I wanted to be a pastry chef so much I used to make mud cakes and sand muffins on late afternoon summers in my childhood. My mom had a garden filled with a few flowering plants and orchids, white pebbles scattered everywhere, and lots of dark loam soil. I used to tear the leaves and flowers off plants so I can chop them and pretend I was tossing a salad, but nothing excited me more than scooping soft earth with my bare hands and placing them in little molding containers like Coca Cola bottle caps and discarded, old Tupperwares.
If I had my way, I will enroll myself at the Center for Culinary Arts, take up a diploma culinary course in New York, and learn everything about the world’s finest cuisines, from exotic Creole food to the sophisticated Italian delicacies. Nonetheless, I think my weekend baking classes is a small step in the right direction. While the classes are not really CCA-esque and the facilities are not exactly first-rate, these will suffice for now. Today we made delicious pineapple and cashew boat tarts, after the orange chiffon cake and icing of last week. Next week will be sweet dough rolls or ensaymada, topped with generous pats of butter and lots of shredded cheese.
Which got to me to thinking that perhaps pastry chefs are among the happiest folks this side of the cosmos. 🙂