, and then nuts harden away from the heat. Heike cleared the plates and put them in the dishwasher while Markus prepared dessert. "I would die without a dishwasher," Markus declared as he crumbled up amaretto cookies with a fork, "I think it's the most important thing in my life... after Heike, of course."

Markus sweetened mascarpone with just a bit of sugar and then began layering the cream with the crushed cookies and diced mango into a wine glass.


Once he had finished making the pretty little trifle, Markus topped it with the brittle, which he had broken into big chunks. It was a very showy and very lovely presentation. "Oh, this is my favorite!" Exclaimed Heike while Markus served us. "You know, I don't like very sweet things, but I cannot have dinner without dessert," said Markus as he sat down.


By the time the dessert was placed in front of me, I was sufficiently stuffed, but I knew that I would make room for the dairy and fruity goodness. The mascarpone was slightly sweet and the flavors of the liqueur in the cookies, the tartness of the mango, and the caramel-y crunchiness of the almond brittle, was well balanced. After a dish of rice, the lightness of the dessert was a perfect finish to yet another great evening of food and drink in one stranger's Brooklyn kitchen...

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A Three Part Feast - Part II: Dressing up

While Markus began to focus on the risotto – pouring about a quarter cup of white wine into the skillet that contained the rice, then, once that was totally absorbed, adding vegetable to the grains in quarter-to half-cup increments - I talked to Heike, who had come stopped working to enjoy a glass of wine and to chat while her husband worked the kitchen.

Still sitting and studying my notes, I asked Heike how she and the chef had met. “Well, sort of through friends of friends I guess,” she told me. “You know we walked home together twice after some parties – once he was very drunk and once I was very drunk. That was seven years ago! In the beginning there was a lot of cooking together – long cooking sessions and dinners and lots of drink. It was a great time.” She looked over to Markus to see if he had heard her story, but his back was to us as he rolled goat cheese into the long strips of cooked and just-tender zucchini and placed them in a baking dish, and it was unclear if he had been paying attention.


Heike said something short to him in German; possibly “Remember that” or “That was long ago” or “We were young then” – just a few words that I assumed, after such a retelling, carried the weight and time and joy of their relationship together. Markus responded with a short laugh – the kind that can show acknowledgment, agreement, and pleasure all at once, and a “ya.” He had been paying attention, after all. Heike, content, smiled and sipped her wine.

In that small moment, I felt like a voyeur. That giggle, that “ya,” – they were things conveyed between lovers that had such simple and profound meaning that my cheeks almost reddened. Or maybe it was because the love between the two of them was so palpable that I felt as if my very presence was invading in their private life. Or maybe it was because I felt like the act of cooking and eating together – an act that largely paved the road that took them to the United States and ultimately to a happy marriage, a road that took them across the ocean and required large sacrifices that I myself, once in a similar situation, was unable or selfless enough to make – was so ingrained into the essence of their relationship that it was not an activity to be shared by an outsider. Or maybe it was a combination of those things.

Markus broke the silence with “It’s important that the risotto is al dente at the end – don’t overcook the Arborio!” I was happy for the interruption (clearly no one was feeling as sentimental as I!), my sappy thoughts are no place for the blogging world. Noticing that I was ignoring my duties, Heike told me to be sure to get some pictures of the risotto process. I promptly did just that.


As he removed the grains from the pan, and spread them into another to cool, I asked Markus if there was any restaurant that he particularly like in New York. “It’s amazing how many restaurants are in New York! I mean, where I come from there are a restaurants, but here! On 5th Ave I hear there are 165 restaurants alone!” He was very excited by all of the eating prospects he had ahead of him.

Markus turned off the heat under the tomato confit and removed the squash-wrapped cheese from the oven. “We almost have the salad done now,” Markus said and began working away on a simple vinaigrette to dress it with. He tossed some greens with the dressing and then began to construct our first course on large white plates.


Since I had arrived in such a tardy fashion, my stomach had, by that point, started to sound like a rabid squirrel and I was ready to eat something. Heike and I sat down and Markus, like a proper host, served us our salads. “I think I will call this ‘Zucchini-Wrapped Baked Goat Cheese and Tomato Confit Salad.’” Very original. Heike and I both teased him. “Markus – this is your chance to go wild, we could call it whatever you want – ‘German Specialty,’ ‘My First American Mixed Greens,’ ‘Balls Salad!’” I said. Markus laughed sheepishly, “nah, that is OK.”

After Heike refilled our glasses, we gave a cheers before diving into our appetizer. I should say now that zucchini is one of my favorite vegetables, and I am a big big fan of simple flavors. Markus, utilizing the culinary trinity of olive oil, garlic, and onions as his base, put together a beautiful and unique salad using only a few common ingredients. Even before taking a bite I knew I would like it. And like it I did – the flavor of the thyme and rosemary, which had been thrown into the pan with the zucchini, was very palatable with the sharp bit of the goat cheese. The salad was perfectly dressed – a honey, Dijon mustard, balsamic, and rosemary concoction – and had a well-rounded flavor. Totally awesome. I was already ready for the next course.

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A Three Part Feast - Part I: Skillets A Go Go

As usual, I arrived late to my cooking lesson with Markus Geisler. In fact, I arrived a full three-quarters of an hour after scheduled - more than my typical 15-20 minutes. Though I told Markus that the reason for my tardiness was due to train delays, the whole truth is that in my rush to make it to the his house on time, I hopped on the R train bound for Manhattan instead of the one headed toward Park Slope. I was embarrassed of my foible and so when Markus opened the door to his Park Slope apartment, I shrugged and said "Those trains! You can't trust them!" Yes, Markus, yes - the ugly truth is that I'm an idiot!!

Markus lead me up the carpeted stairs to his top-floor apartment. The owner of the building has interesting taste - the hallways were carpeted in a plush the color of red-velvet cake and walls hung with pastel prints that reminded me of a cheap hotel room in Florida that I stayed in in the late 1990s. We walked into Markus' flat - a sparce, well decorated, and rather nicely-sized one bedroom - that he shares with his new wife, but long-time partner, Heike, who is a fashion studies professor at Parsons. Markus hung my coat and offered me a glass of wine.

A recent transplant from Germany, Markus, had prepped everything before I arrived in order to maximize the important cooking time. In his sparkling and cramped kitchen, the laminate counter top was occupied by ingredients waiting to be made into the dishes that Markus was about to create; the tomatoes, chopped garlic and onions, arborio rice, soup stock, and vegetables in little were placed in small porcelain bowls and serving dishes were colorful and fresh-looking. As soon as Markus poured me that glass of wine (besides me being late, another constant of these cooking lessons), he lit the burners under three saucepans resting on the stovetop and poured about a tablespoon of olive oil into each.

Dressed comfortably in a grey, long-sleeved t-shirt, fashionable jeans, and Chuck Taylors, Markus - tall and comfortably in his 30s - spoke to me about his expansive and varied career history. As he sliced long pieces of bright green zucchini with a vegetable peeler, he told me about his experiences studying sociology, carpentry, and cooking. His accent was pleasant, not the harsh gutteral of some of my English-speaking German friends, and he was rather soft-spoken - a possible product of his newness to speaking American English.

Markus apologized often for his limited vocabulary while he cooked, but what he considered weak language skills, I considered near bilingualism, and I ensured him that his language abilities were far from weak. "Dude, you've already used bigger words than I've ever heard spoken by say, George Bush." Markus laughed and asked me if I supported Obama. "Don't get me started on McPalin," I said, "I want to keep my appetite."

After the large zucchini that Markus had been slicing was reduced only to its core, he placed eight of the 1/4" pieces of the vegetable into one of the pans with a clove of garlic and a twig of rosemary. He reduced the heat to medium low, and let the food cook undisturbed for several minutes.



Heike came out of the bedroom where I assume she was doing work (she had a constant litany of homework and papers to grade, she later told me) and introduced herself to me. Heike, like Markus, was fashionably dressed and had bright blue eyes that sparkeld when she spoke. "You know Michele?" She asked me, "Yes," I responded "We're work buddies." Michele Amar, who cooked with me previously for this blog had indeed put Markus and I in contact with each other. "Ah, that is right. She was such a delight to have around Parsons - we took lunch together all the time. I was mad at her for leaving!" She poured herself a glass of wine and me a glass of water and sat down at their dining room table.

Markus began working on a tomato confit by placing some minced onion in another pan, and letting it cook until it was translucent. With a pair of tongs, he jostled the cooking zucchini and when it was soft and pliable removed it from the skillet and into a bowl to cool.

"How long have you been cooking?" I asked Markus as he chopped peeled and seeded tomatoes and added them to the pan with the onions along with minced garlic, fresh rosemary and thyme. "Oh, six or seven years... I started in my brothers restaurant, which is, you know, a cool kind of place. It's a great sort of family, artsy place." After Markus had worked for a number of years creating mostly "Mediterranean-inspired, but also kind of German" dishes at that restaurant, he decided to go to cooking school. He told me that that in Germany one has to spend FIVE years in a professional kitchen or apprentice with a chef for three years before they can take a test to receive an official culinary diploma! A much more intensive requirement than in the United States.

To the third and final skillet, Markus added a garlic clove and minced onion and let them cook until the onions were translucent. He added what looked like a cup and a half of arborio rice to the pan and stirred it until it was aromatic and some of the kernals were slightly browned.

So much was happening on the stove that and Markus was so expertly going from dish to dish and chopping and adding ingredients to the pan, I almost lost track of what was happening. Even Markus grew silent as he chopped, stirred, and sauteed.

I at down for a second to look sat my notes and to ensure that I was recording the recipes correctly by repeating the measurements and ingredients aloud to Markus, who corrected me as I went along.

All that, and we hadn't even finished a dish!

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