Quarter past ten and the testosterone is out in full force. All around my house is the bang, pop, psst and shriek of fireworks that were not deployed last night, because of the rain. I am amazed at the amount of money being literally burned in the current struggling economy. I would think it only my neighborhood, but I hear them near and in the distance. What is it I wonder with men and fire? My father always seemed to like it too, burning the fencerow, the trash, and firecrackers long before they were legal. I do like fireworks, but I like to go see them and then be done, I do not need to light the fuse to enjoy the show. I shall have to ponder that…
What I do like is to cook. And practice my post Cooking with Class (Parisian Escapade) skills I have this weekend. I had some successes and some failures. The Chicken in cream sauce was o.k. However Jodi refused to eat much of it, and declared it not a “do over”. The Crème Brulee was as good as I remembered in Paris and my cute little fire gun worked wonderfully! The croissants we had for breakfast were o.k. but I don’t think my dough ever really proofed. Today, determined to get it right, I did it again and noticed that the milk had to be heated to 100F not 100C, bit of a difference there. A couple of hours after I placed it in the fridge to proof today, Jodi called and asked how they were doing. I opened the fridge door and gasped, saying “I gotta go” The dough had proofed a hole in the plastic wrap! I just now with the bang, pop and hiss in the background placed the butter on the dough and folded, rolled, folded, rolled and placed it back in new plastic wrap to proof overnight! Another part of my Betty Crockering was to squeeze Oranges for juice and there is still some for morning with this new batch of dough!
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