Yesterday was a most fun day. 'Baking masterclass / Patisserie pro's' / call it what you will, I taught some boys how to bake. (But we couldn't decide on a name for the class.) It all came about after an impromptu facebook conversation, where I happened to mention that some baking might take place over half term - not an uncommon occurrence by any means. Only on this occasion, someone asked if they could join me. Then we invited another someone who has told me a few times that I need to teach him how to bake. So teach I did. In some form. I taught them...
:: how to tell when you've whipped up your icing to the right consistency:
you get soft peaks
:: why it is important to pre-heat the oven before placing your baked goods in
:: how to grease and line a tin
:: how to tell when your cake aka 'baby' is ready to come out of its 'bed' - you listen to it. If it has stopped 'crying' then it is ready to come out. If it is crying just a teeny little bit, it's ok to bring it out - it'll be alright
:: the imperative need for a rubber spatula in any baker's kitchen. Don't ever forget it
So, we baked away and filled my kitchen with beautiful aromas. Then cooked and ate a killer omelette (filled with finest bacon, tomato and cheese, yes please). Then spent three hours delivering our baked goods to unsuspecting friends. At one house, we got invited in, and I got to spend some time inside a cardboard box, helping it to become a little more rocket like for an impending trip to the moon.
Sounds like a wonderful day.
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