Day 16: Hollandaise, the easy way.
It’s an unusual start to service; but today is no usual service. Us chefs have been moved front of house, and we’re serving canapés to the guests. We are up on the roof terrace.
My job is to serve the langoustine and hollandaise canapé.
One quick squeeze on the trigger of the siphon, and warm hollandaise foams over a sliced, sweet langoustine.
Marcos, then finishes the dish with a grating of orange zest, and passes it to the guests.
The guests go from one canapé station to the next; eating spoonfuls of black rice and orange kumquats, crispy wafer thin chicken skins with confit garlic, and preserved lemon cocktails.
It feels like a party. Well, actually it is. Just not for all of us.
But it sure beats the sweat of the kitchen. It’s Day 16 of my 100-Day Chef Stage and from the roof terrace, I can see the yachts and catamarans bobbing in Alicante’s harbour.
The night is warm. The sky is clear. When I look up, I can see the stars.
So far, the evening is turning out far better than I thought it would. Far better.
When I first heard I would be on Hollandaise a shiver had run up my back.
Hollandaise is normally a culinary type-rope, a minefield to negotiate.
But how easy this Hollandaise had been, and squirting more Hollandaise onto the next langoustine, I chuckle as I think back to my exam at Leiths Culinary School.
Then, it had taken 25 minutes to make, as I’d whisked for England and prayed to the Kitchen Gods that I wouldn’t end up with scrambled eggs.
In comparison tonight’s Hollandaise had been effortless, all down to the modernist method they use at the restaurant, but more of that later, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Hollandaise, for those who don’t know, is an emulsion of egg yolks and melted butter, worth mastering if only to make the perfect Eggs Benedict.
First you’ll need to make a reduction. Put wine vinegar, water, peppercorns, bay leaf and mace in a small saucepan, simmer, reduce and strain.
Then in a glass bowl, over a double boiler, add the yolks to the reduction and gently heat, and as you heat you whisk in a frightening amount of cold, cubed butter.
Now, comes the culinary tightrope of intuition, guess work, and faith as you wobble between a few degrees of heat.
It’s all about the temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. Too cold and it won’t thicken. Too hot (over 65 degrees) and you might as well butter some toast, as you’ve got scrambled eggs.
Plus it can break. A split, or curdled, sauce is when the emulsification breaks. The fat molecules no longer hold their water molecules. You can remedy this adding a new egg yolk, more butter, etc etc, but …
However if and when you do get it right, the sauce will thicken into a pure silky deliciousness that makes you forget and forgive the trouble it’s put you through from the first spoonful.
Tonight, I have no fear of it splitting.
Hollandaise billows from the siphon at my command and the guests comment on it’s lightness. On how tasty it is. On how much they are enjoying the night.
Normally, the food leaves the kitchen, and that is the last you see of it, very rarely does feedback make it back to the chefs. But tonight is different.
Tonight there is a connection between what we do and why we do it.
Hollandaise, one of the five mother sauces is the base to many more daughter sauces.
Add whipped cream to make a Mousseline, or finish with orange juice for a Maltaise, or tarragon to form a Béarnaise - what better with steak and chips?
If only, it wasn’t so difficult to make…
Well, funny you should say that, as there is an easier way. A much easier way.
The only hitch is you need sous vide equipment and, if you want the sauce to light, airy and foamy, a siphon.
Let me drag you down away from the laughter and cocktails of the roof terrace (sorry!) and take you downstairs, and back in time, to show you how.
Don’t worry it won’t take long.
This is how tonight’s Hollandaise was made. It took five minutes, tops.
Earlier today, we placed butter, yolks and the vinegar reduction into a plastic bag, vacuum sealed it, and put it in a water bath, at 75 degrees for 30 minutes.
Next we blended the sauce.
Done. Hollandaise, in under five minutes. No stress. No whisking.
To make it foamy, (and ensure the emulsion held until service) we then used a Siphon, added a couple of charges, and placed the siphon back into the water bath to keep warm at 65-70 degrees.
That’s it.
Light, airy, foamy and the easiest ever Hollandaise.
Perfect result every time.
I would take you upstairs again, and back to the party, but I can hear the guests coming down now.
The easy part is over, and now I must get back into the kitchen.
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I love Eggs Benedict ❤️