Pastry, Potty Training and Poor Timekeeping

Pastry week. This is a week I have been excited about. Mainly because I have never attempted to make any type of pastry. I am that person who pops to Tesco and buys the Jus-Rol stuff. Well, I’ve basically been on a diet since I stopped doing PE back in 2002, so I rarely even buy that. The only pastry I struggle to avoid is a Greggs sausage roll but surely no one can resist?! Anyway I returned from our amazing holiday and was thrilled to see that it was pastry week. I thought I’d come back after a couple weeks off and get straight back to baking. However, as you have probably guessed from my late blog, I was in no hurry. I needed to recover. The journey home from holiday was a little problematic. It turns out that four hours stuck in the worlds smallest airport, with three delayed flights and only two nappies remaining was really quite stressful. Obviously, the airport didn’t sell nappies. Why would they?? As I was boarding the plane, I wasn’t thinking about the lightening that was happening above us, or the man that was being checked by paramedics to see if he could fly, or even that it was gone midnight and we were supposed to be working the next day. No, I was wondering whether to use the last nappy. A wet nappy will give him a sore bum but if he poo’s we’ve all had it. Traveling with a child is a whole different ball game! Unfortunately, not a PE type ball game so the diet remains! Am I alone in wondering whether holidays are worth it sometimes? Those horrible holiday blues kick in. Back to work, back to cleaning, cooking, washing, washing and more bloody washing. Oh and also the dreaded weigh in. I’ll get straight to it...5 pound on. I actually wanted to do the victory dance on the scales. I deserved a stone. The woman weighing me looked up at me with the awkward smile. It’s always the same smile when you put on. I often wonder if it’s a sympathy smile, a please don’t shoot the messenger smile, or just a joyful smile because they had a gain but yours is more, which makes them feel better? Well, she gave me the smile but it soon turned to shock as I fist bumped the air (I didn’t actually do this, as I’m not American, but you get the jist). I rewarded the gain by walking out and going straight to the chip shop for a battered sausage, chips and curry sauce. Perfect! After finishing work for the week, I bought all of the ingredients and was all set to bake. How naive was I to think that I could start potty training, do bake off and look after my besties little girl all in one day. Not a chance. Yes, I’ve started potty training. He’s only 21 months old, so I’m not overly bothered about him being out of nappies but on holiday he started asking to go to toilet (and peeing in the shower). My mother-in-law got us a couple of potties a while back and we’d got a little seat for the toilet, so all we needed was some pants. Alarm bells probably should have rang when I gave them to him and he wore them on his head? Still, I gave it a go. First wee was on the potty. I couldn’t believe it...I sang ‘pee pee on the potty’ so many times that the kids were looking at me like I was mental. Never mind the man walking past our house, that looked in as I was dancing around my table to my own song. I sent pictures to my husband, gave him a chocolate biscuit, sang and danced and obviously updated Facebook. Then it went downhill. Within 3 hours we’d gone through 6 pairs of pants and joggers. But he was still using the potty throughout (how many times do kids pee?) so I carried on. I arranged to meet some friends for lunch and was brave enough to take him and his potty. Quickly realising this was an error when he went for a number two that I pretty much had to cup with my bare hands. Sorry if you’re reading this for the baking element, as this will definitely put you off. I promise I wash my hands! You’ve probably gathered that I’m pretty honest in my blogs but even I can’t believe I’m actually going to tell you what happened next... With some assistance I put the soiled pants and joggers in a nappy bag after the incident and brought them home. I popped them on the side and somehow forgot about them. Only for jobo (a nickname for my husband) to come home and chuck the contents into the washing machine. Yep, all of the contents. So when he was hanging the washing out, it’s safe to say he found a little present. Again, just to confirm, all clothes were immediately placed back in the washer and potty training is currently on hold! I got up yesterday and although I had a slight hangover (definitely an understatement), I got cracking with the technical challenge. Puits d’Amour. Obviously just had to double check the name on google before writing it. I was excited that I was going to be making two types of pastry too. Everything ready, timer set. Puff pastry first. Instructions - grate frozen butter. Where was the grater? No where to be seen. Why can’t men put things in the right place? It’s not like he’s even consistent with where he puts things. It’s like a bloody free for all in the cupboards (he’ll also deny this was him). Grater located. Timer reset. Grate the frozen butter into a bowl with the flower and salt. I’ve watched GBBO enough to know that with puff pastry the butter needs to stay cold. So I mixed with a pallet knife and not my hands. They’re warm at the best of times but with a hangover it’s worse. Sweating so much, I felt like the previous nights tequila shots was oozing out of them! I added the water to make the mixture stick together and then used the hot hands to quickly combine. Cling film. Bugger, we’d ran out. No time to restart so I improvised with a sandwich bag! Popped in the fridge to chill. 30 minutes timer set. Feeling pleased with myself I moved on to the compote. The recipe said ‘hulled strawberries’. I have gone 32 years saying ‘take the green bit off’. Actually, I don’t even need to say that because of course you take it off. Who the bloody hell says hulled? I even googled it to make sure it didn’t mean something else. There’s a new term I WON’T be using. Mainly because no one else will be using it! Added them to the saucepan with some sugar and lemon juice and then set an alarm for 10 minutes as I needed to add some raspberries. I probably had the heat on too low but after the jam incident on wagon wheel week, I didn’t want to ruin any more pans. I started getting stuff ready for the creme patisserie and an alarm goes off. Could I remember what this alarm was for? No. So I chucked some raspberries in the compote and got the puff pastry out. I held my hands under some cold water for a while and then dried them so that they were cold before I touched the pastry. Folded it over and popped it back in the fridge. Set another alarm. Back to the creme patisserie. Boil the milk in a pan with vanilla pod and seeds. Never used a vanilla pod before. Where the hell are the seeds? Oh there they are stuck to clammy hand. Add in the whisked sugar and egg yolks. YOLKS!!!! I’d whisked all the egg. Thankfully I noticed before putting this in. Started the eggs again. Mixed it all in and returned to hob. Moved on to the choux pastry. Chopped some butter and popped it in a saucepan with some water. Oops...the compote hasn’t been stirred. I go to do that and alarm goes off again. Well it hadn’t been 30 minutes since I put the puff in the fridge again, it’s mid morning so is not a wake up call. I went to switch off. Husband knocks on the kitchen window from outside. “Can you pass me the dustpan and brush”. I do, but he knows! Alarm still going off, compote needs stirring and now the creme patisserie is sticking to the pan. I have a little word with myself! Another knock at the window...”you ok”. YES! Took both pans off the heat and added to bowls to cool. Then to put in fridge to chill. How much space do people have in their fridges? How I dream of a bare fridge like on GBBO. But it’s not realistic. It’s like a circus act in my fridge. Even after I’ve taken out anything that will be ok on the side for a while, it’s still a bloody balancing act. I’ve probably got mustard or mint sauce that’s been out of date for 8 years, even though we’ve moved three times! My condiments selection is ridiculous...but you never know when you might need them. Back to the choux pastry. Added flour and eggs to the butter and water and mixed until combined then popped in a piping bag. Alarm goes off so I guess and just repeat the same process with the puff. I realise that I have 30 minutes left on the clock. Turns out the recipe I have doesn’t account for the 2 hour timescale. I grab the puff, roll it out and cut out 8 circles. Stick a fork in the pastry it says. So I probably go over the top but they’re definitely pricked when I’m finished. I piped the choux pastry on, put them in the oven and prayed. They take 20-25 minutes to bake and I have 24 minutes left on the clock. I’ve failed this one then. A bomb has gone off in my kitchen and while some of this is just condiments from my fridge, the rest is washing up so I begin. After 22 minutes I get my pastry out of the oven and ‘hey presto’, I now think I’m a pastry chef. They look amazing! I might be about to run out of time but I have made the pastries, I have a chilled the compote and creme patisserie and my husband hasn’t knocked on the window for at least 25 minutes. Winning! As you will see from my photo, this is the stage I was at when the timer went off but I soon filled them, so I wouldn’t call it an epic fail. The bit I was now looking forward to was the brûlée. I couldn’t find a culinary blow torch anywhere but when browsing a local hardware store I stumbled upon a large selection of lighters. I tested a few out and found the worlds smallest blowtorch. At £2, I felt I’d come up trumps. Believe it or not it actually worked! So my job was complete. The final result was better than expected. They tasted great and looked pretty good too. All in all very pleased with myself. Now to have a days rest before GBBO is back with Vegan week, or something ridiculous like that. Apologies in advance for the next blog if you’re vegan. If you haven’t guessed already, I’m not convinced!