All the days spent in the kitchen last week. I had applied to audition for the Great Canadian Baking Show but i missed the deadline as I lost my real job and I lost focus for a bit. The days got a little mixed up and foggy.  But I’ve regained my focus again.   They said they’d keep my application for cooking show on file for the future but I’d bet my severance its in the trash now. Actually it all started after I watched the kids Master Chef one evening last week. The kids that lost the main challenge had to take on one of the most difficult challenges yet. They had one hour to make and bake a sleeve of French macarons. I was stunned as these are tricky sticky wickies to make. I was absolutely amazed that these kids actually knew what they were doing. Clearly they had practiced them before. Most of them turned out a product quite enviable except for the kid who put bacon in his. He’s still on the show btw. The little girl with the golden yellow braids broke down in tears when she was told she had to go home. I knew exactly how she felt. Those are the same tears that happen when my macarons spread all over the tray like jellyfish and ultimately end up in the bin.

I decided if those kids can bake macarons like that maybe I’m not ready for the GCBS so I set my mind to do some test kitchen baking. Not surprisingly I started out with macarons, which I’ve made many times before but they are as unpredictable as my golf swing. Sometimes beautious other times disastrous. There is just something torturing me inside, driving me to master these delicate, spongy little cookies that resemble pastel colored hamburgers. In fact when I was in Paris in 2008 I saw these strange colourful cookies everywhere and I wondered what was with those odd spongy sliders. We even passed Laduree on the Champs Élysées several times completely oblivious to the delicacy we were totally ignorant of. We returned home and discovered the macaron and have been trying to replicate them ever since with varied levels of success.

I have always used the French method because, well… these are French. After reading up on the various methods I decided to attempt the Italian method. Apparently it’s more fail proof because the batter is more stable and there is no waiting for a hard shell to form which makes sense because I don’t think Italians are known for their patience. In addition, you make a boiling sugar water solution to add to the egg whites which makes them more stable and kills off all those pesky salmonella  varmints.

I spent the entire Monday baking macarons. Another tip I read about was to measure ingredients in grams on a kitchen scale . As luck would have it I happen to own one such scale from my weight watchers days, not sure it was meant for measuring sugar. I proceeded to weigh all my prep bowls and did all the math for amounts. I felt very ‘Martha Stewartish’. The first two batches performed well then I broke stride by going out for coffee with a friend the batch following looked a tad odd.  Maybe it was too late. Maybe I was too rushed. Maybe it’s because I split the last batch up into two colours. In any case they baked very lopsided with mouths as well as feet. These cookies have a bubbly little ridge called a foot. The elusive but defining foot of the French macaron.

Another delicacy whose process has haunted me is the chocolate croissant. There’s nothing more decadent that those soft barely there flaky layers with a chunk of rich dark chocolate in the middle.  Melt in your mouth. I read up on laminating pastry on Wednesday night and picked up the necessary ingredients Thursday morning and embarked on the tedious process by noon. The process isn’t really tricky as much as it is time consuming and precise.  I bought European butter… who knew?  The exact right temperature of the butter is key in laminating pastry. Anyway, I followed the instructions exactly.  I mean what else do I have to do these days?  They turned out fabulously….we could be found good Friday morning with chocolate and crumbs all over our faces and clothes as we waited for the quiche to cook.  I figured while I had my nose and kitchen aid buried in the French cookbook I may as well make quiche.  I told my guys maybe ‘real’ men don’t eat quiche but great men eat ‘real’ quiche made by their wife and mother.

My son arrived from Vancouver earlier this week and asked if I would cook for a few friends if they came over to watch the playoffs on Saturday night.  There is nothing I love more than to cook for people and even more so to cook for my kids and their friends.  So I offered to make homemade pizza, wings and some brownies for the third period. Another day spent in the kitchen. More wet T-towels, am empty dish soap bottle, my apron embedded with flour, eggs, tomato sauce, chocolate, peanut butter….not to mention the extra pounds I gained performing quality control.  Hello?

Finally, mile high Lemon meringue pie.  I could have made ordinary lemon pie but I figured go big or go home at this point. I had noticed the thick shiny meringue I had produced while working on the macarons and decided to use the same method of melting sugar and water together and adding to the whipped egg whites.  This worked famously.  The biggest problem was cutting through the meringue come serving time.  Very sticky, mushy and messy but delicious.  Along with the ham, scalloped potatoes, ribboned carrots, bacon wrapped asparagus I decided to declare cooking week officially over.  We have tons of leftovers and I don’t want to wash another dish until the weekend, at least. I have other things to do.

This week, read and write, sew and mend, workout to work off last weeks test trials.  And besides who is going to eat all these delicacies.  I froze most of the excess.  My kids always say that the deep freeze is where good food goes to die.  LOL

This week will be spent in the basement instead of the kitchen.  Looking forward.

Well… the most important event of the Christian calendar is nearly upon us. Easter. And today is the final day of LENT for 2017.  So I reflect on my Lent resolutions.  Let me back up a bit for those of you unfamiliar with the concept of LENT.

Lent takes place every year in the 40 days leading up to Easter, and is treated as a period of reflection and a time for fasting from food and festivities. It symbolizes the days which lead up to Jesus’ crucifixion and subsequent resurrection, when Christ spent 40 days and nights alone in the Desert being tempted by Satan. According to the Bible, he was tempted constantly during this time, but each time he managed to overcome his temptations.  Millions of Christians have been celebrating Lent – a time of year that many non-believers may associate with fasting or abstinence. But there is a lot more to the religious observance than giving up something, as it is regarded as a period of spiritual preparation to grow closer to God as we approach Easter. People follow Jesus’ example and give up vices, which can be things such as chocolate, in an attempt to grow closer to God, to show they have self-restraint, or to live a healthier life.

I was enthusiastic to attend our Ash Wednesday service because I had some specific things I wanted to lay down at the cross and gain some mastery over.  This was going to be my time.  Its so easy to get so caught up in the world (even though this world is not our home – for those of us that have given ourselves over to Him).  I mean we live here in the world, together with all the people, regardless of race or religious or academia or financial status or beauty or fame or geographic location.  We are faced with the same temptations and trials as everyone There is no ‘them’ and ‘us’.  We are all in this together (by ourselves sometimes).  This year on Ash Wednesday, our spiritual leader gave us each a stone and on this stone we were to write what we wanted to focus on, give up, conquer or deal with.  Plot spoiler:  I wrote ‘false Gods’ on mine.  We bring them back to church tomorrow (Good Friday) and lay them at the cross.

Well I knew I couldn’t fit all my false gods onto that tiny little stone so I just wrote ‘false gods’.  I probably don’t need to tell you what a huge undertaking that would be.  I am sure God probably just chuckled as I wrote scribbled those words on my stone. So I decided I would start by abstaining from sugar and Facebook and spend more time reading the Word and focusing on God.  I didn’t really think I had bitten off more than I could chew.  Of course, I didn’t realize that I was actually addicted to sugar and that sugar is more addictive than cocaine.  I didn’t have 12 weeks to enroll at the Betty Ford clinic.  I was just going to do this for 6 weeks – I talked the rest of my family into doing the sugar fast as well.  (you’ll have to ask them how they fared).  I did not do so well.  I’ve been telling myself for many years that salt is my thing.  Savory is always my top choice.  But who am I kidding? …sugar has become my top choice (ever since the onset of menopause and chocolate).  SOOOO…..Everyday of Lent I started over and every day by noon I had failed.  OK…never mind that.  Lets talk about Facebook. I deleted the Facebook app from my phone and my iPad that evening so it wouldn’t be so easy to check it.  Of course,  my Instagram and my Blog are attached to Facebook so it probably looked to everyone in Facebook land that I was still active.  I had done some research on Lent in previous years and I knew that Sundays were not included in the Lent fast.  Sundays were days of rest so whatever you are abstaining from you can indulge on Sunday’s.  Sort of like having a free day when your on a diet.  Everyone knows that’s nonsense.  Its a recipe for failure.  SO the first Sunday (Im talking only 4 days into Lent) I resurrected my Facebook app to catch up.  Seriously nothing new BUT I forgot to remove it again come Monday.  Anyways, as addictions go I look at my Facebook app even if there isn’t a little red number summoning me.  I grab for my phone every 5 minutes for absolutely no reason.  Its like a tick or something – you don’t even realize you are doing it. Ok…forget Facebook.  How was time ‘In the Word’ going?  Once again, as a creature of habit, I had found over the years that my best place for reading the Word and talking to God was on my elliptical in the basement (I had made it the centerpiece of my War Room).  I was getting up to go workout at the office gym on a few days but I couldn’t really do war room stuff in the office gym.  I was easily able to get up at 4:30 and get to the gym by 5:30 but on days when  all I had to do was make it to the basement…somehow that just wasn’t happening.  Staying up too late or just the morning rush.  I do have a habit of talking to God on my drive in to work but that isn’t really the ‘focus’ I had in mind.   So the days of Lent were rushing  by at warp speed just as all the days do these days. And before you know it it was March 27th – that fateful day when I was told I would be spending my days at home for the temporary future.  WOw…. I couldn’t even use work as an excuse anymore.  However,  I decided at that moment – I think I will give up my job for Lent.  Sure I know my hand was forced. At first it was just a joke I had going on with myself.  I am giving up my job for Lent.  I crack myself up.    Giving up my job, in my heart, was turning out to really be a thing.  I needed to give up my job.  It was one of my false gods and I didn`t even know it.  Because it was where I found my security.  I mean, I know God gifted me with that job when I desperately needed it but it was as if I had said, Thanks God,  I’ll take it from here.  I was making my job happen.  As long as I showed up everyday and did what was asked of me, I collected a regular paycheque and benefits and didn’t think twice about buying groceries or going to movies or stopping at Starbucks or purchasing books and stopping in at ZARA just to check it out.  (another addiction).  But now I had all this time to reevaluate my priorities of time and finances and found myself sadly self sufficient, addicted and misfocused. How did I end up here?  Maybe I shouldn’t have written ‘false gods’ on my stone.

 

So as I reflect on my own Lent experience I sort of feel like a Lent Loser.  I seriously failed Lent.  How does that even happen?  Is that even a thing?  Well thank God (and I am not taking the Lord’s name in vain) – I actually DO mean ‘thank God’ that He is a Loser Lover.   God looks at the heart while man looks at the outward appearance.  I was looking at my own outward appearance and not making the grade.  I was judging myself.  But the Lord knows my heart.  I don’t have to attend church regularly on Sundays.  I don’t have to attend a home group on a weekly basis.  I don’t have to read the Word if I don’t want to and I don’t even have to pray if I don’t want to.  I don’t have to love my neighbor or be kind to others or help the needy.  I don’t have to forgive people that wrong me and I don’t have to ask forgiveness either but I do all these things because that is my choice. I try to make Lent a learning and growing experience because that is my heart. In my heart of hearts – my soul – I want to serve the Lord.  The title “Lord” implies that He is in control of my life and that I willingly have given up that control. And I am endeavoring to do this. And no matter how many times I stumble, He gives me the courage and desire to  get up again and keep going because I know that I can do ALL things through Christ.

We all stumble in many ways but the Lord does not give up on us.  I know that He sees in my heart just the want to please Him and offer up some kind of sacrifice for all that He has done for me.  My heart is that sacrifice. And Lent is just an arbitrary period of time to cause us to reflect on Christ’s sacrifice for us and I have truly done that.  As I realize my own pitiful failure at offering up a sacrifice after He has offered up the ultimate sacrifice for me it just impressed on me, all over again,  how much I need Him.  I am totally aware of my need of a Savior and overfilled with gratitude that He already paid the cost of my Lent failure and I’m hoping this all adds up to spiritual growth (which was what I was after in the first place).