Fire! Fire!

Something about using a blowtorch brings out my inner Beavis.  As my line of work tends to require the use of fire on a daily basis, this can be good and bad.  The bad part?  Being a responsible adult, I have to be very careful about where the flame is pointing at all times, which removes a smidgen of the fun of wielding fire in a professional capacity.  The upside?  All the brûléeing, unmolding, and relighting the pilot light gives the closet pyromaniac in me ample opportunities to play with fire.  The other day I was charged with burning the tops of two enormous (we’re talking almost full-sheet pan sized) crème brûlées.  Each one needed two layers of sugar, so the whole process took almost 40 minutes.  As I stood there, watching the individual sugar crystals melt and then darken to a deep amber caramel under the flame, I thought, “There are much worse ways to earn a living.”

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