Epic.

How good do I feel right now?

So good.

I've decided to celebrate Spring Break by making it an Epic Week of Epicness.  Yesterday I went on a four mile hike in Malibu, and found a waterfall, the burned out ruins of a mansion, a statuary, and the oldest stone structure in the 'Bu.

Sometimes living in Los Angeles amazes me.  For all the megalopolis urban sprawl, there are places of absolute solitude.  (Knowing that doesn't make being stuck on the 405 at rush hour any easier though.)

The trail I followed is called Solstice Canyon/Sun Ridge Trail.  You can read about it on one of my new favorite websites Modern Hiker.

As for today?  There's more epicness to be had.

 

GCCS - Day 28

My final practical exam for my intro to baking and patisserie.  Aced it.  And my food safety and sanitation class?  Aced as well.  Plus I am now officially a certified food handler.  And?  (There's still more good news??  Hell yes!)

Spring break.

A whole week of not getting up at 3:30 in the morning, of not driving an hour away, of not worrying about over or under creaming batter.  What am I going to do with myself?!?

Something tells me I'll find a way to fill the days.

 

For the beginners... and those who are moving on.

Here comes the lemon

I woke up (late) to the monsoon still raging from last night, encountered a bad accident on the freeway, and screwed up every single stage of a lemon chiffon pie (points for consistency, right?).

But the pie actually came together nicely, and the sun came out.  So I got to eat a slice for lunch sitting outside.

(And then I ate two more, but that's a story for another time.)

I thought I'd celebrate the temporary (according to weather.com) break in crap weather by posting my favorite Beatle (George *swoon*) playing my favorite Beatles song:

Bonus, the porn-y 70's soft focus totally makes you feel stoned!

Fuck Cake

Believe it or not people, you have to specialize when you're a pastry chef.  That's right, the person that makes amazing cookies is not the person who decorates wedding cakes and wedding cakers don't make good bread as a general rule.

I already know I want to make bread.  Yeast and flour and proofing, oh my!

But, while I know this, I still have to learn other pastry disciplines.  I want to be a well rounded pastry chef (in addition to my expanding waistline).  Plus the Giant Corporate Cooking School curriculum dictates that I have to and since I'm paying for it, I might as well.

Today we made cakes.  Eventually I will have to go through an entire six week course on cakes, but this was an introduction - make a 6" cake, cut three layers, fill, and decorate it like a birthday cake for a girly girl in 1987.  Okay, those were not the specific instruction, but there were lots of rosettes and shells and hot pink icing.  It's not that it was hard, just exacting.

And you know what?  I fucking hate cake decorating.  I do not have the eye, steady hand, or patience for that kind of detail work.

Surprisingly, it didn't turn out quite as terrible as I hoped.  I wish I had a picture, but at the end of class - after presenting, of course - I punch it and threw it out.

Yay, catharsis.

The most amazing thing of all?  I was using a serrated knife all day and didn't cut myself once.

Dough-verload Redux

Croissants.  Chocolate Croissants.  Apple Turnovers.  Buttermilk Biscuits.  Cheese phyllo puffs.

I feel like I've used enough butter today to grease a rusted out piece of machinery left exposed to the elements for a century into working order.  So. Much. Butter.

I think I'm most proud of the croissants; most bakeries don't even make their own because it's such a process.  Here they are all racked up and proofed and about to go in the oven:

And the chocolate croissants:

Boxed up and ready to go:

It's a lot of freaking croissants.  But here's the one I introduced to my belly:

Oh yeah, this is a food blog

Behold my weekend creation:

What is it?  Baked not-mac and cheese.  That's right, I got all the fixings for straight up Fannie Farmer baked mac and cheese but I forgot the macaroni.  You would think it would be pretty hard to forget such a key component of the dish, but you would be wrong.  So I substituted a head of cauliflower that was quickly seeing its better days and a bunch of kale.  The result?  Pretty good actually, although it may be the worst of both worlds.

Here's what I mean:  It's not exactly the indulgent carb and cheese fest I was craving, and the healthful taste of the cauliflower and kale belie the smothering of butter and cheese.  So it tastes like it's good for me, but it's not and it doesn't satisfy my craving for cheese and pasta even though it should.  Hence a quite tasty yet unsatisfying dish.

That hasn't stopped me from eating it, of course.  Waste not, want not.

Woe is me. Whoa.

If there is a single word that could describe this week it would be ugh - UGH - which isn't even really a word, more of a grunt of frustration.

The stupid injury inventory is ever rising and currently being displayed on both my hands (including two fresh sugar burns in addition to my many cuts, nicks, and bruises), I'm getting frustrated with my classmates, and I feel like a slug.  I have a written and practical exam on Monday, a quiz on Tuesday and I have no idea when I'm going to have time to study BECAUSE

I officially started my job as a wine wench this weekend.  That's right ladies and gents, you will now find me in scenic Malibu on the weekends pouring wine tastings and talking shit.  Now, I can BS with the best of them - just give me a subject - and I genuinely like and drink wine.  But the winery I'm working for had run a Groupon (which I also love and have used many times) and people being the way they are, the majority waited until this weekend - the weekend it expires - to redeem it.

It was a very trial by fire way to start.  I'm proud to say I ran with it.  I was not the weakest link.  And truthfully, it really wasn't that bad.  People generally tend to be in a good mood when getting a deal and drinking vino in the beautiful Santa Monica foothills.  But damn, I was exhausted by the time I got home.  Everything I was going to do last night?  Well, technically I'm supposed to be doing it right now.  And the stuff I was going to do this morning anyway?  I guess it will get done, eventually.

I am a little worried about both exams on Monday.  I haven't been keeping up with the reading, so now I'm behind and I haven't studied conversions since the last exam.  The practical is chocolate chip muffins and pastry cream - both of which I had trouble with in class.  My muffins were overmixed and spread with all the chips sinking to the bottom, and my pastry cream was runny.  The pastry cream will be used on Tuesday for a fruit tart, so if it's not thick enough I'm doubly screwed.

So deep breath.  And if it really sucks, I now have access to a lot of good wine.

Have you ever woken up completely displaced?

I just woke up thinking it was 6 a.m., not p.m. and nearly started crying because I thought I had missed class.

I'm having a really hard time adjusting to the schedule.  I feel tired all the time, I'm in a constant state of panic because there's so much to do and I have no energy to do it.  I get out of class around 11 a.m. and the day stretches before me and then the next thing I know entire hours have disappeared and nothing has been done.

Every single morning my first thought is I can't do this.

But then I do.  And I'm really liking my class.  Once I'm actually at my station, prepping for the day, I'm fine - excited even.  I'm learning so much and actually enjoying it.

It's not just the early wake up call; it's that I haven't figured out the rest of my schedule either.  I used to exercise every day and since I've started school (two and half weeks ago), I've exercised maybe twice.  I can't figure out when I should be eating, so I eat all the time, and typically it's whatever baked good I've made, so I'm not eating exactly healthy.

The weird schedule, the lack of sleep and exercise, and the bad eating habits have combined to make me a neurotic ball of emotion.  It's compounded by the fact that I know it's temporary, but 33 and half weeks seems like forever away.  (This must be the way a pregnant woman in the throes of morning sickness feels, yes it will stop - eventually.  But eventually ain't coming soon enough.)

I will survive this, I will even thrive once I get used to it.  Until then I'll be the one who just randomly falls asleep and wakes up crying.