Pastry Flower

Created on Friday, January 25, 2013.
Filed under Physical Objects, Food.

I had decided that if I couldn’t get her flowers, then by God I was going to make her some. And I did. Using short pastry.


Near the end of this week I wanted to apologise to her for ignoring her and being rude to her for two months, but a simple apology felt so uninspired, so tacky and overdone. I decided that to really make an impact I’d have to give her a gift, like a flower, but since our misunderstanding was quite protracted, I’d better make it a bouquet. The problem is that I start work at 4 AM, and no florists are open, and it’s Autumn/Winter so I can’t pick a neighbour’s flowers.

So pretty much after the two of us talked and decided to patch things up, I went straight to work. Got there at 12:17 AM. I had decided that if I couldn’t get her flowers, then by God I was going to make her some. And I did.

Using short pastry.

Since I had no sugarpaste on hand to make flowers like normal, and I really couldn’t be bothered kneading sugar at just past midnight (though apparently I could be bothered being at work four hours early) I used short pastry, but stuck with the same technique.

The process itself is pretty involved. A sausage of dough is rolled into a cone, with the tip tapered as thin as possible (I couldn’t get short pastry all that thin), and then anchored to the bench. A tiny ball of dough is pressed paper-thin and wrapped around the tip of the cone. Another similar piece is placed on the opposite side of the tip. As the flower gets more petals, the size of each dough ball is increased. Each flower in this bouquet has twelve to fifteen petals.

It was difficult to work with because it softened instead of dried as sugarpaste would, so I had to keep most of it in the freezer, and every time I worked a piece of pastry I would need to lightly flour my bench and fingers. The problem with that was the flour stopped the petals from sticking to the flower body. I ended up using water as glue.

I had to scale the project down thrice as the time ticked away. It took one and a half hours overall.

It looked okay, I think, and she smiled very happily when I gave it to her and the plan went very well, but my workmates were particularly impressed and my head chef is keeping it on his office desk so that if it dries out enough he can bake it without having it melt and so preserve it for posterity.

Why would I spend one and a half hours making a pastry to apologise to a girl? We may not go back to being as close as we used to be, but I just couldn’t let her go. Not like this. And when she asked me why I did it I said nothing, but I knew exactly what I wanted to say: that this is what you mean to me, and how much I want to keep you beside me.

It's about fifteen centimetres square.

It has about twelve flowers stuck onto a dome of short pastry.

![The edges of the petals are slightly torn because of the composition of short pastry.][5]

[5]: pics/pastryflower/pastryflower3.jpg “Detail of the flower petals. Note short pastry tearing.

That's all there is, there isn't any more.
© Desi Quintans, 2002 – 2018.