And my word, they were rockin' good. I don't even buy them when I go to a bakery, Ron does, but I was inspired because it is his favorite. The pastry dough was delicious and the ripples of butter between each layer were oozing out of each pastry and all over my hands. The dough was not easy to make and I was reminded as to why I like pastries when I started putting the 3 pounds of butter in the dough before folding it and rolling it multiple times.
But it was very rewarding. And the I loved the addition of lemon zest and golden raisins.
But then I made her sticky buns. I used the same dough to make what looked to be a delicious treat from her cookbook. I was so impressed by their appearance that I made Ron come and look at them the moment they came out of the oven. I made two kinds. One with hazelnuts and one with pecans. But pouring corn syrup into each large muffin tin as the base made me a bit wary. After reading multiple articles as to why corn syrup is crap I was slightly embarrassed to have it in my pantry. But I admit, I use it. I use it in ice cream and of course, the Thanksgiving pecan pie. But I was still cringing a bit. I knew the buns were to be sticky but this seemed obscene. I figured my inexperience in making sticky buns was shaking my confidence. It had to be right. Buns were in the oven and out they came looking glorious, glossy, and oh so gooey.
Ron and I shared half of each kind. My first bite was delicious. I was partial to the hazelnut because I love the fragrance and firm crunch of a hazelnut. But then I realized that the crunch moved into the hard goo, stuck to your teeth category. The corn syrup mixture was begging to give me a cavity. Then I noticed Ron stopped eating his. Perhaps he was distracted by a story in the morning paper? I finally asked his opinion. "They're good," he said. "But a bit too.......well, hard to eat."
Damn it, Martha! Failure. An entire batch of pastry turned into hard candy. I forced Ron to take them all to his office. I'm hoping he didn't tell anyone I made them though. I couldn't bare to throw them away after I worked on that dough for days. Folding, chilling, folding, chilling, folding, freezing, defrosting, folding, rolling, chilling.... At least the cheese danishes made me pat myself on the back. After eating the sticky buns that morning, I was so high on sugary corn syrup, I started shaking. Kind of like when I have one too many shots of espresso in the morning. I felt my heart racing, I wanted to faint but instead I obsessively cleaned my kitchen. I dumped the rest of my pastry in the trash. Ugh, what a waste.
But so it goes in testing recipes, I have learned. And I have two great kitchen companions. Bernie often licks the floor until every crumb is gone. He sits at my feet as flour is dusted onto his head. I call him my sous chef even though all he does is stare at the oven.
Roscoe, on the other hand, has issues during cooking time. He is very sensitive to lights flashing about. An example would be the reflection of light onto a watch or a cell phone that is dancing on the floor. The worst is aluminum foil. Just the sound of the foil yanked out of its container and then ripped into a piece makes him bananas. He cries, jumps at the walls and eventually tries to attack Bernie. So my only solution was to feed him treats while I tore sheet after sheet of foil in his face. Now the sound that used to send him into a tizzy sends him running into the kitchen for a treat. The same goes for saran wrap. He will come from the basement to plop down by the treat jar.
Border collies are weird, I have concluded.
Meanwhile Ron has been going gangbusters on the basement. I continue to vacuum, although I did start organizing the garage. At the start of all of his projects, my heart stops for a second because the initial shock of change startles me. But it's okay because what was there before was never good. He has ripped up part of the floor that had carpeting like this:
Yeah, that shag carpet you had when you were young. I used to like running my hands through it as a kid but it wasn't like running your hands through someone's hair. (Clean hair, that is...) Anyway, we have carpet from hell in our basement and Ron is slowly pulling it up. He has also knocked down a few walls to expand the look. Besides inhaling tons of concrete dust and finding a family of dead mice, it's been smooth sailing for him. (I can say it's been smooth sailing because I have done nothing except move items out of the room.) The only problem is I have less carpet to vacuum. Time to poor the drinks then.
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