Sunday, 13 October 2013

My sweet profiterole

I got the Arctic Monkeys' new album for my birthday and straight away listened to it in the car while reading the little booklet admiring the poetic lyrics. However, I had one issue... in the song 'I want it all' there is a line that says 'my sweet rigmarole' and all I could think was 'my sweet profiterole'. Ever since I have had Alex Turner's voice singing about profiteroles stuck in my head. 

Little profiteroles have been rolling all over the surface of my brain, until it became itself one giant sticky profiterole. So I made myself a sweet little profiterole...

I've never made them before but after watching Great British Bake Off I've started being more ambitious in my baking, practicing for the day I win the Bake Off. 

Best of all, they were dead cheap...

cute little measuring cups, another birthday present
 For the choux pastry all you need is plain flour...

 Butter...
 and water!

Simply heat the water, then melt the butter into the simmering water. Take off the heat and stir in the flour and gradually add one whisked egg.

Voila! Little pastry poos:


Then bang in the oven and watch your little babies grow up in real life profiteroles... I'm so proud of them.


Whip up some double cream then inject your little golden balls until the cream starts bursting out. Try not to hurt them though!

Next, mix up some icing sugar, cocoa powder and water into a silky, shiny chocolate sauce then put a little dollop on each one like a little chocolatey beret.


 C'est fini! Your sweet, little profiteroles are ready to graduate and enter the big wide world.

Or in my case, my big, fat mouth.
Yum.

Baking is always a surefire way to cheer me up. It's simple: you put the ingredients in, follow the instructions and you get something tasty out. Although I can get a bit emotional about the outcome if it's not perfect...

A lot of organisations believe that baking is a really great way of relieving depression, to find out more the BBC did an article on it recently here.

These were a definite success and I made sure my brother took loads home with him so that I couldn't eat them (getting fat is not good for depression)! 

Crispy, puffed up pastry, oozing with thick, fresh cream, all dressed with the sweet, chocolate sauce:
My sweet profiterole, indeed.

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