…….Lujah! Now be honest. What did you think I was gonna’ say? Hee Hee!! Emerging from the storm of WEEK 6, we entered the relative calm of Chef Meyer’ Baking 101. In the culinary world, a wee rivalry exists between those who are patisseurs and those who are not. Was I excited about it? Not really; but I kept an open mind, and again, it opened my eyes.
My approach to baking was rather odd: I told myself I would undertake this unknown application with a sense of comfort. Color me happy! This is exactly what I found; not to mention the joy of the rediscovery of playing with dough! The ovens were humming, timers quietly dinged, and it brought to mind the serenity of my mothers’ Christmas kitchen.
Every morning I prepared a batch of French dough; precisely measuring, mixing, fermenting, punching, dividing, and pre shaping into boules. It was a bit nerve racking at first, but once I became familiar with the process and how it should look and feel, it was the quiet solace that started my day. I’d lay my boules on the baking sheet to put them to rest in the walk in, but before I cater wrapped and tucked them away, I’d give them a little pat of reassurance. If done properly, they are as smooth as a babies butt!!
My finished baguettes didn’t shape up the way they were supposed to; but hey, we all have our skills. So, you can imagine me getting my freak on when I pulled my Challah from the oven, see picture above, as I jumped up and down, pointed and quietly sang the chorus to a Gwen Stefani song. (Admit it, that’s what you thought I was going to say!)
Random thoughts by Heidi. Although I’m the first one to jump on a BuzzFeed quiz to ascertain things like which historical figure I would have been; or, what comprises my ‘ideal’ soul mate; and, of course, the overwhelming urge to know what my stripper name would be; I’ve never ‘shared’ them. But this was just too apropos not to post.
In your past life, people used to call you…. “Spicy”!
– You lived in 18th century France.
– You were a baker with a lot of talent and yes, a very “spicy” personality.
– You were loved by everybody in your town, always there for every party with a few delicious delights and a joke or two.
A baker? I’ll ferment on that one for a while.
I’m sure you’re asking yourself, “Where’s the part where you make yourself look like an idiot?” Not one to disappoint, here ya’ go.
Whilst attempting to free up the greasy clog of buttercream from a 12 star piping tip, my middle finger slipped through the end and, um, got stuck there. In the voice of a very concerned 8 year old, I said, “Chef?” In the end, he had to use my paring knife to pry the barbs apart and release said finger. I asked Chef Meyer if he’d ever had a student do that before. He paused and I said, “It’s okay if you say no.” He shook his head and said, “Nope, that’s a new one.”
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