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We’ve been practicing pastry in school lately, and last night we made genoise, a light, airy (and nearly flavorless) cake. After frosting with fresh butter cream, I decorated the top with juvenile handwriting that read Happy Bday!, intending on freezing the cake and using it to celebrate one of my best friends’ approaching birthday. Unfortunately, the cake is crap and the butter cream separated, producing a streaky, unattractive appearance. No way am I serving this to anyone…

(This picture makes the crap cake actually look decent. It wasn’t.)

…except myself.

As soon as I got into my apartment, I jumped out of my clothes and gorged on this terrible little cake in–you guessed it–my underwear. And as I did, I wondered why I chose to stand over the sink and continue to serve myself sliver after sliver of disaster. I felt like someone was watching me, and I was right–it was my conscience.

This is a lesson to all: if it tastes awful, stop eating it. In fact, throw it out. Get it out of the house. Instead, eat something you enjoy. Once you’re done, you may be annoyed that you consumed more calories than necessary (or humanly acceptable), but at least they weren’t wasted on crap, like mine. See–even dietitians need reminding.

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It’s the kind of dessert that you want to feed to someone, or have someone feed you. Sabayon is an egg-yolk base that serves as the foundation for emulsified sauces, such as hollandaise or bearnaise. When the yolks are whipped with a sweet element and alcohol, you get something that looks like this:

Place a stainless steel bowl over a pot of gently simmering water. In the bowl, whisk together 3 egg yolks, 3 tablespoons of sugar, and 3 tablespoons of white wine, or any alcohol you have on hand. Once the eggs double in volume and become thick and frothy, you’re done. Yup, that’s it. If you end up with scrambled eggs, well, you’ve screwed it up.

If you’re watching your figure, sabayon is a relatively safe dessert choice when compared to, let’s say, ice cream or whipped cream. And let’s face it–no one wants to take off their pants after gorging on a bowl of either.

I recently made this for my mom, so it was a tame night; we spooned the sabayon over berries and ate it in pajama pants, not underwear. Next time, I’ll make it a romantic occasion–underwear and all. Maybe even candles. Maybe that’s pushing it.