Choux with Pastry Cream

MON PETIT CHOU

A man should not so much respect what he eats, as with whom he eats. 

- Michael Eyquem de Montaigne

One day slides into the next, a long, tranquil river, as the French say. Rain to sun to fog to fine mist. And back to sun. We work and play to the same rhythm as one day melts into the next and so on and so forth, our son’s school schedule and the tv program our only indication of the passing of time, the only indication as to what day of the week it is. I’ve taken to jotting down words, phrases and thoughts in pencil in one of the several notebooks scattered around my desk. I have become reacquainted with my own handwriting. I am working on our Plated Stories workshop, putting together sessions and creating exercises as my mind wanders to Tuscany and the amazing group of students that is starting to pull together. I dig out my notes, from two bygone speaking events, and begin to rearrange the words for two public presentations, one online and one at a conference…very excited!


I am often out of the loop, buried, as I am, in my own affairs, my own home life, weaving, sometimes staggering between articles I am researching and husband’s and sons’ demands for attention. I discover what is going on in the world via social media if not the television news, and once in a while a headline, a rumor or a buzz grabs my attention and I hop from website to website reading up on the topic. Recently, it was Chef Grant Achatz’s tweet – he of 3-star Alinea fame – complaining of a crying baby in his restaurant. This fascinated me and I rushed to read his thoughts on the topic, which he had made very public.

I thought back to our own sons who we have been bringing to restaurants and museums since their first hours. Contrary to what many American friends of mine think, the French do not dine out often with children in tow. Our sons have been, more often than not, the only children in a restaurant, and we always wondered why this was so. Our boys, used to going out with us, rarely were less than exemplary and always fun dining companions, but then again, we made a huge effort to teach them as well as to really share the experience with them as equals, including them in all table conversation, regaling them with stories about the food, etc. It was all just a part of their life.

So needless to say, when I saw the hubbub, I had to write what was on my mind. You can find my piece on Huffington Post about bringing small children to restaurants, a response to the mild uproar and less-than-mild discussion caused by Chef Grant Achatz’ tweet about the crying baby (and unconcerned parents) at his Michelin 3-starred restaurant Alinea. As a mother and as one half of a couple who has been bringing our sons to dine out with us since they were born, I definitely have a few insights and a couple of things to say on the matter. Feel free to add your view of the topic as a comment to the piece on HP.

And in between the writing, I bake. He cooks… and I bake. With a man in the house who is not only a better cook than I am but who is also more than happy and willing to prepare the meals, the stews and tagines, why should I worry? It allows me more time to write and more time to bake.

We have a set of friends – a fascinating and fun couple we met through our son who was best friends with their son – whom we spend the occasional evening with, not often enough. They spend half the year down south and when they are back in Nantes we try and grab an evening or two with them. And, as the French do, we take turns preparing the meal. This time it was their turn, but I offered to bring dessert. Actually, JP told them that I would bring dessert. I wanted to bring something light to eat, something that could easily be picked up and popped into the mouth, something that would go well with a big bowl of fresh fruit. I decided upon choux.

It had been quite some time since I last made choux and pastry cream. As Zoë of the marvelous Zoë Bakes reminded us on her recent post about éclairs, choux is French for cabbages, as these tiny, lovely, ethereal gems look like little cabbages. A rather inelegant, unappetizing name. I prefer to think of the very French “mon petit chou”, “my little cabbage”, a loving term of endearment. Choux, the pastry, is a beautiful, elegant, sweet little nothing, airy and light, a bland yet perfect backdrop to any filling at all, whether savory or sweet. Choux are the perfect carrying case to a gorgeous cream filling, whipped, ice or pastry. Pick one up… pop it in your mouth. Savor.

Both choux and pastry cream are fiddly and time consuming, but really quite simple to make and such a pleasure. I use my father’s recipe, the one he used for years and years to make saucer-sized puffs that he would fill with pudding, vanilla, chocolate, pistachio. He made so many things from boxed mixes; granted, he made them with the attention and precision of the engineer that he was and he made them with love, often adding something special to personalize whatever he would be serving to his family or carry proudly to some Brotherhood Club event or Bingo Night at the synagogue. But certain things he made from scratch and these choux were part of his repertoire.

I chose to make simple, unglazed, unfrosted choux filled with pastry cream, half vanilla rum and half chocolate rum, dusted with a light shower of cocoa powder and icing sugar. Both the choux puffs and the pastry cream, although demanding careful attention, were quick and simple to make. This is such a perfect dessert to make when you want to impress family, friends and guests!

And my two sons and their lifetime of dining out with us?

The older one, Clem, goes wild for éclairs. These are filled with a just sweet frangipane whipped cream.

The younger one, Simon, only eats profiterole, his preferred dessert.

Husband and I went wild for these choux filled with a cool, light orange pastry cream and topped with an orange glaze.






CHOUX FILLED WITH PASTRY CREAM
Make about 40 small choux; each half batch pastry cream fills half the choux

Vanilla Rum Pastry Cream (Half batch):

1 cup (225 ml.) whole milk (I used low fat)
2 Tbsp. cornstarch
6 Tbs (100 g) sugar
1 large egg
2 large egg yolks
2 Tbs (30 g.) unsalted butter (at room temperature makes it easier)
1 tsp vanilla or half a vanilla bean, split lengthwise, seeds scraped out *
1 Tbs rum or to taste, optional

* If using a half vanilla bean/pod, split the pod down the center and scrape out the seeds. Add both the pod and the seeds to the milk in the pot. Remove the pod once the pastry cream is made and before pouring it into a bowl to chill in the refrigerator.

Dissolve cornstarch in ¼ cup of milk; whisk until smooth and there are no lumps. Combine the remaining milk with the sugar in a saucepan.Bring to a boil; remove from heat. Beat the whole egg, then the yolks into the cornstarch mixture. Pour 1/3 of boiling milk into the egg mixture in a slow stream, whisking constantly so that the eggs do not begin to cook.

Add the rest of the hot milk to the egg mixture then return all of it back into the casserole and return to the heat. Continue whisking (this is important – you do not want the eggs to solidify/cook) until the cream thickens and comes just to a boil. Remove from heat and beat in the butter, vanilla and rum.

Pour the pastry cream into a heatproof pyrex or stainless steel bowl. Press plastic wrap firmly against the surface. Chill immediately and until ready to use.

For Chocolate Pastry Cream (Half Batch):

Ingredients as for Vanilla Rum Pastry Cream
¼ cup (50 ml) milk
3 oz (80 g) finely chopped semisweet chocolate

Follow the recipe above for the Vanilla Rum Pastry Cream but begin by bringing the ¼ cup (about 50 ml) milk to a boil in a small pan; remove from heat and stir in the 3 ounces (about 80 g) finely chopped semisweet chocolate; mix until smooth.

Prepare the pastry cream as above (leaving out the rum if you want plain Chocolate Pastry Cream) and whisk the melted chocolate into the pastry cream when you add the butter and vanilla.

Pour the pastry cream into a heatproof pyrex or stainless steel bowl. Press plastic wrap firmly against the surface. Chill immediately and until ready to use.

Refrigerate both pastry creams covered in plastic wrap while you prepare the choux.

CHOUX

1 cup (250 ml) water
1/2 cup (8 Tbs, 115 g) unsalted butter
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup (140 g) flour
4 eggs

Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°). Grease a large cookie sheet or line it with oven-safe parchment paper.

In a large saucepan, over medium heat, heat the water, butter and salt until butter melts and the mixture comes to a boil. Remove from the heat and add the flour all at once. With a wooden spoon, stir vigorously until the mixture forms a ball and pulls away from the sides of the pot.

Scrape this ball into a large pyrex mixing bowl and, stirring, allow to cool for a minute or two. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition (here I switched to a whisk as it worked better than a wooden spoon), until mixture is smooth and creamy.

Using a teaspoon (or tablespoon for larger puffs), scoop up mounds of the dough and carefully push the dough off onto the prepared cookie sheet, using your finger or a rubber spatula. They will rise and almost double in size, so leave a bit of space between puffs.

Bake for 35 minutes (for the small puffs) until risen and golden. Working very quickly, open the oven and, with a sharp knife, make a small slit in the side of each puff to allow steam to escape - I also use this opportunity to turn my cookie sheets around back to front, as my oven heats quicker in the back - then bake them for about 5 more minutes until golden brown.

Remove the sheet from the oven, replacing this batch for the next in the oven, and allow to cool on a rack (as I bake my puffs on sheets of parchment or oven paper, I slide the paper off of the hot cookie sheet onto the cooling rack).

To fill the choux with pastry cream, simply pierce a small hole in the bottom or side of each puff. Fit a pastry bag with a small plain tip, fill the bag with cream, gently nuzzle the tip into one choux after the next and fill.

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Spicy Lamb & Feta Gözleme with a North African Twist

INTERLUDE IN THE KITCHEN

Have I even cooked yet since my return from Florida? I cannot remember. Time is flitting by on wings…. No, more like time is rushing by on wheels as it is pushed down a steep mountain. Where does it go? I have a bucketful of projects that seem to be standing around my desk, hands on hips, feet tapping earnestly as each waits…demands.. its turn and my attention.

The funny thing is, I brought back a stack of cooking magazines from the US and from Ireland, magazines stuffed from cover to cover with tempting recipes. I sit and flip through each and every one and ogle this photo and that, peruse the recipes and concoct plans to make so many of them. And then I sit back down at my laptop and start writing again. When I finally look up at the clock it is lunchtime or dinnertime, too late to cook. And when I mention baking, my men balk and begin ranting and begging for me to stay away from the sweet treats for just a bit. It is no wonder that I haven’t cooked in ages.

On the other hand, when it comes to my projects and work, I am…cooking! All of those magazines were purchased as resources rather than for the recipes, truth be told. They infuse me with creative energy and get the business juices flowing. I finished turning my Florida interview into a story and sent it off. My interviews of local chefs and food gurus are going swimmingly as I prepare three separate pieces from them. I am now in contact with another editor interested in our work. My head is flooded with story ideas just waiting for the chance to flow out onto the page. And my own personal editor/mentor/friend has now put me on a schedule for my book chapters. Can it get any better, any more productive than this?

Husband and I have the house to ourselves for the week; one son is away sailing as the other sleeps off the effects of a birthday weekend before slogging through two tough project presentations. The sun – finally the sun – splatters through the windows and onto tabletops and carpets, adding a hint of warmth to the June chill. Summer’s stone fruits are now heaped in bowls on the kitchen counter, the sheets crumpled and twisted on unmade beds, the television droning in the background competing with the city’s ordinary, everyday noises bursting joyfully, aggressively through the windows. The hum of the printer, the ringing of the telephone, the clatter of fingers on keyboard come from his office at the back of the apartment as we both work from home. There really is nothing to keep us from cooking.

Yet… one photograph from the BBC Good Food magazine – brought to me from London by my charming and thoughtful writing instructor buddy Jeanne – of Spiced Lamb & Feta Gözleme kept coming back to me, haunting me with the scents and flavors of something exotic, warming, delicious. I so wanted to taste the Gözleme that I finally gathered the courage to go out and pick up the ingredients needed and make them.

What is a Gözleme, you ask? Gözleme is a Turkish savory, filled pastry, the dough hand rolled then wrapped around a filling and sealed. The filled pocket is brushed with butter or oil and then cooked in a skillet or on a griddle. A woman at our market actually makes them, hers filled with feta or herbs or meat. I glanced over the list of ingredients in the magazine, which had a rather Greek spin to it, and decided to change it and give it a more North Africa twist, similar to my Lamb Triangles. I changed out the spices, added in caramelized onions and flavored the browned lamb with tomato purée and pomegranate molasses. Raisins heightened the touch of sweetness, pine nuts added a wonderfully toothsome crunch.

The resulting Gözleme were divine! The dough – just slightly adjusted from the magazine’s recipe – was a snap to make and, once cooked, was light and fluffy with just the right denseness to add a bit of chew. The filling was flavorful, the perfect balance between sweet and savory, meat and feta. One must only be extremely careful in rolling out, filling, folding, brushing and flipping the dough and the pastry to avoid any ripping – the dough is very delicate and any holes in the dough and the filling will escape!

I served this with a spicy and sweet chutney, but it would also be delicious served with an herbed yogurt dipping sauce. But personally, I loved them served as is; they needed nothing at all to be perfect.

I am sharing this with Susan of Wild Yeast for her weekly Yeastspotting!

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SPICY LAMB & FETA GÖZLEME PASTRIES
Makes and serves 4

For the dough:

1 packet (7 g) dry active yeast
1Tbs golden granulated sugar
2/3 cup (175 ml) warm water
9 oz (250 g) flour + more for kneading
½ tsp salt
2 Tbs olive oil + more for brushing the pastry

For the filling:

1 – 2 Tbs olive oil
1 lb (500 g) ground/minced lamb – or a combination of lamb and beef, if preferred
1 small – medium onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 slightly rounded tsp ground cumin
1 slightly rounded tsp ground coriander
¾ tsp ground cinnamon
¾ tsp ground chili or chipotle chili powder, or more or less to taste
Salt and pepper
2 Tbs tomato purée, more to taste if desired
2 Tbs pomegranate molasses, more or less to taste as desired
2 oz (50 g) raisins
2 oz (50 g) good quality pine nuts
4 oz (100 g) drained feta cheese, crumbled

Prepare the dough:

Place the golden granulated sugar and the dry yeast in a small mixing bowl. Add the warm/tepid (not hot) water to the yeast and sugar and allow to stand for about 15 minutes until the yeast is activated and the mixture foamy.

Put the flour in a medium to large mixing bowl and stir in the salt. Make a well in the center of the flour and add the yeast mixture and the olive oil. Using a wooden spoon, stir until blended and all of the dry ingredients have been moistened. Scrape the dough out onto a floured board or work surface and knead for 8 – 10 minutes, flouring the work surface and the dough only as needed. After 8 to 10 minutes, the kneaded dough should be smooth, soft and elastic, not dry but not sticky.

Lightly oil the inside of a medium to large bowl and place the round ball of dough into the bowl, turning the dough to oil evenly. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and then a clean kitchen towel and set aside to rise, at least doubled in size, about an hour.

Meanwhile, prepare the lamb filling:

Have everything prepared – the onion and garlic chopped, the spices, raisins and pine nuts measured out, etc.

Heat a skillet over medium heat. Add the pine nuts and cook very quickly, stirring constantly so they do not burn, just until toasted (they will begin to turn a golden brown). Remove quickly from the heat, scraping the pine nuts into a waiting bowl.

Return the skillet to the heat and add a tablespoon of olive oil. Add the chopped onion and cook over medium heat, stirring often, until the onion is tender and golden brown around the edges. Add the chopped or minced garlic and cook, stirring, for another couple of minutes until the garlic is tender (but not colored). Add another tablespoon of olive oil and then the minced/ground lamb and cook, stirring and chopping the meat to break up any lumps, until cooked through and browning, no longer pink.

Stir in the spices as well as the salt and pepper until evenly coating the meat and cook, stirring, for a minute or two. Add the toasted pine nuts, the raisins as well as 2 tablespoons each of the tomato purée and the pomegranate molasses, stirring to blend. Cook, stirring, for a few minutes until the meat is done and the flavors are melded. Remove from the heat and allow to cool just for a few minutes until just cool enough to handle. If prepared ahead of time, gently heat the filling through until warm before preparing the Gözleme – adding just a bit of water while reheating will help to keep the mixture from burning as well as bring back moisture to the meat.

Prepare the Gözleme pastries:

Have both the warm (but not hot) filling and the crumbled feta ready. Also have ready a small bowl with several tablespoons of olive oil and a clean pastry brush as well as a good skillet or grill.

Scrape the risen dough onto a floured work surface and divide into four even pieces. Working one piece of dough at a time, pat the dough into a rectangle and place on the board in front of you lengthwise perpendicular to your body. Gently roll the dough into a 8 x 10 inch (20 x 25 cm) rectangle, being very careful to keep the dough an even thickness and not to tear, split or weaken the dough.

Place ¼ of the lamb filling on the bottom half of the dough rectangle, leaving a ¾-inch (2-cm) edge on the 3 sides of the dough of the bottom half of the rectangle (the space covered by filling). Pat the filling until it evenly covers the space.

Place ¼ of the crumbled feta cheese on top of the lamb filling, dispersing it evenly over the lamb. Do not forget the feta!

Very gently and lightly brush a very small amount of olive oil on the edge of the dough - the 3 sides around the filling - and then bring the top half of the rectangle of dough down over the filling to create a pocket or turnover. Match the edges, pressing the top dough to the bottom and sealing. Very gently brush the sealed edges with a bit more olive oil and gently roll the edge over onto itself to form a rim. Very gently brush/pat a bit of olive oil all over the top of the Gözleme pastry, including the rim.

(I keep repeating very gently because the dough is incredibly light and fragile and it must not rip!)

Heat the skillet or grill over medium heat. Very gently and carefully (the dough is soft and fragile and must not rip) lift the pastry off of the work surface (I used a pastry/cake lifter and my fingers) and, once the skillet is hot, flip the pastry into the pan olive oil side down and press all around with the back of a spatula for even cooking. As the pan-side of the pastry cooks, gently brush/dab the flip side (now facing up) with olive oil. Cook the pastry until the pan side of the dough is a deep golden brown – the dough will puff as it cooks – and then very carefully flip the Gözleme over to cook the other side until golden brown.

Serve immediately, eat joyfully.

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Sèches du Haut-Doubs

LEAVING ON A JET PLANE

Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education; in the elder, a part of experience. 

– Francis Bacon, Sr. 

“When are you leaving? In a week?” He looked at me from his usual corner of the sofa, bald, skinny, healing Boston snuggled in the heavy blanket in the gap between his legs. Eyebrows raised in amused astonishment, he teased “What? And you haven’t even started packing yet?”

I leave Thursday on a travel odyssey that takes me from Nantes, through Amsterdam to San Francisco and then down to Florida. A long weekend in SF, discovering a city that I do not know, eating street food, seeing friends and – oh yes – attending a conference! Ilva and I have been working like mad on the presentation for our Strategies for Expats Experts Are In session with Ilva for IACP San Francisco amid the craziness that is our freelance work and family time. Deadlines missed and made up, articles submitted and others pitched, it is all part of the game. Plate to Page Ireland follows swiftly upon the heels of my return end of April. Life is a whirlwind of activity. I am often befuddled, my head in a spin trying to keep up and trying to keep everything straight.

The month of March was bogged down with sickness: rude, nasty, unwelcome colds. The days have been gray and dreary, many have been downright miserable. Marty hovered on the edge, tightrope walking on the precipice. A birthday at the end of the month brightened us up; husband, the birthday boy, Clem, Simon and I went to Lulu Rouget for dinner, an evening filled with spectacular food, laughter and bonhomie. A wonderful birthday and good news about Marty’s health and the month came to a cheerful end. And as March flowed into April, the days became suddenly luminous and golden. Something is surely in the air. I never travel without my diary.

One should always have something sensational to read in the train. 

– Oscar Wilde 

Now suitcase has been pulled out of storage (okay, from the corner of Simon’s room where it has stood since our move) and my belongings are scattered from one end of the apartment to the other. Clothing overflows from the closet and drawers, a tangle of power cords and chargers trails across tabletops and bed while piles of papers, notebooks and snacks are strewn willy-nilly, slithering – or threatening to – to the floor. I type furiously on my laptop, fervently and assiduously prepare my session presentation while surrounded by my Plate to Page workshop notes, which stare accusingly up at me, jealous of my infidelity. I scoop up Marty who has once again curled up in the open suitcase on the floor and - once again - decide to pull out half of what I have packed and replace it with a different choice.

Never go on trips with anyone you do not love. 

– Ernest Hemingway 

And with all of this going on, you would think that baking has come to a halt, wouldn’t you? Well, first came the Madeleines for company. Chocolate-Rum and Orange-Cointreau, to be exact, with a few marbled ones thrown in. And need I mention that these luscious, boozy Madeleines were made to accompany amazing Vanilla-Rum Panna Cotta (just add 2 tablespoons rum to the cream mixture)? Heaven! And then came my son’s old friends who dropped by to say hi and show off their beautiful new baby daughter. This called for my famous – and Simon’s favorite – Chocolate Layer Cake with Simple Chocolate Buttercream. Nothing complicated, nothing fancy, just the best chocolate cake ever. And how perfect is it to be able to offer homebaked treats to friends who drop by? And have leftovers for the loved ones at home for the rest of the week?

Chocolate-Rum and Orange-Cointreau Madeleines

Our favorite Chocolate Cake

And these simple yet astonishing sèches. A cold, windy day in Nantes called for something cozy and warm from the oven, something reminiscent of snowy days sitting in front of a roaring fire, sipping cocoa and nibbling on cookies. Sèches are a local specialty of la Haut-Doubs, a mountainous region of Franche-Comté in the east of France where the winters are cold and rude and the need for warming comfort food is at its highest. The recipe is very simply a pastry dough – a pâte brisée – with the addition of cream. I decided to add a bit of sugar to the dough and top it all with a heavy, generous dusting of cinnamon-sugar.

Simple to put together, roll out and slice, quick to bake and perfect for just a few convives - company and cohorts - I might even be tempted to toss in a handful of mini chocolate chips or some dried fruit to the dough, but these are just so beautiful in their simplicity, the ideal snack for dunking in hot chocolate or a cappuccino, there really is no need to change a thing.

SÉCHES
Adapted from a recipe in French Saveurs magazine n°199

Scant 1 cup (120 g) sifted flour (sifted before measuring)
¼ cup (50 g) granulated sugar
2 ¾ Tbs (40 g) unsalted butter, cool
Pinch salt
1 large egg yolk
3/8 cup (100 ml) heavy cream

Cinnamon-sugar for dusting (1 tsp ground cinnamon for 2 Tbs granulated sugar)

Preheat the oven to 425°F (220°C) Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Place the flour and sugar in a mixing bowl and stir to combine. Add the cool butter cut into cubes and, using fingertips and thumbs, rub the butter into the flour until completely rubbed in and the mixture resembles sand. Add the salt and the egg yolk and, using a fork, stir in vigorously until combined. Stir in the heavy cream until the dry ingredients are moistened and the dough pulls together.

Scrape the dough out onto a floured work surface and knead briefly until the dough is smooth and homogenous.

Roll the dough out until a thickness of about ¼ inch (approximately 7 mm). Place the circle of dough on the parchment paper-lined baking sheet and dust generously with cinnamon-sugar. Cut into triangles. The dough can be chilled before baking.

Bake in the preheated oven for 5 – 10 minutes or until puffed and set.

Serve the sèches warm (although the sèches are pretty darn tasty the following day if any are left over).

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GALETTE DES ROIS WITH VANILLA BEAN APPLE PASTRY CREAM

IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER

In the bleak midwinter Frosty wind made moan, 

Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; 

Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, 

In the bleak midwinter, Long ago. 

– Christina Rossetti, 1872 

The steely winter continues. We stay huddled indoors, no desire to emerge from our cosy cocoon and no longing to spend more time than necessary out in this intemperate weather. No snow to brighten, no snow to gladden and excite, drawing us outdoors like wide-eyed children, bundled up against the chill, damp mittens tossing snowballs at each other. Simply gray days, indecisive weather, no cheer. Mornings spent cooking, afternoons lolling about, evenings in front of the tv, weekends watching rugby, this bleak midwinter is so perfectly formed for family time and for eating. Husband has a good old-fashioned Pot au Feu simmering on the stovetop, hearty and comforting, and I attempt to perfect my puff pastry, my Galette des Rois.

It was late November, I think, and I was thinking about the whole Christmas thing: 

the birth of Christ, the Wizard of Oz, family murders, and quite frankly, I was depressed. 

– Joe Harper, In The Bleak Midwinter, Kenneth Branagh, 1995 

January lies ungraciously halfway along the darkened road of winter. From gorgeous autumn days under a brilliant sun, brisk walks among the fallen leaves in shades of gold and sepia, crimson and copper, October and November energize and invigorate. November into glorious December shines, the occasional misty rain dances among the clouds and reminds me of searching for snails among the thick, waist-high reeds edging the trees surrounding our Italian house, children romping through the fields playing pirates with a great lumbering dog behind. Autumn’s bounty of pumpkins, figs, chestnuts and mushrooms brings the promise of holidays. December hung with colored lights and festive garlands and no matter the slurries of mist spattering against the window and illuminated in the halo of bright streetlights against the inky blackness of the night, we are happy and excited in anticipation, our mouths watering for holiday fare.

Yet January from end to end, from corks popping on the first of the year to my birthday at the end there is little to celebrate. We muddle along, protecting ourselves from the dreariness outside. Son heads back to class, dragging his exhausted body – exhausted from two weeks’ lack of sleep - out of the house. And husband and I cook. And bake. And watch Nouvelle Star and rugby.

Our work weighs on us as we plod into 2013, waiting for grand new adventures to start. Husband dances and sings through the house in a grand effort to remain cheerful and not let his own worries drag him down. I chatter with my alter ego who keeps me in line as we plan projects together, spurring each other on and making each other laugh. Husband and I gather our energy and continue the final touches on the apartment – almost there! And little by little new projects do fall into my lap, take form, and the excitement begins to take hold. And meanwhile, I bake.

I had half of my batch of puff pastry leftover from my Cinnamon Caramelized Apple Galettes des Rois – not to mention half of the apple filling – and was determined to finally make the perfect Galette, even, thin, flaky with a perfectly golden glaze. I had all day ahead of me, the time to plan, organize and work slowly and patiently, normally not my habitual state. I had been craving a pastry cream filling, smooth and luscious. As apples are a favorite of my husband in any dessert, I decided that nothing would be better than the rest of those caramelized apples folded into the perfect vanilla pastry cream. And so I got to work.

GALETTE DES ROI WITH VANILLA BEAN APPLE PASTRY CREAM

Half a batch of Puff Pastry or 21 oz (600 g) puff pastry
Vanilla Bean Pastry Cream (recipe follows)
Egg wash (1 large egg yolk + 1 tsp cold water)
Confectioner’s/Powdered Sugar for dusting
1 fève/bean/charm with 1 paper crown

Prepare the Galette des Rois:

Remove the chilled puff pastry from the refrigerator and measure and cut about half the batch (21 oz / 600 g). Cut into two halves. Working one of the pieces at a time, roll each on a baking-sheet-sized piece of parchment paper into a large square/circle between 1/8 and ¼ - inch thick (the dough can be rolled out thicker for a puffier Galette but I wanted a rather thin Galette with more filling to pastry); the pastry should be large/wide enough to cut out a circle approximately 9 ½ inches (24 cm) diameter. Place a template (a ring mold, ring of a springform pan or even a dinner plate) on the pastry dough and, using a sharp knife carefully and slowly cut around the template forming a circle, being careful not to stretch or pull the dough.

Since Galettes are not baked in a pan or mold, the size can vary as you like.

Cover each of the two puff pastry rounds with a piece of plastic wrap and refrigerate while preparing the pastry cream.

VANILLA BEAN PASTRY CREAM

Smaller batch Pastry Cream:
2 Tbsp. cornstarch
6 Tbs (90 g) sugar
1 large egg
2 large egg yolks
2 Tbs (30 g) unsalted butter (preferably at room temperature)
Small pinch salt
1 cup (250 ml) whole milk (I used 2% low fat)
½ tsp vanilla or ½ a vanilla bean, split down the center, seeds scraped out

Larger batch Pastry Cream:
3 Tbs cornstarch
½ cup (100 g) sugar
1 large whole egg
3 large egg yolks
2 Tbs (30 g) unsalted butter (preferably at room temperature)
Pinch salt
2 cups (500 ml) milk (I use 2% low fat)
1 tsp vanilla or 1 vanilla bean, split down the center, seeds scraped out

Sift the cornstarch into a medium-large heatproof bowl and stir or whisk with half the sugar. Add the whole egg and yolks and whisk until smooth and thick.

Place the butter, the remaining sugar, the pinch of salt, the milk and both the vanilla bean pod and the seeds (if using a bean) in a saucepan and bring just to the boil. Remove from the heat.

Pour the hot milk into the egg mixture in a slow stream a ladleful at a time, whisking constantly so that the eggs do not curdle or begin to cook; this will gradually heat the eggs. Once all of the hot milk has been added to the egg mixture, pour it all back into the casserole and return to a very low heat. Whisking constantly, bring the cream to a gentle boil and cook for 2 to 3 minutes. The pastry cream may thicken rapidly but cooking for 2 minutes or so eliminates the cornstarch flavor.

If using liquid vanilla extract, add it to the cooked pastry cream. If using the vanilla bean, remove the pod and discard; the dark speckles seen in my pastry cream are the seeds.

I added and stirred in the cinnamon caramelized apple chunks leftover from my Caramelized Apple Galettes des Rois – about 2 apples of chunks.

Immediately pour and scrape the pastry cream into a clean heatproof bowl, cover with plastic wrap, pushing the plastic onto the surface of the cream to keep a skin from forming. Allow the cream to cool slightly as you prepare the puff pastry; do not prepare this too far in advance or cool too much as the pastry cream must still be soft and creamy enough to easily spread on the puff pastry round.

Assemble the Galette:

Remove the two pastry rounds from the refrigerator and discard the plastic. Choose one round to be the bottom of the galette and, leaving it on the parchment-lined baking sheet, gently press the edges out a bit with your fingers to enlarge the circle slightly. Mound enough of the cooled vanilla bean pastry cream filling in the center of the disc of dough to a thickness of about ½ inch (1 cm) but no more than ¾ inch, leaving about a ½ inch (1 cm) – 3/4 inch border of dough free around the edges. Press a fève, a ceramic charm of some sort, or even an old-fashioned dried bean or a coin into the filling, if desired.

Brush the edge all around with a light coating of egg wash (too wet and the top disc may slide during baking). Gently place the second disc of dough on top of the filling placing the top and bottom discs’ edge to edge (so the edges meet all the way around), gently stretching the top disc if needed so the edges line up. Press to seal tightly, pressing to have at least one finger width of pastry around all the edges well sealed.

Using a sharp knife held perpendicular to the table, cut into the side edges of the dough to create a scalloped edge all around to the cakes. Now carefully carve a design into the top of the cakes (not too deeply into the dough), making a couple or few small vents through the dough. Brush the top and sides of the galette lightly with egg wash. Place the baking tray in the refrigerator for the time the oven takes to preheat.

Preheat oven to 425°F (220°C).

Place the baking tray with the Galette in the hot oven and bake for 20 minutes until the pastry is puffed up and golden.

Reduce the oven temperature to 400°F (200°C) and continue baking for an additional 25 - 30 minutes until the top and the sides of the pastry are golden and crisp and the pastry is well risen. If you think the pastry is browning too quickly, simply lay a piece of foil over the top.

Remove the Galette from the oven and move the rack up one notch. Generously dust the entire top surface of the Galette with powdered sugar (using a sieve or sifter) then place the pastry back in the oven. Now bake for around 5 minutes until the sugar has turned to a golden and very shiny glaze. Stand next to your oven and watch because once you have the perfect glaze it can very quickly, in the flash of an eye, burn! You must watch so you can pull it out of the oven just as the last of the top turns a gorgeous shiny deep golden and not leave it one second longer.

Remove the Galette from the oven and slide the parchment paper off onto a cooling rack. Allow the Galette to cool before serving.

If serving a Galette des Rois with a fêve inside, make sure there is a child under the table while the host cuts the Galette and then passes each slice as the child calls out whom to serve. Have a paper crown ready to crown the King or Queen who finds the charm!

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CHOCOLATE CHIP PECAN BUTTER HORNS

RUNNING ON EMPTY

I used to be funny, and perhaps I’m not anymore. It may be that I have become rather grumpy because I’ve seen so many things that have offended me that I cannot deal with in terms of laughter.
- Kurt Vonnegut

My mind is a blank. Empty of thoughts, void of ideas. As he stomps around the house, pacing circles around my desk, ranting about his overload of work and too many projects sending his mind shooting in a thousand different directions at once, I sit and stare up at him, absolutely silent. Blank. Empty of thoughts, void of ideas. He raves about the impossibility of working correctly or efficiently, how his mind is pulled in too many directions at once, yet he then dashes back to work and I hear furious typing, occasionally interjected with mild cursing and the smack of an open palm brought down sharply upon the flat of the tabletop. Up and out he pops again, smile splashed across his face as he shouts Success! one more time; his dissatisfaction and anger leashed and channeled into positive energy. I stare at him and offer him a smile, truly happy for his accomplishments, yet I sit here quietly and feel woefully inadequate and lost.

A mind jumping with imagination and bright with creativity was my lot in life. Stories tumbled from my fingertips as they danced across the keyboard. A lifetime of reading, a childhood filled with little more than books, filled my head with bright words and colorful language, moving images, a jumble of characters. I possessed the capacity to travel through time and space, dazzling myself with my ingenuity, often spending hours sitting and chuckling at my own cleverness or sighing as I etched out some perfect romance. Frustration, I knew, was all part of the game; writing, as with any craft, was often laborious, taking more than a fair share of effort and energy to find the inspiration, massage and manipulate it, squeeze and stroke, pull it apart and push it back together again until one finds the perfect form and shape to express one’s desires, to tell the perfect story. Yet, this blankness spreads and fills my days; something has come and stopped it all cold and turned my light and colors dark.

An idea, like a ghost, must be spoken to a little before it will explain itself.
- Charles Dickens

Ideas flit through my brain; I grab at them like so many butterflies yet they slip through my fingers and flutter away. My hands, holding little more than dust and air, fall dull and lifeless to my sides as my eyes search in vain for more pretty, ethereal beasts, waiting impatiently for them to cross, within easy reach, in front of me. Ever-elusive thoughts, fleeting fancies, musings hazy and without form dash and dance before closed eyes, laughing and mocking me. I stand here in my misfortune and attempt, alas, in vain, to find the words to play upon this predicament, my frustration. A writer writes, always, as the saying goes, and I begin to wonder how much faith I should put into these words. Do we simply set ourselves up for failure or is this in truth a sign that I am neither looking in the right direction nor reaching far enough. Just moving aimlessly around my own dilemma as if avoiding eye contact when in reality, if I had the gumption, I should turn and face it front on, grab it by the lapels and shake it silly.

Many friends who know me well have attempted to convince me that limiting myself to food, defining myself as a food blogger is too restraining, boxing me in and limiting my creativity and writing. I have long wondered if a total renovation isn’t called for. Life is, after all, a feast, and I may have to admit that it may just not all be about the food. Yet food defines me – us – in so many ways. We teach and inform, share and pass on our cultures, languages, religions, our heritage through what we cook, serve and eat. Food brings us together as few things can, giving us a reason and a topic around which we form a conversation. Boeuf à la Communication? I do find myself more and more wandering off into untraveled territory, roaming the countryside, so to speak, and chewing on topics that have little to do with food. Yet where would I fit in? Who would come and visit? And would anyone respond, sharing their own tales and tribulations? I’ve asked this of you before, and take comfort in your response, your encouragement.

I have so many stories hidden inside of me, ripe for the telling. Secrets dark and private yearning to be written about. I long to bust the myths and fantasies that others perpetuate about life in this land of romance and lights, the day to day realities where men are not all seductive, women not all chic and slim and children far from well behaved. I make light of our private, personal situation, yet is it all fun and games? How does one go about a transformation and begin writing the dark side? Maybe I have already begun this metamorphosis, writing about husband and sons, the decisions we face, our growing list of projects, obligations and choices. Am I already there?

I am not at all in a humor for writing; I must write on till I am.
- Jane Austen in a letter to her sister Cassandra, October 26, 1813

Blasé. Grumpy. Cynical. I need to shake myself off, find my footing and begin moving forward. My men hover and revolve around me as if I am the sun, grab onto me as if I am their anchor. All four of us are now home together, each one of us starting new careers, new professions, new projects and new adventures, stepping on each other’s toes and demanding attention, and this certainly has the power to discombobulate and distract! Quite possibly, I spread my attention too willy-nilly, allow my commitments to wander wide and far, engrossed by two many projects and my family that my mind jumps back and forth at random. Yet shouldn’t this actually inspire and be a source of enthusiasm and stimulation? Maybe I need to throw myself wholeheartedly into what I have already begun, turn the short stories into a novel, bare my soul, share my secrets, unveil my desires. So where does this adventure start and how do I get there? Shall I clean the slate and begin anew?


My wonderful, talented, funny friend Lisa of Parsley, Sage, Desserts & Line Drives is hosting this month’s Bread Baking Day, a challenge created by Zorra of 1x Umruhren Bitten, that I have long participated in and loved. I promised that no matter what was going on in my life I would bake for her this month. BBD #47 is all about Bread & Chocolate (there is nothing better!); this was the perfect opportunity to turn to the pages of my own mother’s old Sisterhood of Temple Beth Shalom (Satellite Beach, Florida) cookbook Our Favorite Recipes (c. early to mid-1960’s) that I purloined from her kitchen cabinet. The paper is stained and torn, the cover faded, the plastic rings binding the pages together disintegrates into tiny pieces each time I pick it up. My funny mother who hated to cook was actually the Cookbook Committee Chairman, which I find absolutely comical! I find her own recipes throughout; many I remember, some are foreign, eliciting no memories.


This recipe for Butter Horns is not hers, but a creation of Marlene Keilsohn, who I do not remember. Butter Horns, which are actually in the shape of crescents (although they have the tendency to blow up like the Michelin Man), are light, delicately sweet, butter and egg-rich brioche yeast dough although very quick and easy to make. Once the dough rises overnight in the refrigerator, it is divided and shaped into crescents, rolled around a filling of cinnamon sugar, chocolate chips and chopped nuts – or really any sweet filling you please. Baked, these babies puff up and offer you a stunning brioche roll, absolutely delicious. And I share these scrumptious treats, perfect for both breakfast and snacktime, with Lisa for BBD #47!


I would also like to send these to my friend Susan of Wild Yeast, for Yeastspotting, her weekly event highlighting all things yeast!


BUTTER HORNS WITH CHOCOLATE CHIPS & PECANS
From Our Favorite Recipes of the Sisterhood of Temple Beth Shalom, Satellite Beach, Florida

Dough:

1 package (8 g) dry yeast
¾ cup (150 g) granulated white sugar
1 ¼ cups (300 ml) milk (I used 2% lowfat)
½ lb (225 g) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
3 large eggs at room temperature
1 tsp salt
Grated zest of 1 small lemon
4 – 5 cups (560 – 700 g) flour + more for kneading

Filling:

A couple of tablespoons melted butter
¼ cup (50 g) granulated white or light brown sugar
¼ tsp ground cinnamon
½ cups or more mini chocolate chips or chopped chocolate
½ cup or more chopped pecans, walnuts or blanched almonds

Prepare the dough the day before:

Place the yeast with 1 tablespoon of the white sugar in a small bowl. Gently heat the milk until it is lukewarm or body temperature. Pour the warm milk over the yeast and sugar and allow to activate, about 15 to 20 minutes for active dry yeast, 20 to 30 minutes for traditional dry yeast; there should be a thick head of foam about an inch thick on the top and no more or very few grains of yeast left.

Cream the butter and the remaining white sugar together in a large mixing bowl. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating just to combine after each addition. Beat in the salt and the lemon zest. Add the activated yeast water and beat on low just to combine. Beat in 4 cups of the flour 1 cup at a time. Then beat in the remaining cup of flour a little at a time, adding just enough to form a sticky dough (I added the entire cup). Scrape the dough out of the bowl onto a floured surface – the dough will probably be sticky if not downright wet – and knead for a few minutes, adding flour as needed, until the dough is homogeneous, very soft, smooth and supple yet no longer sticky.

Place the dough in a large, greased or buttered mixing bowl, cover tightly with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator overnight.


Prepare the Butter Horns:

The dough should have doubled in size overnight. Remove it from the refrigerator and allow it to come to room temperature (or mostly) – I took the bowl out when I finished breakfast and got to the Butter Horns once everyone had eaten, kitchen cleaned and I had washed and dressed! Perfect!

Scrape the dough out of the bowl and knead briefly. Cut the dough into 10 pieces (12 is fine and will simply make slightly small Horns). Roll each piece out on a lightly floured work surface to a round of about ¼-inch thick, about 7 inches in diameter. Lightly butter each round with the melted butter.

Stir the granulated light brown sugar together with the ground cinnamon. Sprinkle the buttered rounds of dough generously with cinnamon sugar then sprinkle with chocolate chips and chopped nuts. (Remember that the dough really puffs up, so add more chocolate chips than less or they may be lost in the dough once baked. I also left about a quarter-sized rough chip and nut free in the center and you will understand why once you begin rolling the crescents.)


Gently press the chocolate chips onto the surface of the dough with the side of your rolling pin using gentle pressure – this just keeps the chips and nuts in place when rolling them up. I also made the circle of dough a bit wider. Using a sharp knife, cut the rounds into quarters. Roll each quarter up tightly, starting with the wide towards the narrow end/point. Press the point onto the crescent to seal. Place each roll on a parchment-lined or greased baking tray, point side down, and shape into a crescent. Leave room between the crescents for rising and spreading.


Cover each baking sheet loosely with plastic wrap and let the crescents rise for 2 hours at room temperature until doubled in size.


Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C).

Remove the plastic wrap and bake the Butter Horns for 15 to 20 minutes until evenly browned and nice, deep golden. Gently lift to make sure the underside has also browned.

First batch, less filling.

Second book more filling.

Remove from the oven and brush with more melted or soft butter while still hot, if desired (this gives them a nicer color).


Once cooled (or just warm) you can drizzle the Butter Horns with Powdered Sugar Glaze (1/2 cup powdered/confectioner’s sugar + about 2 teaspoons milk) if you like.

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