I'll warn you right from the start: I'm about to post a recipe. Which means, sorry readers, that before it you'll have to put up with a little gloom. I'll be quick, promised: I just got to get this off my chest before going to bed - to write my end-of-term scriptwriting project, of course, who ever mentioned sleep? - and I'll be fine.
I'm just, once again, disappointed by how my brain works. You know, when a child spends hours on a drawing, and then hands it to you as if it was the most beautiful and meaningful thing in the world - and you cannot even fake a smile, as all you see is a disorderly maze of nonsensical lines? Well, tonight I feel as if I was the child. And no, taking a breath and repeating myself you're fuckin' 23 and a master student, you should have quit feeling like this when you left middle school isn't of any help.
My adulthood (please forgive me for using such a word) equivalent of the drawing is the presentation I gave tonight for my business class: such a ridiculous thing that no one will ever convince me to speak in public again - not even if any unforeseen event leads me to fame, in that case I'll just pay a stunt and that's it.
No point in talking about it, anyway, I just want to put down in words this recurring thought I have about how my brain works. About how annoying it is, actually, to be so perfectionist not to tolerate that anything that comes from me is less than flawless, and to be so presumptuous not to accept that what presents itself to my mind like a brilliant idea might prove to be irrealistic, or worse, weak, or worse, silly.
It's not that I lack ideas: I just have too many, and they're all too good to be true. You, the normal people who are used to seeing the big picture rather than getitng attached to unimportant details and inconsistent hopes, you can spot unlikelihood since the beginning; I can't. Maybe it's true, like my father says, that I'm an idealist. Or maybe I'm an utopist, not sure whether that's actually different.
Screw it, just give me sun, a fresh drink and a slice of cake and I'll be the happiest person ever.
Oh, shit, it's as cold as in February. And I should take a healthy break from sugar; do you mind enjoying some for me?
This is the first cake I made that was both pretty and tasty at the same time, so it means quite much to me.
So much that I put it on my Powerpoint's first page, as the logo of my crappy made-up cooking school, perhaps hoping for a good omen. Well, what is it that they say? Better luck next time? Sure. Now eat.
Strawberry orange-flavoured semifreddo:
Crust:Melt 1 egg yolk and 30g brown sugar in a double saucepan, whipping until they become very soft.
Remove from hob and continue the whipping, until the melt has cooled down. Add 30g flour, 1 tablespoon olive oil and some lemon juice.
Roll the batter in a mould; pre-heat the oven to 190°, then bake for 15-20 minutes, remove from mould and set aside to cool down.
Finally, put the crust back in the mould, which in the meantime you will have lined with cling film. If you want you can put some strawberries on the bottom as a sort of filling for the cake.
Cream:
Leave 8g gelatine leaves soaking in cold water for 10 minutes.While you wait, mix 250g ricotta cheese with 125g low-fat natural yogurt, 50g honey and 1 tablespoon orange zest, until you have a soft batter.
Warm up the juice of one orange in a saucepan, then melt the squeezed gelatin into it and add to the batter. Finally, add 2 beaten egg whites as well.
Pour the batter on the crust and put the cake into the fridge, where you will leave it for at least 6 hours. When ready, take out of the mould and decorate with strawberries.
(On air: Imogen Heap - Hide and seek.)
