I love pâte feuilletée. Thus, it was an easy decision to pick the tuna puff pastry. Especially when it came with a cup of cappuccino in a combo package, which I thought was a good deal.
It was fluffy and puffy, of course. It smelled buttery and felt light. Puff pastry made a perfect dish for brunch. Fork and knife at the ready!
And yet, as I made a cut on one of the corners and brought it closer to the mouth, “poof!” Most of it crumbled. The crumbs flew all over the table, some landed on my chest. A bigger chunk dropped onto my lap and, as I failed to capture it, then rolled on the floor. I looked around, fearing anyone should see this. Luckily, no one had witnessed my incompetence of eating a mere puff pastry.
Since another cut just brought more crumbs and dusts on my person, I forwent the fork and knife. I used bare hands to grab and clasp the puff pastry, and brought my mouth to it while maintaining distance to avoid the crumbs. If anyone had indeed seen and questioned my dealing with this puff pastry — awkward, no doubt — I no longer cared.
Once the devil was gone, leaving these fingers oily, I recovered my poise. I sipped the cappuccino while watching others enjoying their food — I wondered if anyone had experienced similar battle with food.
My initial thought definitely needed correction: puff pastry might not be suitable for brunch after all. At least not when I was dressed to impress. Or, I might need to learn some techniques for eating it, not just for making and baking it.
a moment of silence 