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.”
2 words: baked alaska 🙂
(huh huh… i said ‘baked’….)
Aw, yeah.