The Turn

I found it sitting in the lobby of my building two weeks ago. The box was addressed to Mr. Gastro, but somehow I knew it was really for me.

Fire Engine Red. Ten speed with a tilt back head and a 5 quart bowl. Flat beater. Wire whip. Dough Hook. The thing weighs as much as a cement cinder block, and you can bet that if my grandmother had invested in one 50 years ago, she'd still be using it today, and it would look damn near identical to the one sitting on my kitchen counter. It's my first wedding present. The Holy Grail of kitchen appliances.

The KitchenAid stand mixer.

This must be what it feels like to dream about some sweet little classic car for decades, only to find it in your garage one morning and be too afraid to take it out for a drive. Seriously, I just want to sit here and polish the thing. It's been sitting on my amazon wish list for years, and now that I have it, it's taken me two weeks to turn it on, like I'm going to dent it, or something.

And then I got over it and made croissants.

I chose croissants specifically because I'd never made them before, and because I knew they'd take me all day. I could have made up a batch of chocolate chip cookies or a simple pie crust easily enough, but I wanted to make this first spin count. Croissants are a process, I found out. They're definitely an all day commitment. Making croissants essentially comes down to a long process of taking your lean dough, comprised of flour, sugar, salt, yeast, a tiny touch of butter and some whole milk, and layering it with the "butter square" which is exactly what it sounds like-- Three sticks of butter mixed up with about an iota of all purpose flour and formed into a SLAB. You roll out the lean dough, drop your butter brick in the middle of it, fold it up in the sheet of dough like a present. A buttery, fatty, heart stopping present. To yourself. Then you roll out that envelope of butter and flour, and you fold it on top of itself in thirds. And then you do it again. This little maneuver is called the turn, and when you're done you've got what looks like a neatly folded up blanket of deliciousness. You give that tidy little thing two hours in the refrigerator, and then you do it all again. Rolling. Folding. Turning. Waiting. It sounds a little tedious, but it's actually a really soothing, ordered process, and a big departure from my normal, off the wall modus operandi in the kitchen. You have to follow the rules. You have to take your time. When you're done with the turns and you roll it out one last time, what you are left with are layers upon layers of perfectly dispersed butter and lean dough. When the croissants bake the dough expands and lifts, while the butter melts and infuses everything around it with stop-your-heart sinful flavor. And when they come out of the oven you have a dozen perfectly flaky, golden, European style croissants, and an apartment that smells like a bakery.

I am happy to report that the croissants are gorgeous, and my new mixer did the job beautifully, as if there was ever any doubt. The dough hook is a life saver, and will certainly inspire me to take on may more baked goods in the future, now that the threat of kneading-induced carpel tunnel is off the table. I am also happy to report that fresh baked croissants freeze beautifully, and with a quick spell in the oven and a large cup of coffee, infuse a little bit of bliss into an otherwise routine weekday morning.