As suspected, I am completely taken with this new season of Masterchef. Although I have learned to stay away from twitter at these times as it is too much for me to read. every. single. thought. of. every. single. moment. You know? AND I also think that so far there has been waaaaay too much crying over dead grandmas etc. And perhaps too many lawyers in contention. But….despite all this I am still watching and loving it.
On the weekend when we were up at the farm I thought that I would attempt the pavlova. I attempted my first ever during the Christmas break which was a DISASTER. It looked like a pancake/flan. I named it a paflan in fact. So I thought I would try and come over all Donna Hay like and rectify my previous failure.
So. I got online, read the recipe and followed it drop for drop, ml for ml (which I NEVER do with my cooking). I resisted the temptation to open the oven (just for a sec, just to have teeny, tiny look, just one) and the result?
A TRIUMPH! Look how proud I am of myself walking to table!
Rob stood in the kitchen throughout George Calombaris style yelling at me “C’mon Beth! Show me what you’re made of! THESE are the last moments that really count” and stuff like that. And when I presented at the table I told the story of my dead Grandmother, both of them in fact, just for effect.
I think you will find that pavlova wasn’t the only winner here, I was. I was.