The Fragility of the Ego and Choux Pastry

Once upon a time I tried to make cream puffs, but ended up with…

Burnt, eggy tasting, and most unevenly puffed, I tossed the whole batch and avoided making them again fearing that I may never get the hang of it.

Usually when faced with a challenge that I imagine I’m going to fail at (either because I’ve tried already and failed or I’m just a ninny) I’ll put it off for about as long as possible. I’m sure I’m not the only one out there who does this, but over the past five or so years I’ve realized that I’ve made sort of a habit out of it. It’s not just simple procrastination, although laziness is an anchor constantly trying to drag me under while waves of anxiety wash over me. I think it’s more of an inferiority complex masquerading as a superiority complex or something.

I mean, I’ll do something (a project, a job, anything) that I’m really pleased with and that seems to please someone else, and then I’ll think to myself – what if I can’t do this again? What if I can’t work up to this level all of the time? Worse yet, what if it was just a fluke and now these people think I’m actually good at this but I’m really not. And I reel. I’ll put it off again, sacrificing the good opinions of those around me and fulfilling my worst assumptions that I’ll chalk up to not really being capable in the first place.

About two months after the Choux burning debacle, with at least two more supervised attempts at making these deceptively simple pastries successfully produced, I told a friend I’d make him a batch…to serve to other people no less. 50 other people actually.

Why is it that it’s so easy to believe in our faults with little to no objection, but our merits and achievements are often hard to swallow? I’m not talking modesty and humility here – but serious flaws in self confidence.

Luckily, what I lack in confidence and actual skill I make up for in fortitude (at least when it comes to those things I’m truly passionate about). Saturday night I mixed up my frist batch of Pate au Choux, piped about 24 cream puffs out onto two baking sheets, and slid them into the 425 degree oven. I flipped the oven light on, sat down in front of it and waited…

…for fourty minutes, with my eyes glued to the glass like it was the last episode of LOST or something. It was life or death. Rising or collapsing all hung in the balance of those fragile puffs starting to brown in my oven. Would I be Jenny the Pastry Mistress Extraordinaire or that girl who pretends to know what she’s doing in the kitchen but will have to buy some puffs at the grocery store at 8am as not to disappoint her friends?

And out they came…

As they cooled they didn’t collapse, but got slightly crunchier, just how they were supposed to be. And the next batch came out light golden brown with well developed air pockets and crunchy exteriors as well. And the third batch too!

So I whipped up a batch of chocolate mousse, filling part of the puffs with such a decadent treat and drizzling tempered chocolate over them. Then a bowl of traditional pastry cream was cooked and cooled, and filled the second batch of puffs. By the time the third batch of puffs were baked I couldn’t help but get a little playful and try out the cream puff swan:

Luckily, heavy cream is a staple in my refrigerator these days, and after filling the swans with pastry cream they were topped with whipped cream and sprinkled with confectioner’s sugar. Sure, I fancy them more like squatting ostriches, but they came out just the way I had intended.

I’ve kept a mental checklist of those things that I have been or am still too afraid to really tackle. Personally anyway (if not professionally as well) I think I’ve moved cream puffs from the “What if I can’t really do this” column and squarely into the “I’ve got this” column. And I didn’t come home with any leftovers to make me think otherwise.