Cooks' tours - cooking schools

Sunset, Nov, 2000 by Alan Phinney

Spend your vacation in the kitchen? Destination cooking schools make it fun

Dinner guests have been known to ask me for the recipe for Casserole Ole, my signature dish, so easy with its many canned ingredients. And my sister-in-law swears I can make a name for myself by publishing Bachelor's Ways with Broccoli. In other words, I'm not a bad cook--just one set in his ways. So it was in an effort to break out of my culinary rut that I signed up for California-Asian Weekend at Tante Marie's Cooking School in San Francisco.

Run for 21 years by Mary Risley, Tante Marie's is one of the West's growing number of destination cooking schools--academies where you can hone your culinary skills in stimulating surroundings. These schools cluster in desirable vacation spots, from San Francisco to Santa Fe. They have hands-on classes for the novice, expert, and intermediate cook (like me), with course lengths ranging from a single day to an entire week. Some schools even branch out to conduct culinary tours of their regions. All of them offer a chance to gain practical cooking expertise and send you home with a batch of recipes and newly honed skills to apply in your own kitchen.

From clam crisis to salmon cake triumph

Saturday morning I find myself in a sunny kitchen in North Beach along with two couples and eight individuals (another woman slips in late, clutching her in-line skates). My fellow students include a recent law school graduate, hip dot-corn marketing types, and globe-trotting retirees. Instructor Farina Achuck--elegant, multilingual, and silky voiced--greets us and launches into an overview of Chinese, Vietnamese, Japanese, and Thai condiments. Jars and packages are passed around the room; eyes pore over the labels searching for anything in English. Pens scratch down Farina's favorite brands and shopping tips.

So far, so good. It's like a college class led by an articulate grad student. Then I learn our fate: We 14 will split into four teams, each team to prepare a complete menu from starter to dessert. Finally everyone will taste every dish. Farina previews the 20 recipes the class will tackle, tossing in occasional caveats--"Julienne everything to matchstick size" and "Devein the shrimp before you butterfly." Fellow students nod eagerly and prepare to cook. I swallow hard and consider bolting for the door.

I join the three-person team making Endive with Crab and Avocado, Salmon-Sweet Potato Cakes, Seared Beef with Wasabi Butter, and Banana Tart with Caramel and Macadamias. My teammate Russell, a 30ish cooking class dabbler, begins pitting avocados while I start the salmon cakes with Melba, a 40-something no-nonsense aspiring chef. Melba is full of pointers; she casts the evil eye on my uneven technique for chopping sweet potatoes. Meanwhile she microdices the tomatoes with surgical precision.

When it comes time to skin the salmon, however, even Melba flounders. As Farina shows us the proper technique, other students crane around our elbows to watch. Impromptu lessons like this occur all day. Later we gather to pleat wonton wrappers, roll sushi, and judge how rare a steak is with our fingertips.

As soon as dishes are finished, they are served. The first sample of the day, prepared by a couple visiting from La Jolla, is Coconut Blinis: tiny pancakes made with rice flour and coconut, dotted with cream and minced dried shrimp. So tasty! I pop five or six of these. A highlight later in the day is Asparagus in Black Bean Butter Sauce. "I'm rather proud of these," chef Ray reports.

By midafternoon, the scene is straight out of ER. Various dishes reach critical stages simultaneously There are pleas for help and calls of distress--"Did someone pour out my clam liquor?!" Farina, a triage expert, glides gracefully from deep-fat near-disaster to browned-pastry epiphany.

I end up as primary cook for my team's salmon cakes. There are just a few harrowing moments when 12 cakes are frying in two huge skillets. Like a gunslinger with a narrow spatula in each hand, I bob up and down, check flames, add oil, inspect for golden color, and hope for the best. In the end, I save face: The cakes look and taste good. Farina agrees, going so far as to praise their even texture. (So there, Melba.)

By Sunday morning, the second day of class, I am actually relaxed. I set to work making a kettle of Thai Steamed Mussels with Basil and Lemon Grass. It's a big hit--I vow to serve it at home at least once, instead of Casserole Ole. Sipping a glass of wine and wandering among other cooking stations, I pause to take in Farina's lamb chop presentation tips. And I dream of the Mango Tiramisu yet to come.

Cuisine 101: Finding the cooking school that's right for you

If you want to base a vacation around becoming a better cook, you'll find an ample number of cooking schools happy to oblige. Aside from geography (you've always wanted to visit New Mexico, you like Mendocino County wines), how do you choose a school? According to Mary Risley, owner-founder of Tante Marie's, the best way is to talk to a former student. "You can't tell if someone is a good teacher by their write-up," says Risley. "Sometimes big-name chefs are not very good teachers."