Embracing Failure (or: when the choux doesn't fit)

This week, I was seduced by a recipe that Nigella Lawson posted on Instagram, for Karpatka cake. It was this photo:

Looks amazing, right? Perfect for Mother's Day, I thought. I followed the recipe carefully, step-by-step, even making the cream filling the night before, as instructed, so that it could set in the fridge.

The cream filling called for a whopping 8 egg yolks, so I decided to try to make meringue with the leftover egg whites. I followed this recipe for jam meringue cakes. At first, they turned out too soft, so I had to pop them back in the oven, but after some patience they turned out OK, and my wife was delighted with them. Success!

The kapatka cake, however, was a different story: the cream filling didn't thicken or set enough, but I thought I could still use it, just in a slightly messier way.

My downfall, as it turned out, was the choux pastry. My first attempt looked like flatbreads and went straight into the bin.

Determined not to give up, I gathered the ingredients and tried for a second time.

It was an improvement, but was still very flat and definitely did not resemble choux pastry. By now I was running out of time, and I really didn't want to waste any more ingredients, so I accepted defeat.

I did, however, try to salvage the cream filling, by attempting to thicken it and using it to create some kind of fruity dessert, but that too, dear reader, ended up in the bin.

Originally, the meringues were an after thought: just a little side dish next to the kapatka, but in the end, they were the star of the show.

In many ways, my main thoughts from this sorry experience were: "what a waste of food!" I had clearly overstretched my baking abilities, but I still felt proud that I had at least attempted this ambitious recipe.

A few things came to mind when I reflected on this culinary disaster:

1. I felt thankful that this failure happened in private, which made me reflect on how my learners might feel when they fail so publicly in the classroom or on exam results day. I simply threw my failed attempts in the bin, and don't have to try to make choux pastry ever again if I don't want to, but our GCSE re-sit learners are forced into another year of staring their (so-called) failures in the face. I would absolutely hate a year of choux pastry lessons, for instance, and would really struggle with repeating the same old recipe week after week, until a stressful final exam in the summer, when there's the worry and possibility that it could all go wrong (again).

2. I often post pictures on Instagram of things I've baked or cooked, but of course, I only ever show the successes. Meanwhile, here on LinkedIn, I am much more transparent and reflective about my teaching experiences in the classroom, by sharing successes and failures quite openly. So why is this different with food? I suppose no-one wants to see failed recipes, whereas splendid-looking desserts perhaps inspire others to try to make them.

3. In teaching, I feel as if we are always walking that fine line between success and failure, and maybe it is that risk that keeps us motivated to try new things. I thrive on that feeling of not quite knowing if a lesson or learning activity is going to work or not, and then take pleasure in tweaking it to make it more effective. We can all learn from each other's teaching experiments and mistakes, and that, really, is far more fun and interesting than only reading about those stellar lessons.

This might feel like an over-extended metaphor, but don't be so quick to throw those failures in the bin; sometimes ideas or learning activities just need a bit more baking to make them work. Oh, and if the main activity falls flat the first time, at least you'll be left with something to chew on.