Rejects

I don't remember hitting my head, but I've been told that I volunteered to make 50 of these little white chocolate mousse tarts for a friend's wedding. It has turned into a major undertaking due to unforeseen problems with time and uncooperative bake ware, but I refuse to give in mainly because my pride is at stake and also because I love to bake things and don't often get a chance, not to mention that I wouldn't for the world disappoint the bride who is counting on me. These are the prototypes and also the ones that didn't pass inspection for one reason or another. The 50 good ones are in the refrigerator awaiting the final touches in the morning.

No matter what, I will arrive at the wedding tomorrow with the finished product mainly because I've invested about 6 hours, one pound of white chocolate, and one pound of butter, among other things (like a new pan) in the creation of these little dears and if I have to dump them in a bowl and turn them into a trifle I will -- this stuff is going to the wedding in one form or another.

Marsha, my colleague at work, who apparently also hit her head, is working on creating 50 hors d'oeuvres consisting of skewered little marinated mozzarella balls, basil leaves and cherry tomatoes for the same wedding, and I'm sure she's agonizing over them as well.

If the truth be told, I would have loved to been a caterer and done this sort of thing for a living. I don't know if that would be any less stressful than doing it once in a while, but I think I would have enjoyed it. Maybe in my next life.