You can call it the your guardian
angel, your higher self, your subconscious, your gut, your
intuition, a little birdie in your ear or what ever you will, but you
should probably listen to it. Usually I listen to mine, because on
more than one occasion it has saved me a lot of grief. Today should
have been one of those days I listened, but what ever you choose to
call it was absent. Yup, took a powder, took off, amscrayed, flew
the coop, went on the lamb, in short left me for a brief while. Or
at least I had it bound and gagged somewhere deep inside me. I'll
start from the beginning.
A few weeks ago I saw some apple roses
at a friends house. I had also seen this dessert on pinterest awhile
ago. I used the computer at my fingertips and found out exactly how
easy it was. Puff pastry apples looks easy wahoo. My first error was
buying filo pastry instead of puff pastry. I followed the
instructions and realized my error. I thought I'd give it a go
anyhow. It was an epic failure. The apples didn't make it to the
oven and back into the freezer went the filo pastry. What was I
going to do with a box of filo pastry?
I remembered that filo pastry is part
of my favourite food hors d'oeuvres. I had some lovely spinach dip
and cheese in my fridge and stopped at the store and bought some brie
cheese to stuff with some cherries also in my fridge. I was kind of
excited to make all these things and thought of other random stuff I
could cram into the suckers. This is when my inner voice decided to
take a vacation.
I should probably say at this point I
am NOT Greek, not even in the slightest. Most of my family come from
the land of the potato people. I'm pretty sure that they don't do
filo pastry in Norway, Japan or Germany either. So thankfully I have
no ancestors to die laughing at my attempt. Usually I'm a great
cook, today, not so much.
I dampened my tea towel as per the
instruction on the box, took out my knife and carefully scored lines
in the pastry so I could roll up the treats. I figured triangles
would be easiest and hey who doesn't like eating pyramid shaped food?
Filo comes from the Greek word leaf.
I don't know what kind of plant has such fragile leaves, but it's
probably long extinct by now. I ended up holding my breath because I
was pretty sure the mere act of breathing was causing the pastry to
rip. Usually I'm pretty dextrous, but today not so much. I tried
closing my eyes in case my gaze was causing the mass destruction of
my tasty snacks. I figured I'm part Japanese, folding this pastry
should be like origami right? My Japanese ancestors are cackling
from beyond the grave. A two year old would have made nicer folds
than I did. What I ended up doing was my impersonation of myself
trying to fold a fitted sheet. Bunched up blob you got it!
All of you reading this are probably
waiting to see the pictures of my end result. Fortunately for me my
little angel kicked in and said, “Pamela, things posted on the net
are for ever!” and I thought better of it. I also admonished her
greatly for abandoning me in my creation of the food abomination that
slid in a gooey mess out of the oven. It tasted okay though!
The rest of the pastry went into the
garbage. Next time I'm hungry for something like that I'll open a
box.
No comments:
Post a Comment