It's chocolate time again in the Pastry II kitchen, and while some of us cheered its return, others expressed their anticipation to me with one big "ugh." It seems chocolate, or at least working with it, is a Love It or Hate It endeavor.

I'm happy to say, though, that both the Lovers and the Haters in the classroom are getting better at tempering each day. We've learned what to do when we see swirls: No, not get flustered, but rather agitate that chocolate more, more, more. We've been leaving our thermometers wrapped up in the drawer; now we can see and feel our way through proper tempering. And we've even shown improvement at filling those cute little bonbon molds, achieving fewer air bubbles and thinner shells with every batch.

We're getting good at the candy fillings, too. Homemade peppermint patties! Cherry cordials! Peanut butter nougat! Ganaches galore! And what about those creamy butter caramels? Chef Jürgen was ecstatic yesterday when we made them: He said we were the first class he's had during his 10 years at the school in which every team made a successful batch upon first attempt.

We gave ourselves a round of applause. Hearing that felt great… but our stomachs didn't. We were so psyched about our success, and the candies tasted so good, that we sampled just a few too many.

As the master made magic with filo dough, strawberries, and brioche, we snapped photos, scribbled notes, and pummeled him with questions. What valuable advice he had! We strained our necks to see every one of his moves, savored the sweet smells coming from his pots and pans, and indulged in several tastings of the treats he had made.

But mostly we sat there in awe, mouths agape and eyes wide open in admiration, especially when Chef Torres began the chocolate part of the show. In what seemed like five minutes, Chef not only tempered two whole batches, but he also sculpted his signature chocolate Stove; anyone who follows Jacques Torres knows that's one of his most celebrated Le Cirque-era creations.

"That would have taken us all day to make," we joked—but, alas, we weren't really kidding. Fortunately, there's no time this week for lamenting about our shortcomings. Our two-day chocolate showpiece project begins on Monday, and we have masterpieces of our own to plan.

It's been a long time since I've used the words "Garbage Pail Kids" and "Super Soaker" in conversation—how often do we really get to talk about toys? But this week was full of toy name-dropping and childhood reminiscing. Such was the theme of our chocolate showpiece assignment, and recalling our favorite playthings made for an insane amount of fun. Too much fun, perhaps. We were downright loopy most of the week. Wouldn't you, too, be giddy at the thought of carving a chocolate He-Man or Rainbow Bright?

At that we decided to take full advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, indulging our inner imaginations and inner children to the fullest extent. "When else in life will I ever be able to make a chocolate Skip-It attached to a chocolate leg?" said my friend Beth quite aptly.

So while Beth spent the past two days molding chocolate sandals and striped leggings, my other classmates shaped Troll heads, Superman capes, and Matchbox cars. I plugged away at an ant farm, and my partner, Dana, made an adorable tea set. Across the room I saw a toy giraffe in the works, a Care Bear coming together, and not one—but two!—chocolate Strawberry Shortcake dolls.

We did, though, face constant reminders throughout these past two days that crafting chocolate showpiece toys isn't all fun and games. The tempering demons did make several appearances, the clock ticked faster than ever, and weight restrictions caused much frustration. None of them thwarted our success, though. By the end of the day, our classroom looked like one awesome playroom. And as we cleaned up and admired our choco-toys, we mused over another favorite childhood delight:

Naptime.

Granted, getting to the "tasting" part of class didn't come easy. We hustled and bustled our way through the day, baking cakes and shaping tuiles (hot oven), tempering chocolate for plate decorations (hot water bath), stirring sauces (hot stove), and whipping cream for our frozen mousses (workout session)—we did work up quite a sweat.

For some of my classmates, the workload was even more: Instead of each of us plating on our own, Chef chose a few groups to plate for the entire class! It was an exercise in repetition and a lesson on the importance of consistency. Can you swirl the sauce and angle the cookie exactly the same way on the plate 12 times in a row? And can you do it quickly?

My classmates did wonderfully; I anticipate I'll be called upon later this week, and can only hope for the same. But until then, I'll just sit back, relax, and wait for them to plate me up a cold, creamy treat—one that looks exactly the same as everyone else's, of course.

The school even hired a waiter, set up a nice long table in the theater, and printed out menus of the dessert choices. This was for real! We had to time the scooping of our sorbets and ice creams so they didn't melt before they reached our customers, prep some things à la minute, take greater care than ever when plating up, and cross our fingers that our creations would be enjoyed. We weren't just feeding ourselves anymore!

The first orders for the chilled fruit soup appetizers started flying in at 2:00, and that's when time began to fly by. Before I knew it, the last plate was on its way out to the table, and it was time to clean up.

But I wasn't ready to stop. Plating for customers was so exhilarating that I wanted more! What a rush to hear my and my partner's dessert on the "Order In" list. We didn't have to hope that our cherry-almond galette with toasted almond ice cream would be the top choice of some of our guests—it really was! We actually created a crave-able dish!

After our successful Afternoon of Desserts and several more beautiful plated dishes, we students thought we were getting good. This pastry stuff—easy as pie!

Oh, were we wrong. When Chef Jürgen stood up front with a big covered bowl and announced that it was Mystery Basket Day, our self-assurance plummeted. "Make a dessert with these ingredients and plate up two servings by 2:00."

The class went silent—and stayed silent—and sat there in silence some more. Was he joking? We looked at each other in disbelief, hoping he'd give a "Just Kidding" sign. But instead he gave us each three lemons, 100 grams of blanched almonds, and an hour-and-a-half to pull this stunt off. We ate lunch in silence (no surprise there) staring at blank pieces of notebook paper and then scrambling for recipes. When lunch ended, we took to the stoves, ovens, and mixers in an attempt to put something tasty—and almondy, and lemony—together.

I didn't think I could do it. My mind had gone to mush and my coolness out the window. I don't even think I realized what I was making—it felt like I just throwing ingredients into a pan. I must've been doing something right, though, because at 2:00 I had two plates in front of me to present to Chef. At that I exhaled, probably for the first time all afternoon.

My almond biscuit and lemon ganache layer cake (with toasted, caramelized almonds for some crunch) may not have been the best dessert this classroom has ever seen, but it was pretty darn good. And I am pretty darn confident again.