Author Topic:  on your marks, get set, BAKE! [All years]  (Read 124 times)

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  • Offline Carolijn Westbroek
  • on your marks, get set, BAKE! [All years]
    « on: July 03, 2018, 12:15:59 AM »
    Carolijn grinned as she hid behind a big purple curtain that cut her classroom in half, waiting for the students to shuffle in and take their seats. While the room normally had the desks evenly spaced and spanning from front to back, today all of the tables and chairs were neatly crammed at the very back of the room, with barely enough space for the incoming students to sit down in them. Good thing they wouldn't be sitting there for long.

    When she thought that all (or at least most) of the students had filed in and it was time to start, Carolijn jumped out from behind the curtain, careful not to show what was back there, though the towering chef's hat on her head and the whisk in her had gave a clear hint to what they would be doing today.

    "Alright!" She said, waving her whisk around in an attempt to gain the students' attention "Many, if not all of you have probably seen someone cook or bake something before, yes? If it was a witch or wizard, magic was likely heavily involved; after all, why cut up vegetables by hand if you can charm the knife to cut them for you while the pot is mixing itself on the stove, right? Obvioisly, muggles can't do any of that, so their cooking takes a lot longer than ours. Muggles are pretty clever though, and have created many tools to make things a little faster and easier." Carolijn paused her lecture as she strode over to the edge of the room, a big grin spreading across her features. "My goal is to help you gain an appreciation for the work muggles put into their cooking, so today we're going to have a little competition."

    With that she yanked on a hidden rope, causing the curtain to fall to the floor and revealing several cooking stations. In the very middle of the room sat a long table, with recipes, ingredients, and a large amount of bowls of various sizes, as well as a bunch of whisks, rubber spatulas, and wooden spoons. At each station, there was an old-timey oven, charmed to be heated at a certain temperature, a variety off pot, pans, and baking trays, as well as a few pairs of old-fashioned hand mixers. IN the event that any of the students wanted to dress up or protect their clothes, there was a chest of chef hats and aprons in the corner of the room.

    "Alright," she said, making her way back to the center of the room "everyone needs to find a partner, and it doesn't matter who, really. Then, you and your partner will have the rest of the class period to make some sort of dessert together. It doesn’t matter what you make, and you can use one of the recipes up here or one that you already know. I have a few prizes for the teams that make the best or most creative dessert. The most important part of this assignment though, is to have fun, and remember: no magic allowed, got it? Unless you want to make this whole process a little trickier that is. Well, what are you waiting for? Get going!"

    ((ooc: Of course feel free to have your students use magic if they wish, however, if Carlolijn catches them, there might be some goofy penalties))

  • Offline Louis Proulx
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    Re: on your marks, get set, BAKE! [All years]
    « Reply #1 on: July 07, 2018, 06:27:04 AM »
    “At least we’ve got Westbroek next,” Louis said to @Donatella Bertinelli with a definite air of relief, “I think she’s still, you know.” The Bellefeuille cast a furtive glance around them, shifting his bag back onto his shoulder from where it had slipped down a little as the two fifth years made their way down the hall.

    As the pair of them reached he classroom Louis stood to the side to allow Nata in first, then followed her through the doorway. A great purple curtain greeted him, reducing the space to half its usual size. “What in the…” Donatella took a seat and Louis followed her, leaving his things in his bag for now. “Do you think she’s gone loopy too—“ He started, just as the familiar, cheery face of their professor peeked around the curtain and stood before them. Louis hoped that Professor Westbroek hadn’t succumbed to the same… whatever it was that seemed to be affecting some of the other staff. She seemed herself, so far, but that could all be part of the act.

    Louis shot a sideways glance around the room, then looked back towards the front. Professor Westbroek had what looked like a chef’s hat on her hear, was wearing an apron, and had whisk in hand. Louis jumped lightly at the Professor’s exclamation. He would be glad when the giants were gone and things could go back to normal. Or as normal as wizarding school could be. At least they seemed to avoid the over-the-top dramas some of the other European schools suffered. His penpals from Hogwarts had made Louis quite glad he hadn’t been old enough to go visit the British school during the Triwizard Tournament.

    Louis nodded as  Professor Westbroek began her lesson, listening attentively. The curtain fell and all was made clear: they would be cooking something.

    As she finished relaying her instructions and set them loose, Louis stood quickly. He turned to Donatella, “Have you ever cooked anything without magic before?” He asked, already trying to wrack his brain for ideas. “We could do a cake or... maybe a mousse. Crêpes? I wonder what recipes she has – but we might not win if we just make the same as everyone else. I don't know how to make anything fancy.” Louis' cooking skills were somewhat limited.

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  • Offline Donatella Bertinelli
  • Re: on your marks, get set, BAKE! [All years]
    « Reply #2 on: July 07, 2018, 11:33:11 AM »
    Donatella was perplexed. Utterly and completely bewildered.

    Professor Westbroek wanted them to cook? With no magic whatsoever? The fifth year Bellefeuille tried her best not to feel openly offended at the instructions, Donatella managing only to control herself as much as to put a hand over her chest, her facial expression however not changing. Her polite and endearing smile towards the Professor remained frozen on her expression, as she tried as much as she could not to take the older witch’s bold instructions to heart.

    However, when Louis addressed her, Nata was brought back to the floating line. Her smile faded, and her eyes widened with shock, openly offended at her friend’s remark. “Me? Cook?” She took a deep breath, unrolling the parchment in her hand and folding it at its half, so she would fan herself with it. “People have house elves to do that for them, Louis.” Donatella remarked, thrown away by the fact that both the Professor and her dear friend had expected her to know a house elf’s job.

    She adored house elves, and they adored her. Donatella had always treated them with kindness and respect, and all of the ones back home loved her beyond imagination. She often went as far as to spend time with them, talking about her daily life and everything. House elves were her friends. She wouldn’t do something as mean as to learn how to steal their job. What was next? Westbroek would have them clean? Was her aim to exterminate the house elves’ purpose in the world? So rude. So, but so rude.

    “Louis…” She placed her hand over her friend’s, quite concerned that he seemed to be dealing with this far too well. “But won’t your house elf get upset if you learn and do their job? That’s offensive, and mean, and unwarranted. Your poor little house elf.” Each and every word had been especially genuine, Donatella actually feeling sorry for Louis’ house elves. Their master was so ungrateful that he actually knew how to cook himself.

    “And don’t moldus have their own house elves? This is mean towards both species of house elves.” Donatella commented, carefully removing her hand from Louis’, as her gaze turned towards one of hand-mixers. Not that she knew what it was, but the Bellefeuille felt absolutely torn apart that a beloved moldu house elf had been deprived of their object of work. This was mean, and cruel.

    How could Louis even think of food, it was beyond her understanding. If anything, Donatella already wanted to organize a protest to protect house elves’ jobs.

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  • Offline Raphael Moreau
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    Re: on your marks, get set, BAKE! [All years]
    « Reply #3 on: July 13, 2018, 02:14:20 PM »
    Oh Hell. It was cooking.

    "Crestfallen" was an understatement. Could Raphael cook? Sure he could. His pasta making skills were second to none, he could smash out a Greek salad like no one had ever seen but baking? Baking wasn't therapeutic. It was stressful and exhausting and so finicky. He eyed the mixer with the same sort of expression one might wear if one had just stepped in dog poo.

    He managed to offer the Professor a weak smile as he looked around the classroom. Working by himself, he was sure he'd be okay. Pancakes were a dessert, right? The American buttermilk ones were,  he was sure. It'd take him a few minutes but he was sure he'd be able to dress up his plate with some squirty cream and fresh fruit to distract everyone from his distinct lack of effort.

    Rafe looked around and his dark eyes fell on @Elisabeth Sturm . Well, beggars couldn't be choosers after all. His slim fingers picked up and flicked through the recipes. Soufflé was out of the question, obviously. Mousse, no. He didn't even know what a croquembouche was but he definitely didn't  fancy it. Swiftly, he swiped a recipe for a plain chocolate cake. Maybe they'd be able to pretty it up. If the cake didn't rise, they could just divide the mixture and make cupcakes instead; sorted.

    "Oi, Betty," Raphael called out to Elisabeth rather rudely before plonking a chef's hat on top of her head and fighting the strong urge to say she looked cute. Gross. "You're with me and we're making chocolate cake," he replied, without giving her time to argue or resist. He offered her a bright smile before spinning on his heel, grabbing a mixing bowl and cracking three large eggs into it.

  • Offline Elisabeth Sturm
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    Re: on your marks, get set, BAKE! [All years]
    « Reply #4 on: Today at 05:12:56 AM »
    Elisabeth’s eyes almost rolled into another dimension as Professor Westbroek began their lesson. Of course she’d seen someone cook and bake. Who on earth wouldn’t have? She fought the urge to look around the room as she did a mental tally of who was in this class. Of course, pampered little snots like Séverin and Donatella had probably never so much as lifted a finger to prepare their own meals. Oh, what a life they led. If Elisabeth hadn’t already been banned from a Quidditch match this year she would have (perhaps not politely) asked to be excused from this class. She was quite familiar with peeling potatoes and chopping carrots, thank you.

    The need to not receive any further disciplinary actions kept her in her seat. Elsa eyed the various muggle contraptions revealed by the curtain-drop, feeling fortunate that she did recognise some of the equipment. Partners? Great. Westbroek finished her introduction and presumably went to relax for the remainder of the lesson -- typical of a professor in such a lazy subject. Elisabeth turned slowly to see who she might wish to work with. Ideally someone like Ludwig or Anne, both precise and attentive, skills which was required in baking.

    ’Oi, Betty.’

    Elisabeth scowled, slowly and deliberately removing the chef’s hat that had been unceremoniously shoved onto her head, almost covering her eyes. “Excuse me,” she thrust it back into Raphael's chest, glaring up at him venomously, “If you want to work with me, we do it my way. And don't call me that.” She watched him start gathering bits and pieces, already making a mess of their workspace. The Ombrelune screwed up her face and grabbed at the recipe he'd chosen, “Do you even know how to use Moldu equipment?” Her dark eyes scanned the parchment quickly. “This should still work. You get started, I’ll get some extra ingredients.” With that, she stomped off to the temporary pantry that their professor had installed in the classroom, shoving a fellow student out of the way to reach the things she wanted.

    Returning to their bench Elisabeth set down a large punnet of cherries and some double cream. “We’ll make it a Black Forest cherry-torte.” She gave him a look that suggested there wasn’t room for discussion. “I’ll get the whisk for the cream. Separate the mixture into three tins so we have layers.” She added in a slightly condescending tone, gesturing with her hands that she wanted height.
    « Last Edit: Today at 05:13:38 AM by Laura »


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