I can't believe we are at this point in the program. All along in my mind, I held this lesson on a tall pedestal; for me, it has always been something enormous, something extreme, something that differentiates the professional pastry player from the true amateur. And now here I am doing it myself.

I am pulling and blowing sugar. Unbelievable!

I am learning the rules of safety. (Seriously, this stuff is 160˚C/320˚F. There's no fooling around here!) I am learning more about crystallization and how to avoid it. And I am learning how to achieve beautiful satiny colors, wispy-thin feathers and flower petals, and strong support pieces that make building sky-high sugar sculptures possible.

However... I am also blistering my poor little fingers; sweating buckets while sitting under the heat lamps that are necessary for keeping the sugar pliable; cracking some pieces and crystallizing others; and spending more time scrubbing sugar-caked pots, stoves, and countertops than I ever imagined. No worries, though: I am sugar sculpting!

So let me present the class's first sugar sculptures: a collection of handsome owls. While you admire him, I'll be signing off so I can go raid my medicine cabinet for bandages and burn gel. Though working with sugar is a hoot (... sorry, I couldn't help myself), it is also hot, hot, hot!

Who knew there were so many ways to sculpt sugar? There's poured sugar, pulled sugar, blown sugar, rock sugar, straw sugar, bubble sugar, and probably so much more.

These past two days we got to experiment with them all, teaming up to build two stunning showpieces: first, a non-functional centerpiece for the computer company Acme, Inc.'s celebration party, and today we worked on pieces that had to hold two six-inch cakes.

We played with techniques, pooled our creativities, and prioritized cooperation. We also got a little silly—how can you not when you're surrounded by so much sugar? And at the end of each day, five teams walked up to the front of the room with stunning sugar showpieces.

... and probably a few more finger blisters.

The sugar-sculpting heat lamps are packed away and the clean white plates are out of the cabinet again. It's our last plated dessert section, and there's so much to be excited about. We're learning soufflés... molten center cakes... bombolini and beignets. (Which, by the way, I am completely thrilled about. When I was living in New Orleans, going out with friends for beignets—a Big Easy specialty—was one of my favorite activities. Aah, food memories... the best kind.)

But today, it was strudel day, and what a day it was. Who knew that the plainest, most regular-looking piece of dough could stretch and stretch and stretch and stretch until it covered the entire length of my workstation? It was magic, I tell ya. (Well, probably just well-developed gluten—but doesn't magic sound so much better?)

We stretched and stretched all day, filling our sheets of strudel with lots of yummy, fruity fillings. My favorites were the traditional apple (can't go wrong with that!) and, surprisingly, green grape. There were also cherry, plum, cheese, strawberry, and semolina concoctions rolled up and baked in our doughs.

With all that strudel sampling, I think I've stretched my stomach as far as it can go. Unfortunately, that's not "magic"... just grounds for a bellyache.

Hey readers, guess what I've been up to...

I have been interning in a real pastry kitchen. Yikes!

That's right, I am spending two nights a week in the kitchen of one of NYC's top-rated restaurants. After class those days, I load my tired little body up with caffeinated drinks, pack my kitchen clogs into my bag, and trek up into Midtown where I put on the day's second uniform and throw myself into the curious world of a real restaurant kitchen.

I am loving every minute. And I am learning every minute. It's an awesome supplement to my already great pastry education; a real treat to be surrounded by professionals with with so much pastry creativity, ingenuity, and wisdom!

School, naturally, comes first (with blogging not far behind... don't worry, I won't neglect you) but this is an opportunity worth working harder for. I'm learning pastry precision. Better time management. Mass production. Consistency of product, and how flawless results really are expected—and necessary—all the time. How to interact with the other kitchen teams (including the savory side, like chefs, waiters, dishwashers...). Even such things as how valuable real estate is in the walk-in (that's the big fridge), and why it's important to store things in the smallest container possible. No wasted space, no wasted time!

But, today, a wasted me. I'm off to bed so I can restore my energy levels and prep for another exciting week... as a student AND an intern! Woohoo!

Today was a special day in the Pastry 2 classroom. We rocked and rolled with another guest chef, this time one who's on the cutting edge of all things dessert: Sam Mason, a high-profile pastry player with modern techniques, ubercreative flavor pairings, and lots of knowledge about working with such things as enzymes and other funky binding ingredients.

Jars of high acyl gellan, LBG, and other mysterious matter decorated the demo station, and science-sounding lingo ruled the day. Much of it flew right over my head, but Chef Mason's techniques were mesmerizing nonetheless. By the end of the day it all started to make sense, especially when Chef presented us with the results: a block of wiggly peach gel, another one of chocolate (think pudding flavor in Jell-O form), a cilantro jelly-like sauce, and a peanut butter powder that tasted exactly like peanut butter. Such new taste and texture sensations!

There was one ingredient that Chef Mason used, though, that wowed me most, and it wasn't something you'd have to buy from a science lab: black olives, plain and simple. Who would think to incorporate those into dessert? Chef Mason, that's who. He worked them into a black olive caramel that really tasted olive-y and caramel-y—and delicious. He also churned out a black-as-night black olive cake that was incredibly sweet and moist. I probably would have eaten the whole thing if that sort of behavior was socially acceptable. Fortunately for my stomach, I showed restraint—but those few bites that I did have were enough to leave a lasting impression anyway.

I'm not sure I'll end up donning a lab coat and science goggles anytime in my pastry career, but I still walked away from class having learned a very good lesson, no matter which direction my baking takes: Never stop experimenting!