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An avalanche of white fine powder rains from a big brown cloud, into a big blue ceramic bowl, decorated all over with rose carvings. This white snow passes through a delicate sieve, before landing into a perfect mound at the bottom of the bowl. Dainty hands tap the sides of the fine metal mesh, until nothing is left of the cloud, and the small dune forming is now a mountain of fine well sifted flour. The same hands pick up a pitcher of warm milk, and slowly lets it rain upon the mound of flour, the large mound disintegrates into a hill surrounded by a moat. More liquid in the form of purified water, floods the entirety of the hill, in swirls of clear crystal, until all that is left is a swamp of white.

Sparkling snow follows the flood, and it covers the swamp in a glimmering mist, before delicate fingers adds in half a tablespoon of salt, the sound of ringing could be heard, as she lightly taps the end of the tablespoon to the rim. Brown succeeds the white and pristine, as yeast is introduced into the mix. And lastly, like a crowning glory, a generous dollop of butter is placed at the top of the mix.

Delicate fingers pick up the smooth end of a wooden ladle, and incorporates the mix into a storm, that slowly becomes a solid mass of cream colored dough. The same hands takes a fistful of flour, and lets it fall into a shower over a wooden countertop. The dough sitting on the blue mixing bowl is lifted up, and transferred to the dusted surface. Smooth hands begins its task, of transforming the ugly looking clumped dough, into a figure of a perfect sphere. The dough is pushed and pulled in a consistent, but caring manner until a flawless round form is reached.

The round ball is then wrapped in thin plastic film before being placed back into the blue ceramic bowl. Feminine steps then stride towards the fridge and wisps of chilly condensation escapes from the fridge door as the dough is placed inside. A clean sharp knife slices through a large slab of butter, turning the big piece into 8 smaller parts and laying it out careful into a strait line, one above the other, forming a rectangle. Another parchment is placed atop this and a rolling pin slowly pounds down the figure until the 8 separate parts become a whole.

An hour has passed and the dough is taken out of the fridge rolled out into a square, and delicately the butter rolled out earlier is taken from the fridge and placed at the center of the dough. The butter is gingerly encased by the dough and flattened out slightly. The dough is folded upon itself and store away for another hour.

The dough is taken out, and folded upon itself again, and stored away. Like a percussion ringing over and over again. The night deepens the dough is folded one last time before its maker calls it a night.

Round robin, the process is repeated for two more days until a perfect dough, with 600 layers, is created. Skillful hands cut the flatten flour canvass awaiting the painter’s hands to transform it into a masterpiece. A sharp knife glides through the surface cutting out isosceles triangles, with each run of the blade, masterful fingers with pull the end of the longer point. 24 triangles are created, all with incisions made at the base. Each piece is laid out flat, and a cube of dark chocolate is placed at the center before the triangle is rolled upon itself creating the recognisable crescent shape of a croissant.

Delicate fingers pick up a large brown egg and gently cracks it against the side of the blue bowl, lightly hitting the green leaves etched on ceramic mixing bowl. And each finished croissant receives a generous brushing of egg wash, before being allowed to rise.

A young girl with gorgeous ochre blonde locks peers into the glass door of a European style brick oven and smiles to herself. She, the great Lalisa Kim, had been playing around in the “Fais de Beaux Rêves” kitchen for almost three days. She was testing out her latest experiment, a chocolate croissant made with a dash of her special spices mix, and whole ton of her perfectionist baking techniques. She overloaded the concoction by making her own semi sweet dark chocolate as the filling. She was proud of herself, she had come a long way from making cake-like layer-less croissant to one that displays the distinction of each fold.

Paramore’s “Hard Times” blasted from the petite Totoro speaker located the far end of the kitchen. And time seemed to pass for the budding pastry chef or as the French would call her a pâtissier. She had swept and mopped every mess she had made in the kitchen, cleanliness is out of her system whenever she is experimenting. And she experiments most of the time, causing her older sister and only sibling Jennie-unnie to scold her like she was a war criminal.

“As a chef you have to practice being neat Lalisa!” she would sermon, to which she would respond with puppy eyes. “But unnie when Thomas Edison discovered electricity he was not worrying about being neat!”

“You’re not Thomas Edison! And FYI, you’re a chef not a scientist!” her unnie would say with a higher pitch, which was her cue to shut it or she will spend the whole day trying to scrub soot and ash from the brick oven.

The scent of fresh baked pastry filled the kitchen, laced with the intoxicating smell of hazelnut and chocolate.

“Assa!” she squealed as she pulled out her work of art. She gingerly placed each delectable looking morsel into the cooling rack and began her task of clearing the baking sheets she used into the sink.

P!nk’s “True Love” rang within the kitchen walls as she slowly broke the croissant into two, its uber flaky crust breaking at the slightest pressure. She stood there mesmerized at her creation. The crust of the croissant was a delicate puff pastry that beautifully flaked at her fingertips. Melted chocolate gushed out of the gap created from breaking the pastry into two. The chocolate was of the perfect consistency, thick and glossy. It filled the air with a sickly sweet but addicting aroma which was enough to make this patissier’s mouth water.

Now, the determining factor. Her work may look amazing but everything is about the taste. She took a small bite and her lips turned into an immediate smile. She raised up the croissant like it was Simba from the Lion King movie and jumped up and down.

That was how her unnie found her, jumping excitedly while raising her latest creation in the air.

“Let me guess, you created a new earth-shaking pastry?” her Jennie unnie asked. She skipped excitedly towards her and held out the croissant