Confit D'écureuil

While in Culinary School I experienced many things that would translate into good stories.

None better however than " Tim The Drunk - and the Amazing Oily Squirrels. "

This chapter could also be titled simply " Squirrel Confit".

I believe it is important for me to set the stage:
Attending culinary school as an adult who already fifteen years of food service under my belt was an experience in itself. The majority of the class were adults with the exception of John who at 21 was shy and nervous but still a welcome addition. Although as we moved through the blocks some folks joined us and some left most of the time there was six of us.
Kathy, a 40 plus Native American from Stafford Springs Ct. When Kathy and I met she stated that she could cook a Blueberry pie in the ground but registered for school because she needed the basics to start her own business. Kathy was good.
Tim, at 50 a mid- life career changer. I felt that Tim was hiding something when he stated he left a lucrative career in insurance to pursue his passion - cooking. He was not very good and his mannerism spoke of something all together different.
Corey, mid twenties - a huge dude from Texas, living in Waterbury with his folks. A self professed alcoholic, who told me that I should keep an eye on him because when he drinks he hurts people and cars that he is driving sometimes flip over. I later found this to be painfully true. Corey had skills but, what I discovered was his addiction overpowered his cooking.
John - who I mentioned before , about 21 a Polynesian American. John bounced around for a couple of years after high school taking a college class here and landing a job there until his folks told him to find a path. Cooking was his path. His parents footed the bill.
Jason, a red headed dude in his mid twenties with some good solid talent and the passion. He loved the baking end of it and I think he went onto a bakery in Hartford. Jason I think joined us mid- point at one of the blocks and stayed to the end.
So as we as going through the blocks we must have been a pain in the ass to the administration. Mostly prompted by me we had a couple of issues with the pastry and baking instructor. She stated one day that she could cook us all under the table. I believe she may have been intimidated by a class with experience and not fresh out of high school. When we felt things were being dealt with incorrectly or not going well, we would speak up. I think we had a half dozen conferences with the administrator.
One of the other issues we had was with our classmate Tim. About halfway through the third block and usually about an hour or so into each class Tim would begin to change. He would go missing for a few minutes at a time. I busted him one day with a "SODA" that he kept filling up and then going out to his car to top off with vodka. I could not smell anything so I took a nice gulp of his "SODA" and got a good kick of booze. So we went to the director and stated our class experience was suffering and our safety was in jeopardy and we expected him to deal with Tim, who we now called affectionately TTD or Tim The Drunk. We could not stand for a participant in class being stewed daily. The director met with TTD and he cooled off on his drinking in class most days, as far as we could tell. But one day he arrived late, and had obviously been hitting the Gordon's hard. The instructor was looking for the director to give TTD the once over to see if he should let him stay. TTD went out back to smoke a cigarette while the chef and director decided his fate.
Behind the school in the parking lot was of course the dumpsters for trash, the grill and two 55 gallon drums to hold the oil for the recycling company. The drums were usually covered but sometimes the covers would not be put on correctly and would slide off. TTD is out there smoking and notices a little commotion at the drums. The natives were restless he thinks. TTD ventures behind the dumpster when he is scared shitless by something bouncing and sloshing around inside of the drums. He composes himself and goes to take another look. Both of the drums were uncovered, and TTD sees motion in the liquid in the almost full drums. TTD realized something or someone was drowning in those drums.
He later stated " It could have been a baby".
TTD proceeds to tip over the drum closest to the dumpsters. Fifty plus gallons of rancid used cooking oil spills into the parking lot and starts to spread across the landscape. At the bottom of the drum of course are the charred remnants of French fries and onion rings in addition to the prodigal breading that had fallen off the food during the cooking process. So the top layer is a translucent brown oil. The bottom layers hold something all together different. A stinky, oily, gummy mess spreads out for hundreds of feet into parking spaces where people have their cars parked. TTD's feet are drenched in oil. This was the bad part. The really bad part was that TTD tipped over the wrong drum. The sloshing continued. Apparently there were babies drowning in the "other" drum. TTD now proceeds to tip over the other drum. This drum gave way to a drippy, confused, almost dead squirrel who rode that oil flow like the flume at Six Flags about thirty feet into the parking lot. The only thing missing was the picture that gets snapped when you are making that face you make as you get drenched. He gets across the parking lot and kind of stops in his tracks stunned, and tips over. TTD in full drunken rescue mode starts after the greasy rodent, fully intent to perform mouth to mouth if needed. ( I forgot to mention TTD claimed to be a trained EMT also) He takes his first step and goes ass over cranium into the gritty mess that lies at his feet. He attempts to right himself on the ground and puts his hands into the crunchy sludge that he is now covered with. He feels something odd. Something greasy and solid but hairy and really out of place. TTD placed his hands into a gooey chunk of culinary history.
*****************Squirrel Confit*******************
So it seemed that Six Flags Flume Riding Squirrel was not alone. Total between the two drums there were four other squirrels. Preserved in fat. SFFRS had survived his little squirrel buddies had not. TTD said he thought the squirrel he saved was trying to save his squirrel pals. TTD was ( as my Father would say) a whack job.
Now for those of you not familiar with the term Confit allow me to offer this description:
Confit - is a generic term for various kinds of food that have been immersed in a substance for both flavor and preservation. Usually the preparation uses animal fat for cooking and keeping. Sealed and stored in a cool place, confit can last for several months. So on this day a new recipe was born.

TTD was forced to pay for the cleanup of the hundreds of gallons of oil and the disposal of the petrified rodents. He did eventually graduate with us and went on to some high end place in Hartford as a prep cook.

I took three of my fellow classmates and opened up Lighthouse Catering LLC. in Willimantic. This is another chapter altogether.

As always the truth is more bizarre than fiction.

Well Lubed - I bid farewell TheFoodNomad