Happy first day of fall.

So naturally, I have to show you one of the most aggressively fall things I’ve ever put on a plate.

Maple-glazed pork chop.

Apple and pearl onion chutney.

Cranberry gastrique.

Sweet potato mash.

Broccolini.

Very fall.

Very me.

But this plate is actually a little more special to me than just being a really good fall dinner.

It’s one of the things I’ve made that I’m genuinely really proud of.

This One Goes Back to Culinary School

During my culinary capstone class, we ran a student restaurant as part of the course.

One of our projects was to create our own menu, and throughout the semester, Chef would choose dishes from different students’ menus to feature in the restaurant.

This was mine.

I created a maple-glazed pork chop with an apple and pearl onion chutney, cranberry gastrique, sweet potato mash, and broccolini.

And then I got to watch something that had started as an idea in my head become an actual plate being served in a restaurant.

That was pretty damn cool.

Putting the Plate Together

Looking at it now, it’s almost funny how much this dish feels like me.

I love playing with sweet and savory flavors, so pork with maple, apples, and cranberry made perfect sense in my head.

The sweet potato mash gave it that warm, comforting fall element. The cranberry gastrique brought acidity to cut through the sweetness and richness. The apple and pearl onion chutney with warm thyme and sage flavors added another sweet-savory element, and the broccolini gave the plate some freshness and color.

There was a reason for everything on the plate.

And that’s one of the things I started to understand more during culinary school.

There’s a difference between putting several things on a plate because they taste good individually and actually building a dish.

What needs richness?

What needs acid?

What needs texture?

What needs color?

What makes sense together?

And, maybe most importantly, what doesn’t need to be there at all?

This was one of those dishes where I felt like I was starting to understand that.

More Than Just a Pork Chop

There are things I’ve made that were technically more complicated than this.

I’ve learned more since then. My plating has changed. My cooking has changed. I’ve changed.

I’m sure if you handed me all of these ingredients today, even just a year later, there are things I’d do differently.

But I don’t think that makes me any less proud of this version.

If anything, I think that’s part of why I love it so much.

This plate came from a point in culinary school where I was starting to realize that I could do more than follow someone else’s recipe.

I could come up with an idea.

I could figure out how the flavors should work together.

I could put it on a plate.

And somebody might actually want to eat it.

That probably sounds like a small thing.

For me, it wasn’t.

Some Plates Just Stick With You

I’ve made a LOT of food throughout culinary school.

Some of it I barely remember.

Some of it I’d rather not remember.

And some of it has stuck with me.

This is one of those plates.

Not because it’s perfect.

Not because it’s the fanciest thing I’ve ever made.

But because I can look at this picture and remember being proud of myself.

And sometimes I think it’s easy to keep moving the goalpost.

You learn something new, so suddenly the thing you were proud of six months ago doesn’t seem impressive anymore. You get better at something, and instead of appreciating how far you’ve come, you start picking apart everything you would’ve done differently.

I’m trying not to do that.

I can look at this plate now and see things I’d change.

But I can also look at it and think:

Yeah. I made that.

And I’m still proud of it.

So, in honor of the first day of fall, here’s one of my favorite plates from culinary school.

Maybe one day I’ll dig out the original recipes and share the whole thing. For now, though, I think this one gets to just be a memory.

A maple-glazed, cranberry-covered, aggressively autumnal memory.

Very fall. Very me.

–Mise