Tag: creams and curds

  • Carrés au citron

    Carrés au citron

    [Lemon squares]

    You can ask any chef; staff meals are a luxury in the restaurant industry. Over the past ten years, I’ve come across almost anything.

    The baguettes we’d be sent to buy at the wonderful Des gâteaux et du pain, sliced in half lengthways, and placed on the bench along with a container of Bordier butter, one of home-made strawberry jam, and one filled with fleur de sel. The barely-warm café au lait, drunk standing by the oven. The amazing canteen that had a soft-serve ice-cream machine, a salad bar and one for toasties too, oh and an espresso machine too! The delivery driver slash tarte tatin chef who’d make a pit-stop at the corner boulangerie during his rounds, and bring back warm pains aux raisins to the labo. The leftover chips from an order, eaten with saffron aioli at the end of a dinner service as the kitchen was getting scrubbed. The best poached eggs a breakfast chef placed in your fridge with a little note. The grenadine mister freeze I mass-produced in the summer months. And the watermelons we sliced and left around the kitchen in nine-pans, to be eaten whenever a rare quiet minute appeared.

    One of my favourites were the “family” dinners we had every day at four pm when we opened John Salt with Ben Spalding.
    I still remember vividly that my turn was on wednesdays. Vividly, because it was perhaps the worst day for it to happen: the usual putting-away of the morning veg and dairy deliveries, the weekly dry-store delivery, the morning deep-cleaning, the 10am kitchen meeting. This meant very little time to prep for service, let alone cook dinner for all of us.

    If you’d ask me what I thought about staff meal at around three-thirty pm on a wednesday, you might have heard some French, and yet, four years on, it’s one of my fondest memories from my London years.

    Some weeks, I’d make a simple salade niçoise. Or a large pissaladière. Maybe some cheddar toasted sandwiches. And a few crisp leaves dressed in an quick lemon vinaigrette. And, always something sweet: at times cookies, taken out from the oven a few minutes before the table was set; at times, burnt-orange marmalade loaf cakes or lemon squares.

    And just like this, I thought I’d introduce a new feature: Feed the chefs. It’s something I’ve had in mind for a while; in fact, I have a draft from 2013 called Feed the chefs: Wholewheat flour and hazelnut cookies.
    In this feature, you’ll find simple recipes that can be made at home or for a crowd.
    For reference, a gastro is a 53×32.5cm metal tray, which is widely used in professional kitchens.

    Lemon squares

    This recipe has been in my notebooks – under one form or another – for years. What started out as a curd made with only eggs, lemon juice and zest, sugar, and butter has evolved under the years into what I consider my perfect lemon bar.
    I increased the butter dramatically. Added egg yolks to improve the texture. And reduced the amount of sugar, a little at a time. Sometimes, I like to add a dash of cream to the curd mixture as I find it takes the lemon squares to another level, on a par with my best lemon tart. However, if you’re out of cream, the lemon squares can also be made without!

    It has a crisp tanginess and is wonderfully creamy, yet it still slices beautifully and holds well.

    At times, I’ll make it with the most brittle shortbread, the one I talk about in Paris Pastry Club, but most days I’ll go for a flaky biscuit dough, with light brown sugar and demerara, which I think complements the lemon flavour in the best way possible.

    Notes:

    – You’ll notice that the “home” recipe below makes a larger quantity of dough than you’ll need; but unless you’re willing to break an egg, whisk it, and use 16g for a third of the recipe – not to mention leave out the amazing cinnamon crisp biscuits you could make with the leftover dough – then I’d suggest you make the large batch, use 275g of it for the lemon squares and roll the rest in between two sheets of baking paper to 4-5mm thick and then proceed as mentioned in this beautiful recipe from Trine Hahnemann.

    – The shortbread base does not need to be blind-baked with weights (or pulses). I like to prick it with a fork to avoid large bubbles and bake it as it is for a flakier result.

    – I always rub my zest into the sugar to extract as much essential oils as possible.

    – Whenever I’m making custard or curd tarts, I like to cook my curd over a bain-marie until it reaches 70-75°C. This has two purposes: first, it makes the final baking much more even and quick – you won’t find a custard tart with puffed up edges and a runny centre in my house. Secondly, it makes the bubbles disappear, leaving you with lemon squares that can be served without their traditional dust of icing sugar.

    Lemon squares


    Makes 25 small squares or 9 large ones


    Makes one gastro (around 60 squares)



    For the shortbread base
    100 g light brown sugar
    25 g demerara sugar
    zest from 3 lemons
    375 g plain flour
    1 tsp baking powder
    1 tsp ground cinnamon
    1/2 tsp sea salt
    250 g cold butter, cubed
    1 egg


    For the shortbread base
    100 g light brown sugar
    25 g demerara sugar
    zest from 3 lemons
    375 g plain flour
    1 tsp baking powder
    1 tsp ground cinnamon
    1/2 tsp sea salt
    250 g cold butter, cubed
    1 egg



    For the lemon curd
    240 g caster sugar
    zest from 2 lemons
    150 g egg yolks (around 7-8)
    110 g eggs (around 2 large)
    180 g lemon juice (from approx 3-4 lemons)
    120 g unsalted butter, cubed
    40 g double cream (optional, read note above)


    For the lemon curd
    650 g caster sugar
    zest from 6 lemons
    420 g egg yolks
    300 g eggs
    500 g lemon juice
    300 g unsalted butter, cubed
    120 g UHT cream (optional, read note above)


    Make the dough

    Butter your baking tin (or gastro) and line the bottom with baking paper, leaving 3cm on each side to use as handles to take out the tart from its tin after baking.

    Place the flour, sugars, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl, and mix to combine. Add the butter, and rub it in the flour mix until it resembles coarse oats. Add the egg and work the dough until just smooth.
    If you’re making the smaller lemon squares in a 25x25cm tin, use only 275g of shortbread dough and keep the rest to make cinnamon biscuits as mentioned in this recipe.

    Place the dough in your prepared tin and flatten using the palm of your hands. Prick with a fork and chill for at least 30 minutes or up to 4 days.

    Preheat the oven to 175°C.
    Bake the shortbread for 20-30 minutes or until golden brown.

    Once baked, set aside until needed and reduce the oven temperature to 120°C.
    In the meantime, make the lemon curd.

    Make the curd

    Place the sugar and zests in a large bowl, and rub in between your fingers to extract the oils from the lemon zest.
    Add the egg yolks, eggs, lemon juice and butter, and cook over a pan of simmering water until it just starts to thicken and the foamy bubbles disappear; it should be around 70-75°C.
    If using, add the cream now and stir to combine.

    Immediately, pass the curd onto the cooked shortbread base using a fine-mesh sieve. And bake for 15-20 minutes. The centre should still jiggle slightly.

    Allow to cool down to room temperature, then chill in the fridge for at least 2 hours before gently lifting it from the tin and cutting it into squares.
    To do this, fill your sink with hot water and dip your knife in it for a few seconds. Wipe the blade clean making sure the sharp edge isn’t facing your fingers, and slice the tart into 5x5cm squares (or 8x8cm if you’re a lemon lover), rinsing and wiping your knife in between each slice.

    Serve with a dust of icing sugar or some blow-torched Italian meringue for a faux-lemon meringue tart.

  • On pâte sucrée (and my favourite lemon meringue tart)

    On pâte sucrée (and my favourite lemon meringue tart)

    I intended for today’s post to be short – almost-wordless short. Really, it was just meant to be a recipe that I developed for a nut-free pâte sucrée.
    And that what it is, in essence. With a few notes around it.

    In France – or at least at the pâtisseries where I worked, and in books and magazines – pâte sucrée will always call for ground almonds (or some other kind of ground nuts, depending on the finished tart). This gives the dough a short, crumbly texture, and a wonderful roasted aroma. No questions asked.
    But here in Sweden, I’ve found that many people have food allergies, so I’ve had to improvise. And after many trials, I’ve finally worked out a nut-free recipe that I’m happy with, and that stands against the pâte sucrée I grew up making.

    Now, I could tell you a few stories about chefs that I worked with in London and their relationships with customers who have allergies or dietary requirements. But I think it would be 1) too mind-your-French kinda stories and 2) too long to tell them all.
    I must, however, share my favourite of all. Picture a couple of vegetarians asking about options in a very meaty menu. All I heard in response went along the lines of: “Do I go in a *insert swear-word of your choice* vegetarian restaurant and ask for a *insert swear-word of your choice* rib-eye?”.
    Of course, a beautiful vegetarian tasting menu was promptly made, but this sentence somehow stuck with me, and I love to remember it fondly every now and then, and of course, to tell it to anyone who cares enough (or not) to listen.

    The recipes

    Pierre Hermé

    This is the recipe that I started with. It’s absolutely beautiful – a given when it comes to Pierre Hermé, really.
    However, over the years, I’ve come to adapt it into an easier-to-work with dough; which to this day remains my standard and usual recipe.

    Pierre Hermé’s pâte sucrée

    300 g unsalted butter
    190 g icing sugar
    60 g ground almonds
    1 tsp sea salt
    seeds from 1 vanilla bean
    100 g eggs
    500 g plain flour


    My favourite

    This recipe, which I think stems from a combination of Pierre Hermé’s, Valrhona and a few tweaks here and there, is as its name reveals without a hint of suspense, my favourite.
    It’s one I can make with my eyes and my recipe notebook closed.

    Of course, I always make a much bigger batch, somewhere along x5.5, which gives me enough to dough to roll fourteen 28.5x45cm sheets (a format, rather than being practical, obeys the rule of the baking paper that we have in kitchens: 45x57cm, which religiously gets cut in half in the morning, forming large piles that fit into gastros and baking trays, and lasts us through the day).
    For those of you wondering about regularity of thickness between sheets, read further down to Notes, where you’ll find the answer.

    Fanny’s favourite pâte sucrée

    255 g unsalted butter
    190 g icing sugar
    70 g ground almonds
    1 tsp sea salt
    seeds from 1 vanilla bean
    100 g eggs
    510 g plain flour


    A nut free alternative

    When I realised many people here had food allergies, it made me question everything I had learn, heard or done in the past.
    In France, at least, back when I was living there, very few pâtisseries catered to dietary requirements; yes, [to be said with a French accent] eat the tart or don’t. It was not something I’ve ever seen anyone – chefs or customers – think about, let alone be concerned.

    In Sweden, it’s on the literal opposite of the spectrum, so much, that I always make sure to have at least three or four gluten-free options, two dairy-free alternatives, a couple of nut-free pastries, and a lactose-free crème brûlée (flavoured with tonka bean at the moment, because I think tonka and winter were always meant).
    And this is why I had to give up my favourite pâte sucrée. I started working on a recipe, with mixed results – from my perspective only judging by how quick the lemon tarts sell out every time I put them in the display.

    But after a few batches, I found the one that I’ve now been using for the past few months. A crisp, golden-brown crust that stays so.

    Fanny’s nut-free pâte sucrée

    280 g unsalted butter
    180 g icing sugar
    1 tsp sea salt
    seeds from 1 vanilla bean
    100 g eggs
    40 g egg yolks
    545 g plain flour

    The process

    If you’ve never made pâte sucrée before, I can only recommend you to head over to my old blog foodbeam, where you’ll find a detailed step-by-step.

    Or simply follow this process:
    1. In the bowl of a stand-mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the cold butter (see note n°1 below), icing sugar, ground almonds (if using), salt, and vanilla, until just smooth.
    2. Add the eggs (and yolk for the nut-free recipe) one at a time, mixing well after each addition, a minute or so. If making a larger batch, the eggs can be added a couple at a time.
    3. Mix in the flour (read note n°2 below if making a larger batch) and work on low speed until just combined.
    4. Divide the dough into three pâtons, roughly 350-360g each. Flatten each onto a feuille guitare (cf note n°3) using the palm of your hand and top with another feuille. Roll, always from the centre upwards, giving the dough a quarter turn every time, into a large disk, around 3-4mm thick. Place the dough onto a baking tray and set aside. Repeat with the other two pâtons; and either freeze for up to two months, or chill in the fridge for at least two hours or for up to a week.
    If making a bigger batch, please refer to note n°4.
    5. Line your tart ring and chill or freeze for an hour or two. Blind bake (see ressources below for a link to one of my posts “A few notes on blind-baking”).

    Notes

    N°1. The butter does not need to be at room temperature as many recipes might suggest. Yes, it makes for an easier mixing (especially by hand, which I suspect this rather obsolete step comes from) but it also makes the water contained in the butter more available to bind with the flour proteins, hence developing gluten more than cold butter would.
    The quick mixing of the cold butter with the sugar acts as a mechanical (as opposed to physical) softener. And before you know it, you’ll have a smooth paste, ready to receive the eggs.

    N°2. If making a large batch – larger than 5 kilograms in total weight – I’d recommend adding around 10% of the flour to the butter/sugar/egg mixture and working on low speed until incorporated; and then adding the remaining flour and mixing until just combined. Never overwork the dough as it would make the tart shell tough instead of crisp and crumbly.

    N°3. Feuille guitare, litterally guitar-leaf, is a transparent polyethylene/acetate film that is somewhat rigid. Although it can be replaced by baking paper, I would – if given the choice – always use it to roll dough. It prevents the formation of creases in the dough (which could later results in cracks during baking) and yes, it looks neat.
    They are also amazing for chocolate décors, which i could show you if you’re interested (let me know!).

    N°4. When I make a x5.5 batch, I divide the dough into 14 pieces, around 450g each. And then roll them into 28.5x45cm sheets, making sure to trim the edges into a neat rectangle. This way, I can store my dough in the freezer in an airtight plastic gastro, and take out sheets when I’m making a tart shell mise-en-place.
    By weighing each pâtons and rolling to the exact same size every time, I ensure an even thickness throughout the batch. This produces a dough that bakes uniformly, making sure all the tartelettes on one baking tray will be ready at the same time.

    N°5. My absolute favourite rings when it comes to tarts are not the traditional tart rings that have rolled edges. I like simple entremet rings from Matfer. They’re 35mm-high and are completely smooth, with no welding mark.
    I find that with 35mm-high rings, I get more use out of them. If I want to make a 2cm-high tart, then I simply cut a 2cm strip of dough that will become the edges of the tart. However, if I’d like to make a deeper tart, perhaps chocolate or pecan, then I simply line the ring up to its rim.
    I know DeBuyer has recently come up with perforated rings in collaboration with Valrhona; and although I’ve tried them a couple of times, with great results in term on crumb texture and even baking, I don’t really like the marks they leave on the outer edge of the tart case.

    N°6. I always bake my tarts onto Silpain – a variation oriented for bread bakers of the now-famous Silpat. I find that it gives the quickest and most even baking.

    La cerise Le citron sur le gâteau [The cherry lemon on top]

    Just like I did in Paris Pastry Club (almost its two-year birthday!!), I can’t resist to share the lemon tart recipe that has followed me for years – despite the MANY other lemon curds that I’ve tried to like. Of course, it’s from Pierre Hermé. And really, trust me, it’s the best you could, and will, ever make.

    The recipe will leave you with some extra lemon curd – that always tend to disappear on top of ice-cream if my mum and sister are around. Or you could also, divide what’s left in piping bags, tie them tighly and freeze for up to 2 months.

    Tarte au citron meringuée

    Makes one 24cm tart, serving 12-16.

    one 24cm blind-baked tart shell, using the pâte sucrée of your choice (or as I do in my book a lemon shortbread topped with a lemon sponge).

    For the lemon curd
    240 g caster sugar
    zest from 3 lemons
    200 g eggs
    140 g lemon juice     (around 3 large lemons)
    300 g butter, cubed, at room temperature

    Place the sugar and lemon zest in a large bowl, and rub the zest in the sugar for a minute or two. This step, although optional, diffuses the fragrant lemon oils into the sugar, resulting in a deeply flavoured and more complex lemon curd.
    Whisk in the eggs (I like to handblend the eggs before adding them to the sugar as I find it gives the smoothest texture) and the lemon juice.
    Set the bowl over a pan of simmering water and cook the lemon curd until it reaches 81°C, stirring every minute or so.
    remove the bowl from the bain-marie and allow to cool down to 55-60°C. Then whisk in the butter, one cube at a time. Handblend the curd for 6 minutes then pass through a fine-mesh sieve into a plastic container.
    Clingfilm to the touch and chill in the fridge for at least 4 hours or better yet, overnight.

    When ready to assemble the tart, make the Italian meringue.

    For the Italian meringue
    100 g egg whites
    1/2 tsp sea salt
    200 g caster sugar
    60 g water

    Place the egg whites and salt in the bowl of a stand-mixer fitted with the whisk attachment.
    Place the sugar and water in a small pan, and bring to the boil over medium heat.
    When the syrup reaches the boil, start whisking the egg whites on medium speed.
    Cook the syrup to 118°C and pour over the soft peaks egg whites, making sure to run the syrup along the sides of the bowl to avoid it from splashing around the bowl.
    Increase the speed slightly and keep on whisking until the meringue feels barely warm.

    In the meantime, pipe a generous layer of lemon curd into your blind-baked tart shell using a piping bag fitted with a 12mm nozzle.
    Pipe the meringue on top into a pattern, or simply pile it on and swirl. Burn using a blowtorch, making sure to rotate the tart to get every nook and cranny.

    Ressources

    – The way I roll pâte sucrée.
    – Where to buy feuilles guitare? They deliver in the north-north of Sweden, so I assume the rest of the world is ok!
    – A few notes on blind-baking tart shells.
    – My absolute favourite not-for-tarts-tart-rings: Matfer entremet rings (24cm for 14-16 portions or 8cm for indivdual tartelettes). For comparison: traditional tart rings. The DeBuyer/Valrhona perforated rings.

  • La tarte tropézienne

    La tarte tropézienne

    There is the sound of the icebergs bumping into each other with every wave, not unlike a distant thunderstorm. There is the forest that I’ve walked through so many times before, now covered in a thick blanket of snow. There are lakrits [liquorice] cookies in the oven. And lights by every window we see.

    Yes, this is it. Sweden.

    And really, it’s just as wonderful in the vinter [winter] as it’s ever been in the sommar [summer].

    What’s up with the Swedish words? Well, I need to learn. And if I was ever able to speak English by writing about food back-back-back in the days. I’m hoping the same will – almost magically – happen with Swedish.
    But I’ve found some amazing companions. Just yesterday, I saw Donal on television. Perfect accent and all. And today, I went to buy Linda’s beautiful baking books, which I’m utterly in love with.

    In fact, I’ve been keeping an eye on every blueberry bush – how wonderful it is to walk surrounded by blåbär och lingon [blueberries and lingonberries] – waiting, very impatiently, for summer to make blåbärssylt [blueberry jam], blueberry crumble tartlets and Linda’s blåbärsrutor [literally, blueberry squares/boxes].

    The tartes tropéziennes here have barely anything to do with it all. Perhaps that’s why it took me so long to tell you about them.
    But when Karl ate one, he said they reminded him of semla. So there is that. And I might have to make some semla inspired tarte tropézienne very soon.

    La tarte tropézienne
    Adapted from Paris Pastry Club.

    Back when I was a child, you could only buy a tarte tropézienne in St Tropez. We would drive through les Maures, a natural reserve not unlike the savanna. The road meandered between cork oaks and arbousiers [strawberry trees].

    It was the late 80s and St Tropez still had a fishing village vibe to it. Nothing compared to what it once was, yet nothing compared to what it’s now become.

    We would walk along the port, and through the market. Sometimes, we’d go up to the fort, the best view over the gulf.
    And, before we’d leave, we’d always stop at the boulangerie to get a tropézienne. A brioche filled with crème madame – pastry cream with butter and whipped cream; delicately flavoured with orange blossom.

    When I wrote Paris Pastry Club, more than gimmicky or trendy recipes, I wanted to share my absolute favourite basics. Ones you can tweak endlessly, creating an amazing répertoire of recipes to call your own.
    And when I see all your beautiful creations on instagram or on your blogs, I’m blown away. And so so so proud to inspire you – at least a little, with my words.


    These tartes tropéziennes are just this.
    A tweak on two recipes from my book. The brioche, also known as the last brioche recipe you’ll ever need, and the crème mousseline, turned crème madame for the occasion, from the fraisier (and please, as soon as the strawberries will actually taste like they should, please, make one on a Saturday, and have it for Sunday lunch, trust me on that).


    A few notes on the brioche:
    – I made half a batch in my stand mixer without problems, but it did take a little longer than the usual double batch. If I were you, I’d make a double batch, use half for tropézienne buns and shape the other half into a loaf, which you can then bake, slice and freeze for instant morning happiness.
    – Here I’ve used T55 flour, but you could also use plain flour, although make sure the protein content of your flour is around 10-12g per 100g of flour.
    The higher the protein content, the stronger the flour is, which means it has more gluten. I’ve found that for brioche, I like to use flours with eleven percents of proteins.
    – When you knead the dough, I recommend doing the windowpane test after around ten minutes. It’s kneaded enough wuen you can stretch a walnut-sized piece into a very thin membrane without it tearing apart. This stage is called full gluten development, and for my brioche recipe, it’s usually reached after 10-12 minutes of kneading in the stand mixer on medium speed. If the dough tears when you try to stretch it, simply knead for a couple more minutes before testing it again.


    – Balling the dough isn’t only done to shape it. It’s an essential step to even the distribution of gluten strands, creating a tension layer, and making sure that no large air bubbles are formed.
    To ball the dough correctly, start by portioning your brioche in even piece (I like to weigh them out so that they will proof/bake evenly). Once you have divided your dough, dip the top side in flour and dust off any excess. Place the unfloured side down on a clean work surface and roll gently with the palm of your hand in a circular motion so that the outer layer of the dough stretches into a smooth ball.

    A few notes on the crème madame:
    – Crème madame is a crème pâtissière to which butter and whipped cream have been added. It should be firm and glossy, and will set into a rich cream.
    Really, crème madame = crème mousseline + whipped cream = (crème pâtissière + butter) + whipped cream.
    – I’ve been writing a post about basic pâtisserie creams which should be published very soon.
    – For a detailed step-by-step how to make crème pâtissière, please check this article.
    – When making crème mousseline, start by creaming the butter using the paddle attachment of your stand-mixer until light and fluffy. Then add the cold crème pâtissière in batches, beating well after each addition. If the butter has seized a little, simply place the bowl on top of a pan of simmering water for a few seconds before beating for a minute or two; or use a blowtorch to heat the sides of your bowl. Repeat until all the butter has disappeared and you’re left with a gorgeously thick crème mousseline.
    If you overheat the mousseline, it will become somewhat runny. Place in the fridge for a couple of hours, then beat for five minutes using the whisk attachment of your stand-mixer.

    La tarte tropézienne

    makes 8 individual tropéziennes
    For the brioche
    275 g T55 flour
    30 g vanilla sugar
    one tsp sea salt
    1/2 tsp instant yeast
    3 eggs
    30 g whole milk
    one tbsp orange blossom water
    160 g butter    , thinly sliced

    one egg, beaten, for egg wash
    200 g pearl sugar, to sprinkle

    For the crème pâtissière
    500 g whole milk
    3 vanilla pods
    4 egg yolks
    150 g caster sugar
    50 g cornflour
    1 tsp orange blossom water

    For the crème madame
    600 g crème pâtissière (above)
    150 g butter, at room temperature
    100 g 35% cream, whipped to stiff peaks

    For the syrup
    100 g water
    70 g caster sugar
    one tbsp orange blossom water

    If you have a stand-mixer, fit the dough hook and mix the flour, salt and vanilla sugar together on slow speed. Add the instant yeast. Then pour in the milk, the eggs and the orange blossom water.
    Switch to medium speed and knead for 10 minutes, or until the dough can be stretched without breaking. Scrape the sides of the bowl every now and then to ensure everything is amalgamated.
    Alternatively, mix the ingredients by hand then turn out onto a floured work surface and knead until the dough can be stretched without breaking.
    Now, add the butter, one piece at a time, and when almost all of it is in, increase the speed and knead until smooth (or knead by hand). The dough should stop sticking to the side of the bowl (or work surface) and should be silky and very smooth, although somewhat tacky.

    Transfer the dough into a plastic container, clingfilm to the touch, and chill in the fridge overnight.

    Make the crème pâtissière.
    Bring the milk and vanilla pods and seeds to a rolling boil in a medium pan set over moderate heat.
    In a separate bowl, whisk the egg yolks and sugar to prevent the egg yolks from clumping. Add the cornflour and mix well until combined. When the milk has boiled, remove from the heat and pour a third of it over the egg mixture, whisking as you do so. This step is key when making crème pâtissière as it loosens the egg yolks but also tempers them, avoiding any lumps .
    Pour all of the egg mixture back into the pan, return to the heat and cook slowly, whisking at all times until it starts to thicken and boil.
    Once it has bubbled for a few minutes, transfer to a plastic container and clingfilm to the touch to avoid the formation of a skin. Chill in the fridge for overnight.

    Make the orange blossom syrup. Bring the sugar and water to the boil. Allow to cool down slightly, then add the orange blossom water. Reserve at room temperature overnight.

    The next day, scrape the dough from the container onto a clean and lightly floured work surface, gently press to degaz, and divide in eight 75g squares.
    Ball each square, then roll into a 1cm-high disk, roughly 8cmm wide.

    Arrange the disks of brioche onto a baking tray lined with baking paper. Cover loosely with a lightly oiled double layer of clingfilm; and proof until doubled in size.

    Preheat the oven to 200°C.
    Brush the brioche with the beaten egg, then generously sprinkle with the pearl sugar. Bake for 15-17 minutes, or until golden brown.
    Allow to cool down completely.

    In the meantime, make the crème madame.
    Cream the butter until light and fluffy. Add the crème pâtissière, one third at a time, beating well after each addition. Once all of the crème pâtissière has been added, beat for 5 minutes. The mousseline should be firm and glossy.
    If the butter has seized a little, simply place the bowl on top of a pan of simmering water for a few seconds before beating for a minute or two; or use a blowtorch to heat the sides of your bowl. Repeat until all the butter has disappeared and you’re left with a gorgeously thick crème mousseline.
    Finally, gently fold in the whipped cream.
    Place this crème madame in the fridge to firm up slightly for an hour or so.

    Once the brioches have cooled down, slice them in half with a large bread knife and generously brush the cut-side with syrup.

    Transfer the crème madame into a piping bag fitted with a 10mm nozzle and pipe the cream around the rim of the bottom brioches, then pipe a large ball in the centre.
    Top each brioches with their matching “hats”.

    Keep in the fridge, loosely covered with clingfilm for at least 4 hours or overnight.

  • Éclairs au chocolat

    Éclairs au chocolat

    [Chocolate eclairs]

    When trees are shaped like hearts; and breakfast means just-brewed coffee slash bike ride slash jonchée eaten as soon as I’ve taken my gum boots off.

    And we run barefoot in fields of frost. And the grass glows to the moonlight in a way only gems can. With la grande ourse [the great bear] and a feral cat as our only companions for this aimless journey.

    We breathe the cold air and feel alive. We kiss and feel warmer. It’s the very instant that matters.

    Yes, at times, it’s ok to loose track. Of time, of purpose…
    Days are long. And nights too.

    Crossing off to-dos like there is no tomorrow, because, after all, holidays are made of no-tomorrows.

    Today, we made éclairs, à la Fauchon. It was fun, and messy. The kitchen ended up looking à la Fauchon too. Stripped with white and black fondants.

    It’s fine, really. It is.

    We licked our fingers. And ate an éclair, of the à la minute kind. Then scrubbed the counter until it no longer felt sticky. Just our mouths did. And that is a good sign, by all accounts.

    Éclairs au chocolat
    Inspired by Fauchon.

    If you can make choux paste and crème pâtissière, then it really all gets down to glazing an éclair with fondant, then piping straight lines of a coloured fondant. This can be made with either a piping bag or a paper cornet (the latter being my favourite, some things will never change, trust me).

    The only trick to know is to make sure both fondant have the same temperature and texture.
    For the chocolate fondant, I simply added a bit of cacao powder until it looked dark enough. Then mixed in 30°B syrup until the texture seemed just right.

    I guess it’s a bit of a trial and error at first. But it’s ok. We love sticky fingers around here.

    And since I’m at it, fondant is a kind of crystallised sugar that can be found in fancy shops. In case it’s nowhere to be found, try mixing icing sugar and a tiny bit of water…

    Both the choux paste and crème pâtissière can be made in advance. Since the paste is frozen, you can make it up to a week before. And the cream can stay in the fridge for a couple of days.
    However, once the éclairs are filled, they’re best eaten in the day.

    Éclairs au chocolat

    makes 12 éclairs
    for the choux paste
    one recipe of choux paste
    one egg    , for eggwash
    butter, to grease the baking tray

    Make the choux paste according to the recipe.
    Pipe it onto a baking tray lined with baking paper into logs using a 15mm nozzle; then freeze. Cut into 13cm-long éclairs and arrange on a buttered tray. And bake until golden brown (tips on how to bake choux paste here).

    For the crème pâtissière

    250g milk
    100g cream
    2 egg yolks
    30g caster sugar
    15g cornflour
    100g dark chocolate

    Bring the milk and cream to the boil. In a bowl, mix the egg yolks with the sugar and cornflour. Pour the boiling liquids over the yolks, whisking as you go. Then place back into the pan and cook – whisking at all times – until boiling.
    Transfer to a bowl and add the chocolate. Handblend and clingfilm to the touch. Chill.

    Using a small nozzle, fill the eclairs. And set aside.

    For the glaze
    fondant
    cacao powder
    30°B syrup     (100g caster sugar + 100g water, brought to the boil, then chilled)

    Melt the fondant over a bain-marie or in the microwave. Divide into two heatproof bowls. Add cacao powder to colour one of the batches into a dark brown fondant.

    Reheat both fondant over a bain-marie or in the microwave, until it reaches 30-35°C. Adding a little syrup to make it runny enough. Then using a small spatula or your finger, glaze the top of the éclair.
    Immediately pipe straight lines of dark fondant, making sure the tip of your bag or cornet is cut small enough (perhaps 2mm, the fondant will spread). Then run your finger along the éclair to clean up it sides and twirl the end of the piped lines.

    Repeat with the remaining éclairs. They will keep in the fridge overnight, although they’re best eaten on the same day.

  • Mastering crème pâtissière, step by step

    Mastering crème pâtissière, step by step

    It was a day at the end of September. A couple of years ago. I put on my pied-de-poule trousers for the first time since the internship I had done the summer before at Pierre Hermé.

    I walked up the stairs, to the biggest, most beautiful kitchen I had ever seen, with the aim to make my biggest, most beautiful dream come true.

    A dream that apparently involved cooking 12L of crème pâtissière. And when I say 12L, I really mean 12L of milk. So if you had up the other ingredients, it makes around 16kg of silky smooth vanilla goodness.

    As a matter of fact, by seven am, the hair, that took me an hour to tame at three in the morning, was wild again. And my cheeks were the colour of bike rides in the wind.

    I don’t want anyone to get hurt by making crème pâtissière, so I’ll just give you the half-a-litre recipe. Which happens to be just enough to fill a tart or a handful of choux, plus a couple of tablespoons for personal consumption.

    This recipe is a basic crème pâtissière. A very simple cream made of milk, vanilla, egg yolks, cornflour, and caster sugar.

    As usual, I can only advise you have all of the ingredients ready and measured before you start. Along with the equipment.

    500g milk
    one vanilla pod
    3 egg yolks
    60g caster sugar
    40g cornflour

    one medium saucepan
    two small whisks
    a fine chinois or sieve
    two maryses
    a small bowl
    a shallow plastic container

    01.

    Place the milk and split vanilla pod into a medium saucepan and bring to the boil, whisking every now and then.

    02.

    In a small bowl, mix the egg yolks and sugar with a whisk, until fully combined. This prevents the caster sugar from reacting with the thin skin of the yolks, which would create some small lumps.
    Add the cornflour and incorporate.

    03.

    Temper the egg yolk mixture with the strained milk (to get rid of the vanilla pod). Whisking as you do so.

    04.

    Pour back into the pan – off the heat – whisking continuously. Then over soft heat, bring to the boil, whisking at all time.

    05.

    As soon as the mixture reaches the boiling point and starts to thicken, keep on cooking and whisking for a minute or two.

    06.

    Pour and scrape into a plastic container.
    And clingfilm to the touch to avoid the formation of a skin. Chill for an hour.