Dulcet Devotion

Oh what a sad, sad day this is. All that talk, all that planning, all that WORK. And the result? Bubbling, buttery disaster.

I should have known it wouldn’t work out. Right from the beginning the dough wasn’t coming together as it should. This is about as smooth as I could get the dough (below). The underside was barely holding together. I thought maybe a night in the refrigerator was all this puppy needed. Some time alone in a cold dark place to develop in peace. It must be sick of me beating it to death on the counter, I thought.  What did I know?

Well it didn’t take long for the cracks to show.  A little flaking was fine, I’d read. Keep pushing onward, I thought. Ignore the globs of butter escaping through the flawed dough.  You never know, maybe they’ll still taste half decent…you’ve come this far!

But it just got worse. Even with many rests in the fridge, the cracks just got bigger, and the butter just kept a-squirting through. Oh. No. This is it. The beginning of the end. Ever the optimist, and hoping beyond hope that all my hard work and epic amounts of flour and butter used were not in vain, I pushed through. Maybe 15 minutes in a hot oven would somehow make everything ok. I had to try.

Um. Maybe not.  The bottoms were gloriously golden and flaky. And, that’s about the only the good thing I can say.

Look at the dough. Messed up. Confused. Greasy as hell. Broken and bruised. Just like my ego.

Well, on the bright side, the world is still turning and I still have my health. And of course, something this grand is definitely a learning experience.  Of course I will try to make croissants again, but maybe not for a little while. I have to go hide in a corner and lick my wounds first.

If you’ve also gone down the croissant crescent (pause to groan here), I’d love to hear your stories. Both good and bad. I can take it:)