I'm writing a story about a woman who goes to Paris to learn to make pastries. This desire has something to do with grieving her dead husband, though I'm not sure what. I have been a tad worried about writing about the class, since the closest I get to pastry making is throwing some ingredients in the bread machine.
Then, in an unrelated (or so I thought) quest, I went to the Boston Center for Adult Education's web site. I teach a class there, and as partial payment, I get to take a free class. I wanted to take dancing, but sadly none of those classes fit into my schedule. I searched for classes that meet on Monday nights, and lo and behold, there's a pastry making class! And not just any pastry--French pastry dough. Now that's what I call delicious research.