Achey Breaky Stomach (Latkes-a-Poppin')

This evening I went back to c-school for the first time since graduation to take a continuing ed class: contemporary Italian pizza. Similar to the 'make pizza at home' class I took a few weeks ago, this one focused on making more authentic pies -- double 00 Italian flour in the crust, some traditional (sautéed artichokes), others less so (bottarga: pressed & grated roe) toppings -- and a cavalcade of Italian cheeses. At the previous class, I had to request buffalo mozzarella; today the class was already equipped with a bucket of it, as well as stracchino, caciocavallo, robiola, and some others that were a pleasure to taste.

My pastry chef, Chef G, taught the class; it was nice to slip into her groove for a night. The class was mostly setting the mise, and it was fun carmelizing a bucket of onions with A, blogger for one of the premiere foodie sites in the city (and unrepentant Jersey girl). I got in a minimally topped margarita before everyone else, in hopes of taking advantage of a hotter oven, but soon enough a flood of all sorts of pies followed, and my pie took a sold 15 minutes, getting too crisp yet underbrowned. When I put it out, I turned around to get basil, and Chef G basically yelled, "WHOSE IS THIS? WHERE IS THE BASIL?" I should have had it in hand, I should have known better; for a second I was back in in the culinary program. Need that hot-out-of-the-oven heat to wilt the basil properly.

I spent the next hour basically grazing the pies, as there were a lot of topping combinations, hoping to be inspired. A had a fondness for ricotta, something I've regarded as a calzone stuffing, not a pizza topping. However, her pie matched it with a green pesto and zucchini. The zucchini had a lightness that complemented the ricotta's fluffiness, and the sharp saltiness of the pesto drew them together nicely. One guy did some sort of sardine pie, he swore it was only mildly fishy, but it tasted like a chum-bucket to me. A few people did arugula pies, but nobody finished these with any sort of dressing, they looked a bit drab, but I quibble.

Toward the end of class, some butter cookies were put out, and before I could blink, the chocolate ones were gone. Damn, I wanted chocolate. Craving was the mother of invention as I scoped out a bag of it, along with a carton of almond paste. I took a hunk of the paste, dissolved it in some water, thickened it with a little flour. Stretched a dough, coated it in olive oil to protect it from the wet almond sauce, then topped it with a sprinkling of dark chocolate pieces.

Good idea, poor execution. The almond wasn't intense enough -- it kept the dough pleasantly pliable on top, cradling the chocolate, but the almond flavor was just a mild tickle in the nose -- it needed to stand up and greet the chocolate. I think this could be a really good dessert pie, maybe even in a deep-fried mini-calzone kind of way, but I have to figure out the almond paste issue. Hmmmmm.

ADDENDA:
Woke up with a pudding hangover, with all the dark dark chocolate keeping me up all night, and now blocking my desire for breakfast. B requested I make latkes for the family (for you goyim, it's the day of atonement, Yom Kippur), so I got the rotating grater going and got 6 pounds of organic potatoes processed into 2 Spanish onions, salted, then pressed in a colander to get as much moisture out as possible. After sitting a while, I poured off the liquid and scraped up all the delicious potato starch back into the mix. Into the pile went more salt, pepper, 6 whole eggs, a half cup of matzoh meal, and a large handful of finely sliced chives.

Fried off a few to taste, adjusted seasoning, shared a few with B, and soon found the latkes did not appreciate day-old pudding as a neighbor. To atone for this sin, I went to yoga, burped and gurgled, and sent in a portabello sandwich as a peace keeper. Things ran late at my momma-in-law's, as I took the nuclear option (antacid) and promptly napped for an hour, so I left B to fry up the latkes while I went back downtown to participate in pizza class.

BREAKFAST: 11am, 2 test latkes, .5 bowl, hunger 3/5
I got puddin' stomach.

LUNCH: 1:30pm, grilled portabello sandwich with small side salad, bowl of dahl, water, 1.5 bowl, hunger 3/5
Burped my way through yoga, snarfed some vegan food after, didn't do any favors to my stomach.

PM DRUGGING: 4pm, 2 antacids
Pudding, latkes and portabellos, not happy mixing in my stomach.

DINNER: 8-9:30pm, nibbles of 15 or so different pizzas, a handful of buttercookies, water, 2 bowls, hunger 4/5
Must be the mind-body connection, felt good being surrounded by pizza.