Among my Chanukah presents last year from my husband’s family was an almost pocket-sized book called “Chef’s Secrets: Insider Techniques from Today’s Culinary Masters.” When I randomly opened a page, to see what kind of tips it offered, I found this gem from Chef J. Bryce Whittlesly (a New England name if I’ve ever heard one…) and read it out loud:  “How to peel a tomato with a blowtorch.”

Paulie’s family likes to eat, but they are hardly food-obsessed like I am. They all found this hilarious. Actually, so did I. While I had not yet decided to go to culinary school then, I was already a foodie and cook. I had been dropping tomatoes in hot water for a minute or two to peel them my whole cooking life. Crème Brulee wasn’t among my favorite desserts, so a culinary blowtorch was hardly something I needed.

We all had a good laugh over it, and with our wedding then seven months away, we were told if we put it on the registry, surely we would receive it.

But when it came time to wave the magic wand over whatever our hearts desired, more practical things like sheets and towels (and okay, a bread machine) seemed way more important than a blowtorch. (I must admit that as overjoyed as I was at meeting and marrying my bashert, and believe me, I was, stocking my kitchen with All-Clad and Le Creuset was pretty damn exciting, too.) Our wedding joyously came and went, and the blowtorch was forgotten.

Until a few months ago. In one of my classes on baking at the healthy, natural foods chef program I attend at Bauman College, we made chocolate tarts with coconut cream. A thin layer of banana slices covered the cream, and guess what went on top of that? Carmelized sugar. Our instructor brought in his blowtorch.

I was a bit afraid at first, but soon I was firing it like a pro. I’m hardly a pyromaniac, but there was something just cool about aiming fire at sugar and watching it bubble and turn brown. Still, though, having one at home would be an extravagance.

Well, my birthday was a few weeks ago, and while I may have forgotten about the blowtorch, my in-laws did not. When the Crate & Barrel box arrived on our stoop, I certainly wasn’t expecting that.

So, Shabbos was coming, and I had invited my friends Robin and Matthew, who will be our first wedding in a season of them in 2007. Living in the Bay Area means having friends with every possible food allergy and intolerance one can think of, so even though I did not remember them having any, I made sure to ask. I also asked whether it would be okay if I made a non-healthy, overly fatty dessert – so I could try out my new blowtorch. Robin was a good sport about it and said “Sure.”

(I don’t think I need to state the obvious here, that we are not frum, and therefore, did not even think about the fact that using a blowtorch on Shabbos would surely be frowned upon, but you can guess that at dinner, that particular fact did come up.)

Minus the dessert, I cooked as healthy of a dinner as I know how: white bean stew with butternut squash, kale, and soy sausage rather than turkey (found at http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/recipes/soup-stew/whitebeanvegstew.html). I served it over bulgur, my new favorite grain.

Until recently, I had only tried bulgur in tabbouleh. While I always enjoyed it that way, eating it hot in lieu of brown rice with a hearty stew was a revelation. It not only cooks much faster than brown rice, but has a delicious nutty flavor that is so satisfying on a cold day. It has much more character than quinoa, but I realize it is off-limits for the wheat-intolerant.

I also made a tossed salad of arugula, roasted golden beets, blood oranges, toasted walnuts, avocado and goat cheese. The ‘wow’ factor was a blood orange juice reduction with zinfandel vinegar as the dressing. Up until that moment, I made Bauman College proud.

But the dessert alone would kick me out of culinary school. Organic whipped cream and eggs from free-range chickens aside, such artery-clogging fare is not something we learn about there. Shhhhhhhh.

After we finished dinner, we went into the kitchen to try out the torch. Everyone had to come watch, and Paulie even took photos (well, once we were violating Shabbos with the blowtorch, we might as well record the moment, no?)

I am embarrassed to say that my crème brulee was too runny. Despite over an hour in the oven in its “bain-marie,” the crème didn’t set properly, which could be due to any number of factors. While the taste was delicious, it was like eating pure cream, made even heavier because of the egg yolks. And Paulie, I think, was a little too overzealous with his sugar sprinkling. Matthew was never a chef, but he used to own a restaurant and knew a thing or two about crème brulee. He offered a number of reasons why it might not have set; nevertheless, it was a chance to use the blowtorch and a valiant attempt at a classic dessert. I will have to keep trying to make sure the blowtorch gets used every once in awhile.

Then again, there is always peeling tomatoes.