Sour Cherry Crumble Coffee Cake

STAY CALM

When I sound the fairy call, gather here in silent meeting, 

Chin to knee on the orchard wall, cooled with dew and cherries eating. 

Merry, merry, take a cherry, mine are sounder, mine are rounder, 

Mine are sweeter for the eater, when the dews fall, and you’ll be fairies all. 

- Emily Dickenson

Son returned from Vietnam and immediately dashed off to the coast with his friends, spending his days on the beach, no doubt playing guitar and barbecuing, living the high life. Living much the life he lived in Vietnam for a month, hanging out on an island beach, strumming guitar and eating and drinking with friends. Oh to be young and carefree. Husband headed south, off to spend ten days with his sister and mother. I spent the week at the old homestead with second son and dog, hanging out in the warm, breezy apartment, streaming American television shows, eating salads and working. I write every day, Ilva peeping over my shoulder, prodding me on, giving the occasional suggestion as she vacations in Sweden and escapes her own work for a few weeks.

Son and V. in Vietnam: not your usual vacation. Adventure abounds!

The worries of caring for elderly parents infuse our happy household with painful reminders of reality. As JP returned from the visit with his mother who is now dependent, I receive news of my own mom, stories that are far from cheerful. After years spent watching the degrading health of my brother and my father-in-law, of sharing responsibility with siblings for their care, after losing both harshly, violently and dealing with the aftermath, we had just gotten back on our feet, were just coming to terms with the emotional ravages and here we start all over again.

My days are filled with writing as I finish one article and mail it off and start on the next and the third. I juggle several other projects and try and stay ahead of the game as I am drawn to the sofa and the warm breeze, the calm city (France in August) just perfect for strolling, ideal for finding a café, order a Guinness for him, a fruit juice for me and kick back. Spend the afternoon watching the world go by and analyzing it inside and out with husband.

I try and write the second half of the story of Ettore’s Dishwasher and must focus. This is the first time that I have written about that car accident and by the time I slammed on my breaks and turned my head left and saw that other car plummeting directly at me, felt it slam into the side of my car hard. My eyeglasses flew off as the car spun, the shock pushing my car back off the road, the sound of metal on metal reverberating in my ears flowed from brain to fingertips, from fingertips to keyboard, from keyboard to page my heart was pounding, my hands shaking. I find it funny and fascinating how the brain works. We hover around a topic, refer to it briefly in passing, but avoid looking at it straight in the eyes. And everything remains calm. But the moment we begin telling the tale, we discover how fragile we really are, how raw and painful our heart and our emotions are no matter how much time has past. All I have to do is utter the words my husband spoke to me as he drove me home from the hospital and I choke up, my eyes well up with tears. These memories, the memories of my brother as I last saw him, thinking of his death must stay partially buried, only the tip peeping above the ground like a spring bloom, a hazy, happy image. As soon as I begin to dig, I still fall apart.

And so I write. The second half of that story, which does end on a humorous note, must wait while I finish my article with deadline looming. In the meantime, I have baked a Sour Cherry Crumble Coffee Cake for everyone! This is one of those recipes that I found somewhere long ago and is scribbled in my old notebook, the one that has been dragged around the world with me for the past 30 years, collecting recipes as it fades, smudges and slowly falls into pieces. I did alter the recipe a bit here. And perfect it is! Husband and sister-in-law rolled their eyes heavenward with utter pleasure. Sweet sour cherries sit atop an incredibly luscious, moist cake layer, nestled under a crumble topping with a gentle hint of cinnamon, nutmeg and almonds.

After the Vanilla Rum Panna Cotta topped with Rum Roasted Cherries, this Sour Cherry Crumble Coffee Cake has definitely moved to the top of the “Family Favorites” list, whether for breakfast, brunch, snack or dessert. So simple to make and maybe the best coffee cake you will eat. No cherries? Replace it with any other favorite berry, stone fruit or even chocolate chips.

SOUR CHERRY CRUMBLE COFFEE CAKE

For the crumble:

¼ cup (55 g) firmly packed light brown sugar
2 Tbs (20 g) flour
¼ tsp salt
1/8 tsp ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp ground nutmeg
1 Tbs (10 g) ground almonds or hazelnuts
2 Tbs (30 g) unsalted butter
¼ cup (20 g) old-fashioned oats (not instant)
1 heaping cup (about 30 plump) sour cherries, quartered or coarsely chopped

For the cake:

1 ½ cup (200 g) flour *
½ cup (100 g) granulated sugar
½ tsp salt
½ tsp baking powder
¼ tsp baking soda
4 Tbs (60 g) unsalted butter
1 large egg
¾ cup (200 ml) buttermilk
1 tsp vanilla

* Lightly spoon the flour into the measuring cup and then level.

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Generously butter the bottom and sides of a 7 x 10 – inch (18 x 25.5 cm) baking pan or a round or square pan of equivalent volume.

Rinse and pat dry the cherries. Remove the stems and pits and discard. Quarter or coarsely chop the pitted cherries and set aside.

Prepare the crumble:

Place the brown sugar, flour, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and ground nuts in a small bowl and blend well. Add the butter in pieces and, using either a pastry cutter, two knives or your fingertips, rub/cut the butter into the dry ingredients until well blended and the butter chunks disappear. Blend in the oats. Place the crumble in the refrigerator while preparing the cake.

Prepare the cake:

Place the flour, sugar, salt, baking powder and baking soda in a large bowl and blend well. Add the butter in small pieces and, using your fingertips rub the butter into the dry ingredients until well blended and the mixture resembles damp sand or crumbs. In a separate bowl or measuring cup, lightly beat the buttermilk, the egg and the vanilla together. Add the liquid ingredients to the dry and fold until well blended and smooth.

Pour the cake batter into the prepared baking pan; smooth and spread evenly all the way into the corners of the pan. Evenly distribute the cherries across the surface of the cake batter. Sprinkle the crumbs evenly over the cake and cherries.

Bake the Sour Cherry Crumble Coffee Cake in the preheated oven for 50 – 55 minutes or until the cake has risen and set and begins to pull away from the sides; the top will be golden brown.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool on a cooling rack before cutting.

Read more »

Vanilla Rum Panna Cotta with Rum Roasted Cherries

Note: If you are a google reader or a feedburner subscriber to Life’s a Feast, please sign up for email alerts for all new blog posts as both google reader and feedburner may both stop functioning. You can also become part of the Life’s a Feast community on Facebook – simply “like” the Life’s a Feast page. Don’t ever miss an update!

There is just something about reading John Berendt’s Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil amid the rumbling and booming of thunder, the wild rains beating against the windowpane, the violent flash of lightening shooting through the blackened skies, lighting up, ever so quickly, the room. Summer heat and white light, shades lowered against the brutality, suddenly changes into a frenzied tempest. Leaving behind her a languid afternoon, a sultry evening.

Another extraordinarily busy week, beginning out in the vineyards of Saumur last Saturday with Chef Nicolas Bourget of La Raffinerie in Nantes and Aymeric & Melanie Hillaire, winemakers at Domaine Melaric. Lessons in terroir, earth scooped up and pressed through fingers, lessons of wine as we watched leaves flutter in the breeze, drinking up the sunshine, as we sipped and swooshed whites and reds down in the dark, chilly cave, the only light the sweep of sunshine coming through the opened weathered wooden door. Children skittled in and out between the vats and between our feet and screamed in delight as we listened and questioned. More questions came to me for both chef and vigneron as we set up picnic table and barbecue, as marinated chicken and vegetables sizzled on the grill, as corks popped and tomatoes were sliced and tossed with olive oil and vinegar. Sylvie shot images and video as I asked the questions, all in preparation for a story. Lessons learned and new friends made.

Aymeric the vigneron and Nicolas the chef

The week swept by with the publication of my two articles (with photographer Ilva Beretta) and reached a dizzying height with a wedding anniversary. The end of the week approached with photographs taken of a Chef Ludovic Pouzelgues of Lulu Rouget after having interviewed Chef Nhung Phung of Song Saveurs & Sens.

The Lulumobile (as I call it) in front of Lulu Rouget

The strains of saxophone rise up like cigarette smoke from under the bridge below and float lazily in through the windows as the rain, calmer now, spatters against the panes, tapping on the tabletop just inside. Sweet, easy jazz vies with the drums and bombs on tv, as we spend a listless few hours, legs up, mind numb, wilting on the sofa, before wandering back into the kitchen to cook. Panna Cotta with Roasted Cherries.

From our perch above the street, we peer out from the darkness of the apartment and watch a future bridegroom dressed all in pink, baby bonnet fixed firmly on his head and shimmering pink pom-poms clutched in his fists, dancing in front of his entourage who are laughingly urging him on. They scatter at the first raindrops, scatter like children clearing a playground along with the rest of the stragglers who have yet to take shelter. The news has been as bleak as today’s weather, shouting and screaming images of war and mayhem; train accidents in France and in Spain have left a continent stunned. We shut off the television, fling open the windows to allow the chilly wind to whip in and try and shake the feeling of shock and sadness, try and find comfort in familiar laughter and something simmering on the stove. Emails from my family with news, messages from my son who is happily oblivious to the outside world as he hangs out on the beaches of Ca Bat along the bay of Halong, strumming the strings of a secondhand guitar. The clatter of the shells of mussels being tossed about in a white whine and shallots, saffron and chili revives and draws me into the kitchen.

I adore making Panna Cotta: it is a snap to put together, the flavor variations are endless and it is husband’s favorite dessert. The combination of vanilla and dark rum is simply wonderful, a beautiful balance adding warmth, an odd and earthy sweetness and a complex layering of flavors to the cream. Topped with Rum Roasted Cherries just makes this the best summer treat, elegant and special enough to share with friends, which we did. Groans of pleasure were all that broke the concentrated silence amid the clattering of spoons against glass as mouthfuls of smooth, silky Panna Cotta were scooped up. Even the children battled for the last bite, the last cherry popped into eager, happy mouths.

VANILLA RUM PANNA COTTA WITH RUM ROASTED CHERRIES

For the Vanilla Rum Panna Cotta:

3 cups (750 ml) cream or a combination of heavy cream, light cream/half-and-half and milk
2 tsps (1/4 oz, about 8 g) powdered unflavored gelatin
½ cup (100 g) granulated white sugar
½ tsp vanilla extract or the seeds scraped from one vanilla pod
3 Tbs dark rum or to taste

In a medium, heavy-bottomed saucepan, pour 1 cup (250 ml) of the cream/milk mixture and sprinkle the gelatin on top. Allow to sit for 5 minutes to soften the gelatin; I usually just tap the gelatin to push it under the liquid. After 5 minutes, turn the flame under the pot to low and allow to heat very gently for a 5 minutes until the gelatin dissolves completely, whisking carefully. Do not allow the milk to come to a boil: you can add a bit more of the cream/milk to the pot if desired while heating; if the milk starts to steam too much, simply pull the pot off of the heat and whisk until the 5 minutes are up.

Whisk in the sugar and the rest of the cream or cream mixture and continue to heat over low until the sugar is dissolved and the liquid is thoroughly warmed through. Whisk in the vanilla and the rum, taste and add more rum if desired. Remove from the heat and allow to cool slightly before dividing evenly between 6 glasses, verrines or ramekins.

Cover each with plastic wrap and slide into the refrigerator to chill and firm overnight.

For the Rum Roasted Cherries:
(adapted from a recipe on The Kitchn)

30 plump, ripe unpitted cherries
2 tablespoons demerara or granulated brown sugar 
(cassonade)
Pinch sea salt
- fleur de sel
2 Tbs dark rum

Preheat oven to 450°F (230°C).

Place the whole unpitted cherries in a small roasting pan and toss with the sugar and a pinch of salt. Place in the oven and roast until the cherries start to release their juices and the sugar melts and begins to caramelize. This will take about 10 minutes but watch the cherries very carefully, as the sugar may start to burn.

At the end of 10 minutes, remove the roasting pan from the oven and add the 2 tablespoons dark rum and toss until all of the sugar is moistened and the cherries are coated. Return the roasting pan to the oven for 5 more minutes. Watch very carefully to make sure that the sugar does not burn. Remove the roasting pan from the oven to a wooden board or cooling rack. Allow the cherries to rest until cool enough to handle. Remove the stems from all of the cherries except a few for decoration if desired. Pit all of the cherries (except the few still with their stems) over the roasting pan to catch any juices and discard the pits.

Place the roasting pan on the stove over a very very low flame and stir and toss, gently pressing the cherries with the back of a spoon or spatula just to release a bit more juice. Toss and cook gently but very quickly – only a minute or two – until the last of the sugar has melted and a thick, cherry red juice forms. Remove from the heat and allow to cool to either warm or room temperature.

Spoon a few Rum Roasted Cherries onto each chilled and set Vanilla Rum Panna Cotta with a bit of the cherry rum juice and serve immediately.

Read more »

Apple Galette

MELTDOWN

Monday Monday, can't trust that day,

Monday Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way 

Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be 

– The Mamas and The Papas 

Collapse. Breakdown. A harrowing experience one wishes not to live twice, but alas, in these modern times of technological necessity and dependence, one must always be prepared, expect the unexpected, embrace the unwelcome. Computer meltdown. One day we are insouciant, nonchalantly logging on, casually logging off, pulling up documents at will, loading photos without restraint and baring our soul, exposing every intimate detail of our private life on a plethora of social media platforms morning, noon and night. Connected. The next day…nothing. Blackness greets us when we sit down at our desk in the early hours of the morning, steaming mug of café au lait within easy reach, dishwasher humming smoothly in the background. Complete and horrid meltdown. And it happened to me.

Monday Monday, you gave me no warning. Smooth, white plastic lid lifted, tiny button pressed, a flash of light, a hint of that funny image of pink flamingos stalking across the bottom of my desktop and then utter blackness. And sheer, blessed panic. I feared his reaction, although I must approach him. I braced myself for his accusations of how I misuse my machine, how I do not think of the necessary upkeep, maintenance and care of my little box. How I treat it with the disdain of one who takes too much for granted. Yet, yet…at the same time I knew this would be a challenge for him, a distraction. He calmly suggested I call the Mac Shop and I did. Once they opened (this is, after all, France, and one can never make the assumption that a shop is ever open), he accompanied me down there and, after explaining the problem, we were led to believe that all hope was lost. Or at the very least cost us an arm and a leg (or, as the French so elegantly put it: “Les yeux de la tête, the eyes from our head.”)

Husband has never been one to accept anything at face value or to give in and give up. And with the cost of a new laptop hovering menacingly over our heads, he was determined to solve the mystery and figure out what the true problem was. I, on the other hand, had a mounting feeling of impending disaster. Disappearing from social media, not able to blog, my projects left hanging in midair and being reduced to the miniscule keyboard on my iphone for answering emails. He pushed me out of the way, plugged in my laptop onto what looked like life support and I wandered off and slumped into the armchair, fingers desperately clutching my iphone, in front of the tv.

And don’t the darnedest things just happen at the darnedest times? I felt the vibration of a text coming through, glanced at the tiny screen and saw it was from son. His friend had just contacted him letting him know that she was selling her Macbook. Coincidence? Providence? Divine intervention? Laptop was soon in our hands and hooked up to my own. Enough cords to look like Frankenstein’s experiment flooded the tabletop and the surrounding floor and all we were praying for was a lightening storm. The mystical operation of transferring life – all of my files – from one machine to the other commenced! I know when I should simply walk away, leave well enough alone and let him at it. From the kitchen I heard the banging start. Banging and pounding on my laptop with the shrieks of Yes! Yes! I see it! Yes! There it is! I got it! He had magically made my screen reappear long enough to connect and begin the transfer of data and files by simply pounding on the keyboard with all of his might. Humph to technology. The cavemen had it right all along. A good solid pounding solves so many problems.

But you know nothing is ever that simple, don’t you? He worked at it all day, all afternoon and well into the evening. Once or twice he toyed with the idea of throwing in the towel and just giving up – which, if you know him as well as I do then you can understand and appreciate the intensity and near-impossibility, the desperation of the situation if he of all people was on the edge of giving up. These robotic little beasties have a life of their own, teasing, mocking, threatening, sending messages like “Access forbidden” or “You have no authorization to open this screen” or “Stay away from this damn computer it ain’t yours”. Lots more screaming ensued. Yelling, cursing, jumping around à la Rumpelstiltskin…

All’s well that ends well. One solid day, fierce determination, relentless doggedness and an intense stick-to-it-ness and he finally succeeded. Arms raised, fists punching the air to the glorious sounds of “Yessssss!” and there was distinct cause for celebration. The laptop is not yet officially mine, my own laptop has not yet gone to the shop, but – heaving a heavy sigh of relief - I am now functional once again. And I may have even scored Photoshop.

I haven’t baked for several days but JP certainly deserved a reward. As I was recounting the tale to my friend Renee, she suggested that maybe JP needed an apple pie or….galette. And I knew she was right. Nothing is homier, more calming and comforting after such a trying, stressful day, nothing says I love you more than a fruit pie warm from the oven, redolent of cinnamon. And a galette is even better. Not to forget that apple is his favorite filling in any baked good. I mentioned to JP, now stretched out on the sofa, wallowing in self-satisfaction, that I wanted to make an apple galette for him and he responded: “Only if you don’t say it is for me. Make an apple galette for all of us!”

I made some alterations to my favorite Sweet Pastry Pie Crust by adding a handful of finely ground almonds (a wonderful companion to apple) and replaced the egg with water for a firmer texture. I piled on the apples, as I know they have a tendency to shrink a bit – and who doesn’t want a mouthful of sweet apples in every bite? - tossed them in a bit of flour to thicken the juices, added just enough cinnamon and nutmeg and Bob’s your uncle. It flew together effortlessly, baked up a dream. The crust held the apples and juices in while remaining so tender. And the filling is perfection in every way. A perfect reward, a perfect treat. 

 With a little Salted Butter Caramel Sauce

APPLE GALETTE

For the Sweet Almond Pastry Crust:
1 ¼ cups flour
¼ cup sugar
½ cup finely ground almonds
7 Tbs unsalted butter, cool
3 – 5 Tbs cold water

For the Apple Galette Filling:
3 apples, peeled, cored and cubed (I actually used 3 ½ a mix of Royal Gala & Golden)
1 ½ Tbs flour
2 - 3 Tbs sugar
Scant ½ tsp ground cinnamon
Dash ground nutmeg

Cream for brushing the pastry; sugar (I used granulated brown) for dusting crust

Prepare the Pastry Crust:

Place the flour, sugar and ground almonds in a mixing bowl and stir to combine. Add the butter in cubes; toss to coat the cubes. Using only your thumbs and fingertips, rub the butter into the dry ingredients until the consistency of damp sand and all of the butter has been incorporated. Using a fork, vigorously stir in 3 tablespoons of the cold water; adding the remaining water a tablespoon at a time until all of the dry ingredients are damp and pull together into a ball. Scrape the dough out onto a floured work surface and knead briefly and gently, adding a bit of flour if necessary, until the dough is smooth and no longer sticky. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate to chill while preparing the filling.

Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Line a baking sheet with a sheet of parchment paper.

Prepare the Apple Filling:

Peel and core the apples and cut into cubes. Place the apple cubes in a bowl and toss with the flour, sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg. 

Prepare the Galette:

Remove the Sweet Pastry Crust from the refrigerator and discard the plastic wrap. Place the ball of dough on a floured work surface and gently roll out into a 12-inch diameter circle. Carefully roll the dough around the rolling pin and transfer to the parchment-lined baking sheet. Pile the prepared apple cubes in the center of the pastry circle and spread out to distribute evenly, leaving about 2 - 3 inches of dough free all around the outside edge of the circle, enough to lift up as a border to hold the apples in place.

Begin lifting the edge of the circle of dough up and place against the apples. Lifting the dough up about 3 inches at a time and moving around the galette, the dough “flaps” will overlap. Brush the folds of dough where they overlap with a little of the cream and “glue” down, pressing in place gently. Continue all around the galette. Brush the crust all over with cream and dust with sugar. 

Bake the galette in the preheated oven for about an hour or until the crust is a nice golden brown and the filling is bubbly. Remove from the oven to a cooling rack and allow to cool before slicing and serving.

This is a fabulous treat as is for breakfast, brunch or snack. Add ice cream, a good Salted Butter Caramel Sauce or whipped cream for a wonderful dessert.

Read more »

FAR BRETON AUX GRIOTTES – CHERRY FAR

it seems that we are a long way removed from the discreet combinations of flavors, 

thought out at length, that were once the basis of French gourmandise. . . 

- Colette, Prisons et paradis, 1933 

Hand in hand, bundled up against the wild wind, we picked our way along the old stonewall above a narrow stretch of beach somewhere between Ploudalmézeau and Plouguemeau. Quaint picture-postcard fishing villages dot the coastline, those low stonewalls the only protection against the wild waves of tempests. This single day was sunny and bright although sweaters and coats were necessary even for a spring day up in this spectacular, wind whipped, chilly part of the country. Our faces often turned towards the warmth of the sun, we watched brave Bretons frolic in the frigid water, fishermen tying and untying rope, dogs romp in the mud and old locals and tourists alike wander the tiny cobbled streets. We poked through pretty little shops displaying bowls for cider, plates for crêpes and picture postcards as we breathed in the fresh, bracing air and built up an appetite.

We have always adored visiting Brest, visiting Brittany since the first time husband and I drove out to the very tip of France the day after our marriage, a poor-man’s honeymoon but one filled with friends, food, laughter and romance. Extravagant, awe-inspiring landscapes, Bretons have come to live within the rules set by Mother Nature, coexisting with the elements rather than trying to tame them. Mornings at waterfront markets or afternoons meeting the boats at port to buy fresh seafood, in between tiptoeing through ancient Celtic monumental stone piles, we have travelled from one end of Brittany to the other from the pre-historic to the modern, from the islands off the coast to art and music festivals in the city. From sweet, ethereal crêpes swimming in salty butter and crunchy with sugar to savory galettes stuffed with Andouille and sweet apples or thick slabs of gooey goat cheese, from local gariguette strawberries from Plougastel to tiny black bigorneaux snails, their dense, slick black bodies pulled out of the shells with straight pins and plump crabs eaten with bare hands, dipped in butter or homemade mayonnaise all washed down with bottles of cider, the food of Brittany is worth the trip itself.

Happily we live at what was once – and again attains to be – the southern tip and proud capital of Brittany and the fresh ingredients we find on our market are still pungent of the sea, and the food we eat out is Brittany at its best, albeit with a local twist. We had eaten the famous Prat ar coum oysters in our own tiny corner of Brittany and when invited by friends to spend a short vacation in Brest husband knew he had to track these treasures at their source, eat them straight out of the water. Some men offer their women diamonds or rubies, others bundles of roses or boxes of chocolates. Mine offers me oysters and lobster. We found their vivier – the warehouse, cement floors, men and women decked out in rubber boots, rubber aprons and rubber gloves stomping through puddles from tank to huge tank, scooping out live beasts, crabs, lobsters, clams galore and bagging them for clients, or shoving them in the floor-to-ceiling cookers so one could then head home with freshly-steamed seafood, yes we found the warehouse where chefs and fishmongers, locals and tourists alike stand elbow to elbow waiting patiently, ogling the living treasures as in some museum, pointing out the one wanted. Heaven! And nestled behind the vivier, hidden away from all but the most devoted, the most curious, was a tiny restaurant.

And that night we returned and dined on oysters and fresh lobster with glasses of crisp white wine. And as we were finishing, sated and content, we spied a woman through the fading light of late evening slowly heading towards the restaurant from a house off in the distance, its light-infused windows bright and cheery. And she was carrying a large baking tray fresh from the oven, if the tea towels with which she was gripping the pan were any clue. And as she got closer, as she stepped through the door of the diningroom we saw that she was carrying in dessert baked in her own home at the end of the lane. A Far Breton. What else? The only dessert on the menu. And thick, creamy slabs, warm and tender, of that Far were served to each diner dusted simply with powdered sugar and husband and I went home that night, arm in arm, happy.

 Far aux Griottes

Far aux Pruneaux

Far Breton, one of Brittany’s secret gems, a delicious local specialty, is a dense, oven-baked, custard-like flan only creamier, lighter than the one most of us are familiar with, and it is usually and traditionally studded with sweet prunes macerated in rum. The batter is very much like crêpe batter but with just a tad of flour. All one needs to make a perfect Far is the best quality eggs, butter, salted of course, sugar, flour and whole milk along with fruit, whether prunes, apricots, apples or other, although my son adamantly prefers his plain with no fruit at all. My recipe comes from my friend Isabelle, a true Bretonne, a Frenchwoman born and bred. Yet as she, like my own husband and every French friend I have, cooks and bakes au pif, literally by the nose, by instinct, with no recipe at hand, I had to fiddle and play with what she wrote down for me, try it again and again until I had reached perfection. Until my husband, a smile playing on his lips, sighed, “now THAT is a Far!”

You might also want to try:

 Isabelle’s wonderful Orange Cake

A traditional Apple Flognarde

Lemon Raspberry Flan




FAR BRETON AUX GRIOTTES
This is an ideal recipe for winter or when cherries are not in season (or are too pricey) when you still crave this sweetest of fruits. I always have a jar or two of sour cherries – griottes – in my pantry for when the cherry craving hits. If you want to make the traditional Far Breton aux Pruneaux with dried prunes and rum, follow the link here).

1 cup drained jarred pitted cherries
3 large eggs
½ tsp vanilla, optional
4 Tbs (60 g) sugar
4 gently rounded (not heaping) Tbs (70 g) flour
Pinch salt (add 2 pinches salt if using unsalted butter for the dish)
2 cups (450 ml, just under ½ litre) whole milk
1 Tbs (15 g) salted butter for the baking dish

Prepare the batter about 2 hours ahead of baking.

Drain the jarred cherries reserving the liquid/juice for another use.

Break the 3 eggs into a medium-sized mixing bowl and whisk until very well blended. Whisk in the vanilla if using and the sugar. Gradually and carefully add in the flour and salt combined, whisking in a few tablespoons at a time and blending until you obtain a smooth, lump-free paste after each addition. Once all of the flour/salt is blended in and the batter is very smooth, creamy and thick, stir in about a third of the milk to loosen the batter. Stir or whisk in the milk in an additional 2 or 3 additions, being careful not to splatter!

Cover the bowl of batter with a plate and set aside at room temperature to rest for at least 2 hours.

Preheat the oven to 425°F (220°C).

Put the butter in a glass/Pyrex or terra cotta baking dish measuring approximately 12 x 8 x 1 ½ – inches (30 x 21 x 3 cm) – my second Far was baked in an 8-inch (21-cm) square baking dish – and place in the hot oven until the butter melts. Carefully remove the baking dish from the oven and swirl as to spread the butter around the dish. Brush to evenly coat both the bottom and the sides of the dish. Spread the drained cherries evenly over the bottom of the baking dish. Whisk the batter to blend then pour the batter over the fruit.

Place the baking dish in the oven and immediately lower the oven temperature to 375°F (190°C) and bake the Far Breton until just firm, puffed and golden around the edges and bottom, about 30 minutes.

The Far Breton is best eaten warm, dusted with powdered sugar. Once it cools to room temperature or is chilled in the refrigerator, it firms up further and has a slightly denser consistency like that of a good flan, yet still remains creamier than a classic flan.

Read more »