1. Today we had a guest chef in the classroom: Elisa Strauss, owner of Confetti Cakes here in NYC…cake sculpting superstar…frequent Food Network guest…inspiring artist. After hearing of Chef Elisa's masterpieces for quite some time, I thrilled at the chance of learning from her. It was all I hoped for, and more—and made a beginner like me dream of one day mastering my chosen pastry field like she has hers.
    
2. I made fondant! From scratch! With my hands! And it worked! And when I rolled it out and laid it on top of my delicious chocolate roulade (with pistachio cream….divine, just divine), then wrapped the cute little package in a fluffy fondant bow, I had a cake that looked downright pretty. Now that's worth celebrating.
    
3. I'm getting a nephew! My husband's brother Brandon, and his wife, Juliana, have a boy on the way. And Brandon's timely visit tonight meant my first fondant-covered cake, fluffy bow and all, would be just right for the celebration of their good news. (See pic!) We each enjoyed a slice, and I sent Brandon home with a souvenir for Juliana: the bow and "It's a boy!" plaque that I'd added to the side of the cake. I can't wait 'til Baby Boy X is actually born. And, hey, just imagine the cake I'll be able to make by then.

Oh, the joys of today. Life sure is sweet.

Anyway, I'll get over my sense of shock to share the excitement of midterm day. The written exam this morning was just as we'd expected, though I'll admit it was more difficult to recall all the temperatures, French words, recipe ingredients, blah, blah, blah than I'd expected.

We quickly moved on, though, to the excitement du jour. Our practical exam was to create any special occasion cake that we desired—more creativity was about to be unleashed!

It felt like playtime all day. Though this was a test, we were all having a blast, rolling marzipan strawberries for a springtime cake (Annie)…crafting "jewels" for pirate treasure chests (Bethany and Israel)…adorning cut-out carousel horses with pastel-colored saddles and harnesses (Patrice)…or piping a cute little monkey for a peanut butter and banana flavored cake (Dana), a delicate baby carriage (Sue), or the Eiffel Tower (Holly)—the variety in our creations was amazing. As for me, I chose to make a Halloween cake (a ginger American milk sponge layered with pumpkin crème mousseline), adorned with a piped spider web and marzipan spider.

Before I knew it, the clock struck 2:30 and class was officially over. I walked up to the locker room overcome by emotions: Proud (my cake turned out pretty well), saddened (over our last day in the Pastry I classroom), excited (but looking forward to our first day in Pastry II), inspired (my fellow students are amazing artists), hyper (another sugar high—tasting everyone's fillings was a blast!) and, well, tired.

Tomorrow we'll be in the hands of Chef Jürgen, and our hands will be in lots of chocolate—it's tempering time! This is the part of the program I've been looking forward to most; I can't wait.

On that note, and being that today is a landmark day in my program, I'm going to dish out some advice to you future pastry students: No matter what you're most looking forward to, savor every minute of your time at school, even the parts you like least. Because…"it's going to fly by like *snap*."

After settling into our new kitchen (Pastry 2), officially meeting our new chef (Chef Jürgen), and getting excited about our upcoming units (sugar sculpting, plating desserts, wedding cakes, and more), it was time for the lesson I've awaited most: It was time to temper chocolate. After discussing chocolate's fascinating history, tasting 19 varieties, and going over the science of it all, my first Willy Wonka moment had finally come, without, of course, the Oompaloompas and, unfortunately, Johnny Depp.

By the end of our first tempering day and after several attempted batches, tempered my chocolate was not. Nor were the batches of most—if not all—of my classmates. No tears, though: If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

Day Two of tempering is now over, and you'll be happy to hear that this Wonka girl showed remarkable improvement: I properly tempered three—three!—batches, one white, one milk, one dark. (I will give credit where credit's due: Chef Jürgen and Chef Jae did offer some hands-on assistance.) Even more exciting than my beautifully tempered chocolate sheets, though, is that I think I'm starting to "get it." I was even able to disattach my hand from my beloved thermometer now and again to start to temper with my senses…imagine the excitement!

Could this have just been a lucky day? Possibly. But I'm encouraged, not frustrated, with tempering, and am so looking forward to trying it again—Monday can't come fast enough! But first, there's laundry to do (There's always laundry to do when you're a pastry student. Always.) and reading to be done. But then, it's back to the chocolate factory (aka The FCI) where we'll be making chocolate boxes and truffles galore. Woo hoo!

That was definitely the case yesterday and today, when we worked on our most difficult assignment yet: To design and construct a chocolate candy stand, measuring about eight to 12 inches high and topped by a chocolate bowl that would (hopefully) hold a dozen or so of the tasty candies we made earlier this week. Creativity unleashed, baking supply stores raided, we came into class yesterday excited to create what would probably be our most impressive handiwork so far. Naturally, we were anxious, too. Would our ideas play out well? Would our creations stand on their own, or instead topple over and shatter into chocolate catastrophes?

After two days' work, I'm thrilled to say that 22 wonderfully unique, whimsical, elegant, and (most importantly) well-tempered chocolate candy stands adorn our kitchen—but the road there was anything but smooth.

These two days were a test in resolve, patience, and confidence. At one point or another, we all felt deflated, ready to throw in the tempering towel once and for all. There were no tears that I know of, but I'm sure their emergence threatened once or twice. Though things worked out well for some of my classmates, others finished Day One of the project without having a single properly tempered batch. How to maintain your confidence then? And remain enthusiastic and optimistic that things would improve on Day Two? It was spiritually exhausting.

But that's not how I'll remember this project many years from now: I'll remember how rewarding it felt to tackle the tempering beast, despite the incredible fight it gave. And, of course, I'll remember my darling first candy stand: an awesome chocolate monster. Don't worry, it won't bite!

Plated desserts have made their way into the classroom, and we couldn't be more thrilled. After the challenge of tempering chocolate, we looked forward to having a breather.

Boy, were we wrong. I think Chef Jürgen twisted the knob labeled "Pace of the Kitchen" even further to the right. Things are getting faster!

Faster, yes, but fun, too. It's time to build on what we've learned. We've already done fruit tarts, many times and in many ways—but the homemade ice cream to make them a la mode? This frozen stuff is new to us. Cookies and tuiles? Been there, done that. But the baked custards they go with are new to our repertoire. And we've already learned ganache and crème pâtisserie—we're pros at those by now! But the crépes that they fill up? New, new, new.

It's a schizophrenic time in the kitchen now, trying to recall how to make the perfect puff pastry and simultaneously trying to absorb such new information as sorbet versus sherbet. Plus, each day we all receive individual assignments. Some of us spend the morning stirring cherry compote over the stove, while others pipe meringues. One group may be chilling at the ice cream machine, waiting for just the right consistency to be reached, while another team's sweating at the oven, shaping tuiles into cigarettes as soon as they emerge.

It's a challenge to focus on your specific task while simultaneously staying aware of—and learning from—what your fellow students have happening in their pots and pans. I imagine this is what your typical restaurant kitchen is like—oh, the energy level!

At times it seems we're all headed off in our own individual directions—never to return!—but then Chef Jürgen utters that word that brings us all back together: "Demo!" We each bring our assigned elements to the table, cookies cooled, ice cream chilled, sauces funneled into small squirt bottles. And then we watch as he unites each of our creations onto a single plate and shows us the fashion of plating desserts.

When it's our turn to reproduce his artistry, we each don our plastic sanitary gloves and grab a shiny platter. Did he center his tart on the plate, or was it sitting slightly to the right? Which direction did his quenelle of sorbet face? Were there three sauce dots or five? And was the whole plate dusted with powdered sugar, or just the tasty crépes? We all run up to his station to double and triple check—no one wants to have to re-plate!

After much ado, and a little panic, I find a row of fancy-looking desserts lined up in front of me, ready for approval. It feels great—and when Chef Jürgen gives the "ok" I'm happy to find I can finally breathe.