Home economics, Joe Beef version

I watch the young people handle ladles and knives. “Do they understand who they are learning to cook with? Their trainer answers me: “Do they know about the prizes, the reputation and Anthony Bourdain? I do not think so, no. But one day, they will be happy…”

And how ! Since last October, Frédéric Morin, illustrious co-founder and co-owner of the Joe Beef group, has been offering cooking workshops to students at Loyola high school.

The sports teams of the Montreal establishment are in turn invited to concoct a meal. The objective is vast: to improve the bond of trust between teammates and their coaches, to contribute to the empowerment of young people, then to allow them to have important discussions while developing a healthy relationship with food.

Passionate about neurogastronomy (the study of brain mechanisms involved in the detection and appreciation of flavours), Frédéric Morin had long been looking for a way to talk about nutrition differently: “Eating in a soothing context can be part of physical preparation. When you prepare your own meal, you are confident. And when you eat with people, you take your time more, so you digest better. »

Then came the Hockey Canada scandal. The father of young hockey players then felt the need to take a closer interest in the athletes. “Beyond the punitive approach, we must prepare the next generations to be different. »

Thus were born the workshops that Frédéric Morin currently calls “family meals”. Tonight, a dozen basketball players aged 15 to 17 will cook under the supervision of the chef and his colleague, cook Charles-Alexis Larocque (aka Chuck).

Before they start, Frédéric gives them four instructions: they must wash their hands, taste what they are making, read the recipes twice and, if they have any questions, ask them among themselves. on board.

Understood.

The players divide into subgroups. Here, we take care of the ribs, there, the BBQ sauce, further on, the apple and tarragon vinaigrette, the salad with spicy sunflower seeds and feta, the roasted potatoes and carrots, the ranch sauce or homemade Mountain Dew.

The menu seems ambitious to me. We are far from the vegetable soup of my fires home economics class. Maybe today’s young people are doing better in the kitchen? I ask teenagers what their signature recipe is. Kraft Dinner, eggs, oatmeal, garlic bread…

“In the sense that you make your own bread?

– Nope. »

Nothing has changed, in the end.

Then the show begins. Frédéric and Chuck do not give formal lessons to young people, they are only there to guide them, if necessary. Everyone starts at their own pace.

Roman, a vegetarian, has to prepare a squash.

“Were you told how to do it or do you feel completely abandoned?”

“A bit of both,” he replies, laughing.

In fact, Chuck showed him how to use a vegetable peeler, “but it looked easier when he did.”

At the back of the room, Thomas, Philip and Devon take care of the dessert, a chocolate torte with fresh cream and berry compote. They explain to me that they are here to get to know their teammates more than out of a passion for cooking. Devon points out that his task is paradoxical, since he doesn’t like cake.

“You see, I’m already learning more about him,” slips Philip, tit for tat.

Nearby, Kamai is working on roasted sunflower seeds. When I ask him if he has confidence in him, he replies that he would not be surprised to pick himself up on the show master chef within two years. Thirty minutes later, he stifles a cry by opening a container of feta.

” What is happening ?

– It’s full of water!

– It’s normal.

– I do not believe you. »

He cross-checks with Fred, crumbles the cheese with a pout of disgust and tells me: “I’m still super good! »

Everyone applies, but no one takes themselves seriously.

When Roman finally finishes peeling his squash, Chuck explains to him that he must now slice it in half to extract the seeds with a spoon. The young athlete stares at him questioningly. The cook goes on: “You’ll manage! Then he turns to Jeffrey, who is cutting baby potatoes in half: “I like your work. »

Further on, Tyler uses a Microplane for the first time under the good advice of one of his coaches. There are three of them this evening, and they all get their hands dirty.

Phil Lafave, sports director at Loyola secondary school, takes a break from washing up to talk to me about the project: “The idea, here as in sport, is to have a common goal. What is beautiful is that in the kitchen, the students reveal themselves differently. Young people who have more difficulties at school become hyper-concentrated, shy people take up more space…”

My gaze meets that of Tyler, who is now discovering the effectiveness of a lemon squeezer. Everyone seems happy, I agree.

“It’s hard to be sad when you’re cooking…Especially for other people,” Chuck tells me, before Dempsey—the ribs manager—quietly announces that there appear to be flames in the smoking room.

“Maintaining a common goal through the chaos of a kitchen is really an exercise in mindfulness,” summarizes Frédéric Morin.

It’s starting to smell good.

Spiro offers me to taste the BBQ sauce he is preparing. She is exquisite. When I ask him if he’s proud of it, he struggles to suppress a smile.

All around, teenagers are consulting each other: how much oil should we put on the vegetables? How do you cut that, rosemary? Fresh grapes, do they really go in a salad?

Two hours later, the food is finally ready. The young people sit around a large table to eat the fruit of their labor. I leave them alone. I’m afraid that the presence of a stranger will prevent them from communicating freely — which remains the primary objective of the workshops.

Group owner Joe Beef shares a fear with me as he picks up his gear. What if people thought it was just a private school thing?

If it takes place at Loyola, it’s because the establishment recently recruited a coordinator for its hockey program, Frédéric explains to me. As he wanted to get involved, he offered cooking workshops to the newcomer, and Carl Benoît immediately embraced the project.

The food used during the workshops is donated by suppliers sensitive to the cause, but otherwise, fundraising campaigns could be organized, believes Frédéric Morin. Alternatively, we could offer paid workshops for adults and invest the funds raised in a free version for students. Even that it would be nice to invite psychosocial speakers to address different topics, wouldn’t it?

Frédéric Morin has lots of ideas.

“I don’t want a statue built in my name. I just think there’s too much blubbering and not enough fussing. »

I smile, thinking back to something he said to me when he was in chaos earlier.

“I sleep well when I leave here. »