My friends, the exotica writer and his lovely wife, tried to school L. and I in the art of French pastry while they were here. Unfortunately, they hadn't prepared themselves for my oven, which has no temperature or settings gauge.
While you can never be sure what temperature Moko's oven is cooking at, or whether it's decided to braise, bake, steam, stuff, poach, or pepper your dish, you can still get a pretty good guess by a) throwing your hand into the heat now and then (tho' that's left me with a few scars), and b) by keeping your eye on the pastry itself.
Not wanting to suffer 3rd degree burns, my friends picked the latter option for their Galette du roi, a traditional Christmas/Epiphany marzipan pastry in which Frenchies hide something--a small figurine, a bean, a revolution, etc.--and the person who ends up with that slice is lucky/king for the day/has to pay for a round of drinks. Anyway, I was so busy whining about the lack of a toy in our version of the Galette du roi that I distracted my dear friends from paying closer attention to the oven, and we ended up with a crispy top---and totally liquid almond sugar mass in middle.
I think we did a pretty good job of hiding the ooze from the photo though...