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For many of us, discussing a great meal can be as pleasurable as consuming it, but sometimes food talk can be obsessive, tedious and disruptive of more general conversation--especially to dining partners less given to full-bore epicureanism. If you crave a symposium about your fare that won't pique your companions, there is no better place to do it than at Gayle Jolley's superb cooking school, In Good Taste. Almost every weeknight, 15 devotees gather at the school's stunning new quarters to watch a serious cook at work; to talk about the menu, the recipes, the techniques and the results; and to devour the dishes as they emerge fresh from oven or grill. On nights when everything comes together, In Good Taste may be the best restaurant in town, and though the "students" don't actually cook, there's nothing passive about the experience. Questions about polenta styles fly across the table, and diners debate the merits of one olive oil over another or compare the clafoutis with the memory of one tasted long ago iAvignon. And always, the cooks dispense advice on ingredients, tips on Portland's food shops and information concerning every step of the process. Under Jolley's supervision, hedonism and learning blend like a well-emulsified béarnaise sauce. The school was formerly housed in a corner of Sheridan Market, crushed between the meat case and shelves laden with Velveeta and Cheez Whiz. Relocated in the Pearl District, its new home has been designed expressly for Jolley's ambitious program. The former auto body shop is lofty and bright; large windows shower light into a room filled with cookware, wines and food specialties, as well as a banquet table for private parties and, of course, a gorgeous cooking area. A canopy of lights and an immense stainless hood loom over the blond butcher block and tile table. Maple floors, exposed fir beams, Provençal stone walls and earthy tones impart warmth and solidity. The classroom is gleamingly professional (the Sub-Zero refrigerator is so large it looks like the Chicago morgue), and the equipment is guaranteed to provoke any home cook's uncontrollable envy. A glance at the school's brochure suggests the range of classes: Ligurian, Caribbean, Thai, brunch, "Vine and Dine" and even a Jane Austen tea. Local chefs visit to demonstrate their seasonal choices, and international chefs appear to promote their specialties. For three hours you're immersed in a menu and encouraged to scrutinize the chef's every move. I arrive on a warm spring night for the third in a series on Tuscan cuisine, this one called "Palazzo Palate"; I imagine a Renaissance extravaganza in the Ducal Palace with Lorenzo di Medici and friends. But the meal is more up-to-date: three styles of bruschetta--one with mushrooms and Taleggio cheese, one with red and yellow peppers, one with crab and arugula; penne with asparagus purée and lemon zest; grilled beef on a bed of arugula, roasted tomatoes and Parmigiano; and brandy tiramisu. On this night Amelia Hard and Jolley combine talents, for the menu is based on a cooking trip the two women recently took to Tuscany with a group of students; several of the preparations are their attempts to reproduce dishes they experienced in Florence. While an assistant pours the first of four wines we'll sample, Amelia makes her only concession to the fat-phobic: a gadget to spray the bread lightly with olive oil. There is a bit of surprised head-shaking; to me the sprayer looks like an aerosol bomb, and I fear for a moment we'll be getting bruschetta by Brut. Meanwhile the cooks pass various ingredients around the table, and we're invited to "scratch and sniff," to peer into pots, and to get the feel of a dish as it bubbles along. Amelia chars her peppers on the gas range, showing us how the blistering brings out their sweetness, and praises the unsalted bread Tuscans favor for this dish, while Gayle discourses on the wines. We're 45 minutes into the session before the first course is done, and I've barely contained my urge to reach across the table to snatch an asparagus spear. When we finally pass the just-assembled bruschetta home-style around the table, my deprivation ends in a burst of red, white and green--the Italian colors--and a satisfying m&eaange of tastes. Once we begin to eat, the meal is carefully paced. While the steak grills, we receive instruction--on such matters as how to turn mediocre tomatoes into fine roasted ones--along with marketing advice and show-and-tell: Gayle passes around a box of ladyfingers imported from the Tour d'Argent in Paris. It's clear that the school uses high-quality ingredients, and at every point the cooks explain their choices, such as why kosher salt is superior to ordinary commercial kinds, or why using 25-year-old Balsamico (which they do) makes an appreciable difference. Part of the fun is hearing the rationale behind steps that one might do instinctively or learning how to correct mistakes one has made for years; sometimes humility accompanies the relish. Jolley prints all recipes--there are no secrets here. But while we inevitably try to follow the recipe as the pot stews and the cook stirs, Gayle informs us that when the celebrated Alsatian chef Madeleine Kamman cooked here, she admonished her students to put down the recipe and simply watch her work. That is our charge: to be active voyeurs. By the time we have demolished the espresso-soaked ladyfingers with mascarpone cream, cognac and shaved chocolate, three hours of absorption and satiety have passed. A celebrational evening at In Good Taste is full of good talk, splendid food and the pleasure of watching and hearing accomplished artists at work. At Wildwood or Paley's you might get the first two ingredients, but you have to come here to get the third. |
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