I'm feeling undeniably sad today. Today was the last proper practical of the term and I doomed out miserably by failing to attend the demonstration. Of all the things it was down to me mis-reading the timetable and subsequently sitting at home oblivious to the fact that important things were happening. It absolutely grates when I think of the little nuggets of baking know-how that have passed me by, and for no good reason but pure folly (rendering the hair apart at this point). The final blow is that I don't get any marks for this practical, which really does trample on my hopes of passing with a merit; I am clawing and scraping at the marks as is. Actually, considering the momentus mess I just made while playing with chocolate (like the coffee syrup for the opera, except with chocolate this time), I will be fortunate to pass at all.
To deepen the misery, our demonstration at LCB today was basically a taster session of the sugarwork to be done next term, which I won't be attending. My stint at LCB was initially intended only to be for basic pastry, to be able to do intermediate is quite a blessing. Yet, I can feel the green goblins of envy gnawing away at me as I take my leave. Look at the chef; look what most everybody in the room shall learn to do, but me. I shall be left behind.
The chef was kind enough to leave some of his pulled sugar out for us to handle. In the meagre ten minutes before he had to bundle us away in preparation for the next class I scrambled to the front and managed to make part of a flower (above), at the same time roasting my thumbs and index fingers a vibrant pink. I was slow, fumbly and too acutely aware of the heat to be able to stretch out paper thin edged petals as did the chef, and so have to be content with a distinctly chunky flower. Thus occurred my first and probably last encounter with sugarwork. No more, it ends soon T_T