No Big Deal

It's 6:30 pm on Friday night.  You're hungry.  You're tired.  Tomorrow is Saturday.  On Saturday, at 10:00 am, you are expected at Mel's for craft club.  You have promised to bring food--specifically, madeleines.  You made this promise willingly and enthusiastically.  Somehow, however, you have arrived at 6:30 the night before and you have not started the madeleines.  What do you do?  WHAT DO YOU DO???





Step One:  Make and eat dinner.  Can't bake if you're falling down with hypoglycemia.

Step Two:  Do you have the ingredients?  If you bake at all, of course you do.  There's nothing special in madeleines.

Step Two and a half:  Find magnifying glass so you can read the recipe.

I'm old.  *sigh*

Step Three:  Get down madeleine pan.

It's up there in the rack with the cookie sheets, cutting boards, and wire racks.

Step Four:  Give the eggs to Thor and power him up.

Thor needs to whip them for a while, so use the waiting time to move on to .....

Step Five:  Liberally butter your madeleine pan.  I shouldn't have to say this, but I am in the United States, so I guess I'd better:  Use actual butter.  The kind that comes from cows.  Not the kind that comes from the lab.

Step Six:  Assemble your other ingredients.  The list is long.  Butter.

Vanilla.  Lime zest.

Sugar.  Cake flour.  A pinch of salt.

Whew!  That was exhausting.

Step Seven:

Add the sugar, vanilla, and lime to the eggs and let Thor do his thing.

And now we wait until the mixture is "very thick."   And that's it.  Right there.  That's what I'm talking about.  "Very thick."  This is why people are afraid to cook.  Exactly how thick is "very thick"?  How is an ordinary person without a lot of experience or training supposed to know the difference between "kinda thick," "pretty thick," "very thick," and "way too thick"?

I happen to know the answer because I recognize from the ingredients and from the technique that what we are doing is making a genoise--a sponge cake.  And I know from having made a number of genoises that the eggs and sugar are sufficiently whipped when they Make the Ribbon.  Which I would be happy to explain some other time.  Suffice it to say that I learned how to Make the Ribbon from St. Julia, who personally guided me through step by step--with color photos--so it was understandable and achievable--NAY!--easy.  And that's why she's St. Julia instead of just another Julia.

Step Eight:  It takes around five minutes to Make the Ribbon, so take a step back and admire your favorite boys.

Thor.  Quietly doing what he does, all powerful and muscle-y.  Between him, Alessa, and the dogs, my life is well-nigh perfect.

And if I turn 45 degrees to the right....

It's Kirby!  And turning 180 degree from there...

It's El Puto!

Step Nine:  Thor is finished.  Time to fold in the flour by hand.

The idea here is mix the flour in without deflating too many of the air bubbles that Thor just made for you, cos it's those air bubbles that make the batter rise.

Step Ten:  Gently fold in the melted butter.  Same objective.  Try not to pop the bubbles.

Step Eleven:  Spoon batter into the madeleine pan.

Step Twelve:  Bake.

Step Thirteen:  Cool in the pan for 10 minutes.

Step Fourteen:  Turn out of the pan and cool on a wire rack.

Step Fifteen:  Taste-test the worst-looking one.  (Don't tell Mr. D or he'll want one too.)

Step Sixteen:  Let the dogs lick the beater.  Put dirty dishes in the sink and let the scullery maid take care of them.

Get dogs to lick the floor clean.

 Step Seventeen:  Go watch football.

Step Eighteen:  Mr. D:  "I guess the madeleines are verboten?"  Say they are.  Then feel sorry for him and allow him to eat the second-ugliest one.  Smile inwardly while listening to him grunt contentedly.

Fine

See?  No big deal.