Tag: almonds

  • Galette des rois

    Galette des rois

    [Almond king’s cake]

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    Galette des rois

    The galette des rois is traditionally eaten throughout January to celebrate the Epiphany. Although, the its origin can be traced back to pagan celebrations of the winter solstice. In these celebrations, a cake was baked with a hidden bean inside, and whoever found the bean was crowned king of the feast.
    These days, galette des rois is composed of two disks of puff pastry encasing frangipane – a cream made by mixing both crème d’amandes and crème pâtissière, with a ceramic fève [trinket] baked into it.
    A southern version, called brioche des rois is a rich orange blossom brioche adorned with gorgeous candied fruits.
    When making galette, I like to freeze the shaped pastry for an hour or so, and then ALWAYS turn it upside-down on my baking mat/baking paper lined baking tray to provide a nice flat surface for scoring.
    Author: Fanny Zanotti
    Prep Time45 minutes
    Cook Time45 minutes
    Total Time1 hour 30 minutes
    Makes 1 large galette, enough for 8-10.

    Ingredients

    For the crème pâtissière

    • 185 g whole milk
    • seeds from 1 vanilla pod
    • 60 g egg yolks
    • 35 g demerara sugar
    • 20 g cornflour
    • a pinch of salt

    For the crème d’amandes

    • 125 g butter at room temperature
    • 150 g icing sugar
    • 1 tbsp vanilla sugar
    • 200 g ground almonds
    • 2 eggs
    • 20 g cornflour
    • a generous pinch of salt

    To assemble

    • 600 g puff pastry
    • one egg yolk beaten, to glaze

    For the glazing syrupe

    • 50 g demerara sugar
    • 50 g water
    • a pinch of salt

    Instructions

    • Make the crème pâtissière. Bring the milk and seeds from a vanilla pod to the boil.
    • in a bowl, combine the egg yolks, sugar, cornflour and salt using a whisk.
    • Temper the egg yolk mixture with the just-boiled milk and return to the sauce pan. Bring to the boil over low heat, whisking constantly.
    • Pour the crème pat into a heatproof container and cover with clingfilm to the touch.
    • Refrigerate until cold.
    • When the crème pat is cold, get on with the crème d’amandes.
    • Cream the butter, icing sugar and vanilla sugar in the bowl of a stand-mixer fitted with the paddle attachement until light and fluffy.
    • Add the eggs one at a time, mixing well after each addition.
    • Add the ground almonds, cornflour and salt and mix to combine.
    • Then add the crème pâtissière, in three times, mixing well and scraping the sides of the bowl as you do so.
    • The frangipane is ready to be used.
    • To make a galette des rois, you will need around 600 g puff pastry. Roll into into two large discs, around 4-5mm thick. Pipe the frangipane in the center leaving a 2cm edge. If you wish, place a ceramic fève in the frangipane – the one who gets it in its slice will be crowned king/queen. Brush the edge with water and top with the second disc of puff pastry, pressing the edges together well.
    • For a perfect finish, cut around the galette – through both layers of puff pastry to create a neat edge. Use a large plate with the right diameter and a small sharp knife.
    • If you want, you can then freeze the galette as is for 1 hour, you just want the puff pastry to harden so that it creates a nice flat surface for scoring later.
    • Then pre-heat the oven to 190°C /fan 180°C. And prepare a baking tray lined with a silicon mat or baking paper.
    • Place the galette upside-down onto the prepared tray. Brush with a beaten egg yolk and allow to dry 10-15 minutes. Score using the tip of a small knife.
    • Poke a few holes as well to let the steam escape.
    • Bake for 40-45 minutes until golden brown.
    • In the meantime, make the glazing syrup: bring the water and sugar to the boil, with perhaps a pinch of salt. When the galette is ready, brush immediately with the syrup.
    • Leave to cool slightly and serve in wedges.
  • Birgittas saffranskaka

    Birgittas saffranskaka

    [Birgitta´s saffron cake]

    If you follow me on instagram, you’ll recognise this cake. One that I make year after year, sometimes late november, when the snow starts to settle into a thick coat and paper stars hang at our windows. One that we made, Sienna and I, on a very cold Monday, just a few weeks ago. And filmed the whole process. You can watch our videos here, but it’s a bit of a happy circus!

    On saffron

    In Sweden, ground saffron is readily available at every supermarket in small half-gram enveloppes. And that’s the reason why most Swedish Christmas recipes call for saffron powder instead of the usual saffron threads.
    As always with saffron, it’s fundamental to extract its flavour as much as possible before incorporating it into a batter or a dough. Now, I must admit that I’ve baked cakes and bullar only doing a quick infusion, often by mixing the saffron powder into melted butter or into the liquids of a recipe.

    However, if you have time, I would recommend to make a saffron syrup. It can be made mid to late-November and will keep throughout the Christmas season.
    Start by mixing 3 g saffron (threads or powder) with 1 tbsp vodka in a small jar (I use a 150ml jar). Allow to infuse for a week. Then make a simple syrup by boiling 50 g water along with 50 g sugar, then pour over the saffron infusion and mix well.

    Now, when a recipe calls for 0.5 g saffron, you can easily substitute it with one tablespoon of your saffron syrup.

    Notes on gräddfil

    Gräddfil is a Swedish sour cream made with different bacteria strains than in the yoghurt making process. It has around 10-12% fat content and is best substituted with sour cream, or Turkish yoghurt, but in a pinch, natural yoghurt or even crème fraiche would make a good substitute.

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    Birgittas saffranskaka

    This recipe is adapted from my friend Susanne. Her mother-in-law – Birgitta – used to bake this cake every year around Christmas time. If I recall right, her recipe has a less sugar and she never soaked raisins, one thing that Susanne is also partial too. I also like to add grated almond paste into the batter, and a thick coat of slivered almonds on top of the cake before it goes in the oven.
    Sadly, I never got the chance to meet Birgitta, but I'm deeply grateful that her cake has become a tradition in our house as the very first thing we bake with saffron every year, not unlike a soft step into the Christmas season.
    Author: Fanny Zanotti
    Prep Time25 minutes
    Cook Time45 minutes
    Total Time1 hour 10 minutes
    Makes 20 cm cake

    Ingredients

    • 100 g raisins
    • 2 eggs
    • 210 g caster sugar
    • pinch of salt
    • 100 g salted butter
    • 0.5 g ground saffron read notes above
    • 150 g gräddfil Greek/Turkish yoghurt or sour cream (read notes above)
    • 180 g plain flour
    • 2 tsp baking powder
    • 100 g almond paste coarsely grated

    To top

    • a handful slivered or flaked almonds
    • icing sugar

    Instructions

    • Preheat the oven to 175°C/fan 155°C. Butter and line a 20cm cake tin with baking paper.
    • Before you get on with the cake batter, soak the raisins in boiling water and set aside.
    • Whisk the eggs and sugar along with a pinch of salt until light and fluffy. In a small pan, melt the butter. Add the saffron (read notes above) and the yoghurt of your choice.
    • Add the melted butter mixture to the eggs and mix well to combine.
    • In a separate bowl, sieve the flour and baking powder. Drain the raisins and shake them thoroughly to get rid of as much water as possbible. Then gently coat them with a tablespoon of the flour mixture.
    • Now mix in the remaining flour into the batter, folding with a silicon spatula. Add the raisins and grated almond paste, and pour into the prepared tin. Top with slivered or flaked almonds and bake for 35-45 minutes, or until golden-brown and a skewer inserted into the centre of the cake comes out clean.
    • Allow the cake to cool slightly on a wire rack then unmould and dust with a thin coat of icing sugar.

  • Saffransmazariner

    Saffransmazariner

    [Saffron mazariner]

    Twelve weeks ago, almost to the second, Sienna was put on my chest; pink as a candy, eyes wide open. Twelve weeks that went quickly, and also, twelves weeks when winter came and went more times that I can count.

    There was the night we rushed to the maternity; the air suddenly so sharp we’d forgotten how it felt against our cheeks. There was the first snow, as early as the third of October, which was gone a few days later; and as it did, the longing for a winter as I had known it only became more intense with every morning that passed by without a snowflake. And then, one day, winter was here, not that it didn’t come without a warning.
    The afternoons by the river, frost on every branch. That Sunday when snowflakes were big as cotton balls. And the clear evening skies we had last week when the temperatures dropped to -20°C.

    In our kitchen, there is a bread made of rye and filmjölk [sour milk] on the counter. And every time we open the pantry, the earthy smell of saffron fills the room. We have blueberry cakelets in the fridge, and lussekatter in a jar above it. A mjukpepparkaka [gingerbread cake] on our table, and a baking tray filled with brown butter and cardamom salted caramel, waiting to be cut.

    Yes, there is so much I want to tell you about, but Christmas is only a few days away, and some things cannot wait, like these saffransmazariner.

    Saffransmazariner

    A mazarin is a tartlet traditionally composed of three elements:
    – a crisp pâte sablée case
    – an almond cream filling, not unlike the French crème d’amande
    – a simple icing sugar glaze

    Sometimes, a thin layer of jam covers the bottom of the tart shell, or the filling can be topped with fresh berries before baking, in which case, the mazarin isn’t glazed.

    Its origin – although I haven’t quite had the time to research – seems rather uncertain, possibly linked to an Italian cardinal who moved to Paris and first assisted Richelieu, only to succeed him in the mid seventeenth century.
    Through his regency, Cardinal Mazarin has been thought to popularise pasta and perhaps, other Italian delicacies in France and Sweden (which were rather new allies then). And although there is no evidence of it in literature, mazariner do strongly remind me of the traditional crostata di mandorle, a very similar tart from Italy.

    My saffron mazariner are the festive version of the Swedish favourite. You see, I have the bad habit to buy mazarinformar [mazarin moulds] at every garage sale; so really, I’m always looking for an excuse to bake them under one form or another.
    You can use any tartlet moulds, ideally around 5-6cm in diameter, but in a pinch, I suspect a muffin tin will do fine too. A large mazarin, sliced in thin wedges would also look fantastic on a cake stand!

    The dough – my usual pâte sablée, with a touch of baking powder for an extra brittle shell – will make more than you need, but you can:
    – do as I usually do and line additional moulds (around 40), and keep them in the freezer for up to two months
    – freeze the extra dough, which you can later use to line a 24cm tart tin
    I tend to make it in the food-processor, but a stand-mixer works too. As always, I can only recommend rolling it before letting it to rest in the fridge; however this dough is quite forgiving, and when I don’t want to use up a lot of baking paper or if I’m feeling lazy, I will wrap the dough in clingfilm, and chill it for 20-30 minutes, then roll it onto a lightly floured bench. For more tips on how to handle tart dough, please refer to these posts here.

    Mazariner freeze beautifully. On the day you want to eat them, simply take them out for a few hours, and glaze them with a simple icing sugar glaze.

    Saffransmazariner

    Makes 28

    For the pâte sablée

    360 g plain flour
    90 g icing sugar
    1/2 tsp sea salt
    1/4 tsp baking powder
    200 g unsalted butter
    100 g eggs (2 medium)

    butter, melted to grease the moulds

    For the saffron filling

    150 g unsalted butter
    1 g ground saffron
    300 g good quality marzipan (minimum 50% almonds), coarsely grated
    100 g eggs (2 medium)
    1/2 tsp sea salt
    10 g plain flour (approx. 1 tbsp)

    For the glaze

    250 g icing sugar
    water from the kettle

    Make the dough. In the bowl of a food-processor, place the flour, sugar, salt, baking powder and butter, and mix until the mixture ressembles wet sand. Add the eggs and pulse until it just starts to form a dough.
    Divide the dough in two and roll each piece to 3-4mm thick between two sheets of baking paper. Place onto a tray and chill in the fridge for 20-30 minutes.

    In the meantime, preheat the oven to 175°C/fan 160°C, and brush 28 (or more, read note above) tartlet moulds with melted butter; setting them aside until needed.

    Make the filling. Melt the butter in a small pan and add the saffron. Mix well and allow to infuse for a few minutes.
    Place the marzipan, eggs, salt and flour in the bowl of a food-processor and mix to a smooth paste. Slowly add the butter, mixing as you do so.
    Transfer the filling to a piping bag.

    Take the dough out of the fridge and loosen the top sheet of baking paper. Flip over and remove the other sheet, this way, the dough still is on baking paper, yet doesn’t stick to it (I hope that makes sense).
    Cut out the dough into small ovals or circles, depending on the shape of your tins, and line each with dough, trimming the excess using your thumb or a small paring knife.

    Place the lined moulds onto a baking tray, and fill them with your saffran almond cream, around 3/4 full.

    Bake for 20-25 minutes or until golden brown. Allow to cool down for 10-15 minutes, then unmould.

    Mix the icing sugar with a drop of hot water, just enough to form a thick paste, and spoon on top of the mazariner. Allow to set for an hour or two, then store in an airtight container for up to five days. You can also freeze the unglazed mazariner for up to 3 months (see note above).

  • PS. Time to start baking with saffron

    PS. Time to start baking with saffron

    “Saffran, pepparkakor, lingon och mandel.”

    If you sat on the windowsill, here with me – yes, right now – you’d see many things around us. The stars and advent candles, fluttering in every house. The snow, covering roofs till the horizon and further.

    In my kitchen – and I suspect many others – saffran, pepparkakor, lingon och mandel [saffron, gingerbread, lingon berries and almonds] pervade the air in the way only they can. And we’d watch bullar rise under the yellow glow of the oven lamp, spitting butter and oozing with marzipan just so.

    Yes, it’s time to start baking with saffron, although I might have possibly started a couple of weeks ago.
    And if you’d ever ask me, I’d possibly urge you to start too; most likely with my absolute favourite buns: saffransbullar med mandelmassa.

    My saffron recipes

    Saffranskladdkaka

    [Swedish saffron blondies] Snipp, snapp, snut – så var julen slut. Christmas has come and gone, and I never got …
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    Birgittas saffranskaka

    [Birgitta´s saffron cake] If you follow me on instagram, you’ll recognise this cake. One that I make year after year, …
    Read More

    Saffransmazariner

    [Saffron mazariner] Twelve weeks ago, almost to the second, Sienna was put on my chest; pink as a candy, eyes …
    Read More

    Glad Lucia, a lussekatter history (and recipe)

    Traditionally eaten for Santa Lucia on the thirteenth of December, lussekatter – also called lussebullar – have a nebulous history …
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    PS. Time to start baking with saffron

    “Saffran, pepparkakor, lingon och mandel.” If you sat on the windowsill, here with me – yes, right now – you’d …
    Read More

    Saffransbullar med mandelmassa

    [Swedish saffron and almond buns] Sunrise: 9:33 AM Sunset: 1:28 PM Temperature: -11.8°C The Swedish saffron and almond buns you …
    Read More
  • Almond and raisin tea cake

    Almond and raisin tea cake

    I’ve been thinking about this cake ever since my mum emailed me earlier this week, asking for a good recipe for cake aux fruits confits.

    Growing up, cake aux fruits confits was always the last one left on a birthday dessert table. Slices of dry cake, studded with always too little candied cherries, of the bright-red kind, which if you’d asked me twenty years ago were the best part about this loaf cake.

    Of course, my dad who’s always been fond of the store-bought kind (same goes for madeleines, go figure!), would heavily disagree. But to be completely honest, as I read my mum’s email, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that good and cake aux fruits confits don’t really go hand in hand. A thought that I’d soon learn how to let go.

    As any new recipe I work on, I make a mental list of the things I want and do not want in the finished product.
    Here I was trying to go as far away as possible from the fruit cakes I used to make when I first moved to London. Rich with dark brown sugar, many raisins and manier currants, and loaded with so much candied fruits you’d wonder where the cake batter had gone.

    What I wanted was a moist sponge with a slightly dense crumb and deeper flavours, studded with plump raisins and delicate candied fruits. A light-golden crust, made soft with ground almonds on the batter and a generous wash of tea-infused sugar syrup on the warm loaf.

    I made the cake this morning, as water was boiling for the first of many French-press-fuls of coffee. And I liked it so much that I thought you might too. Et pour toi aussi Maman <3

    I had to leave out the candied fruits, because I didn’t have any at home, and really, I’m pretty certain that the Swedes are wise enough to leave them out from their supermarkets’ shelves; yes, I truly think I haven’t spotted any since we moved here, not that I’ve been restlessly looking for fruits confits.
    It made for a wonderful almond and raisin tea cake, but if you’re after a cake aux fruits confits, you could most definitely replace some of the raisins with candied fruits, as noted in the recipe below.

    Almond and raisin tea cake

    Makes one loaf

    boiling water
    100 g raisins
    1 Breakfast tea bag

    125 g butter, soft
    70 g light brown sugar
    50 g caster sugar
    1 tsp vanilla sugar
    3 eggs
    100 g plain flour
    80 g ground almonds
    1 tsp baking powder
    120 g raisins or candied fruits     (see note above)

    A hour before staring, soak the raisins in boiling water – enough to cover them completely. Add the tea bag and set aside until needed.

    Preheat the oven to 180°C (for a fan-assisted oven). Butter and line a loaf tin with baking paper.

    Drain the raisins, pressing well to get rid of any excess liquid, and making sure to save the soaking liquid, which we’ll later use to make a syrup to brush the warm loaf with.

    Cream the butter and sugars for 5-6 minutes, until light and fluffy. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.
    In another bowl, mix the flour, ground almonds, baking powder and raisins (or candied fruits, if using).
    Pour over the butter mixture and fold gently using a wooden spoon or spatula, until smooth. Finally fold in the soaked raisins and pour the batter into the prepared tin.

    Bake for 10 minutes at 180°C, then reduce the temperature to 160°C and bake for a further 30-35 minutes, or until the sponge feels springy to the touch.
    In the meantime, weigh out 100 g of the soaking syrup into a small pan and add 70 g of caster sugar. Bring to the boil. When the cake is baked, immediately brush the syrup on top of the warm loaf.
    Allow to cool down completely and unmould.

    This cake will keep for days at room temperature,well-wrapped in clingfilm.

    Cake aux raisins ou Cake aux fruits confits

    Pour un cake

    100 g raisins secs
    eau bouillante
    1 sachet de thé anglais

    125 g beurre, mou
    3 oeufs
    70 g vergeoise blonde
    50 g sucre
    1 càc sucre vanillé
    100 g farine T55
    80 g amandes en poudre
    1 càc levure chimique
    120 g raisins secs ou fruits confits

    Un heure avant de commencer, placer les raisins secs dans un bol supportant la chaleur et verser de l’eau bouillante pour les recouvrir. Ajouter le sachet de thé et laisser infuser pendant 1 heure.

    Préchauffer le four à 180°C (pour un four ventilé). Beurrer un moule à cake et le recouvrir de papier cuisson.

    Egoutter les raisins en prenant soin de bien les presser afin d’extraire un maximum d’eau. Réserver l’eau de trempage qui servira par la suite à imbiber le cake.

    Battre le beurre avec les sucres pendant 5-6 minutes. Ajouter les oeufs, un à un, en battant environ une minute après chaque oeuf.

    Dans un bol, mélanger la farine, poudre d’amandes, levure chimique et fruits confits (ou la seconde pesée de raisins secs pour un cake aux raisins). Verser sur le beurre et incorporer la farine à l’appareil en utilisant une cuillère ou spatule jusqu’à obtention d’une pâte bien lisse.
    Finalement, ajouter les raisins secs préalablement égouttés et mélanger brièvement.
    Verser l’appareil dans le moule à cake beurré.

    Cuire 10 minutes, puis abaisser la température à 160°C et poursuivre la cuisson pendant environ 30-35 minutes.
    Pendant ce temps, verser 100 g du liquide de trempage des raisins dans une petite casserole et ajouter 70 g de sucre. Porter à ébullition et réserver.

    Une fois cuit, imbiber le cake encore chaud à l’aide d’un pinceau. Laisser refroidir complètement, puis démouler.
    Ce cake se conserve très bien à température ambiante, enveloppé dans du papier film.

  • Saffransbullar med mandelmassa

    Saffransbullar med mandelmassa

    [Swedish saffron and almond buns]

    Sunrise: 9:33 AM
    Sunset: 1:28 PM
    Temperature: -11.8°C

    The Swedish saffron and almond buns you see here were made on the twenty-fourth of November. Perhaps, it was a Tuesday. Or a Monday. But I remember how we made the dough the night before. And topped it with marzipan butter in the morning, just as a trumpet in the distance started playing Christmas melodies. I might have let them overproof as I went for a walk in the snow.

    Yes, I might have.

    Since then, I’ve made them countless times at the café and twice more at home. For a Christmas fika.

    Today, I have a different kind of saffron buns proofing on my kitchen counter: lussekatter. A simple saffron dough, rolled and twirled into shape.
    And I’m pretty certain that every house in Sweden also smells like warm saffron. And perhaps, if they’re as lucky as we are, of forest and cinnamon too.
    Because it’s St Lucia today. And the third Sunday of advent.

    But I’ll have to wait to show you the lussekatter, as the sun set hours ago and it’s now too dark to take pictures.
    However, I’m sure that these bullar will make a perfect in-the-meantime treat. And possibly make you wish for a forever in-the-meantime moment.

    Saffransbullar med mandelmassa

    For these buns, I adapted my usual kanelbullar recipe by adding saffron to the dough. Here in Sweden, saffron is easy to come across and fairly inexpensive – compared to France or the UK. One of the things I find particularly pleasant, is that the saffron comes already ground so you don’t have to infuse it in warm liquid like I’ve been used to with the threads.

    Edit 13/12/2018: Nowadays, I always tend to dissolve the saffron in a tablespoon or so of rum. I find it brings out the flavour even more!

    If you don’t have any ground saffron, simply bring the milk to the boil and soak/infuse the saffron threads in it for at least 30 minutes. You will have to wait for the milk to be completely cooled down before using in the recipe.

    The filling recipe comes from my friend Suss, my one and only reference when it comes to all things related to Swedish baking. She’s an amazing baker and these buns alone prove it!
    It’s really straight-forward: butter, marzipan, and the zest of an orange; and yet, it makes for the best saffron buns you’ll ever find.

    Saffransbullar med mandelmassa

    makes around 14-16

    For the saffron dough

    530 g strong flour
    70 g caster sugar
    16 g fresh yeast
    10 g sea salt
    0.5 g ground saffron     (see note above)
    3 eggs (150 g)
    190 g whole milk
    150 g unsalted butter    , at room temperature

    For the almond butter

    160 g salted butter, at room temperature
    160 g marzipan
    zest from 2 oranges

    For the topping

    1 egg, beaten, to glaze
    a handful of pearl sugar

    For the syrup

    75 g caster sugar
    75 g water

    In a large bowl, combine the flour, caster sugar, yeast, salt and saffron. Add the eggs and milk, and mix with a wooden spoon until a dough forms. Transfer to a clean work surface and knead by hand for around 20 minutes – if you’re making the dough in a stand-mixer, fit it with the hook attachment and knead on medium speed for around 10 minutes, until the dough detaches from the sides of the bowl and feels: – smooth, elastic and barely tacky. If you take a small piece of dough, you should be able to stretch it into a very thin membrane.

    Add the butter in three or four times – if making by hand; if you’re using a stand mixer, add the butter, one small piece at a time continuously until all the butter is in – and knead it in for around 10 minutes. The dough will “split” as you do so and butter will smear over your work surface, but keep on adding butter until it’s all used. Then knead the dough until smooth again. Place in a large bowl, and clingfilm to the touch.

    You could proof the dough for 1 hour at room temperature and then place it in the fridge for at least another hour before using it, or refrigerate straight away for at least 8 hours and up to 24 hours.

    The next day, get two baking trays ready by lining then with baking paper. Make the almond butter by mixing all the ingredients until smooth and spreadable.

    Slightly flour your work bench and tip the dough over. Roll into a 30 x 60 cm rectangle, around 5-6mm thick, with the short end facing you. Spread the almond butter evenly over the lower 2/3 of the dough. Then fold the dough into three, first the top part over the centre, then the bottom (and closest to you) over the rest. You should be left with a 30 x 20 cm-ish rectangle.

    Cut 2cm wide strips and roll each into a knot, and place it on the prepared baking tray. Keep on going until all the strips are rolled.

    Cover loosely with clingfilm and allow to proof for a couple of hours or until doubled in size.

    Preheat the oven to 185°C.
    Brush the top of the buns with the egg wash and sprinkle with pearl sugar.

    Bake for 12-16 minutes or until golden brown.
    Transfer to a wire-rack using a palette knife and allow to cool down slightly.

    For extra shiny buns, brush the top of your just-baked bullar with a simple syrup made of equal quantity of sugar and water brought to the boil.

    Let me know if you try to make them 🙂 Lots of love, and a wonderful week!

    pS. If you want to follow my Swedish Christmas adventures, use #fannysjul on instagram. X

  • Tarte à l’abricot et à la pistache

    Tarte à l’abricot et à la pistache

    [Apricot and pistachio tart]

    I had a pâton of pâte sucrée in the fridge. And a little bag of roasted pistachios a friend brought back from Lebanon. And of course, too many apricots sitting on the counter.

    An hour later, all this turned into a tart.

    The kind of tarts that are simple and rustic. And yet, ever so delicious. We had a piece still warm from the oven for lunch. And another for dinner, after a baguette garlic steak sandwich that was so good I want to remember it forever. Inside, thick slices of juicy steak with plenty of grated garlic, a dollop of cancoillotte, and salad leaves from the garden.

    With a glass of rosé and a few radishes we’d just picked, it was fairly close to the perfect summer dinner.

    A few hundreds kilometres away, my friend Anna-Sarah* is having her very own perfect dinner. On a péniche [houseboat] with never-ending glasses of champagne. It’s her birthday and I wish her the happiest one ever.

    And if I’m lucky enough, I might even join her on the boat next week-end. Just before I fly back to London. And step into whites again. At the Capital, to give a hand to my friend Richard Hondier who’s now running the kitchen and plating the most delightful dishes I’ve ever seen. And really, I can’t wait.

    * You might know that Anna-Sarah hates apricots, she’s already told me off when I posted this a few days after she’d left (of the I-see-you’re-waiting-until-I’m-gone-to-write-about-apricots kind), so sharing an apricot recipe on her birthday, let’s hope she forgives me!

    Tarte à l’abricot et à la pistache

    This tart is super-quick to put together. Especially if you have some pâte sucrée ready in your fridge or your freezer. I know I always do, and this way, dessert is almost always less than an hour away.

    There is nothing tricky. Pastry, crème d’amandes, fruits, and a little glaze. Ah, yes, just a quick word on crème d’amandes, a stapple in French pâtisseries. I forgot to include it in this list, and really it should be there. The mistake has been corrected since more often than not, you’ll find crèmes d’amandes that feeleither too buttery or too spongy. And most of the times, it even gets called frangipane, and trust me, crème d’amandes in no frangipane.

    To make a gorgeous crème d’amandes, you just have to make sure the eggs are at room temperature. I keep my eggs in the fridge, so they never are. If you add them fridge-cold to the creamed butter, the mixture will split and might leak butter during baking. The trick I use is so simple it hurts. I just place the eggs in hot water – of the tap kind – while I cream the butter and sugar for several minutes. And then, one egg at a time, with a good two minutes of beating in between to bind the emulsion, and make it smooth and airy.

    Now, enough words for such a doodle of a recipe…

    Tarte à l’abricot et à la pistache

    serves 8

    For the pâte sucrée
    130 g butter, at room temperature
    95 g icing sugar
    1 teaspoon sea salt
    1 teaspoon vanilla extract
    30 g ground almonds
    1 eggs
    250 g plain flour

    Cream the butter, sugar, salt and vanilla extract for a few minutes, until light and fluffy. Add the ground almonds. And the egg and beat well for around 3 minutes.
    Tip in the flour and mix until just combined.

    Flatten the dough and wrap in clingfilm. Chill for at least 3 hours – or up to 5 days – before using. Or keep frozen, for up to 3 months.

    On a lightly floured work surface, roll the dough into a 4mm-thick rectangle. Carefully wrap the dough around your rolling pin and place on top of a 10x30cm tart tin. Line the tart case with the dough, then trim the edges. Place in the freezer while you get on with the crème d’amandes.

    For the pistachio crème d’amandes
    80 g butter, at room temperature
    100 g caster sugar
    2 eggs    , at room temperature
    60 g ground almonds
    60 g roasted pistachio    , roughly ground
    30 g plain flour

    For the montage
    8 apricots, halved and stoned
    1 tablespoon apricot jam

    Preheat the oven to 180°C.

    Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, for 8-10 minutes, scraping the sides of the bowl every now and then. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well – at least 2 minutes – after each addition.
    Tip in the ground almonds and pistachios, then the flour and mix until just combined. Scrape the crème d’amandes into a piping bag fitted with a 12mm nozzle and pipe the cream at the bottom of the prepared tart case.

    Arrange the apricots halves, cut-side up onto the crème d’amandes and bake for 40 to 45 minutes, or until golden brown.

    In a small pan, place the apricot jam with a little water (around a tablespoon) and bring to the boil. Gently brush this glaze over the hot tart, and allow the tart to cool down at room temperature. Slice into wedges and serve, perhaps with a scoop of ice-cream or a dollop of whipped cream.