Buche de Noel, or how I came to despise Julia Child*

Christmas at my parents' house is really just an excuse to eat and drink - like Thanksgiving all over again, but without the required attendance of turkey and gravy and stuffing and yams and the hundreds of other sides that rotate their appearances across our table. Though the menu may be smaller, it's always more extravagant, more lush, just more. It's not always successful.

There was the year of the standing rib roast, where my sister stood mouth agape in horror as the deep-red flesh was carved and yelled out, "Oh my God, it's still BLEEDING!" (She's not a fan of meats cooked anything less than medium-well, and prefers it to be filet. She knows its a travesty, and does not need to hear ANY MORE ABOUT IT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.) A rack of lamb was a particular loser one year, as not only was there no mint jelly, but well, really, what's the purpose of the booties? They just look ridiculous. (We've gotten better at this as we've whittled down the list of who will eat what and how, and this year's dinner was particularly successful - more on that later.)

Desserts are our fail-safe, the one thing that no matter how awry the meat course went, we could all count on. My mother's training as a pastry chef always resulted in beautiful and delicious desserts. Tiramisu, profiterales, tarts, elaborate cakes, they've all had a run. This year we decided to make a Buche de Noel, a traditional Christmas dessert of thin sponge cake filled with frosting, rolled up, and then decorated with meringues and other cute ornaments to look like a fallen tree branch. It is as French as French can be, and who else would I trust to guide me on this recipe other than Ms. Julia Child?

Anyone, that's who. Let me preface the following with this caveat - the cake was delicious and beautiful and everything we could hope for. It also nearly reduced me to tears, had my mother and I screaming at each other and completely destroyed the kitchen. This recipe is a pain in the ass. The instructions call for ingredients that aren't listed in the recipe, but that you have to search 50 pages back and forward to find in a master recipe. There is not a single egg that is used whole, each is split into whites and yolks and beaten or whipped or completely ignored for apparently no reason. Ingredient amounts are not consistent and show up in random places. In short, this recipe sucks. Maybe it would make more sense if I had sat down and torn pages out and recreated the recipe start to finish in a single recipe instead of trying to cobble together 4 different master recipes. And maybe one day I will, but today is not that day. But here are some pictures. Please note the cute little mushrooms my mom made in the photo above.

The meringue that took forever to make and which had to be used IMMEDIATELY, but which was, ultimately delicious and became the filling (when mixed with chocolate and whip cream), the frosting (when just mixed with chocolate) and the adorable little mushrooms (when piped and dried out in the oven).

The sponge cake that is essentially egg yolks held together by sugar and not much else. Mom and I were ecstatic that it didn't split into hundreds of small pieces when we rolled it (then unrolled it, then filled it, then rolled it again - WHY JULIA, WHY!).

**well, really, it's whoever edited the book, not Julia herself.