Pastry Chefs We Are Not

Leave it to Thelma to come up with the idea to make French macaroons. I mean besides Martha herself, who makes these? It took a little coaxing, but she got me to agree to a girl’s night of baking. And who knew these little treats were so DELICIOUS; I am still craving them a week later. Should you ever decide to be ambitious and attempt to make French macaroons, please learn from our mistakes...


Mistake #1: Not Having the Proper Equipment
YOU WILL NEED AN ACTUAL, FOR-REAL SIFTER . . . you know, the one with the squeeze handle or crank. Don't think you can "make do" with a colander/strainer thing as a sifter. Believe us, You. Will. Regret. It. After making two batches, sifting each one three times, we decided we did not have the patience to be pastry chefs. In fact, I vowed during one of the sifting cycles (while Thelma was desperately calling neighbors to find a good sifter) to never make French macaroons again, but I quickly reneged on that as soon as I tasted them.


Also, if you don’t have the right pastry bag tip, the chocolate macaroons will turn out looking like dog poo (see exhibit 1).


Mistake #2: Mismanagement of Time
Don't attempt this little endeavor when you are on a time schedule. Poor Thelma had to finish baking and cleaning her kitchen without me (which she claims took 2 hours!). We had no idea how long making these jewels would take (in part due to the fact we didn't have a real sifter) and I had to get home to relieve my sitters.


Mistake #3: Being Overzealous
We were so excited about making these delectable desserts that we wanted to try several different flavors. We planned on making a butter cream, a chocolate butter cream, Italian cream, and chocolate ganache filling but only were able to finish the first three (see mistake #2). You should chose one flavor and go with it. In our opinion, the Italian cream filling on chocolate macaroons are TO DIE FOR! That's all you need, we promise.


Mistake #4: Misinterpretation of the Recipe
When using Martha's recipe (which we did), know that when it says it will make 35 cookies, its means 35 actual cookies. Somehow we interpreted this to mean we'd get 70 cookies and then have 35 once they where sandwiched together. My husbands exact words were " You two worked that long and that hard to make three cookies?" Okay, granted we got more than three cookies, it wasn't much more.


We really do plan on doing this again, but next time we will be more prepared. Isn't it true you learn as you go?

Yes, we know, they aren't as pretty as some of the pics you've seen on the web but they sure were tasty!

A Town Called Cemetery

Did you do it? Did you follow through on the challenge of our previous post? We girlfriends know just how precious that time spent with each other really is. We provide that shoulder to cry on, vent to, and laugh with. Sometimes we even learn a little about our girlfriends when we take the time to just be together, even if we don't really have a plan. I learned just how much of a city girl Thelma is when we took a random, aimless road trip one lazy Sunday afternoon while we were in college.

We had been sitting around bored out of our minds until we had a brilliant plan--ROAD TRIP! Like the young, freshman, college gals we were then, we got in the car and drove without any destination in mind, exploring every back road highway we could find around our college town. And, like you will see along the road, there were many signs, including those that point you in the direction of those little country cemeteries. We drove on our random road trip for probably three or four hours while making several twists and turns along the way. We spent our time talking, laughing, car dancing--you know like we girls will do--when all of a sudden Thelma said in her most EXASPERATED voice while throwing her hands in the air, "Where is this Cemetery, Oklahoma?" And, yes, she was serious as a heart attack; she actually thought those "Cemetery" signs were referring to a town! Gotta love that! Now go get some face-to-face girlfriend time this weekend.

What Happens in Mexico...

O.K. we have to admit, sometimes our funny stories roll out of the M-O-S-T embarrassing of situations; we are sure many of you girlfriends out there can relate. This particular running-to-the-bathroom-story is so embarrassing that we have made a pact with each other to never let out which one of us it happened to because, well, you will TOTALLY understand when you get to the end...

Let's just say there is a hotel cleaning lady in Mexico still cursing our names. It all started in 2003 with a trip we took to Ft. Lauderdale (There are some stories there too!) when we spent the week talking about going parasailing but never did. Once we arrived back home, we both regretted not taking advantage of the opportunity to fly high over the ocean. We promised each other and ourselves that if the moment ever presented itself again, we'd dive right in and not let it pass. Ok, jump ahead four years--a wedding and a child later. We, along with our husbands, finally took that trip to Mexico we had been talking about for years. Before we even left, we decided this was it; we were going to parasail over the Carribbean. How beautiful and tranquil, right? So, finally the last day of our trip we did it, and it was an experience neither of us will ever forget. EVER.

Nerves were building as our scheduled parasailing time crept closer and closer. One of us even tried to back out, but, true to our friendship, the other part of the duo twisted her arm and reminded her of the promise she'd made years ago and guilted her into holding up her end of the bargain. (You thought I was going to say something sweet about providing support and encouragement, didn't you? Yeah, that didn't happen.) Our husbands, being the supportive men they are--who are we kidding; they wanted ammo on us--bought a seat on the boat. So there we were, on the boat full of people who were also going parasailing. After the first person took his turn, we were up. The guide had told us each turn would last around 15 minutes, what sign to make to come down early, and that they'd try to bring us in so we'd land on the platform but there was a chance we'd end up in the water. Getting into the air was no problemo; it was smooth sailing (after all of the screaming and prayers on the way up). Our experience started off as we had envisioned--beautiful and tranquil--then it all went south in more ways than one.

We couldn't have been in the air for more than five minutes, maybe not even that long, when it hit--quite literally. Have you ever seen Sex in the City: The Movie? Remember Charolette's experience in Mexico where she did everything she could to avoid consuming any of the water only, when she accidentally did, she went running for the nearest toilet only to find herself unable to hold it any longer? Well, we are here to tell you, those "Mexico Moments (MM)" really happen, and this one happened to one of us 500 feet into the air! So, there we were in quite the predicament. The "accident victim" begged the other one of us to make the sign for an early landing and prayed we'd end up with an ocean landing (Who cares about the possibility of attracting fish and maybe even sharks? Landing in the water might at least give us the chance to get out of this situation with a little dignity). No such luck. We landed on the platform and were welcomed by questioning looks from our husbands. We did the only safe thing we could do in that situation; we said one of us was feeling sick. Now the trick was to get the boat to the dock and fast. The problem? There was still one person on the boat who hadn't had their turn not to mention the guides who's English was limited. At this point we can't even recall how the conversation went, but somehow we convinced the driver we need to get back to shore. And as luck would have it, a couple on the boat with us told us of a close bathroom once we got to the dock--the VIP lounge.

We both took off to the VIP lounge as soon as the boat got to the dock. I'm pretty sure neither of us had ever run that fast. We burst through the lounge and into the restroom. Let's just say there was no salvaging the bathing suit--never mind the HOURS it took to find that suit--so luckily she was wearing a cover up as well. And then another "MM" hit. She was in luck, right? We were in a restroom with a toilet right there. Well, if you have ever been to Mexico, you know the toilets don't flush like they do here. (At least this has been our experience.) So to make a long story short the toilet got stopped up. So there we were, one of us sick at this point, a toilet full of well, you know, and a RUINED bathing suit. What do you do in that situation? No amount of life experience could prepare you for this, right? Like any good girl would do, we PANICKED. (Here is where the bathing suit cover up came in handy since the swimsuit was now IN THE TOILET right along with--well, you know.) We ran out of the VIP lounge as fast as we could and across the resort to our rooms, where we stayed for the next three hours. We just knew somehow the hotel people would find the culprits.

Now we are sure you understand why we wish to keep this story anonymous. We promise this really happened; we couldn't make this story up if we tried.

(If you liked this story, stay tuned!)