Art, grace, and embarrasment

This week was busy! But the very word busy is an understatement and to find a stronger replacement word is impossible.

The week started out with some surprising but wonderful news. My special occasion Alice in Wonderland cake was one of the three cakes chosen to be placed in the display case! It will sit there for an entire year, safely behind glass, for all to see. I was speechless and flattered to receive such an honour. Thank you, Chefs.

All week the kitchen was a bee hive of activity. The function group had to make 500 desserts for a sports function on Friday night. We got busy on Wednesday making petit fours, cookies, puff pastry, lemon mousse, chocolate mousse, cake, cheese cake, squares, circles and triangles. It was never ending! I don’t remember much of what happened in the kitchen this week, but I do remember I was glad when it was over. We set out to make 500 desserts but we made close to a 1,000! I think my group deserves an exceptional pat on the back. Yay us!

Even though this week was hectic and clouded with the stress yet excitement that graduation is soon at hand, I was blessed with an unexpected snow day on Tuesday. I woke to the sound of the radio announcer running down the list of school cancellations. As he went through every county, checking off schools, he stopped mid sentence and suddenly said, “All schools on the Island, including colleges and universities are closed today.” Those sweet succulent words were more delicious than Raspberry Bavarian Cream. I turned off the radio and burrowed deep between the bed sheets for a few more minutes of slumber.

I bounced out of bed half an hour later determined that this snow day would not go wasted. I put aside my school books, stuffed my homework under the bed and pulled out my sketch book and dusted it off. I made a comfortable nest on my bed and surrounded myself with pencil crayons, erasers, and books with pictures of butterflies, foxes, shoes, dresses, and Lord of the Rings characters. I shut out the outside world and dove into mine. I spent three uninterrupted hours guiding pencil and colour across paper, gently rubbing out mistakes with an eraser, and high lighting movement with heavy lines. I have spent so much time on the Island channeling my creativity into baking and writing I have neglected my first love of art. It felt wonderful to glide the blade of my pencil across delicate art paper and whisk breaths of colour into a black and white form to give it iridescent life. Spending time drawing reminded me of how I got here in the first place. Had I not chosen to take art in grade ten, I would not have chosen to complete an art degree. Had I not chosen University of Waterloo to complete that degree I wouldn’t have met the people that inspired and encouraged my artistic culinary talents, and thus I would not be immersed in PEI as I am today. I owe a lot to art. Just as blood ribbons through my body giving me life and energy, so too does art.

My wedding cake was due this week but because of the snow day we all got an extension and it is not due until Monday. However, I was raised to cultivate and appreciate a good work ethic so I came in early everyday to finish my cake. The base of the cake was complete on Wednesday, but designing and building the cake topper took much longer. I came to school on Saturday, joining other classmates finishing their cakes, to finish my cake topper. For three hours I bended fondant, painted it to look like branches, and carefully places leaves all around it. When it was done I placed the glorious piece atop my already fabulous cake and stood back to look at it. It looked ridiculous. The cake topper didn’t match the rest of the cake at all, and its form was goofy and awkward and didn’t portray the grace a wedding cake should. I burst out in laughter, not at all disappointed that I wasted three hours of my Saturday afternoon making something that I couldn’t even use. By itself the tree was delicate, well crafted, and a challenge I conquered, but together with the cake it looked down right goofy. I laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

After bringing my cake to the kitchen for it to be marked on Monday, I packed up my things and walked home. Saturday brought another island storm. What started as snow, turned to rain, and then quickly turned to freezing rain. The sidewalks and roads were a slippery mess and getting home was no walk in the park, even though oddly enough I do cut through the park, so I guess it was. Just as I turned onto

Queen street

my feet hit a patch of ice, I lost my balance and failed to recover it. My feet flew out from under me and I landed flat on my ass on main street Charlottetown, right in front of one of the most popular restaurants in town, at dinner time. I sat there for a second, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment, hoping some handsome islander would come to my rescue, but what could I do? I clapped my hands, threw my head back in laughter and picked myself up. After dusting off the ice I smiled and said, “Well, that was graceful.” I laughed all the way home, no injury except a pulled left thigh muscle, bruised knee and an exceptionally sore behind. The lesson learned: icy sidewalks are not to be feared but embraced as a lesson in grace, poise, and the art of laughing at yourself.

Medium: Pencil Crayon.

Title: "Snow Day"

Date: Feb, 28 '12

My cake is in the show case!! And to the right and left of it are two exceptionally beatiful cakes.

Well done all!

From left to right: Honey and raspberry petit fours, lemon and cream cheese turn overs, and orange sugar cookies.

Wedding cake with epically goofy cake topper . . .

. . . wedding cake without goofy cake topper. I like it with out, what do you think?

Wedding Cake: A Love for all Seasons

Though awkward and goofy atop the cake, my cake topper by itself is quite lovely.

Spring and Summer

Summer and Fall

Fall and Winter

Sublime

As I look back on this week I am at a loss for words. It was a pretty routine week with nothing too extravagantly special which was a welcome change.

The kitchen was quiet and I spent the week steadily making puff pastry, danishes, and petit fours. I had forgot how much of an upper body work out rolling out pastry dough was. Thanks to this week I have Popeye arms! With every turn the dough gets tougher and tougher, more ornery and stubborn. But eventually it cripples under perseverance and can be molded, stretched, and folded into deliciousness.

Thursday was a mad house at school. Another job fair tailored to seduce high school students into the glitz and glamour of the hospitality and culinary industry was set up in the cafeteria. The Pastry Arts had a booth set up where we made Cherries Jubilee for the curious masses. Cherries Jubilee is sour cherries heated up in a skillet, swimming in their own sauce with a splash of water and alcohol. Just before pouring over vanilla ice cream we light the pan on fire and watch the audience go oooo and ahhhh. Unfortunately, by the time it was my turn to man the station the alcohol had run out and the customers were few and far between. But I still got the pleasure of seeing flames jump. One of the propane table top stoves had run out of gas and my fellow classmate was changing the tank. The stoves were finicky and had a curious way of connecting the gas. My fellow classmate, to save his dignity we’ll call him Bob, was fiddling with the stove puzzled at the odd engineering. Unknown to us while he was tinkering the gas from the fresh propane can was leaking and surrounding the table in a haze of flammable air. Finally, the propane can was securely in place, locked and feeding gas into the stove. As Bob turned the stove on there was a sudden WHOOF!! Flames leaped up and engulfed the stove, table, and Bobs chef whites for little more than a second, but just long enough for me to scream in surprise and jump out of my skin. Thankfully nothing caught fire, and Bob didn’t even loose an eyebrow. Concerned conversation with Bob informed us that he hadn’t noticed the flames, and when we asked if he was burnt anywhere he looked at us like we playing a joke. “What flames?” he asked. Obviously his observation skills need some improving.

The Island itself has been in a quiet state this week. The weather has been gentle, soft blue skies with bright sunshine, and mauve clouds has been a constant smile in the sky. Every so often it would break out in laughter and shower the Island in delightful snow. As I type these words I gaze out the window and see quiet giggles of snow surrounding Charlottetown in a winter joy. I will dream of happy snow flakes tonight.

Dutch inspired Chocolate Box

Play Dates

As I sit by my bedroom window and look out into my neighbours backyard I see their 3 children carelessly frolicking in the snow. The little girl is clad in a pink and purple snow suit, the eldest boy as green plaid coat and pants, and the littlest one, who can barely stand upright, is in a smash up of navy blue snow pants, a bright red coat, and a monster toque.

The little girl is rolling the snow into large snow balls in the hopes of making a snow man. As she finishes one she begins to make another. Her brother automatically begins to assault the snow ball, kicking it at the base, for what reason other then he is just being a boy. The little girl horrified that her creation will come to demise flings herself on the snow ball, shielding her brother’s kicks and ultimately taking a few blows herself. She whimpers and cries and pleads for him to stop. “Why are you kicking my snow ball?!” She screams in desperation, frustration, and confusion. In her mind the snow ball was just minding its own business, simply there to magically form into Frosty the Snow Man. The little boy stops his assault for a moment and says, “I don’t know, I just want to kick it.” Simple and truthful answer but still not good enough for the little girl. After taking a few more kicks from her brother her anger boils to its breaking point. She leaps off the snow ball throwing her body onto her brother and knocks him flat on his back in the snow. He starts to laugh at first and then as she stuffs snow in his face he cries out in protest.

Satisfied that she has avenged her snow ball she releases him and her brother sulks away. All the while the littlest one, who can barely move in his snow suit let alone maneuver around the precarious snow covered lawn, is content to plunk down and feast on the snow at his feet and watch his siblings squabble.

Growing bored of making snow balls they switch to sledding. There is no sledding hill within sight so they use the next best thing: the back porch steps. The sister carries the sled to the top, carefully sets it on the top stair and then shuffles until she is flying down the steps, bumping all the way down. The sled gets lodged between the third and second bottom step and shoots her through the air. She lands in a heap of giggles and snow, unharmed. Seeing how much fun her sister is having the other two scrambled to take a turn, each meeting the same fate.

Eventually their energy is burned out and they waddle into the house, with the promise of hot chocolate, out of breath, rosy cheeked, and full of smiles.

I had my own unique play date experience this past week. Tuesday landed me in the bread department once again and I made Vienna Rolls, Whole Wheat Honey Bread, and Focaccia. Each dough had turned out so beautifully, not to sticky and not to dry. I held them in my arms before placing them in separate bowls to rise and they felt like little soft bread babies.

After slipping out for breakfast with the rest of my class mates I came back to find not only had my bread rose but it was entertaining the company of 4 other breads. It looked like a little bread rising play date. As I looked at the bread thoughtfully I realized that this was a perfect metaphor for life. All bread is made up of the same basic ingredients: water, flour, salt, sugar, and fat. But throw in some thyme, maybe a dash of cinnamon or some raisins and you change the structure, flavour, colour and rising time of the bread. The bread rises, is punched down, formed, set to bench rest, and finally shaped and fitted into its mould and then baked out. It emerges from the oven with perfect texture and taste.

Like bread we all share the same basic ingredients: bones, muscles, heart, blood, organs, skin, oxygen, water, and fat. But it is the diversity of our world, the challenges we face, the lessons we learn, and how we are raised that shapes and defines us. Just as bread needs to be punched down, stretched, and formed to become the best tasting bread it can be, we need to be bumped, scraped, challenged, and be able to let rise to become flavourful humans. Just like bread comes in a variety of forms like loaves, bagels, buns, doughnuts, and baguettes we to come in a variety of shapes, colours and sizes to make up an assorted well balanced community.

As I finish off my entry for today I want to share on more play date story with you. When my alarm went off on Saturday morning I had every intention of turning it off and sleeping in until noon. I glanced out side, my eyes half open, and there before me was a winter wonderland! I sat straight up in bed. Could it be? Yet another delightful snow fall was upon me? Indeed it was true. The snow fell in soft thick flakes and covered the world in a magical bed of snow. I bounded out of bed, raced down stairs and inhaled a bowl of Lucky Charms. I was dressed and out the door in 20 minutes my camera securely pushed into my coat pocket. I stepped out into the glorious weather, with the majority of Charlottetown still asleep, I was delighted to have some quiet moments with the snow, just me, God, and my camera. We strolled through the city stopping every 3 metres to take a picture. I met some other cheerful early risers who like me had their cameras in hand and were immersing themselves in the white world around them. I spent 2 long beautiful hours meandering through the city, trudging through snow drifts, and gazing at snow covered trees. It was delightful. Exhausted and rosy cheeked I stumbled home and wrapped myself in warm fuzzies and resigned to the couch all day. Best play date ever.

                  Snow removal at its best. Yes that is a snow wall in the middle of the street.

 

 

                                     What if you have to make a left hand turn?

                                 Parmesian cheese and black pepper biscuits.

                                                 Bread rising play date.

                                                Cute little squirrel having a snowy nap.

1, 2, 3, 4, tell me that you love me more.

This past week was full of victories and great accomplishments.

Victory number 1#

I finished my special occasion cake. After multiple sketches, an extensively planned colour pallet, and countless hours in the kitchen I finally had the joy of handing in my cake. I had all the components made in the weeks before so I just had to hunker down and awaken the inner engineer to put the cake together. I was doing great, my flowers were blossoming beautifully on the cake, the whimsical forest I had created was coming to life and the wobbly and wonderful tea cups begged to be filled with my favourite brew. And then a daisy fell over and took a pansy on the way down. It shattered a pedal, took out a leaf and toppled to the flour exploding, sending shattered pieces of fondant all over the floor. I took a breath, picked up the pieces, salvaged what I could and carried on.

Next, I moved to the tea cups. I built a sturdy tower, rotating the cups and angling them perfectly so they could support the weight of each other and of the caterpillar that rested on top of them. Things were looking up until I gently placed the caterpillar a top the colourful and creative scaffolding. The lean of the caterpillar pushed against the highest tea cup and pushed it out place, the tea cups beneath began to loose their footing and began to fall away. Not wanting to let them shatter on me a removed the caterpillar and quickly molded 6 more tea cups out of fondant. I painted them, secured them with royal icing and was back in business. The caterpillar rested peacefully and comfortably on his tea cup bed.

A few more details were added, and at last I stood back and admired my excellent craftsmanship. But the hard part was yet to come. I carefully picked up my cake and at a snails pace carried it to Chefs office. I had a long insightful chat about my cake with the Chef. We talked about it’s weaknesses, I explained my concept, Chef complimented my craftsmanship, and gave pointers on where the engineering could be stronger but was over all extremely impressed. I walked away with a smile on my face and a 7.5 out of 10 grade. I was ecstatic! My cake now sits proudly in the Lucy Maud Dinning room.

Victory #2:

I made homemade Ferro Roche’s. That’s right. The rich velvety interior texture was simply achieved by boiling cream, then adding it to butter and dark chocolate. Before dipping each morsel into melted milk chocolate I gently rolled a fresh hazelnut into the center. The finishing touch was to generously cover the top with roasted ground hazelnuts.

As the chocolate set I noticed Chef Christian eyeing them eagerly. I cleaned my station thoroughly and snapped some excellent photos of my creation. As soon as I put the camera away Chef Christian was there, his hand hovering hopefully over the truffles. We both sampled the delectable chocolate and the verdict was the same: delicious!

Victory #3

I survived chocolate rotation.

The past two weeks were over whelming with chocolate orders and special Valentine demands, not to mention I had my own special chocolate projects I wanted to accomplish. We already know the Ferro Roche’s were a smash, and I have a chocolate box that just needs to be assembled and filled with chocolates on Monday before I can completely wash my hands of chocolate for the rest of the term.

Victory #4

The weekend brought the promise of another classically terrifying Atlantic storm. Saturday was generally quiet with a gentle rhythm of continuous rain fall. As the day melted into evening and the temperature dropped the thin layer of rain that had fallen hardened into ice, and the rain turned into ice pellets. The sky opened up and hurled punishments at the gentle island for crimes were didn’t know we had committed. I tried to sleep but the freezing rain rapped against my window like an outraged loan shark demanding payment. Around 3:00am the pelting stopped but the wind picked up and snow whipped through the air. I could barley see the neighbours trees in the backyard. The city lights reflected off the blinding snow, and it looked like Charlottetown was bleeding from the heavy weather.

But when dawned slowly opened her eyes she uncovered a gentle, quiet, glowing white world. Charlottetown was generously covered under a thick quilt of snow. The roads weren’t plowed and there was no rush to get them clear. Around lunch time I joined the neighbours in digging our way out of our apartments. After robustly flinging shovel after shovel of snow into the bushes I took a brisk walk, well waddling like a self conscious penguin on fresh ice is more like it, down the road to mail some letters. Safely back in the comfort of my home I turned up the tunes, sipped a cup of tea, and read a good book. Never underestimate the power of a good snow storm. Don’t try to fight it, don’t rush out to the store and stock up canned stew. Keep the kettle boiling and dive into the left over Christmas chocolates, wrap a blanket around your shoulders and watch the snow fall. Enjoying moments like these will always bring you a victory.

                    Special occasion cake. Alice in Wonderland themed.

                                                      Ferro Roche

Snow Day!!!

I stepped into February with bright eyes and a spring in my step. When I stepped out the door on Wednesday morning I was greeted with a thousand snow flakes descending on my cheeks and lips with soft cool kisses. The sun was gently glowing behind the veil like cloud cover and I was accompanied with snow all the way to school. Once in the locker room I began to fold into my Chef whites when the culinary student girls bounded into the locker room shrieking at window shattering volumes, “School is cancelled!!!”

Is it true? Are you sure? Who told you? When did this happen? Do we go home? Do we still have theory class? Is this for real?

Skeptical and hopeful we ran to theory class to here it from the chefs. The class room was bubbling and popping like a pot of soup simmering on the stove with excited hopeful conversation. Chef Christian came in first, he tried to hold his composure but as we gazed at him, our eyes all asking the same question, he only smiled and giggled and gave a nod. Snow day!!!!

We didn’t all tumble out of class at once though, we sat bouncing in our seats excitedly waiting for our theory class to begin so it could end, so we could all go home. With the cafeteria closed for lunch the Chefs thought it be a good idea to teach us how to make a soufflé and then for us to eat it. The chefs made a passion fruit, cheese, and chocolate soufflé. All three soufflés were delicious, each texture and flavour unique and enticing. The passion fruit was as sweet as undiluted nectar, it made my lips pucker and my face twist like a lemon. The chocolate had a mild and earthy texture and taste, it was subtle and pleasant and would go well with a robust cup of coffee. The cheese was by far my favourite. Popping with flavours of parmesan, black pepper, nutmeg, and eggs whipped into submission it was fluffy and smooth and filled my mouth like morning sunshine through a kitchen window.

With the succulent flavours still dancing around my mouth I followed the rest of my class to the locker room to change out of my whites and walk home before the storm really started to pick up. I walked home in the beautiful snow. It settled on the breast of my coat and clung to my eye lashes. I stopped at the corner of Richmond and Queen to get a candid photo of our great and brave former Prime Minister, John A McDonald as he sat, unaffected or bothered by the on slot of snow dusting his sharp top hat.

Once safely at home I celebrated the first snow day of my last year in school the only way I know how: with macaroni and tomato juice for lunch just the way my mommy makes it with dash of pepper and salt. For dessert I had two very cheerful and yummy Rainbow Chips Ahoy cookies. All afternoon I sat by the window, watching the snow fall, reading a book, and slowly nursing cup after cup of coffee. Mmmmm, snow.

When evening fell the snow flakes turned to the size of loonies and were floating down in large fluffs. Looking across the street I watched them waltz gracefully, mid air their stage and the street lamp their stage light. With soft amazed sighs I applauded their performances and wished for more.

Since that delightful snow day it has not stopped snowing. We have had continuous snow fall whether light and graceful or heavy and mean, PEI is slowly becoming more and more blanketed with my favourite precipitation.

The snow has been something for me to look forward to all week. Class has been less than sunny. I am in chocolate rotation and it has been a difficult week. Chocolate is like a water colour painting. It has a mind of its own, and if you don’t prepare for every fleck o colourful personality trait, you will end up with a mess and have to start from scratch. Tempering chocolate is not for the faint of heart. You have to be patient but quick on your toes. Once the chocolate is ready to be poured, pulled, drizzled, or piped it can’t sit around and wait for you. Your moulds have to be painted, your trays, tools, heat guns and marble slab have to be spotless, free of any water contact and ready for action. But once you fall into a rhythm with your chocolate, and whispering sweet nothings doesn’t hurt either, you will get along handsomely and the result is rich, perfect, delectable chocolate.

I did have aspirations of working on my chocolate box this week but with all the chocolate orders, Valentines demands, and countless fall backs in stubborn untempering chocolate my department is far behind our personal goals. That is one thing that really got me down this week, I was hoping that we could use this time to work on our portfolio and chocolate boxes but our duties came first. I am optimistic that this week will be better and I look forward to conquering chocolate.

Chef Richard and I shared a very special moment this week. I was showing him my blue prints, templates, and general vision for my chocolate box. I plan to make a simple rectangle box and pipe on Delft detail, tulips, wooden shoes and other iconic Dutch symbols. Along with the piped detail I am attempting to write Dutch words for chocolate and other sweet phrases around the edges. Chef read aloud the Dutch phrases and words and as he came to the last word he slipped into high German and said, “It looks very good. It will be very delicious.” I replied in high Dutch. “Thank you very much.” For that brief moment Chef could share with me a bit of his mother tongue, and I could share with him a bit of my heritage tongue. It was familiar, a taste of home.  

My weekend was extremely quiet. I took the weekends as an opportunity to catch up on some sleep, make Valentines cards, and dive into some much needed pleasure readings. Today at church we had a potluck and it was so wonderful to actually cook a meal for people. I have been making pastries for 6 months and it so refreshing to chop tomatoes, grate cheese, and add copious amounts of rosemary, oregano, marjoram, pepper, basil and parsely to a hearty bowl of pasta. Mmmmm. However, I know that as a pastry cook I have an expectation to uphold, so I came with a tray of chocolate cupcakes as well.

Apart from the odd raised voice at a particularly stubborn bowl of dark Belgium chocolate, I have had a fabulous week. I look forward to what ever challenges come my way this week. Come hell or high water, as they say, I am ready!

                            Raspberry Dark Chocolates

                              Milk Chocolate Caramels

                          John A. McDonald, chillin' like a villain in the snow.

Blissful, hopeful, and powerful.

This week started off with a head ache! It was Career Day on Tuesday, a day where all of the big wig restaurant and hotel employers came to Holland College to convince us to work for them. Among the selection were Delta Hotels, Algonquin Hotel and Golf Resort, Stanley Bridge, Hoffman Hotels, and Mission Hill Family Estate Winery. It was an overwhelming day but a great opportunity to get to know potential employers. I left school that day with my head swimming with possibilities and opportunities. I didn’t feel like doing anything when I got home but sitting on my bed and crying. The prospect of working in PEI for a season would be great. I could live on site at some of the resorts or stay in Charlottetown. I could have a wonderful summer baking pastries by day and strolling the beaches and warm Island evenings by night. But, I want to go home. I want to work in Ontario, be close to my family, and settle down somewhere familiar. But I feel like I am abandoning the Island if I leave so soon. Shouldn’t I stay for another year at least, build more on the friendships I have formed, spend more time with the people I have to come love? What do I do?!?! After talking to the Chef about my dilemma he gave me some very reassuring advice, “This is only the first step. You don’t know if you got the job yet. Just apply and see what happens. And what happens, will happen.” If only all of us could benefit from such rich Austrian wisdom. With those sweet words still ringing in my ears I didn’t waste another thought about what my future holds, I got this far, everything else is just a bonus.

Thursday was one big finger nail biting day. I was informed that my sister had started labour contractions early in the day and my niece was on the way. All day I kept my phone on, checking it every 10 minutes, making sure the volume was audible and loud enough for me to hear over the noise in the kitchen. Impatiently I texted my mother demanding updates. The reply came back the same, “Nothing yet, these things take time, be patient.” What made this day especially hard was the reality of my distance from my family. When my nephew was born, I was only and hour away and I saw him 3 days later. But three provinces lie between me and my family and I don’t know when I will get a chance to meet my niece. Although my family is only a phone call away I am missing the tangible joy of a new life coming into the world. I’m not there to hold my niece and tell her about all the trouble her and I are going to get into. I’m not there to hug my sister and family and play trains with my nephew so he doesn’t feel left out. To ease my anxiety I alerted the good ol’ prayer chain and placed my concerns for the health of my sister and niece and my grief of being so far from home in the capable prayerful hands of my Island church family. With no news of the baby, I went to bed heavy hearted and exhausted. However, an hour into a glorious and deep sleep I was woken up by the sweet sound of my phone ringing. She’s here!!! A precious little girl, Kenzie Catherine Elizabeth, 7 lbs 4 oz, born 8:15pm January 26. I am an aunt again!!! To sweeten this news just a little I won a bet with my roommates on what time she would be born and what gender. Thanks Kenzie, I am $4 richer now, you and I are going to get a long just fine.

The rest of the week was ten times better! Friday night was a wild night out with Charlottetown Community Church, we hit up the bowling alley like a herd of uncoordinated cackling geese. I haven’t been bowling since I was 16 but it came back surprisingly quick. The night was a success for me with 2 strikes, 3 spares, a handful of gutter balls, and one sore left butt cheek from all the awkward bowling lunges. It was a great night and I came to the conclusion that I need to go bowling more often. There is nothing like strapping on someone else’s shoes and rolling a five pound ball down an over zealous polished wooden floor to knock down 5 pear shaped pins. Sign me up any day!

Sunday was a truly fabulous and pleasant day. The morning was filled with rich and tangible holy moments. The church service was dedicated to diving out of your comfort zone and plunging into elongated and abandoned worship. We sang what felt like a dozen songs, spent a lot of time in quiet prayer and reflection and let God speak to us. I felt His presence thick and strong on my heart. I felt His hand guide me into His rhythm to steady and reassure my heart.

In the afternoon I spent two glorious hours getting reacquainted with my favourite parts of the city. I took a long stroll down by the wharf, zig zagged leisurely through some quaint and quiet streets, absorbing the colourful houses and breathing in the elegant age of Charlottetown. It is on these quiet walks when it’s just me and the city that I feel at home and that I could fold into a permanent life here without a seam.

As I rounded one scenic street I was awestruck by a magnificent, three story, stone grey, red roof and evergreen trim house. I just had to stop and stare at it. When I walked down the street a little further I found out my dream home was for sale! Upon further investigation I discovered it had 8 bedrooms, 7 full bathrooms, 2 half bathrooms, a dinning room, library, den, chef kitchen a.k.a dream kitchen, and 3 car garage. And it’s only $1,100,000. That dream didn’t become a reality today but I still hold onto to the hope that someday it will.

I realize now that I didn’t put a word in about what I made this week in the kitchen. Better late than never. Due to awkward scheduling and I only had three days in the kitchen this week because of Career Day. Within those three short days I managed to make apple crisp, orange chocolate pudding, cookie dough cheesecake and chocolate cupcakes. I’m disappointed that I didn’t challenge myself more but three days is a small window to conjure up a new recipe and bake it to perfection so the general masses can enjoy it. I won’t have a chance to bake for another two weeks because I am in chocolate rotation next. Just in time for Valentines Day too, yeehaw it’s gonna be a busy two weeks.  

Well that’s all for me folks, I have had a blissful and full week and I need me some sleeps. Good night J

                                                  Apple Crisp

                                        Chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese icing.

                           Orange chocolate pudding with chocolate drizzled hazelnut biscotti.

What poor soul is walking around with only one flip flop. And what idiot is wearing flip flops in the dead of winter??

                   Jaw dropping dream home. Think of the Christmas parties I could host!!

There is nothing more quaint and enticing than an empty rocking chair on a blue front porch.

Bread Gone a Rye

This week was productive, exciting and practically flawless, that is until Thursday came around.

It started out as a regular day in the pastry shop. I strolled in half awake and seriously considering hooking up a permanent coffee IV into my arm for my next morning rotation. I stumbled to my station, plunked my knife kit on the counter and looked over my list of duties for the morning.

To do:

-          Kaisers

-          Rolls

-          Bread of your choice

Simple enough and straight forward. There should be no problems. With the Kaiser dough comfortably rising at the end of the counter and the rolls in the proofer, I had time to make the bread of my choice. I had prepped and copied out a recipe for a delicious cheddar and onion rye bread I had found the night before. Step one was to find a large and delicious onion. I said found onion in the culinary kitchen dry storage, a favourite spot of mine. I love sneaking in there to steal sun dried tomatoes, peek at all the assorted spices, and sample any yummy tidbits that might be lying around. The hunt for cheddar cheese was less than fruitful as there was none to be had in the fridge. Grumpy, still a little sleepy, and frustrated I pulled the chef aside and explained with a pout that there was no cheddar cheese in the fridge. I had found mozzarella and spiced havarti but they didn’t have the right sharpness I needed to compliment the onion. Chef Richard disappeared for a moment and returned with a delicious Swiss cheese. But before he handed it over to me he borrowed my knife for an instant and cut off a piece and popped it in his mouth. “Research purposes.” Chef explained.

With all my ingredients in front of me I pulled up my sleeves and started with the onion. I am the worst at cutting onions, mainly because I cry buckets when I do. However, this morning I was the only one in the kitchen not crying. I have the beginnings of a cold and so my sinuses were stuffed, a perfect defense against the potent vegetable. My classmates were at the mercy of the onion. The onion won.

Finally the onion was chopped, the cheese was grated and all the ingredients were happily whipping around the mixer. Like magic they came together, bonded by flour, water, yeast and the G-forces from the mixer. I covered the dough to let it rise and tended to my other duties.

After baking out the Kaisers and rolls I could devote the remainder of my morning to my precious onion Swiss cheese rye bread. Using my chef knife I cut the massive dough into 4 equal parts, they looked just about right, not to big and not to small, I was pleased. I popped them in the oven and walked away to help clean up.

While I was sweeping up excess flour that had spilled onto the flour by the weighing station I suddenly heard a gasp from the direction of the oven. “Who’s bread is this?” Someone asked. My head snapped up and I ran to the oven. My bread, who had once been a normal size had grown to Mutant proportions. I was deeply embarrassed and prayed that the Chef wouldn’t find out. I seemed to be in luck, class was nearly over and Chef hadn’t said or noticed anything. Then, just as I was slinging my knife kit over my shoulder, Chef walked to the cooling rack pulled out the tray with my Mutant rye bread and asked, “Who’s bread is this?” I sheepishly admitted it was mine. “Did you weigh your loaves before you baked it? 540 grams?” I looked at him confused. I was supposed to weigh them? I thought to myself. “Umm, no Chef, I just cut them in half until they looked even. They were normal sized before I put them in the oven.” I sputtered trying to save my dignity. As always, Chef laughed, gave me a wink and said, “Next time you weigh them. Remember, things grow in the oven.” I hung my head, cheeks burning red with embarrassment, “Yes Chef.”

Before putting the loaves out in the cafeteria for sale we weighed them, just out of curiosity. I plunked a loaf onto the scale and watched in horror as the numbers climbed higher and higher. The scale stopped at 2.30 pounds, that is twice the weight of what they are supposed to be. Not only did the bread weigh 2 pounds but it was approximately the size of a new born baby. I didn’t make bread, I made mutant onion cheese babies! I learned a valuable lesson in the importance of weighing your dough that day.

The next day was German Pretzel Friday and to my surprised I was placed in charge of making them. However, before signing on to complete the task I had to promise I would weigh the dough before baking them out. I am pleased to tell you that each and every pretzel came out of the oven golden, crispy, and all the same size and weight. No mutant German Pretzels today.

This past week, with each early morning walk to school, I have noticed another layer of Christmas remnants vanish from the streets of Charlottetown. Province house has taken down it’s two big beautiful Christmas ever greens, as has the street corners from Grafton to Queen, King and University. The festive Christmas lights have been rolled up and stored away for next year and wreaths have left front doors naked. However, what remains is not dismal. The promise of snow lingers in the air and to my delight it has snowed on and off all week, we have not met our 12 foot quota yet, but I remain hopeful. A crisp snap is in the air and follows you every where. However, the cold here is invasive and sly. Unlike an Ontario cold that would rather hit you in the face and knock you on your ass, a PEI cold greets you with a deceptive smile as you walk out the door. As you linger in the streets and walk to your destination it follows you silently getting closer to you with every step you take. Before you notice your bones are rattling, your shoulders are hunched forward trying to meet in the middle of your chest to hold the heat in and your step has slowed. A PEI cold absorbs into your body, wraps its wet icy fingers around your joints and is reluctant to let go. A well brewed cup of coffee or tea is the only defense against this enemy. 

But the ocean climate isn’t all bad in the winter department. When it snows it is magical and breathtaking. Snow floats down in soft fluffs, lazily meandering through the air, until it settles on your nose and eye lashes. Sigh, it’s like Narnia and Road to Avonlea all rolled into the perfect world.

Despite the hiccup with the mutant onion cheese baby bread and the bitter cold weather, this past week has been quite enjoyable and full of other bread triumphs. I made some fabulous French baguettes, perfected my Italian bread I made last week, and created another signature Mama Jo style bread: Apple cinnamon bread. All in all I'd say it was a Mama Jo approved week :)

                                            French Baguettes

                                                 Apple Cinnamon Bread

                     Mutant Onion Cheese Rye Baby Bread. Two whole pounds of it!

                               German Pretzels the size of your face!!

          Perfected Italian bread with sundried tomatoes, oregano and parmesian cheese.