Once I got it into my head that I should become a chef. So off I went to chef school.
We went to class and looked like this
and we learned to make things like this
(That’s real Danish pastry, of course. WienerbrÃ¸d.)
(That’s really marzipan. I promise)
Even the famous horn-of-plenty:
How very odd to think of that now. And how very much odder that I should suddenly feel the urge to proclaim this, on the internet, for anyone to read.
But OK, if I was Hans Christian Andersen and I was working on my autobiography, Mit Livs Eventyr (My Life’s Adventure, or The Adventure of my Life, or The Fairy Tale of my Life), I suppose this would be a chapter.
And let’s face it, if he were me, he would equally be tempted by the instant gratification of writing and publishing something immediately, with pictures (!), and that way circumvent the sinister threat of beginning yet another magnum opus which will end up gathering dust, unfinished, like all the rest, abandoned…
(Maybe HC was a bad example, since he was rather prolific, even without a blog).
But that’s enough about me. The pasta bell has rung.