Thursday, July 29, 2010
This one's for the gold, the Fruit Tart being an item we will be required to produce in our practical assessment, so no mucking around now.
It seemed straight forward enough on paper: A sweet crust base filled with lusciously thick pastry cream and topped with a mountain of gloriously rich coloured berries. And I thought I did a pretty good job with my tart, which looked sexy and rather French to me, somehow.
Looks can be so deceiving. When I sliced up my Tart at home I found the crust much too thick, which explains the bucketful of cream left over from filling it. Speaking of which the cream did not set into the solid, wobbly base as expected. Oh no, it was as runny as your nose can be on a cold winter's night after you've been caught in the rain and are down with the flu and what you suspect to be the onset of hypothermia; worse yet, being terribly allergic to pollen you were in a field of sexually heightened pollinating oak trees when the thunderstorm began (ok imagine it's summer now). And now your nose is so runny you're losing invaluable fluids as you slowly dehydrating to death through the facet on your face.
But enough about you, I was pretty upset about my tart not turning out like Chef's. There's something bloody annoying not getting it right on the first go that makes me want to try and try again until I do, more so when it's something as important as The Tart That Will Be Tested On.
Convention aside I rather prefer my custard runny. There's nothing more alluring than a wave of sweet berries swimming in a pool of silky rich cream as they come pouring down on your crust, and when you scoop a big spoonful of the party into your mouth, you crunch down on the sweet berries and crunchy tart as the custard fills your mouth in a wave of orgasmic delight.
Unfortunately sex alone will not get you far in the LCB marking scheme, so I have to find a way to right the oh-so-good-it's-bad wrong, gotta get this right, I must. I must.