Gaining experience in more developed countries 1993-2004

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In 1998, we were invited to the Business School, a hospitality higher education institution in La Rochelle, France. This was part of an exchange program between schools, during which the French partners first visited us at KVIF and prepared authentic dishes for nearly 100 guests. Procuring some ingredients caused a few problems because we were unable to provide certain raw materials, such as fresh pig’s blood, to the French chef-teacher, Chef Mijon. He was not pleased and wandered around with an even more serious expression. Among ourselves, we nicknamed the grumpy gentleman “demijohn.”

I traveled to France with two colleagues, dr. András Csizmadia and Gábor Endrődy. We had to prepare a lunch for about 50 guests. The afternoon before the event, there was an opportunity to carry out some preparatory tasks. We agreed with the head chef-instructor, Mr. Mijon—who had also been to their event in Budapest—that we would start and continue work at 7 a.m. In the morning, nobody was in the kitchen, and we couldn’t get the stove started because it worked together with the ventilation system, but our hosts had not shown us how to start it. Of course, we managed to find someone in the building who helped us solve this small “little” problem. While the preparation and cooking of the dishes was in full swing, Mr. Mijon appeared, walked around the kitchen, and started to “tidy up.” Without asking, he threw away some of the prepared ingredients meant for lunch. In his great eagerness, he even stuck his finger into a pot to taste it—thinking it was some kind of stock—only to find out it was actually dishwater. He smiled at the comic situation.

The lunch went well despite the difficulties, and Gábor, who was helping in the restaurant, told me to come out because a guest wanted to speak with me. The gentleman thanked me very much for the delicious food and immediately invited me, along with Gábor, to his home as guests. He explained that during World War II, fate had brought him together with a Hungarian soldier, they had become good friends, and he wanted to repay this through us. Finally, he pointed to the signet ring on his finger, which he had received from that soldier and still wears to this day.

First, he took us to an oyster farm where we could taste freshly harvested oysters “a la nature” to our heart’s content. I mentioned that I preferred oysters as a cooked dish, so he told the owner that we would take oysters for dinner for the three of us. Our host prepared gratinated oysters, and it turned out that he was a prominent member of the Chaîne des Rôtisseurs association. From the cellar fridge in the house, he brought out bottle after bottle and offered an excellent quality rosé champagne, which truly was a worthy companion to the wonderful dish. The oysters were returned to their shells, mixed with tomato concassé (tomato cubes without skin and seeds), finely chopped shallots, and green herbs, crowned with grated Comté cheese, then baked together.

Almost immediately, a good friendship developed between us. The hospitality was genuinely warm not only because of the food and drinks offered but also because the gentleman was a person of great character. As it turned out, we even had a mutual acquaintance through the Chaîne association, which operates in nearly a hundred countries worldwide, since by then I had already participated in organizing two or three world competitions in Hungary. The funniest scene was when he sat his dog down, placed a morsel above its nose, and delivered a monologue to it, then, dramatically signaling the end of his speech, the dog flipped up the morsel, caught it, and ate it. We laughed so much at this that he repeated the performance several times.

The French organizers went all out and arranged excellent professional programs for us. For example, they took us to an event where there was an oyster and champagne tasting in front of the building, and in the restaurant, both white and red wines were offered with the main course, saying there was no fixed rule about what wine the guest should drink—rather, they could drink whatever they liked.

Another dining-related story happened when we had lunch and dinner at a family-run restaurant. During dinner, the chef family member came out to take our order and, knowing what each of our party of ten had eaten for lunch, recommended accordingly. When one French lady was thoughtfully deciding out loud what to choose, the chef said, “Don’t choose the sole because you had that for lunch; rather, take the duck roast, which is orange-flavored and divine.” That professionalism really impressed me!

The organizers also took us to the city of Bordeaux and to some châteaux in the Bordeaux wine region, such as Château Margaux, where we could taste some of the finest wines and learn that on each vine, only a limited number of grapes are left to ensure excellent quality. András could fully indulge himself, as he is a great expert on wines.

Our next study trip took us to the city of Cognac and to one of its cognac producers. Perhaps less well known in Hungary is Cognac Frapin, which produces premium-quality spirits as a family business. They showed us the cellars and explained that their taxation works in such a way that tax inspectors fly over in a helicopter to inspect and photograph the black surface on the roofs of their buildings, which is a mold fungus, and from this they calculate the amount of cognac stored inside the warehouse, based on which they determine the tax to be paid. At the end of our tour, they took us to a room similar to a laboratory, where alongside the flasks, a considerable number of Cognac bottles were displayed. By then we suspected a tasting was coming—and indeed it did. However, our breath was taken away when the host gentleman took two mini bottles of Tokaji aszú essence, each a hundred years old, out of an old dresser and quickly opened them! He said that since we were gathered so nicely, we should taste them. It was an extraordinary experience!

Next, we visited another château owned by the Cointreau family, where the hosts invited us for lunch. After the impressive building tour, they served a truffle-based menu paired with carefully selected wines, in which the noble ingredient was used at least three times, for example in the main course, a tournedos Rossini variation.

The market in La Rochelle was a delight to explore. The shelves were laden with beautiful goods, everything fresh and “smiling.” There was no product type that could not be found, of course all of excellent quality. Returning to the partner school, when I told Mr. Mijon all this, he proudly straightened up, but as a joke—remembering how upset he had been about the lack of fresh pig’s blood in Budapest—I remarked that unfortunately there were no truffles. He replied that it was simply out of season. Indeed, the Périgord truffle was no longer in season, but as I described at the earlier lunch, non-Périgord truffles had been served, which could have been found at the market. What started as a joke turned into a professional question.

In La Rochelle—where I encountered an unlimited variety of fresh fish and seafood—I thought that upon returning home to KVIF, I would expand the modest selection of fish in the Food Preparation course curriculum and include a wide range of sea fish. Thus, the repertoire came to include monkfish, the huge flatfish, plaice, sole, turbot, cod, and so on. This was a qualitative leap in presenting and processing fish and also positively impacted the standard of education. My step was somewhat risky, as those monitoring our budget with eagle eyes could have noticed the increased costs. Fortunately, this did not happen.

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Around 1999, an event showcasing the gastronomy of several countries was held at the Hotel and Tourism College in Estoril, Portugal, where we also participated as representatives of KVIF. In the Hungarian team, my colleague György Györe worked with me in the kitchen, while Department Head József Csizmár assisted us in bringing the beers, consumed as a protective drink, into the kitchen. This collaboration and the international experience greatly enriched our performance there.

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In 2000, I was at Laurea University near Helsinki through the KVIF partnership to prepare Hungarian dishes involving the hospitality students there. It was a joy to watch how, among other things, the reindeer stew was devoured by the university students and their teachers. For them, it was a refreshing change to taste the rustic color and flavor compared to the more restrained seasoning they were accustomed to in their everyday meals. In the kitchen, about ten servings remained in the tilt skillet, which were skillfully packed, paid for at the staff price, and taken home. Unfortunately, this did not work that way with us. I did not allow leftover food from the teaching kitchen to be taken home, saying that food from a hospitality business is not taken home, especially not by the boss—who you will be, I told the students—because then the staff would do the same.

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In 2001, the head of the Hungarian-Italian company Farnetani, Béla Kovács, invited several chef colleagues on a professional tour in Parma. The team included, among others, Ferenc Kovács, Zsolt Both, Péter Buday, Dénes Nemeskövi, Attila Bicsár, Frigyes Vomberg, Dénes Sándor, and the media was represented by Miklós Niszkács and Attila Mészáros.

Thus, we visited a manufactory where Parma ham was produced and stored, where the hams originally cured outdoors were now aged indoors at appropriate temperature and humidity with ensured air circulation for months. They showed us the crowned “PARMA” trademark stamp on the ham. The prosciutto di Parma deli quality—its aroma, taste, and texture—is now well known in our country as well.

We got insight into the secrets of mortadella production, for example, in the factory we visited, where the pork was always ground with an electric meat grinder using one finer perforated disc than the previous. Afterward, mosaic materials, seasonings, and spices were added.

We also visited a premium ready-meal manufacturing company where the raw materials were characteristic, daily-used Italian food items such as porcini mushrooms, asparagus, truffles, Parmesan, pecorino, etc., found in risotto or tortellini.

Very memorable and instructive was learning about the traditional balsamic vinegar production of the Malpighi family in Modena, with aging of at least 12 years. The grapes used come from the family’s Modena estates. The gently crushed grapes are cooked in open vessels over an open fire, then the filtered must is used to fill the largest barrel. The barrels are not sealed but only covered with gauze to allow evaporation of the vinegar. The six barrels of different sizes are made of different types of wood, such as oak, cherry, chestnut. The smallest barrel’s evaporated vinegar is replenished with vinegar from the next larger barrel. Following this order, fresh must is always added to the largest barrel to replace evaporated liquid. The quality and price of traditional balsamic vinegar aged 12 years or even several decades is remarkable. After tasting samples from the “youngest” 12-year-old to 25, 50, and 70 years old in a plastic demitasse spoon, we were increasingly amazed by the flavor, aroma, and texture. The dark brown, thick liquid shows a harmony of scent and taste, backed by good quality grapes, the must made from them, various wood aromas, and the aging time, which concentrates the balsamic vinegar more and more.

Next, we visited a restaurant where every dish contained some type of Malpighi balsamic vinegar. This does not cause any problem with salads, but with fish dishes careful selection of the vinegar is needed, it is not difficult to imagine a few drops of balsamic vinegar in the sauce of a beef roast, but with desserts, the possibilities of use have to be considered a bit more. In a restaurant specializing in balsamic vinegar, they paired the different character balsamic vinegars excellently with the dishes.

We were guests at the Borgo Conventi winery, where we attended a festive dinner. Naturally, the company’s own wines were offered alongside the dishes. The hospitality was splendid, and we had a very good time. At the end of the dinner, the owner asked if there were any comments regarding the food and drinks. Frici Vomberg made a substantive remark, perhaps about the sauvignon and chardonnay, suggesting that it would have been better to swap them because the acidity of the sauvignon overwhelmed the flavor of the scampi. The host considered this and said, “You are right.” The menu of the event is shown here.