I need a drink

We were all sayin' it at the end of class today. Today. Was. Stress. Full. Stencil cookies: totally gorgeous, in the end somewhat worth it. HOWEVER, stencil cookies + 12 PEOPLE = chaos. I swore at full volume numerous times. I body checked poor Karin at least once. I kissed my fingertips goodbye early in the day. And then I came home and had a drink. We're cool. (I know it's a coping mechanism okay?!)

For those of you who don't know what stencil cookies are, they fall in the category of "cookies made primarily to be a component of, or garnish for, a plated desserts." Meaning they are a sidekick. They are secondary. Robin to the Batman ice cream. Bullwinkle to the Rocky mousse cake. They are spread free form on a pan and then formed once they come out of the oven. In our theory lesson this morning, my chest was already getting tight. Stressful cookies. Oxymoron. Nope.
Timing is a big component of stencil cookies. As you know, timing = not my gifting. Movie references, butchered accents and even voices = totally my gift. I can make quotes from Aladdin or Princess Bride work for ANYTHING*. Can I remember that I have high fat cookies that are slowly smouldering to their death in the oven? Apparently not.

One helpful development today is that we utilized the three extra conventional ovens in our kitchen today. ("He CAN be taught! *See?)
Of the teams of six, four were designated a conventional oven each and then the remaining two teams were designated one of the two convection ovens each. We were a convection team. This helped me with my oven skills more than you can imagine. Our almond tuile still came out a little…bronzed on the edges. But after that we really stepped up and the rest of our stuff came out with a really beautiful colour. Our cigarettes (cookies, I swear) came out a little under baked but it was a good exercise to determine how cigarette batter was supposed to look, post-bake.

One of the (numerous) aspects of stencil cookies that makes it stressful is the shaping. Stencil cookies are baked flat and then shaped directly after they emerge from the oven. And when I say 'directly' I mean, when they are still hissing. Again, timing. So we set up a little "Shape Station aka Jane Fonda" on a rolling trolley next to our oven with wooden dowels and other shaping devices so that we could do our shaping in a warm environment instead of running our trays from the oven to our chilly work station by the floor to ceiling windows while they whine and become frigid in the travel time. Numerous time I would pull our tuiles from the oven and put them on the trolley only to shriek, "Shit, I forgot my effing offset spatula!" Step one would be to body check someone. Second would be to call my offset spatula, which had done nothing to deserve it other than remain where I put it, a nasty epithet. Step three would be to try and form my cooled tuile into something akin to a cylinder and watch it snap under the pressure. Step four: swear, under my breath this time, stuff some of the cookie carnage into my mouth and portion out a new tray. Yeah, they cool THAT fast. Talk about killing the mood.

Given their high butter content, tuiles bake very fast. About 5-7 minutes, I found for mine. But because of their high fat content, along with the high sugar content, when they emerge from the oven they are very flexible. You can drape them, crush them, fold them, crease them. If you do it in time, there is almost no limit to what you can do to the shape.

The texture, which is a brisk 'snap', and the toasty sugar flavour of the cookie is totally worth the work but only if you want to make quite a few. Tuile keep well when stored in an airtight container. You can bang off a huge amount of the cookies or you can make the dough/batter and keep it in the fridge until you want to make more. These would be great around Christmas and New Years when desserts abound and sometimes you figure you've got a dress on so why doesn't your ice cream. You think that right?

Florentines are a bit different. They are technically a 'biscuit' or a 'cookie' but ours, being a tad under baked, came out more like a caramel square. Which is an awesome mistake to make. Florentines, in their addition to a dessert plate or as a garnish are usually finished with a cream or chocolate on them. They have a really warm nuttiness to them. This recipe had candied orange peel, which normally I would never question but this time it only contributed a bitterness. Weird.

We also made shortbread, which were really good. And a necessary reprieve from the chaos. Although the recipe called for a hard-boiled egg yolk instead of a standard raw egg yolk which was strange. The PM chef said it was 'very southern'. And I trust southerners with anything associated with cornmeal, pickles, sauce and chicken really. To be honest, I don't really question southerners when it comes to food. This is blind trust. But then you add hard boiled egg to cookie dough. And my cookie dough smells like a sulphur leak. But then -BUT THEN -the cookies become the most tender shortbread sammies I've ever had and I revert to my former wisdom. Southerners. God's gift to food. (Hush puppies? Am I right?) During the decoration phase, numerous people made a comment regarding my love of jam. Maybe it's excessive. I definitely love jam more than cookies. Twisted? Probably. But these cookies are a good mediator. Cookies: 1 point.

These are the gingerbread that I promised. The decoration segment of the class time became stranded in an icing session bordering on the grotesque. There was a lot of neon icing going on. A couple decapitated John Does. And a lot of lederhosen going on. I managed to salvage a couple of undressed ones, naked if you will. They look like they're wearing choir robes which is fun. Ginger dames.

Tomorrow we do macarons. Parisian macarons. I know I'm going to be excited because I love macarons. They are elegant. And colourful. And playful. And French. And then I will likely become stressed in class and leave saying gin's not gonna cut it and I'm going to snort coke or something. But right now, macarons are a giddy thing.

Mine will not look like this. But I'm curious to see how they will turn out. I want to make crazy flavoured ones like strawberry and basil or coconut and lime. Lemon and chocolate. Endless possibilities. Tomorrow we also do meringues and macaroons, which are not to be confused with macarons.

Macaroon:

via The Shoebox Kitchen

Macaron:

Via Project Foodie

Meringue:

via A Taste of Koko

So much whipping. Which I am straight up not doing by hand. It's probably possible. My grandmother probably did it for her lemon meringue long before KitchenAid came in pistachio. But I'm Gen Y. And that's why people hate us. I console my laziness by telling myself that no one in the industry would tolerate me if I pranced in saying I wanted to do it the 'old fashioned way'. And post-apocalyptic, I foresee meringue falling to the wayside. That's a luxury you just can't include when you are trying to make a fire like a boy scout.

Pies come on Friday. I will be bringing home at least one FULL SIZE  PIE every day. This is nothing like loaves of bread. This is ferocious.
Anyone want a pie?

Find a cookie you love. Find comfy pajama pants. Eat. Enjoy. Repeat.