Feb. 16th, 2011

kaitou: (Default)
So my cooking adventures have continued. And now I'm starting to branch out into baking as well. First I've been trying to make a cherry clafoutis, which is kind of like a cherry studded yellow cake. I tried it and it failed miserably...big liquid butter puddle in the cente, still rather unbaked. I thought I had the butter too hot, so I tried it again. Still no dice. And then my computer broke again. (I know it sounds like a non sequitur, but go with me on this one)

So I went to the Apple Store to get it fixed, and across the street was a L'Occitane En Provence store, and to kill time before my appointment I went inside. Inside this store was a Frenchwoman. (In Ohio! I'm shocked too) And not just any Frenchwoman. She was like, the platonic ideal of a Frenchwoman. The prototype, if you will. She was charming and funny and sweet and I soon had $75 of hand cream and plum blossom perfume. I thought of my failed clafoutis, and thought I might as well get the right pronunciation out of it. So I wrote it down on a slip of paper and asked her how to say it.

Her eyes narrowed at me. " 'Ow did you learn ziz word?"

Oh shit. I was suddenly afraid that 'Clafoutis' was like 'Puttanesca.' So I explained that I had tried to make one.

"Come come! I must show you ziz!"

She went back behind the register and pulled out a note from a coworker, asking her to bring a slice of clafoutis tomorrow. Apparently this saleswoman makes clafoutis all the time. She raved about how wonderful it was to me and her other coworker, and told me that I've been using the wrong kind of pan.

So I bought a pan. Then I pulled out my recipe. It still didn't work. Meh. At this point I blame the recipe. I WILL conquer this now, because it's a challenge.

Anyway, like I am wont to do, I decided that since I'd failed at something relatively easy, I was going to try something ridiculously hard. [personal profile] flidgetjerome, you see, has been on me to make Macarons. Not Macaroons with all that icky coconut, mind you. But Macarons...dreamy, airy, heavenly meringue confections with a sweet filling. I'd never had one, so after getting a new power adapter from Apple, I bought one. Then I took it home and ate it. Then I cried, because I was no longer somewhere I could get macarons. So after the clafoutis failed, I went out and bought all the tools I needed to make macarons.

Then I aged the egg whites on the counter overnight. And I weighed and sifted ingredients. I whipped the meringue. I folded in the sugar and almond flour. I put it in a piping bag (Now we're talking class) and freakin' made macarons. It was awesome.

I took them in to work this morning, feeling a bit nervous. I work with rednecks you see. They only food they trust is meat they've killed themselves or meals that come from fast food joints. When I brought in irish sodabread they ignored it. When I brought in lemon poppyseed scones they acted like monkeys with a monolith. And here I was bringing them delicate, girly French pastries.

I got to work at 7:00. The macarons were gone by 8:10. Not everyone in my department got to try them, because they hadn't even gotten to work yet. It was insane and awesome. And I felt like I won.

Later I spilled coffee all over my desk, and when one of the guys was teasing me about it, I told him that he wouldn't get any more cookies from me. His eyes slipped half closed, and he said, "Them were gooood."

So, yeah. Will bake again.

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kaitou

March 2012

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