Motherhood

Motherhood has proven to be a roller coaster of enormous proportions for me. The highs are so high and the lows are sooooo low. As the days and months go by, the challenges have begun to ease slightly but are usually replaced quickly by another test of patience and sanity. It does not help that I find it hard to let go of my control freak ways and OCD tendencies. These qualities have always been the roots of my success but are now hindrances as the parent of a happy but tempermental 9 month old.

Luckily, I had the opportunity to let my creative juices flow lately, despite limited baby-free time. My obstetrician requested a cake for several obstetricians who were retiring this year from BC Women's Hospital and how could I say "no" to the man that delivered my child??? And since I am currently still in a post-partum state of mind, this cake and its subject matter were quite apropos. He wanted the design to be similar to Dr. Seal's retirement cake but with an obstetrical twist. Secretly, I was hoping for something silly like a giant uterus but he had something classier in mind!

And so, I decided to frame a sculpture of a stylized mother and child, with surgical tools sewing up the background, which was metaphorical uterine smooth muscle. It is hard to see in the photos, but texture was added to the rusty red background to emulate spindle shaped smooth muscle cells. Leftover fondant was used to make the figure by folding a thick layer of fondant and later painting it in edible copper dust. The cake measured 10" x 15" x 4" and featured pistachio, black currant and vanilla flavours, identical to Margaret's birthday cake. Considering that I have not lifted a spatula for months, I was very pleased with the final outcome, both from a design perspective and an organizational perspective because finding the time to construct it was the biggest challenge of all!

The bun in my oven

I've missed you. But I have a good reason why this blog has been dormant since December.

A little bun was in my oven and the oven decided to start overheating at 19 weeks, you could say. And so, I was off my feet since January, out of the kitchen entirely to avoid strenuous activity as well as any adverse odours which aggravated my morning (& afternoon & night) sickness. Although frustrating to be on bedrest for so long, it was ultimately worth it to avoid having my little bun be half-baked.

My creative pursuits are temporarily on hiatus as I figure out this new creature in my life and cope with sleep deprivation which accompanies such mysterious beings. Hopefully, in the weeks and months to come, our lives will develop a new normal which includes diapers, playtime, sleeping, and artistic endeavours in my food, photography, and writing.

Framed

During my years in medical school, our Associate Dean for Student Affairs was Dr. Andrew Seal, a general surgeon by trade who is considered by many to be quite a Renaissance man, with diverse interests ranging from the history of medicine to music and to painting. In fact, if you lurk around the ground floor of UBC Hospital, one of his canvases might still be gracing the hallways.

My fondest memories of Dr. Seal involve his role as patron of the arts at UBC Medicine. At a time when I was suppressing my creative tendencies in order to concentrate all my energy on scholarly pursuits, participating in the UBC Medical School Choir, Jazz Band, and Spring Gala concerts was a true highlight of my four years (admittedly, I am just a band geek at heart). Without Dr. Seal's influence, I doubt that the arts would have flourished as they did at UBC Medicine.

And so, to be asked to create Dr. Seal's retirement cake was a huge honour and conceptual challenge. Much time was spent brainstorming how to combine general surgery with painting in cake form without being too literal. The challenge was even greater because it has been over 10 years since I have been in a non-ophthalmic OR using those gigantic needle drivers and 1-0 sutures. Congratulation Dr. Seal on your well-deserved retirement!

The Princess

Once upon a time, in a distant land, there lived a beautiful Princess who had a very big oven in a very small castle. She had been warned by the previous owner of the big oven, a wicked witch, to bake only gingerbread men at 375F for 15 minutes, otherwise a terrible curse would befall anyone who dared to bake differently. Being very obedient and frightened of the curse, the Princess mixed the dough, rolled the dough, and baked the dough into dozens and dozens of gingerbread men every day.

She became extremely efficient in her small kitchen and locally famous for her delicious gingerbread men but longed to try other recipes, oven temperatures, and baking times. There was no joy in making gingerbread men and the Princess grew forlorn and disheartened. One day, a frequent customer, Goldilocks, came by for a snack but complained, "Your gingerbread men are too big, Princess. You should make them half the size. That is what the bakers in Wonderland are doing.".

Being eager to please, the Princess decided to make her gingerbread men smaller, convinced that she would not be cursed since technically, she was still baking gingerbread men at 375F for 15 minutes. Into the big oven, trays of small gingerbread men went and as the Princess cleaned her dishes and waited for the kitchen timer to ring, she began to notice a terrible smell and gasped at the thick black smoke rising from the charred small gingerbread men. The fire alarm began to blare and out from the small castle, the Princess ran, weeping softly as she thought, "The curse has befallen me!".

Although the small castle and the big oven were destroyed by the fire, the Princess, having an excellent home insurance policy, received enough funds to purchase another small castle with a small oven in a much nicer neighbourhood. There, she slowly realized that indeed, the fire had not been the terrible curse which she had feared. On the contrary, her obedience to the strict rules of the big oven gave her what she ultimately wanted, the freedom and happiness to bake whatever she wished, at whatever temperature, for however long in her small but shiny new oven. And so, the Princess lived happily ever after baking pies, croissants, macarons and every sweet treat imaginable. The End.

Good or bad?

My absence is reflective of my recent bout of the blahs, an uninspired gray cloud which has hovered over me, resulting in stagnation. Usually at this time of year, I am already deep in my personal Christmas production and worrying about how to package bon bons and such. This year, however, I have been dragging my feet and making excuses, reluctant to even acknowledge that Christmas is just 9 days away.

But hopefully, the page has turned. Receiving a lovely gift of J. P. Hevin macarons, direct from Hong Kong, has rekindled some spirit. Admittedly, the time and distance travelled took some toll on their delicate dispositions. Yet, their mere presence was uplifting to my morale which has been weighed down by the mundanity and irritations of my current station in life.

The irony is that I went to Costco on the day after receiving these lovely macarons and discovered boxes of frozen Parisian macarons for sale. They were nestled beside the frozen petits-fours and hors d'oeuvres. I was so tempted to spend the $4.97 to purchase and try the 32 macarons (vanilla, coffee, and pistachio) out of sheer curiosity but refrained. Thus I have absolutely no opinion about their quality.


Honestly, my first reaction was born from shades of food snobbery that I try to avoid. But after more thought, I realized that Costco was smart to provide relatively inaccessible but desirable high-end items to the average consumer. This has prompted me to get my Christmas act together and erase any dreary thoughts dancing in my head. If Costco can provide macarons, then I am obligated to produce something 100x better. I am lucky to know how to make a decent macaron and it is a privilege to make delicious things that people enjoy, whether they know the difference between a baked good and a baked bad.

Diversion: San Francisco

Over Labour Day weekend, Eric and I escaped to San Francisco for some relaxation, culinary exploration, and time with good friends who reside in the Bay Area. It was an opportunity to revisit the city which, inadvertently, has become woven into the misguided journey I took towards pediatric ophthalmology.

I was lucky in the past to spend two summers in the San Francisco Bay Area, first in 1996, and then in 2001. After receiving a grant from the American Pediatric Society, I spent six weeks, during the summer between 1st and 2nd year medical school, doing childhood lymphoma research at San Francisco General Hospital with an inspiring clinician scientist. Honestly, I think it was the best summer of my life, being independent for the first time in a dynamic city while being mentored by the first of many physicians whose passion for medicine seemed so limitless and contagious.

By the summer of 2001, two years of ophthalmology residency had passed and despite encounters with three ophthalmologists who were very influential in my professional life, I was struggling to emulate the passion for ophthalmology which they possessed and shared freely. In my naivety, my desire to have their passion became confused with my desire to pursue ophthalmology, leaving me intensely conflicted as I progressed through residency, unable to find any path which felt right. After spending the summer at an ophthalmology course in Stanford, the slow realization that I may never find that passion in ophthalmology culminated in my final excruciating decision to leave my pediatric ophthalmology fellowship in 2005.

And so, this visit to San Francisco was a strange intersection of my former medical aspirations and my new existence, especially because my ten year medical school reunion also happened to be scheduled for Labour Day weekend in Vancouver. Since I had neither an ophthalmology practice nor child to brag about, going to San Francisco was definitely the better choice.


In between window shopping and a day trip to Napa with friends, we had three favourite meals. The Slanted Door in the Ferry Building provided excellent service, a fabulous view, and a well-balanced modern Vietnamese lunch (try the grapefruit and jicama salad as well as the cellophane noodles with crab). Perbacco, an Italian ristorante recommended by a former San Franciscan (thanks Thahn!), was a highlight not only because of our dinner company, but also because of the divinely tender seared squid on arugula and the hearty handcut tagliatelle with pork sugo which I devoured.

Most memorably, we made the pilgrimage to Chez Panisse and ate upstairs rather than downstairs (I like having choice). This historical birthplace of California cuisine and the organic locavore movement was cozy and straight from the 1970's but the food was refined and current. The duck breast with fig relish on rocket was so intense and delicious. Then, the wild nettle pudding soufflé with corn, zucchini, and chanterelle mushrooms was so uncomplicated and pure in flavour. I could eat there every day.

I will always love San Francisco for many reasons, the diversity, the hippie spirit, even the odd weather. But mainly, I will always love San Francisco because it was where I was filled with so much promise and desire to find passion and direction in my career despite not truly knowing what I was meant to be passionate about. Perhaps I am still on my way to finding out and this visit is merely another breath of inspiration.

Project Puff

Spring has sprung here in Vancouver, evidenced by cherry-blossom lined streets and the accompanying pollen. I even dared to get my winter coat dry-cleaned and stored this week, although my boots are still on stand-by. These transitional seasons can often be disorienting to me, a person who admittedly does not deal well with change. I am a creature of habit who prefers repetition and routine with an occasional dose of interesting.

My interesting experience over the past two weeks was playing around with pâte feuilletée (puff pastry). It has been probably over two years since I have bothered to make puff pastry at home by hand (at work with a sheeter does not count). And since the weather is still cool, I decided to make inverted puff pastry (where the butter layer starts on the outside instead). Four folds later (single, double, single, double), I had more puff dough than Eric and I should ever consume alone. Luckily, it freezes nicely and was portioned over the last two weeks into five different products to be shared amongst friends.


The tarte tatin and strawberry-lemon cream mille feuille were victims of my over-zealous oven. My puff dough browned too quickly, leaving it underbaked in the centre, as you can witness in the mille feuille's cross-section. Next time, I will also vent the tarte tatin during baking to lessen the residual cooking juices in order to keep the puff crust crispy, not soggy.

After some temperature regulation issues were resolved, my vol-au-vents baked properly but a few decided to slouch over to one side, much like my top-heavy hyacinths currently blooming in the garden. I think I need to practice shaping and assembling these again to redeem myself.

Finally, no puff pastry project is complete without using up leftover scraps to make palmiers and/or cinnamon straws. These crispy little munchies are so easy and make my frugal heart sing. In fact, I might use up my residual unused puff dough to make these tasty morsels instead. Everything tastes better with cinnamon sugar on it, doesn't it?

Snack time

Forget chocolate, forget sugar. Give me the most delicious smoked oysters, straight from beautiful Cortes Island, British Columbia, any time any where. These Oyster Man's gourmet smoked oysters are plump, luscious and smokey, not overly salty nor drenched in oil. After purchasing an entire case directly from the Oyster Man himself last fall, I had to purposely hide them on a very high shelf in the kitchen in order to prevent myself from easy access and immediate consumption. Just taking a snack break on a rainy afternoon between the third and fourth turns of my pâte feuilletée (puff pastry). I have been inspired by these buttery yellow daffodils this week...

Head space

I have been somewhat distracted lately by mundane activities of daily living and nagging thoughts. The creative juices have been running a little sluggish and maybe the endless winter has been wearing on my nerves. I need spring, a Vancouver spring where cherry blossoms and tulips fill the wet green spaces which we inhabit.


When too much clutter starts polluting my brain, I lose sleep and go inwards, even more than my usual introverted self. Why can't I be one of those disgustingly well-adjusted people who run 10 kilometres to clear their heads? My solution is to bake something with lots of butter in it.

Not being a bread lover, if I am to enjoy bread, my preference is for something soft and enriched, not crusty and rustic. Brioche à tête are rich and tender French breads packed full of butter and egg, in a characteristic shape resembling a little person's head and torso baked in a small fluted tin. Clearing my head of internal clutter might need more than these brioches, but it's a start.

On learning

I just realized that this is my 101st post since the inception of my humble little blog in January 2007. It has served to document varying topics from the mundane to the intensely personal, with the new world of pastry viewed through an atypical lens acting as a backdrop to what I try to present through my writing and photography. Much of my blog focusses on my own creative output which has emerged from my home kitchen as a means of forcing myself to grow beyond what I have learned from pastry school or at work.

Before entering pastry school, my personal goal had been to gain enough fundamental knowledge to be able to understand the inner workings of any recipe well enough so that I would be able to modify, adapt, and troubleshoot with confidence and skill. There is nothing I hate more than doing something simply by rote and this is reflected in how I learn and study any subject, be it ophthalmology or pastry. In fact, I possess a surprisingly horrible memory for someone who can claim 14 years of university-based training. Instead, I have always relied on understanding something inside and out before having any hope of owning that knowledge.


Has this goal been fulfilled? Yes, partially. Three years ago I would not have been able to pay homage to Pierre Hermé's Arabesque macaron (Eric's favourite) and successfully play with pistachio paste. I hadn't even heard of Pierre Hermé! Yet, there is so much more to learn and explore and I am not quite sure how and where to find the knowledge I seek. My insatiable appetite for learning has never ceased. I wish there was a pastry equivalent to weekly grand rounds or continuing medical education at a non-existent world-class pastry institution nearby. You would find me in the front row, notebook in hand, with coloured pens ready for action, guaranteed.

It rings true

I was flattered this week to be referred to make a birthday cake by someone who I was lucky enough to work with during my most formative months as a very green pastry cook, during a time when my metamorphosis from medicine to pastry was still raw and disorienting. Undoubtedly, cake requests are always flattering but if the recommendation comes from someone equally or more qualified than me, the compliment is that much sweeter. Thanks Fionna.


This cake would satisfy any chocolate lover and is most elegant in its simplicity. I was asked to combine milk and dark chocolate in glorious mousse form and naturally, with rich chocolate cake. For some crunch, a sprinkle of cocoa nibs intermingled between the layers. My current design motif involves rings; I have recently been surrounding myself with annular patterns, in jewelry, a Pylones thermos, and now in chocolate. Perhaps, I'm tired of corners?

Some leftover mousse and cake allowed me to throw together a few individual portions to enjoy and photograph. Call it quality control or maybe show and tell, since with cake requests, I can never photograph a cake's interior and show it to you folks!

On pause

Please forgive my absence lately as I am currently on pause for several reasons. Primarily, my poor left wrist is recovering from a workplace injury. It seems 10.5 kilograms (23 pounds) of mousse/cake do not belong all on one hand. Ironically, my left wrist was always my good wrist after years of chronic tendonitis predominantly in my right wrist from manic note-taking using a pen death grip unlike no other and knitting (nerd alert!). With the obligatory rest, ice, and ibuprofen, all should recover shortly.


This incident has given me more awareness of the occupational hazards and ergonomic conundrums which inhabit the professional pastry kitchen. Upon entering the industry, I was somewhat naive to the physical realities of working in pastry production, being more enthralled with the creative and technical challenges which I hoped to conquer. Depending on the size of the kitchen and volume of production, the ratio between your physical strength and potential weight of stuff you carry becomes a very important issue. Nowadays, I am equally concerned with protecting my musculoskeletal well-being and luckily, previous knowledge of human anatomy is a great advantage.


As a result, I have not been very active in my home kitchen, taking every possible opportunity to rest my wrist. Without this creative stimulus, there is little to blog about and nothing pretty to photograph. My blog has always served as a medium to document what inspires me in the kitchen rather than a reason to go and create in the kitchen. This is a fine distinction which explains why I can never post more than once a week. It reflects the sweet things I create in my regular daily life, either for personal consumption or for others, because I can never make something just to blog about it.

So meanwhile, you will find me relaxing with my flabby tabby, waiting for wrist recovery and for the creative juices to flow. With Christmas creeping up on me, edible gift production will soon start admist the busy working season. The tree will be up this weekend I hope and with luck, the cat will not eat the poinsettia. Have a wonderful week.

True colours

This has been an introspective week for me. I have a tendency to live in the present which may be healthy for some; however, for me, it often means I am avoiding issues of the past and future. Being honest about situations which are deeply rooted in anger and resentment can be cathartic and healing.


Maybe it is the changing season which has prompted this awareness. More likely, the truth is simply overdue. This truth can be bitter or sour and hard to swallow. With time, attention, and hope, something beautiful may emerge.


I received a generous gift of local quinces from my friend Anya yesterday. Although I have never worked with quince before, I have always been curious about this aromatic golden fruit, hearing stories about its mellow transformation from acidic and astringent to pink and delicious when cooked. Following this recipe, five pounds of quince became a sweet fragrant purée, half of which will be saved for a rainy day and the other half cooked down to make quince paste (a.k.a. membrillo).

A reason to celebrate

Although I have received several inquiries in recent years for wedding cakes, this three-tiered classically elegant cake for my friend Patricia is the first request that I have accepted. The vanilla cake with lemon curd and lemon buttercream barely fit into my refrigerator and relegated my usual array of fruits, veggies, and meat (a.k.a. breakfast, lunch, and dinner) to a second-class position. Now I know with certainty that the largest cake I can currently make at home is for 100 servings.


Making the cake was the easy part even though the more simple the design, the more flawless it must be. What followed gave me chest pain. As some of you may know, I am a 100 pound weakling who has gained some muscle mass since entering professional pastry; however, cake for 100 people is heavy, its filling is heavy and the rolled fondant making it all pretty is heavy. The delivery and final assembly gave me and my normally imperturbable husband more stress than anticipated.


Moreover, to witness the cake's destruction as it laid slaughtered on the dessert buffet table caused a brief apneic spell, which eventually passed upon learning that people enjoyed the cake's lemony goodness. Nonetheless, I am proud of the final result and honoured to be even a small part of Patricia and Chris' wedding celebration.


The best part of the evening was seeing all my medical school friends together. Although I do not miss the clinical demands of medicine, I certainly miss the comradery of medical school, the result of shared stressors combined with shared successes. Despite my mixed feelings about the original path I took in life, the experience is irreplaceable simply because of the wonderful people which I met along the way. Congratulations Patricia and Chris!

Natural selection

My friend Julie, whom I have known for 30 years, and I recently reflected on how friendships evolve and change over the years, even decades. Some grow closer, some farther, and a lucky few are circular. Various tangible or intangible circumstances in life push and pull friendships in different directions, usually in gentle imperceptible ways. If you are blessed, the foundation on which an original friendship was built is strong enough to withstand any internal or external assault; however, the mere history of a friendship is not enough to sustain one in the present or future.


Speaking of friends, I am lucky to have my good friend Erik (with a "k") return home to Vancouver after almost ten years in Edmonton. Did I just say ten years? After medical school, we both were matched to University of Alberta residency programs in 1999 but I only survived five long cold Edmonton winters. He must be much tougher than I am.


This simple dark chocolate hazelnut tart was a small house-warming gift for Erik and his family to enjoy. A pâte sucrée crust was baked with a thin layer of hazelnut cream before pouring a dark chocolate hazelnut ganache over top. I do love the initial smooth mirror-like appearance of a still warm and fluid dark chocolate ganache, which eventually dulls slightly as it sets. Welcome home!

Labouring

September is here and for me, this ninth month always marks a time of potential and promise. Part of me always wants to go back to school in September, especially now because I crave some form of academic challenge. After two years of focus on professional pastry, I am feeling a bit brain dead without any opportunity to learn, analyze, and formulate new ideas in a setting where my peers have a common academic goal. Pastry kitchens are where your sweat and hands are valued more than your brain and although organization and efficiency are necessary to succeed, very often the unfortunate measure of a good pastry cook is how much overtime you will do or how many aches and pains you will endure.


Luckily, my creative pursuits at home allow a counter-balance to this academic void. For example, this baby shower cake in the form of a lion's face was a chance to translate a two-dimensional image into three-dimensional edible form. Given a wall paper sample to work from, the lion was chosen as the main subject. Inside, a traditional carrot cake with cream cheese filling was requested.


I used some creative license with the mane and snout and was worried that the lion was starting to look like a sunflower at one point; however, he turned out quite well. In retrospect, I would have built up the center of the cake so that the lion would have less of a LeFort 3 fracture flat mid-face appearance, but hindsight is 20/15, isn't it?