After the past week, I have discovered a new appreciation for people who know what they are doing in the kitchen.
My journey towards the light began with the Cupcakes and Cocktails event on 13 May, held in The Ritz-Carlton’s culinary studio and hosted by celebrity baker Elizabeth Chambers.
We four friends got tickets to go: Julie, Carol, Lynne and me. We didn’t know what to expect; I thought we would get one cocktail and be taught how to bake cupcakes. Turns out, there was a bounty of cocktails and heavy cupcake consumption, with no real work involved on our part. This was my kind of party.
However, at one point, Elizabeth invited us to try out our icing skills if we wished, with one of the resort’s pastry chefs giving directions. Up I jumped. I had seen this on TV, I’d always wanted to try one of those icing bag thingies, and surely I could turn my hand to anything.
I had to wait for my turn, almost hopping from foot to foot with impatience. Finally, a naked red velvet cupcake was pushed in my direction. It was time. ‘The Great British Bake Off’, here I come!
For starters, I nearly dropped the icing bag when it was placed in my care. “Wow, this has some heft to it,” I said, louder than I planned. The women surrounding me giggled.
After a few seconds of grappling with it, I was back in control.
The pastry chef, clearly already aware that she had a live one here, carefully instructed me to create an initial swirl around the top. Determined to show off after the ‘Icing Bag Incident’, I did so with moxie. I thought it looked good. It was neat, round and drip-free.
Triumphant, my eyes lifted to meet the chef’s, ready for the inevitable accolades.
“You need to add a bit more icing,” she said.
Ah, okay. No problem.
I brought the tip back, squeezed the bag, and… whoops. Too much on that side. Okay, okay… just add a bit on the other side to balance it out. Yikes! An enthusiastic thumb led to further over-correction.
At this point, I was in for a penny, in for a pound. The pastry chef was hesitantly and politely trying to reach for the bag, possibly to save some buttercream for one of the other guests to have a go, but I was a woman possessed. I was also providing my own narration out loud, oblivious to the fact that Elizabeth was on the microphone, trying to talk to her audience over the chatty woman with a nuclear mushroom cloud cupcake.
“No, that isn’t good. Hang on, I think I’ve got it… nope, that looks like rubbish… ,” my voice boomed out across the room.
After 10 minutes of working on a 30-second task, I finally walked back to my table, carrying a compressed red velvet cake buckling under the weight of its icing. All it was missing was an insulin pipette.
That was just dessert. Having not learned my lesson, a few days later, I attempted to put together a full Raclette spread.
Now, you may ask what the heck Raclette is. A type of dish started by the Swiss, the short answer is that one melts cheese, then pours it over other food items, like potatoes and grilled vegetables.
I had watched countless YouTube videos on the subject, to the point I was dreaming of mountains of melted cheese. Therefore, when a Raclette appliance came up for sale online, I couldn’t buy it fast enough.
It featured a grill, hot stone, and eight wee trays for turning cheese into lava. I turned to YouTube once again, where a chef took me through the transformation from friendless loner to hostess-with-the-mostess, all because I had made the smart decision to purchase one of these revolutionary gadgets. Apparently, I just had to prep some items in advance, and then once people arrived for nibbles, we’d pop some corks and the celebration of being fabulous could begin. If you prep it, they will come, and all that.
First, a trip to the supermarket to buy leeks, steak, potatoes, red peppers, mushrooms, French bread and enough cheese wedges to right a mess o’ wobbly tables with uneven legs.
One eye-watering bill later, I was back in my kitchen, setting everything out on the counter. According to the recipes, I was looking at 30 minutes to chop and marinate. Awesome.
I started with the steak marinade, which required fresh thyme leaves. I got out the stalks, and started picking the leaves off. I needed two teaspoons for the recipe.
“This is going to take forever,” I thought, 15 minutes into my thyme-loves-me/thyme-loves-me-not approach. Can you believe it took me that long to realise I could just run my finger and thumb close together, down the stalk, in order to release all the leaves in a jiffy? I really am not kidding when I tell people I don’t cook, and although I’m embarrassed to admit the thyme fiasco, hopefully others will learn from my mistakes.
From there, I had to chop onions, boil potatoes, de-seed and slice peppers… was this guy kidding with his 30 minutes? I quickly learned that using the right tools for the job was key. Trying to use a cleaver on a red pepper was both awkward and dangerous.
At one point, I didn’t read the directions properly, and dumped two tablespoons of Kosher salt into half-a-cup of olive oil for my umpteenth marinade. Thank goodness I had enough sense to realise that such proportions would put someone’s blood pressure through the roof. I thought about just multiplying all the other ingredients to catch up with the mound of salt and balance it out, but then that would have been enough to marinate a large buffalo.
I dumped it out and started again.
All in all, I was prepping for a good three hours. When the last mushroom was slathered in herbs and the final wedge of cheese cut into perfect rectangles, I plopped down on the couch with my newly acquired carpal tunnel, exhausted.
Later that evening, it was Raclette time. Had all the work been worth it? Actually, I must admit, it was pretty fantastic.
There was a bit of trial and error. I thought chopsticks would be a good way to transfer food to and from the grill, but the moment they picked up some oil, it was game over – we couldn’t grab and hold anything; every mushroom had become a small bar of wet soap.
We changed over to tongs, and that made all the difference.
Everybody raved about the party and, of course, there was endless melted cheese. Everything is better with cheese.
Clean-up wasn’t too bad. I had gone potatoes-mad, but the chickens were more than happy to take care of the leftovers.
The appliance is back in its box and who knows when I’ll bring it out again. I really enjoyed eating the food, but as you’ve probably gathered, prep work is not my favourite. Luckily, there is an easier way to have almost exactly the same experience without all the hassle.
First, get some Wonder Bread. Second, grab a pack of Kraft Singles. Place ‘cheese’ on bread. Grill until hot and melted.
Suddenly, it’s like Switzerland in here.
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