Yesterday I made the twin to this tart. This one I made when D.--a friend who's really a brother--was visiting. He was to arrive around 5, and though we had dinner plans and cocktail foods might have been in order, I thought that he would want a warming homey welcome instead.
It's a custard tart, but made with croissant dough. I looked in the freezer, I was sure I had some dough stashed away. I was wrong. But determined! And so in a heavy day of work, I found myself compelled to rush home in mini breaks to roll out the dough, and folding and turning, each time rolling out with it the ever thinner layers of butter encased within.
And again. And again.
Though huffing and puffing, I thought I had done it all seamlessly until I noticed someone looking at me perplexed and I realised I had flour on my face. But it's for D.! He'll love it!! He'll feel everything he's meant to from it!!!
When it came to baking, a bit of distraction set in, and it got a bit more time in the oven than I intended. See the darker edges. Damn. But surely it won't matter he won't notice he'll read through it it's ok I mean look at it and it's CROISSANT.
So you'd think. But when he heard my fake humility before a masterpiece--"sorry the crust got a bit too much heat"--instead of telling me that he hadn't noticed, that the whole is divine he answered: "It's okay. I'll just sit here and gnaw on it." Grrr. Yeah, a friend who's just like a brother.