Day 27: I am His Croissant and He is Mine

I made croissants today and they came out perfect. That is one sentence I never thought I would write. As you know by now, I spend my free time baking breads. For nearly a month I've been working on croissants- I've used three different recipes and half a dozen techniques I've never heard of. The first batch never rose, the second batch didn't flake. But this morning I pulled one dozen exquisite buttery crescents from the oven. Some were stuffed with ham and cheese, a few were filled with an orange chocolate, but most were perfectly plain.

If you've known me during my earlier years, this should be a gaping shock. I had a reputation in college and shortly after that was derived from my ability to mess up even the easiest recipe. I couldn't make a grilled cheese sandwich without burning one side. When I married a chef, my girlfriends laughed at the irony. But three years later and I am bent over a slab of dough- rolling it out to 3 millimeters, cutting precise triangles and egg washing the tops. These croissants took 18 hours from flour to cooling rack, but they flake and they shine and they smell like warm butter and yeast. I cram one in my mouth while it's still hot, and I can feel the pastry slide into my stomach. A bit heavy for so early, but I'd better try another. Rich intercepts me before I completely undue a month of diet and exercise and we pack them carefully to give away. In 15 minutes my 18 hours is reduced to smudges of grease on two cookie sheets.

I can't help but compare everything around me to love and life and marriage, so maybe this is a stretch. But is it possible that I am his croissant and he is mine? Perhaps we are creatures of time and flavor. We are layers of texture that cannot be understood completely at first try. We need time. We need to be kneaded and needed. Turned and chilled. We need to be wrapped- airtight and into each other. Patience and time add the flavor and love is the yeast that makes us rise into each other. And some recipes for marriage will never work. But some- most, I say- just need the touch of the Baker's hands.