Make room for a macaroon

Alas, I previously attempted some chocolate ganache macaroons. The recipe was Edd Kimber’s taken from Good Food Magazine. The recipe read like some piece of GCSE science exam paper, the technique was relentless and unforgiving. Process the powdered items, mix in some egg White, whisk the rest, boil sugar and water to soft ball stage, mix to make Italian meringue, don’t let the bowl get to hard, mix all together to ribbon stage, don’t over mix, leave to form a skin, bake, slide, sandwich, the end. I was scared, and it failed.

Sunken, cracked, ugly macaroons later.

So I reattempted today. And once again, I learnt a painful lesson. Don’t expect to hang about with a cream-sandwiched macaroon. They perish a bit.

But initially, I had a wonderful, successful moment.

To make up for my disappointment, I made peanut butter and choc chip cookies. They are amazing. And an ice cream scoop made them almost production line consistent sized! Whoop whoop.

Moss Bros don’t exist in Sheffield no more. Who knew?! Have to be fitted for my bridesmaid dress on Thursday now. Grr. Well, I will leave it late. Made slow cooked breast of lamb with onions and dill and sour cream mashed potatoes. Was very good. Eaten in front of Bridget Jones The Edge of Reason. I like to laugh at Renee Zellwegger’s accent when she says “genuinely gorgeous bottom”. It’s part Dick Van Dyke, part Margaret Rutherford part Edith Piaf. It’s truly weird. I also like to laugh now at the dawned soundtrack. Jamie Cullum, Jamelia, Sugababes, The Darkness. It’s like a game of guess who still has a record deal. It’s certainly not poor old Mutya Buena. In many ways the current ad campaign for Big Brother on Channel 5 is like a warning to any would be participants. If that’s the only paying gig they have got going, don’t participate. It’ll end in being completely unemployable. Case in point- Kinga or Makosi. Once you’ve seen someone’s “pleasure” face before half 10 on Channel 4, you’re not going to let them face your clients are you? That’s why my mother made me sign an agreement to stay off reality tv. To save me from myself. Or the public. I’m not sure which one.

Right, bed time. Blog later folks. X

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

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