Facing our Food Fears

There were two other classes being taught in other kitchens on our floor that night, and all throughout the evening, people kept wandering into our class wanting to see the pig. "Where's the pig? Can we see the pig?" For some reason, people are fascinated by the notion of roasting an entire pig. We were certainly fascinated too, but at that moment, with the pigs staring back at us from the counter, we were a little freaked out as well.

As we talked to our classmates, we discovered that although some of them were excited or curious about cooking a whole pig, several were intimidated, and others were merely taking the class because others were filled. Whatever their reasons for being there, we had a very friendly and fun group, which made the evening more like a wacky dinner party of sorts.

After a brief introduction on how the evening would work, what we'd be cooking to go with our pigs, and where one actually can get a suckling pig (Esposito's Pork Store, on 9th Avenue between 37th & 38th; you'll need to order it one week in advance), we tied on our aprons and headed to our work stations. We were stationed at a table with two other women who were sisters -- three Jewish women cooking a suckling pig -- our bubbes would plotz!

To truly deal with our whole-pig-phobia, we took on what we thought was the most challenging task of the evening -- preparing the raw pig. This involved some fairly extensive knife work, which we won't describe in detail out of respect our readers, but let's just say that Chef Todd Coleman, who was teaching the class, kept telling us to "stop making that face" as we were doing our business. After finishing our task, we rubbed our pig with garlicky mojo, placed foil on its ears and tail, popped it into the oven and proceeded with the rest of the meal.

Todd was like a cross between a chef, a professor, a conductor, a friend, and a drill seargent. In a good way. He taught us some great knife skills, like how to dice an onion more efficiently (we learned that we've been holding our knife wrong for all these years), and a nifty trick for peeling large quantities of garlic quickly using two alumnium prep bowls. He made sure that each of us was working our way through one dish, while other members of our team were working on another. He put out a small fire (it wasn't us, we swear) with calm confidence. And magically, after four hours, it was all done, a pan-Latin feast, ready to go, and we all had fresh mojitos to top it all off.

In addition to the lechon asado (suckling pig, at the top of the plate), we made (going clockwise) aji (Columbian-style hot sauce), empanadas de picadillo (empanadas stuffed with sweet and spicy beef), yuca con mojo (yuca with garlic and citrus), frijoles negros con arroz amarillo (black beans with yellow rice), maduros (sweet fried plaintains), and flan (caramel custard) for dessert.

We stuffed ourselves silly, and even took home plenty of leftovers. Yep, our team had made one hell of a spicy, garlicky, pork-heavy feast. If you haven't taken a class at the Institute of Culinary Education (formerly Peter Kump's), and can afford it, it's really a fun way to spend an evening, although after four hours of standing on our feet, chopping, dicing, and sauteeing, we were somewhat exhausted. Not only did we expand our culinary horizons and tackle our fears head-on, but we learned some new techniques, took home a stack of recipes, and met a handful of new people. We're already thinking of taking a knife skills course soon, and some of Todd's other courses, like Streetwise: The Best Street Foods from Around the World, and Chili Circuit (where he promises the booze starts flowing earlier than it did in our class), sound right up our alley. Even if you've never cooked before in your life, they offer Cooking 101: The Course for Absolute Beginners.

Thanks to Todd and all the other students who let us take their pictures and contributed to our amazing pan-Latin cooking experience.

Full photo gallery at Sweet Blog o' Mine (including some raw pig photos, so beware).