Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling...

1. Peel, 2. Nestled closely, 3. Batter over, 4. Dusted with powdered sugar

I don't often blog about cooking disappointments, like the time my tofu dumplings disintegrated in the miso soup, or when my chicken gumbo ended up all mushy and sticky. And does anybody really want to hear about my sorry attempt at making Nigella's mini cheese pancakes for breakfast? (don't ask-- we ended up just having cereal...) But today, I will share the beautiful disaster that was my clementine clafoutis.

Sometimes, I make things even though I wonder seriously if they will actually taste good. Like baking citrus in batter. But why, you ask? Because one must always hope. And I like to be proven wrong once in a while. And surprised, maybe. What's the fun in the kitchen if things always went the way you expect? Besides, I had never made a clafoutis before and thought it might be an interesting way to use up the handful of clementines we had lying around. I was also inspired by this article in the NYT Dining section and Julia Child's recipe for Cherry Clafoutis I had scribbled from the library some time ago (I was too lazy to cart the giant recipe book home...). I love clementines-- in Singapore, they're called mandarin oranges and are particularly popular during the lunar new year. We've missed the festival every year since we've been here and because of that, these little oranges always remind me of home...

Anyways, as I waited for the clafoutis to bake, I had delectable visions of digging into a luscious custard blanketing little burstfuls of citrusy goodness. Snow was swirling outside and all we wanted was to dig into a nice warm dessert while watching Batman Begins. The dessert frenzy was intense. But alas, it was not to be. I should have trusted my gut. There was a reason why I had never baked citrus. There's also a reason why I love clementines the way I've always eaten them-- fresh and bursting with natural sweetness. Not baked dry with a bitter tang. Boo.

I have to admit, the final thing looked beautiful-- gorgeous, even-- sprinkled all pretty with powdered sugar. I’m trying not to be too sad though since I may or may not have picked most of the segments off my slice and just eaten the delicious baked custard underneath, which was the real revelation. Next time, same custard, but with pears or plums. Or Julia's classic cherries. One day, I will allow myself to be surprised again in the kitchen, just not with oranges.