Professional Pastry Arts Unit Two: The Reaping

Professional Pastry Arts student C.C. McCandless on pies, tarts and the importance of timing.

After a rousingly successful whirlwind of a first week in the Professional Pastry Arts program, I entered Unit Two with equal amounts of excitement and trepidation. On one hand, I was thrilled that we would be expanding our skill set so quickly, delving into the crucial and delicious world of tarts and pies. The syllabus indicated that we would learn a multitude of different doughs, fillings and presentations. This sounded excellent.

Except, as it turned out, pie doughs were my nemesis.


Back home, once I had committed to ICC last fall, I used that upcoming holiday season as my own personal training grounds. Thanksgiving and Christmas provided ample opportunity to test out any and every manner of desserts on more-than-willing family members. I’m happy to report that most of my attempts were successful to one degree or another. The one glaring exception, however, was the broad category of homemade doughs.

I just couldn’t get them right.

I tried. Truly, I did. Different recipes. Different techniques. Different baking methods. However, each and every final product included something that I viewed as unacceptable. Don’t get me wrong…they tasted good. But my crusts were suboptimal. Sometimes they would shrink, retreating down the sides of the pan like a frightened turtle back into his shell. Or my pie top wouldn’t seal exactly right with its bottom partner, looking ragged around the edge. My attempt at a lattice top for an apple pie was a ham-fisted mess that looked like the work of a serial killer. Dirty Harry said that a man’s got to know his limitations. In this case, mine were crystal clear: I was unable to make a perfect tart or pie dough.


That’s just what we learned to do in Unit Two. It turns out that all I was missing were perfectly proportioned dough recipes taught to me by a master of the craft. At ICC, I received both in short order. There was literally no time to worry about whether I would screw up my doughs yet again; no opportunity to mentally linger over whether this might just be some fatal flaw in my own baking DNA. We were taught how to make pate brisee, pate sucre, pate sablee, and more, and the important differences between each.

A new unit meant a new partner, and we drew random numbers from a bowl to determine the new pairings. For a week that I might be anxious about, it was all-too-fitting when I drew a classmate that I had my eye on since day one. She had an uncanny air of professionalism and confidence, and I just knew from the first moments of our initial class that she would be a force in the kitchen. My instincts were spot on, as I peripherally watched her turn out one gorgeous product after another during unit one, all while working diligently and maintaining a sparkling clean station. Did I mention that she already has her own amazing food blog? Well, she does, and I had no doubt that she was a future food star in the making. For recipes I had every possibility to muck up, I couldn’t ask for a better teammate to work beside.


I carried myself well enough during unit one that she seemed excited about our pairing, too. And once again, a classmate and I fell immediately into a seamless rhythm. This was especially important for this unit, because I learned that making doughs had to become automatic; almost robotic. The routine, I found out, was the inherently incorrect part of my process. Make the dough. Don’t overwork it. Chill it. Roll it out. Chill it again. Trim it in your tart ring. Chill it again. None of these steps were optional, and the unit was cleverly designed to ingrain this process immediately. Repeating it daily beside someone that knew her stuff helped it become second nature for me. Literally within a couple of days, I was able to look back at my amateurish problems at home with a smile.

My doughs were now really good, but more importantly, they came out that way automatically. There was no worrying or concern anymore. They always turned out right. It was so freeing and soothing that it’s almost mind-boggling, thinking back to what a thorn in my side they used to be. And the fillings! Lovely, flambeed fruits; rich, stirred custards; luscious, chocolate ganache…we cranked out an incredible array of mouth-watering treats in room 204 that week.


Our lead instructor, Chef Jürgen, did not make a big deal of the minutiae of the daily schedule. He did, however, write it out on the giant white board at the head of the class each morning, with the expectation that we would follow it to the minute. Every moment from our arrival to the concluding clean up of the kitchen before our departure was accounted for in bright, dry erase marker. The rare occasions we lagged were inevitably met with a booming Austrian voice imploring us, “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

Each day, we had homework that included preparing recipes for the following morning. On one particular afternoon near the end of the level, we were also assigned something completely new. It looked innocuous enough, as it was essentially a blank sheet of paper. Chef Jürgen informed us that not only were we to prepare tomorrow’s recipes, but that we each had to craft our own version of the daily schedule. His smile gleamed as he assigned us this deceptively tricky task. “And tomorrow, we will have a Reaping like “The Hunger Games,’” he said, with a sinister tinge in his voice. “One of you will be chosen to read your schedule to the class.”


I realize that it’s kind of ridiculous that I’ve approached this entire experience like a classic hero’s journey. I don’t think Joseph Campbell had lemon meringue pie or tart Alsacienne in mind when he crafted his theories about myth and storytelling. But it has been my approach, to the best of my ability, to live this culinary adventure to the fullest. Thus, Chef Jürgen’s throwing-down of the gauntlet left me with only one possible reply. I had to make Katniss Everdeen proud.

“I volunteer as tribute!” I blurted out from my station, which happened to be right beside the chef’s marble that week.

“Yeah?” he said, giving me a sideways glance as his sly smile grew wider.

“Sure,” I said, realizing that my arrogant mouth and desire to say something cool were at least a couple of steps ahead of my brain. But I couldn’t back down. I returned home and began to assess all of the steps that needed to be compiled for the necessary schedule. I stared down the prospect of coordinating a couple of complex tarts, a new pie dough and two different compotes for fillings, and I immediately realized that I took the precision of our razor-sharp daily schedules completely for granted.

I did the best that I could. I accounted for time needed to roll out doughs, to chill them and to make the requisite accompaniments. I scheduled the brief but integral intervals when the chefs would demonstrate new techniques. I accounted for our lunch break and even left some time at the end of the schedule for review. I was confident that, while my itinerary might not have been perfect, it was one that would work.


The next morning I arrived early, as I always do, and Chef Jürgen quickly double-checked the validity of my bold offer to volunteer. I had no intention of shying away from the task at hand or asking him to proof my work. He took the quickest of glances at my itinerary and instructed me to write it out on the board. I thought that had to be a good sign. I did so, wondering if there was some crucial error that he intentionally left in my plan, just so he could point it out to the class.

“Looks good,’ he said, analyzing my handiwork as I finished up. “Very nice job.”

Whew. We ended up using my itinerary exactly as written that day, and it worked out perfectly. That was an excellent lesson, reminding us that each day at ICC we are learning things that we might not even be consciously aware of. It wasn’t exactly a life-threatening challenge, like surviving a day in the arena from “The Hunger Games,” but I still felt heroic about it.


Learn more about Professional Pastry Arts

My First Pastry Job: Nothing to Fear

Professional Pastry Arts student Meredith Adams-Spurrier on tackling her first day in a professional kitchen.

I recently was offered a job at a bakery that specializes in French macarons and breakfast pastries. It could not have come at a more perfect time. Any earlier, and I would not have been qualified, but because of the experience I gained in Level 1 of the Professional Pastry Program, I was hired.

Take for example, the cinnamon bun. On my very first day at work, I was handed a binder full of recipes and my new sous chef told me what I would be expected to make for the day:

  1. Cinnamon Buns.
    Being in a production kitchen with professionals was a bit intimidating, but I gulped down the rest of my coffee and got to work. I had the skills to make this because a few weeks ago I had made pecan sticky buns in class that were out of this world. Sure, I was making enough cinnamon buns here to feed a small army, but if I could make one small batch in class, I bet I could make plenty. Next on my list of recipes to complete:
  2. Banana Bread.
    I felt the nervousness slowly disappear. I knew how to do that because I had just completed Unit 4: Breads in school. I thought back to how I made poundcake: creamed butter method, mix in the dry ingredients just to combine so the gluten doesn’t get over developed. So, I only made one loaf in school and this recipe called for four quarts of batter. I had the skills to do it and that’s what mattered. Feeling more confident, I went through the list and did the mise en place (prep work) for every recipe. It was an important concept that I learned on the first day of school and you can’t work productively without it.

During my next shift at my newly acquired job, I was given the recipe to make something I have never made before at school, macarons. I started to panic and seriously question why I was hired. That is, until I read the procedure. I knew how to make almond flour, the difference between 6X and 10X confectioner sugar, how to make an Italian meringue and how to fold the meringue into the almond batter without deflating the entire mixture. I even knew how to hand pipe them from ICC’s lesson on Pate à Choux (piping cream puffs). So maybe I could make macarons without having ever made them before? I was pleasantly surprised to realize I had nothing to fear. My sous chef gave me some great pointers and short cuts for working with such a monstrous amount of batter and I successfully made my first macaron. I felt reassured that I was the right person for the job and at that moment I was very grateful to my Level 1 chef instructor.

I knew that the skills I have learned in school thus far would give me experience to land the job, but I never stopped to think that I would learn technical and professional skills at work that will help me excel in the rest of the pastry program. I have tons of respect for those students who, like me, work a full time job and attend evening classes of the Pastry Program. It’s hard work and for me, my new job wouldn’t exist without the skills and concepts that I learned in Level 1. It’s bittersweet that next week I move on to Level 2, a new classroom, and a new chef instructor, but I am ready for the challenge.

Learn more about Professional Pastry Arts!

Pastry Arts Unit 1: “Welcome to Hogwarts”

A blog by Professional Pastry Arts student C.C. McCandless.

I attended an Open House at the International Culinary Center two and a half years ago. Like everyone else, I had plenty of obstacles and real-life concerns that could have made it easy to not commit, but that wasn’t an option for me. From the first steps of my campus tour, ICC felt like so much more than a school. It emanated feelings of community and excitement and opportunity. It was right. It was everything I never knew that I needed. It was truly magical.

Cut to: January, 2015. I have secured a six month sublet within walking distance of 462 Broadway. I have unpacked my bare bones necessities and familiarized myself with my immediate neighborhood surroundings. I have experimented in my small (but workable) apartment kitchen, and this only made me feel like a thoroughbred horse itching to be released from the starting gate. Let’s go. I’m ready. Let’s get it on.

Orientation two days before the official start of class confirmed everything I already thought and felt about my new home. The informational lecture in the amphitheater included a parade of incredibly friendly, welcoming and well-informed faculty and staff. Each speaker provided essential knowledge and made me more secure than ever in my decision to attend the Professional Pastry Arts program here. I was mistakenly provided size “small” chef jackets, which certainly wouldn’t work on my 6’6” frame. Exchanging them was no problem, and while doing so I meet a young woman from my program, and the gleam in her eye was as eager and obvious as mine. It’s abundantly clear that we all cannot wait to get started.

Our first day of class finally arrived. Unsure of exactly what to expect, I arrived ridiculously early. This turned out to be quite an auspicious decision, as despite double and triple checking my school-issued duffel bag the night before and the morning of class, I have somehow forgotten to bring an apron. I rummage through the bag in the locker room, the rest of my sparkling new chef uniform on and ready. It’s not there. They gave me three aprons. Three. I didn’t bring one.

I was “That Guy.”

I didn’t know who or what I was going to be in our class of eleven students. I’m the tallest. And the oldest. Only this much is clear. But I most certainly do not want to be the one who couldn’t even get his uniform right on the first day! With time to spare before class commenced, I scrambled up to the 4th floor, where Ariana (the wonderful student affairs coordinator) took pity on me and helped scrounge up a brand new apron, which I assured her I would replace the following day.

Crisis averted.

I made my way to the sparkling, immaculate classroom for Pastry 1 and we assumed our assigned spots. I was paired with a friendly, European, career-changing executive. We bonded almost immediately. Our trio of chef instructors introduced themselves, and they couldn’t be more different. Chef Claudia works as a private caterer and will pop in and out of class when her schedule permits. Chef Tom is an ICC grad and a military veteran of two decades, yet he projects no hint of a gruff, drill sergeant demeanor. Our lead instructor is Chef Jürgen, a pastry savant who began training in his native Austria when he was young. He stands tall, projects clearly and exudes the exact aura of confidence and leadership one would hope for from a teacher in a brand new environment like this. I am beyond thrilled that I will be learning from him.

We were given a quick verbal tour of the kitchen—ovens here, fridges there, freezers in the back, mixers always on this table. It’s fast, but not rushed. I could tell there would be no wasted words or time in this class. I loved it. Chef Jürgen explained that an instructor will always demonstrate the proper way to execute each new recipe, and that students will never be tasked to prepare something they don’t know how to make. This made sense, of course, but it was still reassuring that we would never be flying blind.

I knew that there is a significant amount of required classroom instruction on kitchen safety and sanitation awaiting us, and I assumed that this day will begin with a sit down lecture and a couple of hours of dry and boring lecture material.

This is not what happened.


After our cursory tour and the unpacking of our kits, Chef Jürgen quickly called us to the front to demonstrate the process for making Diamants, a short dough cookie so named because they are egg washed and rolled in sparkling sanding sugar before baking, thus giving them a pretty, glittery crust. His deft, skilled process is an incredible sight to behold. The economy of movement is stunning. It’s impossible not to ponder if I will ever be able to make myself do anything reasonably on par with what he can as he nimbly and effortlessly brings a dough together, shapes it into a perfectly round log, wraps it in parchment paper and puts it into his lowboy fridge to chill. Can I work quickly enough? Can I make anything close to that? Will my skills ever approach this level?

I have no idea, but I’m about to find out.

“Let’s go!” he barks in his perfectly authoritarian, Austrian accent as we all stand assembled around the chef’s marble demo counter. My new teammate and I immediately fall into a synchronous rhythm, collectively gathering all of the ingredients and items that we need for our first recipe. Honestly, it’s a blur. Our rock-sturdy Kenwood mixer is creaming our carefully measured amounts of butter and sugar as instructed before we have a chance to take a breath. I had been here less than an hour, and I was already making something. It was amazing.

We completed two kinds of beautiful cookies on our first day, and three more on our second. I slowly and uncertainly began to learn my way around the confusing warrens that are the ICC kitchens and corridors. Hidden staircases lurk beside classrooms with secret elevators, and one wrong turn can send you down a hallway you have never traversed. This place is like Hogwarts. I half expect to encounter a giant, three-headed dog on my way to the lavish, student-cooked lunch buffet on the fifth floor.

My classmates and I settled into a wide, circular booth beside the library on the third floor for our hurried lunch break. We got to know each other quickly, and I learned that they epitomize the melting pot that is New York City. From Mexico to Switzerland to Morocco, Syracuse to Queens to Atlanta, we have the globe surprisingly well represented for such a small group. All of my classmates appear as wide eyed and excited as I am.

Unit 1 is comprised of a plethora of delicious cookies, and the new curriculum has clearly been arranged in a thoughtful manner that will begin to build our foundation of skills. Between lectures and baking, I learned a dizzying array of dough types, shaping methods and preparation styles. There are brownies and biscotti and intricate checkerboard shortbread designs. We made pretty dough swirls and hand shaped vanilla crescents and Chocolate Heaven Cookies that taste even better than their name implies.


It’s all-encompassing, but it’s not overwhelming. I knew I would enjoy this. Obviously, that’s a huge part of why I came here. But it’s so much more than that. It quickly dawns on me that the magical Hogwarts aura is a more apt comparison than I anticipated. Chef Jürgen can be Professor Dumbledore at one moment, with his kindly encouragement and reassurances as we take our trepidatious first steps as fledgling bakers. At other times… Severus Snape.

“Done. Out,” he instructs succinctly after taking the quickest of glances at a dough twirling in my mixer. I love every moment of this. Cookies, glazes, and doughs are my curses, potions and spells, and to me they are no less magical. I am engrossed in my textbook each night, eagerly learning new recipes to meticulously write out on our ever-present note cards for class. A blizzard-induced snow day is devastating to me, as all I can think about are the new goodies I won’t learn to make that day.

I have had a unique and checkered academic path bring me here. There are several colleges and universities and a couple of different degrees on my resume, but I would never have been described as an eager or particularly diligent student. But by the first hour of my first day at ICC, I knew that I would be. I volunteer to answer any question or read any passage. I work at a speed I wasn’t sure I was capable of. I practically float to school each morning and I wish I could stay late each afternoon. I aced our first written test and my classroom evaluations and practical exam results exceeded my own lofty expectations. This place is changing who I am, and I can’t get enough of it. I’m not going to be some Weasley brother or background character in this grand adventure. I will work and study as hard as Hermione Granger, and if I keep learning and improving at this breakneck pace, maybe there’s even a chance that I can become a pastry Harry Potter.

CLICK HERE to learn more about Professional Pastry Arts.

Celebrity Cookie Couture From The Red Carpet

Which actress stole the show? #CookieCoutureICC

To celebrate the fashion frenzy of the awards season, pastry chef-instructors at the award-winning International Culinary Center ( recreated some of the most iconic dresses to ever grace the red carpet. Made of sugar paste and sweet cookie dough, each model took eight hours to construct–less time than most actresses take to get ready for an awards show. The edible stage design features a red-velvet carpet runway, surrounded by adoring cookie fans and paparazzi.

Alumni Spotlight: Liz Button

With Cúrate landing on Forbes Travel Guide‘s list of “8 Secret Dishes We’re Only Telling You About” for their panuelo de chocolate dessert, we thought it would be fitting to boast about our wonderful graduate Liz Button, owner of the acclaimed tapas bar.

CLICK HERE to see the full article in Forbes.

In 2007, Liz Button was running a charter aviation company in New Jersey and her daughter Katie was headed to Sweden to complete a Ph.D. in Chemistry. Today, they are the proud owners of one of North Carolina’s hottest restaurants, Cúrate Bar de Tapas in Asheville.

At first, their shared love of food took them on different paths. Katie, disenchanted by academia, accepted a front of house position at José Andrés’ Café Atlántico/MiniBar in Washington DC, while Liz pursued her lifelong dream of opening a restaurant by enrolling at ICC. She decided on the Restaurant Management Course because “I wanted to feel confident knowing the ins and outs of the business.” The class was so rewarding she decided to pursue a culinary degree as well. Still impressed by the overall instruction, the culinary technology was most memorable. “I was blown away at the innovation.”

Katie, it seems, was also blown away. At Café Atlántico, not only did she discover a passion for restaurants, she met her future husband, veteran manager, Félix Meana. A native of Roses, Spain—home to Ferran Adrià’s famed elBulli—Félix worked at the legendary restaurant for five years prior to joining Café Atlántico. Before long the couple returned to elBulli, where Katie completed a highly coveted seven-month stage in the kitchen.

It soon became obvious—Liz’s dream restaurant would be a family affair specializing in authentic Spanish cuisine. In 2011, Cúrate opened to raves and as The New York Times wrote last month, “it’s popularity continues to grow.” When reflecting on her success, Liz credits the wisdom of age, her natural stamina and drive, and a good business plan. “I followed the Restaurant Management business plan to a ‘T’ and it was the foundation for Cúrate.…When we shopped it around to the banks—and
we had to see all of them because no one was lending back then—they
all said ‘Wow, I’ve never seen a business plan like this. This is impressive.’”

Indeed it is. This month Katie and Félix were awarded the 2013 Rising Chefs Award for Sustainablity from and the family has plans to open a nightclub with a Spanish take on American bar food in downtown Asheville. Continued success!

A Note on Trailing

A blog by 2013 Professional Pastry Arts graduate Julie Couture.

In the culinary world, in-person interviews are a piece of the puzzle in getting a job. In order for employers to decide if they want to hire you, they ask you to do a trail.

Like many people new to this industry, I had no clue what this meant. I soon learned a trail involves working a few hours at the establishment. The responsibilities on each trail can vary based on the chef. On my trails, I was asked to make brownies, lime filling, and granola.

I’ve made all of these items – or variations of them – in school or at home. It is a different story when making recipes in a new, unfamiliar kitchen.

Some people thrive in these conditions. Adrenaline flows, stress builds and these thrivers turn out one recipe after another as though it is child’s play. Others, like me, feel immense pressure, making me wonder where my brain is hiding.

If you do well under pressure, I salute you. If you don’t, all is not lost.

With most things, continually doing something can help improve your confidence. Going on trails in different kitchens and making various recipes can better your skillset. Sure, it’s a tad nerve-wracking, but so was learning how to ride a bike and you figured that out, right? With practice and patience, success will happen.

Lest you get discouraged because you make mistakes, remember that making mistakes is part of the process. Those who are the most proficient and most revered in their chosen fields didn’t get there overnight. Rather, they spent weeks, months and years practicing and making mistakes in order to get where they are today.

Nothing beats a fail but a try. When it comes to trails, try…and keep trying.

Learn more about Julie’s class: Professional Pastry Arts

Frosted Chocolate Cranberry Cake

A recipe by Chef Jansen Chan, Director of Pastry Operations
Yields: 1’-9” CAKE


    6 oz. Cranberries, fresh
    2 c. Wate
    6 Tbsp. Cocoa
    1 c. Dried Cranberries
    1 Tbsp. Brandy or orange juice.
    6 oz. Butter
    1 ¾ c. Brown sugar, dark
    2 Eggs, large
    4 oz. Sour cream
    1 ¾ c. Flour
    1 tsp. Baking soda
    ½ tsp. Salt
    1 c. Chocolate, semisweet, chopped
    2 c. Powdered sugar
    ¼ c. water

1. Place the cranberries and water in a medium size pot and simmer for 15 mins., stirring occasionally, until the cranberries break open. While still hot, add the cocoa. Puree the cranberry – cocoa base until smooth with an immersion blender and set aside until cool.
2. Preheat the oven to 350F. Prepare a 9” cake pan by coating the sides with nonstick release. Place a parchment circle on the bottom of the pan. Pour brandy over dried cranberries and allow to soak. Reserve.

3. In a mixer, begin by creaming the butter and sugar with a paddle attachment until light and fluffy. Slowly add the eggs, one at a time, scraping occasionally. In the meantime, mix together the cooled cocoa – cranberry mixture with the sour cream. In another bowl, mix together the flour, baking soda, and salt. Back in the mixer, alternate additions of the liquid cranberry mix and the dry ingredients. Be sure to scrape the sides and bottom occasionally. Add the soaked dried cranberries and chopped chocolate. Pour the batter in the cake pan. Bake for 60-75 mins, or until springy to the touch. Allow cake to cool for 10 mins. before un-molding.

4. Preheat oven to 450 F. Stir together powdered sugar and water until dissolved. Add more water if the consistency is too thick, or add more powdered sugar if it is too thin.

5. Pour the glaze over the cooled cake, spreading with a spatula if necessary. Place on a sheet pan and bake for 5-8 mins., or until the frosting is set. Allow to cool before serving.

Happy Holidays from the International Culinary Center!

International Culinary Center – Award-Winning Culinary School

©2012 The International Culinary Center, LLC. For non commercial use only. Recipe cannot be copied, stored or transmitted electronically, or sold without written consent of the International Culinary Center.

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Christmas Eggnog Yule Log

A holiday spin on a classic taught at International Culinary Center.

Director of Pastry Arts Jansen Chan
Yields: 1-10” Yule Log

Sponge Ingredients

    ¾ cup + 1 ½ tsp. Flour, cake
    ½ tsp. Salt
    6 Eggs
    2 Egg yolk
    ¾ cup + 1 ½ T. Sugar
    ½ tsp. Vanilla extract
    As needed Powdered sugar

Prepare a 9” x 13” sheet tray by lining it with parchment paper and lightly greasing and flouring the surface. Remove any excess flour. Sift the cake flour and salt and reserve. In two bowls, separate the eggs. Transfer the egg whites to a mixer bowl and whip the whites with a little bit of the sugar. As the mixture becomes foamy, increase the speed and slowly add the remaining sugar. Continue to whip until stiff peaks form. Add the egg yolks and whisk quickly until only just combined. Remove the whisk and gently fold the sifted flour into the egg mixture in several additions. Carefully spread the batter into the prepared pan. Sprinkle generous with powdered sugar. Bake at 400F for approximately 15-18 mins, or until a light, golden brown. Let the cake sit for 5 mins and gently transfer the cake, with the parchment paper to another tray. Gently roll the cake, against the width, and allow to cool fully in this shape.

Eggnog Custard Filling Ingredients

    1 cups Milk
    ½ tsp. Nutmeg, grated
    ¼ tsp. Cinnamon
    Pinch Ginger, cloves, all spice (each)
    6 Tbsp. Sugar, split
    4 Egg yolks
    4 tsp. Cornstarch
    1/4 cup Alcohol of your preference (rum, brandy, or bourbon)
    2 oz. Butter

In a medium size pot, boil milk, half of the sugar, and the spices. Cover and let steep for 15 mins. Whisk the egg yolks, remaining sugar, and pastry cream powder together. Temper ¼ of the hot milk into the egg mixture, whisking constantly. Return the mixture to the pan and continue to cook over medium heat, whisking constantly, until mixture boils. Allow to boil for 1-2 mins. Transfer immediately to a plastic wrap lined tray. Cover the top with additional plastic wrap to prevent a skin from forming. Allow to cool to slightly warm. Transfer the pastry cream to a bowl and add the alcohol and butter. Whisk carefully until homogenous. Reserve at room temperature, as needed.

Crème Chantilly Ingredients

    2 cups Heavy cream
    2 Tbsp. Sugar
    Pinch Salt
    ½ tsp. Vanilla extract

Place all ingredients in a mixer and whip until stiff peaks are formed. Reserve, covered, and chilled.

Additional Decorations
Eggnog Custard Filling
Simple Syrup (1/2 cup water dissolved with 1/2 cup sugar, cooled)
Rum, brandy, or bourbon (optional)
Crème Chantilly
Cocoa powder

Unroll the cooled sponge and remove the parchment paper. Sprinkle 2 tsp. of alcohol around the cake, if desired. Spread eggnog custard filling, all but 1” from the length of the sponge. Starting with the length without the custard, roll the cake tightly until a log is formed. Let rest 2 hrs. or overnight, wrapped in plastic. When chilled, slice the cake at 45˚ about 2” away from the end. Transfer the log to a serving tray and place the smaller cut piece on the tray, perpendicular to the cake, with the angled cut facing outward. Spread the crème Chantilly along the length of the cake and use a fork to create ridges. Carefully sift a light coating of cocoa powder on top. Decorate cake with meringue mushrooms.

from International Culinary Center!

Fulfill your New Year’s resolution with Professional Pastry Arts. 

Inside ICC’s Intensive Sommelier Training

A review of ICC’s Intensive Sommelier Training program by Bottlenotes:

Inside ICC’s Intensive Sommelier Training

“As the amount of wine Americans drinks continues to rise annually, so too does the number of people taking the Court of Master Sommeliers’ introductory exam,” reads a recent article in The Wall Street Journal. We scoped out the Intensive Sommelier Training program at International Culinary Center (ICC), based in Soho, NYC, and Silicon Valley, CA, to see the steps to somm-hood. The comprehensive course—the first and only approved by the Court of Master Sommeliers Americas—educates candidates with 300+ wines (the bar tab would equal $10,000+ in any other setting), and culminates in the exam given on-site.

drinkThe seven somm steps:

  • Taste and taste and taste with the school’s Master Sommeliers to develop powers of identification
  • Grasp the logic of food-and-wine pairing recommendations
  • Learn proper storage, aging and service to bring the best out of your bottles
  • Show your business brain—design a wine list based on a case study
  • Walk the vineyards, tour the cellar and do the “viti-vini” on a field trip
  • Live the 8,000-year history of wine making via countries that blazed the taste trail
  • Embrace the challenge of a learning journey that will forever change the way you live, wine and dine


As the ultimate gift for a wine lover or a new career path for yourself, ICC’s Intensive Sommelier Training classes are held throughout the year. For dates and details, please go to

Learn more about ICC’s Intensive Sommelier Training Program.

Meatless Monday: Roasted Cauliflower Steak

A creative #MeatlessMonday recipe by 2013 Culinary grad Shikha Sharma.


Roasted Cauliflower Steak with Brussels Sprouts

Serves: 2


For the Cauliflower

  • 2 big slices of cauliflower
  • 2-3 springs of fresh thyme
  • Few Lemon peels, cut into strips
  • Coconut or Olive Oil
  • Salt & Fresh ground pepper as per taste

For the Caramelized Onion Sauce

  • 1 Medium Onion, thinly sliced
  • 1.5 T Red Wine Vinegar
  • 1 Cup of Water
  • Salt & Fresh ground pepper as per taste
  • Coconut Oil for cooking

For the Brussels Sprouts

  • 1/2 lb of Brussels Sprouts, cut off ends and peel off any damaged leaves
  • 1 Small Red Pepper, diced
  • Few Fennel slices
  • Pinch of Chili Flakes
  • 1 t of Curry Powder and more as per taste
  • Salt & Fresh ground pepper as per taste

For the Honey Mustard Sauce

  • 1 T Grape Seed Oil or Olive Oil and more as needed
  • 1 t honey
  • 1 t Grainy Mustard


For the Cauliflower

Sprinkle some salt and pepper, thyme leaves, and lemon peels on the cauliflower.

Brush some oil on the cauliflower and bake in the oven @ 350 F for 20-30 minutes or until tender. (You can test by inserting a cake tester or a knife)

Flip and roast the other side after 15 minutes.

When it’s done, cover and set it aside.
For the Caramelized Onion Sauce

Grab a medium pan; add oil, onions and sprinkle generous amount of salt. Cook until onions begin to soften and turn brown.

Next, – the pan with red wine vinegar and add 1 cup of water. Simmer and stir occasionally.

Blend the sauce to a smooth texture and then add a bit of water to thin out the sauce. Taste and season with salt and pepper as desired.
For the Brussels Sprouts

Toss all the ingredients and add more seasonings as per taste.

Bake @ 350 F for 35 minutes

Whisk all the sauce ingredients and then combine it with the baked brussels sprouts.

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