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4 OUR YUCAIPA | MARCH 2016 Cooking classes need more fire extinguishers By Courtney Fox Taylor My husband Tim says I make 20 dishes really well. "Court," he says when I try a new recipe that doesn't quite hit the target, "do you want me to make you a list of your best 20 recipes?" "No," I answer. "I like trying new things." "But you do 20 really good. Like BLTs," he explains. I'm offended. A monkey could make a good BLT. "Or your chicken tacos," he continues, to which I roll my eyes. It's leftover chicken and Lawry's seasoning. "What else is on the list?" I ask, half curious, half annoyed. "Well," he pauses, stalling, "there's the spaghetti you make… Oh! And lasagna." Okay - I do have a killer lasagna. So far I count one legitimate made from scratch(ish) recipe. I do use Classico sauce for both the spaghetti and lasagna. My cousin Claudia calls that Frankensteining dinner. I think most people want to be able to make something from scratch, in theory. Not that we want to grow the wheat and thresh the wheat and pound the wheat to make the bread like the Little Red Hen. She did everything from scratch and asked the cat and the duck to help and they declined. But when it came time to eat the pizza, they were all Johnny on the Spot, ready with their napkins and forks. Then she was a jerk and said if you didn't help, you don't get to enjoy it. Give me a break, Little Red Hen. Making a great dish and sharing it with your friends and family and watching their faces light up is such a wonderful treat! Not that I would know. I would imagine making a great dish from scratch would be a treat. But then I give myself pilgrim status when I don't buy the tube of ready-made dough and start with flour and water and yeast. My friend Stacey is a lot better in the kitchen than I am. She's the one who writes the recipe page (and who is running out of recipes). She decided that I needed help and signed us up for a cooking class. We arrived at the Cooking Block in Redlands and sat down at a U-shaped metal bar that faced a work-prep area. Chef Paul Riviera introduced himself and rattled off the names of the greats with whom he studied various cooking techniques around the world. I hadn't heard of a single one but they all sounded real. The dish we were going to make that night was pizza. Chef Paul had prepared the dough already. He showed us how to gently push from the center moving out, making a thin crust. "It looks like a condom," I giggle/whispered to Stacey. She rolled her eyes and hoped I would stop talking. "When do we get to throw it in the air?" asked someone. Excellent question. "We don't," said Chef Paul. It was probably for the best, considering many people were having trouble just pressing on the dough. We then began to assemble our pizzas. My toppings, in order, were: sauce, cheese, cheese, pepperoni, cheese, pepperoni, zucchini (try it - it's surprisingly good - if you don't think so you can come to my house and tell me there are 20 recipes I do well - I'll get the hint), tomato, basil, cheese and basil. It was about as tall as it was wide. Chef Paul looked at it and said, "Isn't that a lot of cheese?" I looked down. Yes, but I like cheese. I didn't say this. "I guess." So I started taking cheese off. Stacey said, "If you like cheese, keep the cheese." That's why she's my friend, even though her pizza was assembled with the perfect amount of cheese and she didn't get scolded. When we were all done, Chef Paul said, "Now we put the pizzas in a high fan convection oven at 500 degrees for about five minutes. Wait, I thought. I don't have a high fan convection oven. In order to make this dish, I would probably need an entirely new kitchen. I imagined telling Tim and him replying, "No - you don't need a new kitchen. There are 20 dishes you do well. There's BLTs, spaghetti…" There was room in the oven for six pizzas at a time. We were in the second group so waited our turn. I was looking forward to using we the peel (giant spatula). I went back to the ovens to check the status of the others' pizzas and thought one looked pretty done. So, being the helpful (impatient) person I am, I grabbed a peel, slid it under the pizza and shoved the pizza waaaaaaaaaaay back into the oven so it was sliding off the pizza stone. "Um, Chef Paul?" I called, as tendrils of smoke started to rise out of the oven. "I was trying to get this pizza out and now it's way in the back." He rushed in, clearly alarmed, and knelt down in front of the oven, putting his arm all the way in, muttering. That oven is 500 degrees, I thought. He's definitely going to be on fire soon. Not able to reach, he jumped up and RAAAAN out of the kitchen to get some tongs. Then RAAAAN back to the oven. The smoke was at that level right before flames appear. Stacey glared at me, knowing she'd never get to eat her pizza. Chef Paul pulled the wayward pizza out, which was not burned to a crisp, much to everyone's surprise. "Don't touch anyone else's pizza," Chef Paul said to me, trying to regain his composure. "Don't you worry, Chef Paul," I said. "I'm so sorry I almost burned the whole place down." We ate our pizzas while he showed us how to make the dough and the sauce. Apparently, in addition to getting a new kitchen with a convection oven, I'm also going to have to get a professional grade mixer and a pizza oven. I should also invest in a fire extinguisher, just in case. If you want to try a cooking class, check out the Cooking Block's website at cookingblock.com. Just remember, don't touch anyone else's dish.

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