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Let Me Tell You About The Time…

My Mum Tried to Cook ‘Crème Caramel’.

Last week I was still at home enjoying the culinary delights that only a mother can produce, but when I say culinary I should actually say ‘culinary’ after this treat of an attempt.

For weeks my dear Mother spent hours upon hours researching on the Internet and pouring through her recipe books looking for exciting ideas to tickle our spoilt taste buds fancy.

Mostly she got it right and the increase of body fat on us all is proof enough of that but there was one dessert (if you can call it that) which went so horribly wrong I am still having food nightmares.

The Crème Caramel.

A tricky dish which when successfully carried out is amazing but when not so successful, is more likely to make the holder of the mouth tasting it to retch with disgust than moan with delight.

She was saving it for a special night – one where we were all home and not to full from other Christmassy treats. How I wish I had NOT been in attendance.

She spent ages sourcing strange and extremely expensive ingredients, (there was an actual vanilla bean – like a baked bean – involved which cost around $15 by itself) and then hours on that fateful afternoon preparing these ‘tasty treats’ which she was hoping to surprise us with that night.

After following the recipe perfectly and cooking EVERY single item involved from scratch she proceeded to peer in the oven (without opening it of course) every few minutes like a 5 year old checking out their new fish. Upon the ding of the timer they were taken out of the oven, cooled and then safely stored in the fridge to be served at the allotted time later that night.

At roughly 8:45 my Mum proudly presented us each with one of these…to put it bluntly things.

The Result?

It literally looked and tasted like a half cooked egg sodden in manky old caramel from Aldi.

Not Good.

Needless to say I don’t think she will be cooking dessert for ANY of us for awhile after our reaction; which was to promptly leave the room and gag – throw the remains down the sink – then giggle immaturely for hours every time we caught each others eye. (Including my crazy old Nan)

My poor mum sulked in the lounge room and STILL will not admit that they simply were not that good.

Have you had any food disasters?



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