Brioche Dough, An Interview, Lab Professionals Week and Other Stuff

So this week I got to thinking about brioche dough and all the fun we had making and shaping and eating it last Sunday at Walloon Lake Inn. The applications are endless: you can go savory, as in the halibut en croute (the dough is really not that sweet) or sugary and tuck chocolate in it. I wondered what would happen if you spread something like, say, Nutella on some of it and rolled it up? And made cute little scissor-snips in the roll? I used muffin tins to make individual rolls out of the rest, to take to work. I didn't hear a word from anyone, but each and every one had disappeared by the time I left. And the Nutella roll is shudderingly rich and satisfying.

I made the dough Thursday, and baked it up Friday. Mine did not have any eggshells in it, either. Almost the first thing we watched Chef Dave do last Sunday morning was break an egg directly into a Kitchenaid mixer in motion, and drop shell into it. Not good technique, but on the other hand, we got extra calcium the next day when we ate it, and it clearly told us this was NOT going to be a high-flown, pretentious kind of class. I guess even seasoned professionals make that kind of newbie mistake.

The cookbook we got with our class is, I have to admit, loaded with spelling errors, and who knows what other kinds of mistakes. I present to you the brioche dough recipe as written (minus the spelling errors, because that's just too much unnecessary pain):

1/4 oz yeast
3 tbl sugar
1/4 cup warm milk
1 1/2 tsp salt
2 cups flour
3 large eggs, lightly beaten
4 oz butter

Proof yeast in a large bowl with a taste of the sugar and milk about 15 minutes. Add remaining sugar, salt, flour, butter and eggs. Stir until sticky. Knead for 10 minutes and let rise for about 1 1/2 hours, or until double in size. Punch down and then let sit overnight. Place dough in molds and let rise. Bake for 20 minutes at 450F. Egg wash before baking.

Does that seem like a hot oven to you? It did to me, too. That works for biscuits and pizza, but there's no way we baked those in that fast of an oven last week. Consequently I burned the hell out of the 'muffins', by following the directions. Should have been a smarter monkey and known that when you have enough sugar and eggs in dough, it's gonna burn easily. I think it's really 350.

So, recipes in our class book will be followed with caution in the future. Also, this recipe does not describe the technique Dave had me do of flouring the countertop, knife and butter and cutting up the butter in small, pea-sized cubes before adding to the rest of the ingredients. Which I'd never done before. But I liked how Dave would just hand me a knife, thermometer or pastry bag and figure I knew what the hell to do with them. I wonder if he thought I was some kind of know-it-all by Monday afternoon. But hey, I KNEW stuff already.

And he pointed out that an egg wash will make the bread brown faster, thus fooling you into thinking it's done too soon. So we left off the egg wash.

Anyway, I surgically removed all the burned parts off my brioches with my favorite Dexter-Russell long serrated knife. Apparently no one was the wiser. And I'm going to make this stuff again. I'll do better next time. Soon.

Yesterday was my LACASA interview. They naturally want to see what kind of volunteer work I'm most interested in, and where best I will fit it. Now that I've completed the class, it's time to start actually volunteering. There are so many different things that need to be done, I think I will find myself in more than one area, easily. But they especially seemed happy that I am free in the mornings, and they need someone to mind the Crisis Line during those hours. They stressed that they have the volunteers observe for quite a while before they actually are responsible for picking up the phone on their own. And there is always a staff member around. So I think even a phone-o-phobe like me could handle it.

I can see so many aspects of my job neatly translating over to volunteering here. Confidentiality absolutely rules our life in the hospital--as it does in the shelter and anything to do with the clients. Not knowing what kind of issue is on the other side of a ringing phone, and having to be prepared for anything? Check. Professionalism at all times on the phone--and then, after the receiver is down, you vent amongst yourselves about the craziness/stupidity/whatever that transpired. Multitasking? Got that. Have had it for years.

My first duty will probably be going to several area libraries to take down displays and return them to the shelter. Hopefully that will be simple enough. I told them I don't mind doing no-brainer types of things like stuffing envelopes or copying things. Not in the least. That kind of thing is perfect after 8 hours of my job.

Another Laboratory Professionals Week has come and gone. Thank you, Jesus. This year it seemed more annoying and obnoxious than any I've remembered. Some of us have been trying to figure out why that was. Could be the individuals who were on this year's comittee to organize it all. Strong, self-centered personalities who don't like taking NO for an answer, maybe? Example: If someone does not wish their photo taken, and clearly states so, that wish should be respected. Period.

Uhh no, it wasn't me. I don't give a rip. But a coworker nearly called in last night because she was so upset about being put through that, all in the name of fun and games.

It could have been the new Lab Director. One of the quizzes to be completed for fun and exciting prizes featured several pages of multiple choice questions all about her. Sorry, lady, but you have us all at a distinct disadvantage. When you come on to our turf, picking people apart for not wearing gloves or having your name badge in the proper place, and don't say one damn word of introduction at your first Town Hall meeting, you leave us with something less than a basic working knowledge of your life story. Let alone curiosity. Or even mild interest.

Then again, it could have been the same old tired bullshit of bottom-dwelling opportunists taking advantage of all the festivities, food, fun and games to abandon the bench and the attending workload and leave it for others to do, into the next shift and beyond. Could have been the same old tired bullshit of food being lavished on day shift, and crusty scraps (or nothing) left for the off shifts. Like the cake. Oh, the cake. I can't help but thinking of 'Office Space'. Now I do get a certain perverse satisfaction out of being left out of things simply because of what time the clock says. And I know anything we say would make us sound like quivery-lipped three year-olds. But we came in Wednesday night to see a bakery cake box in the break room that must have been, no kidding, three feet long. What was in it? One tiny, dried up leftover piece. I laughed out loud.

Now please understand, I do not need or want cake. My Weight-Watcher devotee and personal favorite 'Biggest Loser' coworker does not need cake. The two semi-diabetics on third shift do not need cake. But what we need even less is hearing tales of first shifters carving out huge hunks of it and second helpings for themselves to eat and take home.

Ever walked into a place and been instantly irritated? I don't do that very often these days, but I did Friday morning when I walked into Core Lab to finish the last hour of my night. The smell of bacon and eggs and toast was filling the air. An employee is walking through Hematology with skimpy little thong sandals (read: slightly NOT dress code) carrying something edible through a contaminated area. After we've all been reamed by supervision for the last 2 months about following lab clean/contaminated policies. It's Take Your Son/Daughter To Work Day, so there are kids in the specimen processing room. And the Lab Week breakfast buffet in the back hallway is in full swing. One of the Lab Week planners is asking me if I want to pick a prize out of the goodie box. I'm surrounded by CBC's that need to be resulted, a problem instrument that needs yet another alarm turned off, specimens that need to be redrawn because of clots or the other usual morning problems, and I'm wearing blood-stained gloves. And my feet hurt from standing on them all night. As politely as I could, I answered no, can I maybe do that when I don't have 6 or 7 things to do at once?

Go ahead and think it: She must have PMS. Or she must have accidentally gotten a corn cob stuck up her butt. Couldn't she just drop the working class martyr thing for one minute? She oughta lighten up. Eat some damn bacon and eggs. Leave the work for some other sap for once.

I think I'll pour another beer and mix up some more brioche dough now...