J'aime manger des croissants délicieux
Assuming my French has not taken a nose dive due to lack of use, that title says, "I love to eat delicious croissants." And I do. To me there is no better breakfast than a good cup of coffee and a croissant. Actually, that's not true. The best breakfast has brioches instead of croissants, but good brioches are very difficult to come by, so I am happy with croissants. J. made me brioches once for my birthday, I think it was. He stayed up all night to do it. They were delicious, but he has yet to repeat the feat.
But why I am writing about French breakfasts? Because on Sunday D. comes to me and announces that he wants to bake something. He does not want to bake bread. He does not want to bake a cake. He does not want to bake cookies. He was looking for something a bit more unusual complicated and pastry-like. After scouring my cookbooks, he decided to bake croissants.
He started in the middle of the afternoon, and had it all planned out. By the time it was time to leave for youth group, his dough would be ready to do its long rise in the refrigerator. When he got back from youth group, he then did his next round with the dough, including baking the croissants. He pulled them out a little early, though, so that he could finish them in the oven the next morning, so they wouldn't get overdone. His little pastry project had him up until 11:30 Sunday night.
He was tired, but we all appreciated his efforts when yesterday morning, he was able to pull out these beauties. They did not last long.
For a first time effort, I think these turned out extremely well. I enjoyed my French pastry at breakfast. I don't think I will be able to convince him to do this frequently, though. It's probably just as well, since these represent an entire box of butter.
And yes, that is more butter on my plate. I realize it's gilding the lily a bit, but how often does one get to enjoy a homemade croissant? My only regret is that we didn't have any homemade jam to go with them.
But why I am writing about French breakfasts? Because on Sunday D. comes to me and announces that he wants to bake something. He does not want to bake bread. He does not want to bake a cake. He does not want to bake cookies. He was looking for something a bit more unusual complicated and pastry-like. After scouring my cookbooks, he decided to bake croissants.
He started in the middle of the afternoon, and had it all planned out. By the time it was time to leave for youth group, his dough would be ready to do its long rise in the refrigerator. When he got back from youth group, he then did his next round with the dough, including baking the croissants. He pulled them out a little early, though, so that he could finish them in the oven the next morning, so they wouldn't get overdone. His little pastry project had him up until 11:30 Sunday night.
He was tired, but we all appreciated his efforts when yesterday morning, he was able to pull out these beauties. They did not last long.
For a first time effort, I think these turned out extremely well. I enjoyed my French pastry at breakfast. I don't think I will be able to convince him to do this frequently, though. It's probably just as well, since these represent an entire box of butter.
And yes, that is more butter on my plate. I realize it's gilding the lily a bit, but how often does one get to enjoy a homemade croissant? My only regret is that we didn't have any homemade jam to go with them.
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