In which Frances fails, but not at alliteration.

Ok so, let's break it down:

1) In the future, we'll have more than, like, 5 hours to figure this out. I'll have an idea so that I can go to the store on my way home from work. A recipe selected from the PANTHEON of cookbooks arrayed on my shelf. NOT scrambling to select one from my Pinterest food board. Leading me to my second point.

2) What is this, amateur hour? Not reading the comments?! Come ON, Frances. You're better than this. I'm sorry, Lauren/Internet. I assumed the zest of 6 oranges would correlate to the exact amount of juice I needed (it didn't). I also assumed that blood oranges would overpower the virulent yellow yolks (nope).

What does this mean? Basically, it means that for this first round anyway, I did not put my best food forward. I need to pull myself together.




Damn. I just put it back in the oven, with the curd and made a GIANT mess. BUT ONWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS.

 And after a brief, encouraging (HA) call from my noble competitor, here is the final shot. That flap you see are the remnants of a tumah (cue like 3 minutes of 4 people saying IT'S NOT A TUMAH) SO.

What do we have. We have a disaster in the kitchen which, folks, is unusual for me...The Midnight Baker. (Whatever, it's not like a cool nickname or anything). And by disaster, I mean the bars, which look nothing like what they are supposed to. Head on over to the geniuses at White on Rice to be impressed, but team, I got nothing.

Sorry.

HUMILIATED,

F.