The one thing I missed out 3 years in ol'London was strawberry picking. The season of straws always coincided with the dreaded examinations or post-exams when exploring Europe was more in vogue. Last year was no exception, with my examinations stretching way longer than everyone.
So while the flatmate and his visiting brother happily trooped out to pick/eat/both straws, I was stuck at home with my nose plastered to my books in a desperate bid to reverse my fate. T'was a real bummer to say the least, but of course, the said flatmate did come back with a huge box of straws for us and made a really yummy traditional Eton Mess out of his yummy picks.
With my last tart crust turning out into a joke (see mango tart post), I was quite adament on making a successful tart - both process and end product. And yay! finally managed to beat the heat (with flour) and rolled out my tart crust the way it should have been done (: Chef G would've been proud.
And then I found out that my sis finished the milk. Imagine my horror! To have a tart shell and gorgeous red straws lying around and NO milk to make the pastry cream. I think I must make an awful chef- no maison en plus whatsoever and always finding out that I'm lacking some ingredient or another at the very last minute. But, I decided to substitute it with whipping cream instead. Not as smooth as desired, but still, a fuller bodied (in terms of fat percentage) denser creme patissier made its debut.
Don't straws just make you want to smile?
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