You guys. I’ve been wanting to make these croissants for months. Years. Lifetimes.
Or maybe since I had my first almond croissant at the Dupont Circle farmers’ market last spring.
But seriously. To die for.
I even bought a KitchenAid mixer. Primarily, to make croissants because frankly, I do not have the upper body strength to do all of that mixing. I’d be impressed if you did. I could have used you in the kitchen, that is, before I got my newest technological baby.
It’s been one hell of a day. I woke up early to work on my garden — more specifically, to check out the hose that a friend hooked up for us to our washing machine (these old East Coast houses do not come equipped with garden hose faucets). So this morning, I turned the water on, only to be sprayed in the FACE by cold water. To add to the frustration of being drenched, surprised, and disappointed that I even got out of bed, the water would not stop. It kept getting worse. My laundry room was going to flood, and no one in my house was awake — was I the idiot performing this ungodly task at 9 AM on a Saturday morning? What was I thinking?
I ended up shutting the entire water system off, removing the “Y” hook up, and Googling what to do. Apparently, I need plumbers’ tape. Dad, if you’re reading this, expect a phone call from me sometime soon.
Anyway, I had an entire post written up for you, delving into my compost and gardening adventures. But I’ll save that — I’ll have to master my plumbing skills, first. I almost couldn’t even do this, because my little black Macbook decided to give me a heart attack, immediately after the plumbing incident. I think it’s dying. It’s been a good four-year run, and even though there is something wearing it down from the inside, I’m willing to never unplug it from the wall just to lengthen its life.
I’m just happy it decided to eventually turn on. It’s going to be a struggle letting go of the laptop that’s hosted the entire Sweetsonian experience. But in the meantime, check out my beautiful Croissants aux Amandes. And please, do not ask me how to say it in French — I never say French words out loud, and even then, I’m terribly embarrassed about butchering the language in my head.
I also won’t publish this recipe. Because it’s not mine, and I butchered that too. So I’ll get back to you. Perhaps, when I open a bakery.