Tag: dough

  • 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.

  • Scones

    Scones

    So it seems I’ve told you I’d see you soon with tips for the perfect scones. Apparently, soon can hold different meanings.

    A birthday to the sound of drum n’ bass, and glow-sticks around my wrists. Days on a bed that has become my work place, writing the book I should tell you more about. Mess in my kitchen, cakes on the counter, and bread in the oven. It smells like a bakery around here these days. A surprise I can’t say too much about, but it should involve beach and pastis on a café terrasse.

    But well, today is quiet. The clouds deaden everything we hear. And they muffle everything we see too. Not unlike living in cotton.

    A perfect day to make scones. In fact, I have some in the oven right now. Getting golden-brown just so. The mascarpone is ready to be spread. And a jar of home-made cherry jam from last summer has been opened. It’s really more of a runny compote, but damn, it tastes of wild patches of sunflowers and bike rides by the ocean and sunsets made of rainbows.

    I have the feeling my goûter is going to be pretty amazing.

    Tips for perfect scones

    I know many of you are on the quest for the perfect scone. I’ve been there too.

    After years of research, I’ve come up with a go-to recipe. If you have a favourite too, just go for it, but try to follow the tips I’m giving just below. And you’ll see, your scones will have never looked that pretty!

    1. Use cold butter, cut into small cubes. This will prevent the butter from melting as you work it into the flour and will thus give that flaky texture we all love.

    2. Mix until the dough feels JUST smooth. Undermixing will give a patchy scone, looking a bit rough. It will still taste great though. However, if you overmix, the scone will turn out very cakey.

    3. After rolling, chill the dough for half an hour. Wrapped in cling-film and placed on a tray, with the bottom side still at the bottom (and I can’t stress this enough).

    4. Flour your cutter. Dip your cutter into flour, then tap off the excess on your work surface. This prevents the dough from sticking to the cutter, and the cutter from squishing the dough. It makes for the neatest edges ever.

    5. Place the scones upside-down on the baking tray, bottom-side up this time. Once you’ve cut the scones, the bottom side will always looks flatter and smoother. Trust me.

    6. Glaze twice. With egg yolk only. And make sure to wait at least 10-15 minutes in between the two egg-washes. Over the years, I’ve found that egg yolk only gives the best results. Shiny and golden-brown.

    7. Allow to cool down before eating. Because no-one likes a doughy scone.

    Scones

    This recipe might just be one among millions, but it’s my favourite. For the smooth and flaky little clouds – that some call scones – it makes.

    I don’t have much to say about it, other than I can make it with my eyes closed, knowing I will have a perfect tea-time. Talk about instant gratification!
    Butter gets worked into flour and baking powder. With a touch of sugar and salt too for good measure. Then milk and cream are added. Et voilà!

    Scones

    makes 7-8 scones

    250g plain flour
    40g caster sugar
    1/2 tbsp baking powder
    pinch of salt
    50g butter    , cubed
    100g whole milk
    60g whipping cream

    one egg yolk, to glaze

    Preheat the oven to 180°C and line a baking tray with baking paper.

    In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Add the butter, and work it into the flour until the mixture ressembles corse sand.
    Mix in the milk and cream, and knead until just smooth. The dough should be very soft but not too sticky.
    Roll to 3cm thick onto a lightly floured work surface, then wrap in cling-film and chill on a tray for half an hour.

    Cut using a 6/7cm-wide round cutter, then flip upside-down onto the prepared baking tray. Brush the top with egg yolk and allow to dry for 10-15 minutes. Brush again with yolk and bake for 15 minutes or until golden brown.

    Allow to cool on a wire rack, and serve with a topping of your choice.

  • Chouquettes

    Chouquettes

    [Sugar choux puffs]

    I could tell you how my dad would take me to the boulangerie after school, as I was smaller than the smallest tree of your garden. In fact, I could barely walk. But making my way to the bottom of the crumpled paper bag handed to me by the lady at the counter seemed easy.

    That paper bag could hold a dozen of chouquettes. Or as I would call them, chouchou. Possibly, a made-up word from my dad.

    Oh yes, I could tell you how my hands would be sticky. And my mouth most likely surrounded by pearls of sugar.

    But instead, I will tell you about what happened a few days ago.

    I brought milk and butter to a rolling boil. With a pinch of salt, just so; because, that’s the way to go. I added a good amount of flour. Off the heat, it goes without saying (and yet, here I am). I placed the pan back over the gas and mixed it with a wooden spoon until it was just dry enough.
    I transferred it to the bowl of my stand-mixer; although arms and a spoon would do a fine job too. And add the eggs, one at a time. Until it was just wet enough.
    I piped. Without a nozzle, because they all seem to be in London. And I am not.
    I brushed eggwash. I scored the top with a fork. Dipped in the remaining egg.
    I sprinkled sucre casson [pearl sugar].
    I baked. And poured us a glass of white wine. Or perhaps it was a rosé.

    And then, we ate them. Slightly warm. And guess what? Sticky hands and sugar around the mouth are a must.

    Just like they used to be. Just like they always will.
    Which reminded me about this sentence from one of my very favourite books: la contemplation de l’éternité dans le mouvement même de la vie [the contemplation of eternity within the very movement of life].

    Chouquettes
    I think there are roughly as many pâte à choux recipes as there are pastry chefs. I remember a place where a mixture of milk and water was used. Sometimes, they would add a pinch of baking powder. Or some sugar.

    My recipe possibly originated from the one we used at school. Except, it called for water only. And perhaps, a touch more flour and less butter.
As I went by, I switched the water for milk. Full-fat, please. Added an extra knob of butter. A pinch of salt. And reduced the flour to 150g.

    As for the baking method, it’s the one Pascal Lac taught me. A foolproof method that worked even in the most sophisticated English ovens. Or failing that, the most plastic toy-ovens at home.

    Basically, you preheat the oven to 250˚C. Quickly get the trays inside. And just as the oven records 250˚C again (the temperature will drop slightly as you open the door), turn the oven off. For 15 to 18 minutes, until the temperature reaches 160-180˚C; at which point, the choux should be puffed up and yet still pale in colour. Then, oven set on 170˚C, without fan, dry them for 10 to 15 minutes, until nice and golden; and making sure you keep the door slightly open with a wooden spoon to let any steam escape.
    However, feel free to bake them all the way at 200˚C if that works better for you. But I’m warning you: an oven has never failed me with this technique.

    Just a note on the eggs. I usually use around 4 eggs and a half. So what I do is to incorporate the first four eggs, then whisk the last one, add a little of this to the dough and keep the rest for a made-up eggwash!

    Chouquettes

    makes 40 small choux (roughly the size of a golf ball*)

    250g milk
    100g butter
    a pinch of salt

    150g plain flour

    4 to 5 eggs, see note above
    q.s. pearl sugar

    Preheat the oven to 250˚C, and lightly butter two baking trays.

    Place the milk, butter, and salt in a saucepan. Bring to a rolling boil over low heat – you want the butter to be fully melted before the milk boils. Take the pan off the heat and add the flour all at once, mixing as you go until combined.
    Return to the heat. And using a wooden spoon, mix until a thin crust appears at the bottom of the pan. This shows that the dough is dry enough. It should not be sticky.

    Transfer to the bowl of a stand-mixer and allow to cool for 2 to 3 minutes. Then using the paddle attachment, add the eggs one at a time on medium speed until fully incorporated.
    Scrape into a piping bag, fitted with a 12mm nozzle. And pipe little balls, around 3cm wide and 2cm high.

    Brush with eggwash, making sure to smooth the tops. Then, dip a fork into the eggwash and score the top of the choux.

    Sprinkle with pearl sugar.

    Place the trays in the oven. As fast as you can. Really. Trust me, oven temperatures drop so damn fast. Then keep an eye on your thermometer and the second it says 250˚C again, turn the oven off.
    After 15 to 18 minutes (see note above), turn the oven back on to 170˚C, without a fan. After a few minutes, keep the oven door slightly open by sliding the handle of a wooden spoon inside.

    The choux are ready when golden-brown and not too moist inside**.

    * Disclaimer: I have never played golf in my life. Even though I must admit, I really wanted too as a child. So much in fact, it’s now affecting me as I’m using a golf ball as a unit!

    ** Even now, I always test them (and by test, I really mean eat one) every two minutes past 10 minutes at 170˚C.