When first you don't succeed

On blood oranges and what Degas has to teach us about starting again

Blood oranges, a study in failure starting over again

Hello friend,

Like many, I went through my bread phase during the pandemic, which was followed by a foray into cookies and tarts. When I met Mark, we embarked on a crumble journey that resulted in, let’s just say, a bit more of me to love. But the pounds were deliciously earned: summer’s plums, cherries, and peaches, which gave way to luscious pears and crisp fall apples, some from a neighbor’s yard. All baked ‘til their sweet juices bubbled up through the crunchy topping. A dollop of ice cream, and well, it’s an easy and soul-satisfying dessert that I find irresistible.

At this point, I’m confident enough to read through a recipe and judge if it’s good or not, but I’m not someone who bakes for the thrill of perfecting a dessert. Armed with a good recipe, all I need to do is follow the directions, and 9 times out of 10, it comes out well enough for me to move on to something else. However, this week, I found myself in a bit of a quandary. Having promised to make a dessert for a dinner with friends, I decided on a blood orange tart. I found a recipe that looked like it would be yummy, but I also know a curd can be deceptively difficult. Ok, I thought, I’ll practice this one, something I rarely do. I made a half-portion and was satisfied.

My attempt at making the full-sized dessert, however, was an utter fiasco.