Back to baking

I knew it probably wouldn't be a quick process making my way through Global Baker, but it wasn't supposed to be quite this slow.  There were the sick little people to start (a particularly vile Winter lurg that also cost us a WEIT session which was a sacrifice. Thankfully it's our Wednesday again this week), and then of course there's been the stalking of The Raumati Social Club, eating all the white chocolate I bought for the macaroons so I couldn't make macaroons, and being obsessed with beating the husband's (Puss in Boots) Fruit Ninja high score (did it finally last night - took about 4 days of dedicated ninja-ing.  I nearly busted a knee doing a victory lap though, to teach me a lesson in humility in winning).  And trying to organise swimming lessons for the little ginger.  He loves the water and is in the sea every chance he gets (and most chances he doesn't - being allowed at the beach, but not in the water commonly results in a 'woops. I fell in') so it would be foolish not to have him learning to swim, as well as it being really good for his physical therapy (which is part of the over-all therapies group that we're doing with WEIT).

I have been working on it though, at a plodderly pace and I managed three  recipes before the little ginger and the not ginger went down like proverbial stones with their respective diseases, I just didn't get around to writing about them.  Then for a while there was nothing much doing at all because they've been a bit fragile (ergo, generally painful) so it's been a case of throwing together old faithfuls that take little time or thought (but still taste good.  Ish.  I still can't get the hang of the oven.  I'm developing a serious hate for it) for a couple of weeks.  Lazy-pants r us.

But, it's time to get my groove back, so ...

Blueberry cream scones. 

These absolutely made my day when I made them.  They were amazing.  Overcooked, but amazing.  You can see from the edges that I overdid it (they're too golden), which was really annoying, but I'm quite certain I'll nail them on a do-over. They were so unbelievably soft (and I mean unbelievable - they were like a pillow full of feathers. Almost a bit weird.  Definitely disconcerting to a seasoned scone-ruiner) that it felt like they had ages to go, but what I should have done was sacrificed one for the cause when the stipulated baking time was up (especially since I ended up sacrificing one anyway because I still couldn't work out if they were done - I really hate my oven) because I think they probably were done at that point.  Still, they were awesome, and the best scones I think I've ever tasted. Ever. Definitely the best I've made. I made a batch of 8 by the way (the recipe said 8 to10) - next time I'll try the 10.

Madeleines (lemon).

I didn't take a Dean-comparison photo with these.  No idea why.  I'll just have to make them again.  How sad.  Actually, I did make them again, I just didn't take photos the second time, so it'll be third time lucky.  The first time - you can see how it looks a bit furry?  I think I need to work on my pan-flouring skills.  That furry is flour.  I tried them again without flour, but they browned too much.  Or I just overcooked them (that's becoming a bit of a theme here) which is highly possible.  They seemed quite heavy both times and I'm pretty sure they shouldn't be so dense (I've never had a properly made one, so I don't have a point of comparison - they just seem like something that should be lighter), so next time I'm going to make sure I beat the life out of the pan once I've floured it so there's no extra residue, watch the cooking time like a hawk, and make them when the little people are otherwise engaged (or possibly just tied up somewhere. And gagged) and I can take some extra time to do the initial part of the recipe (whisking egg and sugar in a bowl over simmering water) - probably until around the point where my arm is in danger of falling off.

Plain sponge

This was hilarious.  That's not entirely the sponge just there in the picture.  That's the sponge still in the tin.  Woops. 

This could mean one of two things. One, that I'm completely awesome and whipped my eggs so well I got an amazing amount of air into them and this happened (and by 'I', I mean the Kitchenaid). I prefer this option over option two which is that I suspect that what I think is a 20cm cake tin, is not. I shall try again with my next size up tin.

I was both surprised and impressed that the top was actually relatively level post-eruption - I broke two major baking rules (especially for a sponge) during the baking process too - firstly, I opened the oven door not that far into baking time (when it became apparent there was going to be a spongy eruption, so I could stick it on a tray. A cold tray. Bad, bad, bad) and then a few minutes later when it looked like the height of it was going to make it catch on top, I actually took it out of the oven entirely and shifted the thingy-wotsits that the tin sits on, and dropped it down in the oven.  Then I moved it back again towards the end of baking.  By rights, I'm pretty sure it should've been flat as a pancake, or else looked like it'd been made in one of those tins with the holes in the middle.

It was a bit lop-sided, but not too bad.  It tasted good, though I iced it, which was dumb.  I actually think a dusting of icing sugar or something like it would've done the business perfectly.  I'll have to look into what you do with sponges (that isn't jam and cream - so I don't have to eat it all at once.  I can totally handle that, but a wee bit of extra padding in the arse direction suggests that it's possibly not a bad thing that this is turning into a slow process).

This?  This is happiness from Milly's.  It speaks for itself.  I don't have a lot of the bakeware I'll need for all this, so my plan is to stagger the recipes where I don't have equipment with the recipes where I do.  That gives people time to clean out their baking cupboards onto Trademe, or else for me to save up to visit Milly's online. 

My next plan is pinwheel scones (feta, tomato and caramelised garlic I think they are) and almond croissants.  Yuuuum.  The croissants I'll pick up at the market on Saturday (my bit is post-buying croissants) so that'll be my weekend project.  And coffee noms.

Brunch fail

But not in the way you may think.  You'd probably prefer to think that when I tell you a little story about the husband and his being a complete noddy and your imagination kicks in though.

But first - check these out!  Axi panels suspended from the ceiling at The Raumati Social Club!  That's a lot of cool.  The walls are painted in a gorgeous antique green which also makes me happy (and I'm not just gushing - my bedspread is that colour and has been for six or seven years.  I'd take photos for proof, but all my washing is currently turfed all over it, so maybe later).  I took other photos, trying not to look obvious while hanging backwards through a window, waving my camera in what turned out to be a few really stupid directions but I think I'll wait till it's done.  The panels were too brilliant not to celebrate though.

 

And happy locals!  It's a place of awesome vibe.

But, I'll have to fill you in on brunch next week.  Today, they were still a construction site (just, I think) and working their asses off.  It was almost a gift really, turning up with hopes of brunch, to find they were still going and I could just have a great coffee and an extended nosey from outside (and with about a third of me hanging in through the big window) because that meant I could be sure that I'd just have to go back again next week.  Sweet.  Happiness is.

That's  not the fail though.  Oh, no.  The fail was entirely the husband's doing.  You see, had the cafe been open and serving brunch or whatever, we would've been just having coffee anyway, despite all my plans and egg-related dreams of wonder and happiness, and making a literal dash for it because the husband is a dopey bugger.  You see, he loves his cooked breakfasts - usually eggs, toast, baked beans and bacon on weekends.  At least I think that's when the bacon comes out.  It's not really relevant, but it feels like something I should know the pattern of ... huh.  Never mind.  Anyway, a tin of beans does two breakfasts.  But, at some point, he ran out of beans and opened a tin of spaghetti instead, putting the remaining half tin in the fridge for later.  How much later, we have no idea.  Significantly though, I'd say.  This morning, he located said spaghetti in the fridge, and even though he had no recollection of when he last had spaghetti for breakfast he ate it anyway.  Because what could go wrong with spaghetti?

Loon.

So, you see, in a lot of ways, the cafe not being ready today actually saved the husband's life, because it wasn't until we were sitting at our table on the pavement outside that I realised he'd taken on a rather disturbing resemblance in colour to the walls behind us and if I'd gotten that far and had to forfeit my brunch, it is very likely I would've killed him.  (he's protesting loudly at this point that I could've still had my eggs and there was no imminent danger.  Hmm)

We won't go into why on earth he had a cooked breakfast when he thought we were going out for brunch (although, in his defence, the not-ginger kept us up till 3.30am, so perhaps he just needed the fuel).  (now he's muttering something about pancakes.  I wish he'd stop muttering and make me a hot chocolate)

So, my green other half has been spending a quiet day, and has learned a rather valuable lesson in not eating shiz that he finds in the fridge if he has no memory of when it landed there in the first place.  And tonight, he concedes that probably, one should be a bit guided by one's nose also.  (oh. woops.  Didn't turn the coffee machine on.  Hence the no hot chocolate.  Bollocks)

So, just to recap, the husband is an idiot.

As you were.

The Raumati Social Club opens its doors tomorrow. This makes me very happy.

I have brunch plans. I'll take photos.  I'm going to miss the coffee cart, but the local paper informs me that they've installed a roll up window so they'll be able to serve coffee straight out onto the street.  I can cope with that in lieu of the cart.  And I have photos to remind me of it, so I'll be ok (sniff).  (and I think the window is the old front door which is very cool ... I'm sure I read that.)

I picked up coffee on Saturday (and the best lemon tart I think I've ever had in my life by the way - it was so awesome my mouth actually hurt for a while afterward.  What a cafe does with a lemon anything is important to me.  It's really is, because bad lemon anything is very bad indeed in my opinion.  A bad lemon something can write off coffee awesomeness.  That's how much I value my lemon whatevers. I don't even care if the lemon things are made on site - they just have to be good. I rate the ability to choose and provide excellent lemon things just as highly as making them. It's a thing.  A weird thing, sure, but still a thing) and was amazed to see a delivery of a couple of crates of milk arrive.  Actually, to be honest, I started laughing after a moment of stunned silence and gawping ... which possibly made me look a bit unhinged, but that's neither here nor there (maybe it just looked like I really needed my coffee, because when I got it, it was exceptional).  I'm sure it was a couple of crates (we're back to the milk - sorry.  Me and my brackets will, I fear, always get out of hand. Maybe it's the coffee - this post reads a bit like I 've just been crunching beans straight out of the bag). It may have only been one, I've been trying to recall the memory accurately the last couple of days and just can't be certain, but even if it was only one that still seems impressive in my humble coffee-loving opinion. Here's a place that hasn't even opened yet, up to their eyeballs in construction, in a wee community, running a coffee cart that they banged up out of recycled materials and they're selling enough coffee for milk to be coming in by the crate. That's awesome right there, that is.  Hats off.

Part of the fun has definitely been the mystery. I saw legs (of the table variety. I saw people ones too, but that's hardly a coup) on Saturday, and part of some form of seating ... I think ... but otherwise I've been faithfully driving past on my way to whereever, whenever I can (and when I say 'on my way' I must admit that that could potentially mean on my way to driving the car back up the drive after driving it out and over to Raumati South. Heh.) and I've seen zip which, it's fair to say, has driven me a bit nutty, but I think I'll miss it a little anyway.  They did leave me with one little gift today though. Post kindy-run I went in search of coffee happiness (and a lemon tart) only to find the cart absent (sob!) and a sign instead saying something along the lines of the coffee cart being closed because they had too much work to do getting ready for opening. Fair enough. It's the day before opening. I can most certainly cope. The thing is though, on that sign, which appeared to have been painted up by one hand, the word 'work' was stuck on, painted or written on another material, possibly by another hand. What I want to know is, did it originally say 'shit' under that 'work'?  (and now I'm having a milk-crate moment, wondering if it was 'work' - you get the idea though) Because if it did, I love that cafe just that little bit more, and it seemed like the kind of sign that someone would've made, and someone else would've come along and told them that they couldn't put up like that. Even if it didn't say that, maybe I'll just pretend it did because that would've been an awesome sign.

See you tomorrow guys.  Sleep well.  And I'm going to make you hard-poach my eggs if there are eggs on the menu.  Sorry about that.

Sick kids

Horribly, horribly sick kids.  Two of them.  It is not awesome.  I'll be back asap.  I've done baking!  I have photos!  Asap.  Promise!