Becoming French, pt. 1

So, I’m not a baker.

My impetuous personality and tendency towards the…reckless…makes me the cookie-cutter cook. I love swinging around pans of hot oil, managing three overflowing pots, and chopping with my Dexter-style carving knife. I hate measuring carefully, stirring 43 times, and treading on my tiptoes lest the sponge cake fall.

Despite this, I decided that I must get into the French mood what with the looming moving-to-another-country thing. Thus, in the spirit of combining my love of literature and all things francais I determined to make madeleines, made famous by Marcel Proust’s Swan’s Way.

Armed with this recipe, Dylan’s Modern Times, and the promise of friends coming to eat my creation, I began.

First things first, assemble the ingredients and have a photo shoot.

Knowing my weakness, I measured all of the ingredients precisely and set them in the order in which they went into the recipe.

However, despite my valiant attempt to be OCD, I STILL managed to cream together the butter and sugar, rather than the butter and eggs. C’est la vie. I almost had a lay-on-the-floor-screaming-my-limited-vocabulary-of-french-obscenities-whilst-shaking-my-fist-at-the-batter moment, but I managed to hold it together long enough to finish the fluffy, creamy dough which slid into the muffin tin, and created tiny pillows of not-too-sweet perfection.

My friends-turned-guinea-pigs said they looked like corn muffins, then added frosting.

C’est la vie.

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