Pastry chef goes a little crazy when he hears the news of the immanent closure of our place of employment.
Pastry chef bakes unusually large croissant… not for the purpose of any kind of freakish Friday night, keys in the hat type party, but for human consumption.
I bring said croissant on holiday to visit the beach, see the pretty birds and to become the foundation of a mental breakfast.
The pastry chef would be proud of how his product ended its time as the epitome of it’s bronzed, crescent shaped lesser siblings, the embodiment of everything holy about meticulously layered and folded flour and butter, beautifully presented as a ridiculously large golden buttery slug.
It was filled with beef sausage, smoked sausage, bacon, fried eggs, cheese and tomato sauce, seasoned and allowed to bake on a low heat for 15 minutes to suffice it’s throbbing mass.
The croissant was consumed, crumbs and final morsels were picked from plates and everyone was in awe of what had been accomplished.