Another day, another chef, another pair of aching feet.
But we ended the day with these gorgeous traditional French Charlotte aux Fraises (strawberry Charlotte, to you and me) and vanilla Anglaise that had FOUR different steps including one involving a piping bag, several swear words and a level of competence that refused to be attained.
When I got home, the Animator was at work (yet again) and the Mt Vic Vixens were busy so I invited the neighbours around to help me slay this calorific beast. Spent a lovely few hours with them, scoffing cake and catching up on neighbourhood gossip.
Now, of course, the hard work starts because I need to write the bloody magazine story but, to wrap, this is what I learned this weekend:
1) I DO NOT want to be a chef or work in a commercial kitchen. Ever.
2) It hurts standing all day
3) Chef's aprons are made for Amazons
4) I cannot work a piping bag for shit, and
5) I now have an extra layer of fat around my middle that should carry the label: 'Made by Le Cordon Bleu'.
But we ended the day with these gorgeous traditional French Charlotte aux Fraises (strawberry Charlotte, to you and me) and vanilla Anglaise that had FOUR different steps including one involving a piping bag, several swear words and a level of competence that refused to be attained.
When I got home, the Animator was at work (yet again) and the Mt Vic Vixens were busy so I invited the neighbours around to help me slay this calorific beast. Spent a lovely few hours with them, scoffing cake and catching up on neighbourhood gossip.
Now, of course, the hard work starts because I need to write the bloody magazine story but, to wrap, this is what I learned this weekend:
1) I DO NOT want to be a chef or work in a commercial kitchen. Ever.
2) It hurts standing all day
3) Chef's aprons are made for Amazons
4) I cannot work a piping bag for shit, and
5) I now have an extra layer of fat around my middle that should carry the label: 'Made by Le Cordon Bleu'.
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