Île Flottante Pralinée (from La Cuisine, Bernard 2008)
My Floating Island was more like the iceberg that sunk the Titanic. Note to filmmakers: I am open to offers of making a 3 hour epic about me starring Kate Winslet, but it is more likely to be a comedy than a drama. Please form an orderly queue. *tumbleweed*
This was a comedy of errors. The almond praline wouldn’t set and left me with a gooey mess. The egg whites flatly refused to be whipped into stiff peaks, twice. I didn’t have the correct tin to poach the meringue in. The custard had a consistency that made me retch. And finally, I didn’t have the right bowls for serving.
A dribble of lumpy custard languishing in a cereal bowl, with a quiche-shaped meringue mounted on top. Utterly unappealing.
The positives I take away from this experience are that, biting into the meringue, despite the soft peaks and the tin, felt like biting into the fluffiest cloud and it melted into air in an instant. And that my boyfriend does a remarkable and thankless job of clearing up sticky mess covering the kitchen after I’ve stormed out in a custard-induced tantrum. Thank you chéri.
I also go away with the words of George Burns ringing in my ears; “I honestly think it is better to be a failure at something you love than to be a success at something you hate.”
It is best for everyone that the picture remains blurry.