Still recovering from my last baking faux pas; a homemade kettle corn that failed to caramelize and became gritty sugar clumps, I attempted to ward off failure for at least a week.
But cardamom and nutmeg leaped into my cart at the market to join my stock of canned pumpkin at home.
Muffins were too easy a victory to attempt after the popcorn disappointment.
I had to up the ante this time. It could only mean one thing: a pastry.
Not just any pastry but the daintiest of all dessert loves: the mille feuille in all its flaky wonder. I knew if I botched this I would bake nothing but pre-packaged brownie mix and cornbread as a reminder to leave tarts to the culinary elite.
I tousled my way through the ingredient cupboard to take inventory. With exactly 2.5 cups of flour left and three flowery-scented heirloom apples, I had my green light.
Stackable bowls out. Recipe blog up.
Dough savvy as I wasn't, I managed to cut butter through a landscape of flour with a fork, sweeping it up into a central mass.
I hold two directives responsible for the good dough outcome I achieved:
Not over mixing.
Not letting the dough get warm (unless yeast is involved).
Following rules was my save in assembling tarts nothing less than precious. The darling apple cut-outs fit snugly inside their spice-flecked houses. You could almost say I tucked them into bed.
Plated and cooed over, apple treats have ushered me into new heights of baking glory. I fancy my ascent to continue with a spice cake or maybe something Jewish with all the delicious somethings that can be done with honey. Things are looking up already.
