Griotte clafoutis
I'm not going to pretend any longer. I think I have identified myself as a "nervous baker". I have now officially entered a second round of administration ultimate-fighting and the urge to bake is overwhelming.
I still haven't quite figured out whether I'm the good the bad or the ugly.
But I'm working on the cold/angry glare.
Baking clafoutis is one effective way to fight stress, especially if you get to eat it afterwards. The following proportions are tiny, but be my guest and double up the doses if you're extra stressed.
Mix 55g of flour and 55g of sugar, a pinch of salt, add 15g of melted butter, combine. Then whisk in 185ml milk with a big spoonful of vanilla extract, and an egg. Doing things in that order should prevent lumps. If you see lumps, picture incompetent administrators and whisk the shit out of them. Pour it in any cake pan available, and throw a couple of handful of griottes or any available fruits. It worked in individual muffin pans, and here, in a rectangular silicon mold.
Ah, it's not pretty. You're fighting dirty.
Bake for about 35 minutes at 180°C. It might look a little wet on the top, but it sets when it cools off. But then again, why let it cool off when you can just go for it while it's still warm, creamy, and fruity.
Still not pretty. I might be the ugly. Which, all in all, is morally more acceptable than being the bad.
(Isn't it?)