Modern Lardy Cake

HOLIDAY BAKING

Here he produced a decanter of curiously light wine, and a block of curiously heavy cake, 

and administered instalments of those dainties to the young people. 

– Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol 

Once again, we arrive in that limbo between Hanukkah and Christmas. I wait for hints, curious to know what his decision will be. Sons wiggle around us looking for clues that something is afoot, bringing up (once again) the topic of gifts. Hanukkah has come and gone in its own very quiet way amid subtle displays of joy, bringing us together as a family, and now we watch as the city dresses itself in its Christmas finest bringing a bit of cheer to the drab seasonal weather. But whether or not we will be celebrating Christmas this year has yet to be decided.



Although Hanukkah is our holiday and we do not celebrate Christmas, there is definitely something about this season conducive to baking. It could be the misty skies the color of tarnished pewter, the occasional spatter of rain against the windows, keeping us inside, cozy and comfortable with little to do except write and bake. It could be the glittering of the Christmas lights in the streets below, brilliant and gay against the dark night sky that makes us feel all romantic and warm inside, desiring nothing more than being able to offer something freshly baked, redolent of cinnamon, heady with chocolate and rum, or spiced and studded with fruit and nuts, to those we love.

Winter rolls in on a wave of misty white, the fog hanging heavy and cruel over the city. No joy, no snow. Sunshine playing hide and seek with the rain. The icy chill penetrates every pore of one’s body and no matter what one does, no matter how many blankets or pairs of socks the cold simply seeps in. But the gloom and gray of a midwinter day doesn’t dampen my excitement for the onset of this, my favorite season and all of the festivities. The holiday spirit seems to have arrived and settled in, as the bustling marketplace is alive with shoppers pushing their way towards stalls overflowing with seasonal treats. Garlands of gold and silver sneak their way in, Santas pop up on velvet hills of snow and visions of sugarplums, smoked salmon and oysters dance in my head. The first strains of Winter Wonderland and Rudolph signal the beginning of the Christmas season.

But chez nous, one never knows if it will be Scrooge, the Grinch or one of Santa’s merry elves that will arrive at our house, be blown in over the threshold on a blast of cold air. When the boys were little, Hanukkah flowed into Christmas easily when and if their grandparents would be visiting. Once or twice, a tree had indeed been lugged home, set up and decorated by three sets of hands. Once, when the boys were in high school, the Christmas spirit whipped Clem into a merry frenzy and he dragged a lumbering evergreen (or so we thought) back to our apartment, forcing our hand, demanding we not be the only ones of his acquaintance not to participate in the seasonal festivities. We decorated that tree, shared special Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve meals around it, merry and bright, and then waited post-holidays for Clem to drag it away. Until we were sliding around in puddles of sharp pine needles weeks later. And arguing over whose responsibility it was to remove the thing.

And once in a while, husband dons his proverbial Santa hat and his jolly disposition and announces that this year he would like Christmas. For someone with Scrooge-like tendencies when it comes to most holidays, it must mean that he is feeling somewhat wistful and nostalgic. It must mean that he needs the warmth of gathering us, wife and sons, closely around him, shutting out all worries and cares for the time of a long, slow, peaceful meal. It means that he desires nothing more than spending a long afternoon and evening in joy and conversation, laughter and indulgence, hilarity and delight.

Yet, no matter his choice, the season encourages baking. Something about the cold and inclement weather has me craving cinnamon-rich treats, neither too rich nor too sweet, that go perfectly, merrily, with a cup of coffee either for breakfast or snack. Homey, warming, comforting. Yet with a touch of the festive.

And so this month’s Bread Baking Babe’s challenge was perfect! Our hostess for December is the lovely Lien of Notitie Van Lien and she chose a Modern Lardy Cake, which I found to be utterly perfect for the season. Traditionally, the Lardy Cake is (obviously) made with lard, but this version is made with butter. Layers of dough reveal swirls of dried fruit-studded cinnamon-nutmeg sugar, creating a laminated bread traditionally English and eaten for special occasions, holidays and harvest festivals. So as simple as it may seem for those of us who are used to really rich holiday treats, it is a bread… or teacake reserved for a celebration. I loved this Lardy Cake just eaten as is, or dipped in café au lait while husband spread his with lots of jam.

Take the folding and rolling slowly and carefully, trying to keep the dough from tearing and too much filling oozing out. Several Babes found as I did that a total of 3 rather than 4 folds and rolls was enough. I decided to bake mine in a small rectangular pan instead of a round one. This was quite a fun bread to make and so delicious to eat that I know I will be making it over and over again. A winner!

If you would like to bake the Modern Lardy Cake with the Babes, you can earn your Bread Baking Buddy badge and be included in the round up at the end of the month. Just head over to Lien’s blog for details.

Meanwhile, check out all of the Babes’ Modern Lardy Cakes! And be inspired! This is the perfect treat to serve the family while decorating the tree and house, wrapping or unwrapping gifts and to serve friends and family when they drop by. Perfect with coffee, tea, milk or hot cocoa. And a few good old holiday movies.

Bake My Day – Karen
blog from OUR kitchen – Elizabeth
Feeding my enthusiasms – Elle
girlichef – Heather
Lucullian Delights - Ilva
Living in the Kitchen with Puppies – Natashya
My Kitchen In Half Cups – Tanna
Notitie Van Lien – Lien
Paulchens Foodblog – Astrid
Bread Baking Babe Bibliothécaire – Katie

I want to share this Modern Lardy Cake with Susan of Wild Yeast for her weekly Yeastspotting roundup!

MODERN LARDY CAKE
From “Warm Bread and Honey Cake” by Gaitri Pagrach-Chandra

Lardy cake is not a cake, but a bread that is laminated with lard with some raisins or currants. We have replaced the lard with butter, giving a fresher, more modern twist on the Lardy Cake. This is not a rich bread like a coffee cake, but a lightly flavored, gently sweetened bread almost, but not quite, like a challah or brioche type bread. We loved it precisely because it wasn’t overly sweet and rich, just the perfect bread for breakfast smeared with jelly. Or eaten as a snack. It stays fresh for a couple of days. Definitely make this during the holidays to have on hand when family or friends visit.

Dough:
375 g strong white flour
1 ½ tsp active dry yeast
1 Tbs sugar
¼ tsp salt
35 g butter, melted and cooled to warm/tepid
± 200 ml milk, warmed

Filling:
100 g butter, softened
75 g soft dark brown sugar (make sure it is soft and lump free; if not use granulated brown sugar as I did)
½ tsp ground cinnamon
¼ tsp freshly grated or ground nutmeg
50-75 g currants, raisins or other dried fruit (I used dried blueberries)

Beaten egg, to glaze

1 – 2 Tbs granulated brown sugar (my own addition for dusting on the bread)

24 cm (9 in) round cake tin (pref. a springform) – or a rectangular pan of similar volume

Make the dough:

Put all of the dough ingredients in a large mixing bowl. If using a heavy-duty stand mixer with a dough hook, knead until smooth and supple. If working by hand (as I did), stir the flour and salt together in a mixing bowl; make a well in the center and add the sugar and the yeast to the well and then add the warm milk and allow the yeast to activate for about 10 minutes. Add the warm melted butter and stir everything together until all the dry ingredients are moistened and it pulls together into a scraggly ball. Bring the dough together in a ball, scrape onto a lightly floured work surface and knead briefly until smooth and supple. Return the dough to the bowl (or place in a lightly oiled clean bowl). Cover with clingfilm/plastic wrap and leave to rise in a warm place until doubled in size.

Make the filling:

Blend the butter, sugar and spices together until creamy. I used a hand mixer for this to keep my hands clean and it comes together creamy and smooth easily.

Knock the risen dough back and re-knead it briefly. Roll it out to a rectangle about 50 x 25 cm (20 x 10 in), the long side perpendicular to your body, the shorter side right to left. Spread the filling evenly over the top two-thirds of the dough sheet, leaving one outer third empty and about 4 cm (1 ½ inch) on all sides. If using, sprinkle the dried fruit over this and press down to embed. Fold the empty third over the middle third and the remaining third back down over this – you will have three layers of dough in a small rectangle “package”. Pinch all the edges well to seal the filling in. Cover with a sheet of clingfilm and leave to rest for about 5 minutes to relax.

Give the parcel a quarter turn – the new rectangle will once again have the long side straight up away from you, perpendicular to your body. Gently press the rolling pin down to seal and flatten slightly, then gently roll it into a rectangle about 30 x 15 cm (12 x 6 in) or a bit bigger. Fold into thirds again and leave to rest for 5 minutes. Repeat this procedure three more times for a total of four folds, turning the dough by a quarter turn and rolling and folding. If you find you are losing too much filling, omit the final turn. (I folded the dough in thirds for a total of 3 times)

This is a delicate, difficult and sometimes messy work as the filling oozes out in weak spots, so press and roll out lightly and gently, taking your time. Patch them up as well as you can and continue to work. All the oozing bits will caramelize nicely as the cake bakes. But you don’t want to loose too much filling as the laminating effect.

Grease the tin and put the dough packet in it, then flatten it with your hand to fit it in as well as possible. Cover with clingfilm/plastic wrap and leave it to rise until almost doubled.

Preheat the oven to 180ºC (350ºF).

Brush the dough with beaten egg, and dust generously with the granulated brown sugar. Bake until brown; the bread may spread a bit and will not rise during the baking. The total baking time will vary: the author instructs to bake for 25 – 30 minutes but I baked mine for 1 hour as did several of the Babes.

Remove from the oven, but leave in the tin for about 5 minutes. Carefully release the clip and turn the cake upside down on a wire rack. Remove the bottom of the tin, which will probably still be attached to it, and leave to cool further. (I lifted my Lardy cake out of the pan with a spatula)

Eat warm or room temperature, cut into wedges or slices.

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Simple Chocolate Buttermilk Cake

NOSTALGIA

True nostalgia is an ephemeral composition of disjointed memories. 

– Florence King 

It’s been a week of nostalgia as I go through old photos and share them on Facebook. Odd and wonderful week as I am contacted by someone on Twitter who asked « Was your father on the USS Suwannee ? » I had mentioned the battleship in the Pacific on which my father lived and worked for close to two years during WWII and she had found me. Her father was on the same ship and, as I discovered when I came across a short partial list of shipmates, in the same group as my own dad. And the world gets smaller and smaller as I discover that two friends, women who I had come to know through our food blogs, had fathers who also worked at NASA during the old Gemini, Mercury and Apollo years, the same period of time as my own dad.

I share photographs of my hometown, the house in which I grew up with another Facebook group and connections are made and renewed and we are carried back to our childhoods. “Are you Michael’s sister?” or “Are you Ruth’s daughter?” “I lived just up the street!” Simple questions that cut straight to the heart. Faded kodachrome images of my brother, smiling gleefully at the camera. I stare into his eyes, I smile back at the amused sparkle and pray that I never forget his voice, his mannerisms, his laugh. I gather old photographs and place them one by one on the scanner, capturing the image, transferring the memory onto my laptop.

Summer slowly cools to Autumn; the bright clear skies and the cool breeze layering over the August heat lure us outside for a long, brisk walk along the river or draw us into town for an ice cream or a drink. Late afternoon, we pull up a chair on the terrace of one of the many pubs scattered across city squares or squeezed convivially up and down narrow cobbled streets and order something chilled and while away a lazy hour or two. When we get back to the house, only then do we realize that the cupboard is bare. Somehow, summer infuses our blood, our spirit with an indolent, lackadaisical laissez faire. We shrug our shoulders as son glares at us with an eerily parental reproach in his eyes. “Kabobs?” we ask. “Bread and cheese?” He shakes his head, turns and walks away, grumbling “I’ll take care of myself.”

Although I know perfectly well that I should be using the season’s finest to throw together a peach cobbler or a mixed berry pie, I had an uncontrollable craving for a chocolate cake this week. No frosting, something light, simple, rather plain, is all. The kind of cake one leaves on the countertop with a knife perched on the edge of the pan, the kind of cake one nibbles on throughout the day, sliver after sliver popped into the mouth. I had buttermilk left from the Sour Cherry Crumble Coffee Cake and wanted to put it to good use. And what better use than a chocolate cake?

Definitely the kind of cake my dad would have made. Or my brother.

SIMPLE CHOCOLATE BUTTERMILK CAKE
From Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook

2 cups (260 g) flour
2 cups (400 g) sugar
1 tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt
1 tsp ground cinnamon, optional
16 Tbs (1 cup/225 g) unsalted butter
1/3 cup (30 g) unsweetened cocoa powder
1 cup (250 ml) water
2 large eggs
½ cup (125 ml) buttermilk
1 tsp vanilla

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Grease (butter) a 15 x 10 or 13 x 9 inch baking pan or equivalent volume.

Combine the butter, cocoa powder and water in a medium saucepan over low heat; bring just to the boil, whisking constantly. Remove from the heat and allow to cool for a few minutes.

In a large mixing bowl, blend the flour, sugar, baking soda, salt and cinnamon. Add the butter mixture to the dry ingredients and stir or beat on low to combine, until all of the dry ingredients are moistened. Beat on high speed for one minute. Beat in the eggs, the buttermilk and the vanilla and beat for one more minute.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 25 - 35 minutes depending on the size and shape of the baking pan until the center of the cake is set and the sides just begin to pull away from the sides of the pan.

Remove the cake to a cooling rack, run a thin blade around the edges to loosen and allow to cool completely before slicing and serving.

The cake is moist and delicate yet very light so may crumble a bit when lifting from the pan. Eat as is or serve with whipped cream or ice cream and/or poached or roasted fruit.

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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.

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Mini Baked Chocolate Cinnamon Donut Bites

THE HOLE STORY

I know there is strength in the differences between us. 

I know there is comfort where we overlap. 

– Ani DiFranco 

Our families, our childhoods, our upbringings were as different as night and day. He grew up in an old-fashioned home in the working class suburbs of Paris, an apartment filled with too much dark, heavy, worn furniture in too small of a space. Narrow corridors, sharp corners, a string of small rooms, cumbersome tables, sofas, desks in faded pinks and scuffed browns that left little room to maneuver, nowhere to play for four children, were a reflection of a family weighed down by dark traditions and a heavy past. Papa and Maman worked downstairs in their tiny corner grocery, a blue-collar working family with rigid hours and conventions. Lunch was a hot meal, a long-simmered ragout, roasted chicken, one-pot dishes that filled and warmed, setting one up for the rest of the day. Dinner was a ritual as was that noontime hot, hearty meal; leftover meat eaten cold out of the refrigerator, watery poor man’s soup of carrots and leeks, a platter of cheeses, chunks cut off and placed on wedges of country loaf. Food was adamantly home cooked, every dish, every meal. Prepackaged and frozen had not made it to France, was unknown to the average French home cook. Canned was limited to vegetables yet why make canned when fresh was cheaper and within your reach and time no limitation? Convenience food was for the inconvenienced, not a good French housewife with two able hands and four able children. And traditions and a culture that looked down on anything less than good, homey, hearty old-fashioned food. Food was sustenance, maintenance and ritual.

No yard, few toys, my future husband spent his time at home – when not at boarding school – reading, writing and helping in the shop, making up games with his sisters and cooking, once out of familial duty, then out of pleasure, an oddity for a teen son. Family vacations were few and far between, children bundled into the back of the delivery truck and trundled off to the seaside to romp in chilly ocean water and play in damp sand. School was rigid, religious and oppressive, yet it gave him the chance to test his creativity and artistic entrepreneurial spirit by organizing a theater group and creating an underground newspaper. Summers, when he was old enough, had him chasing his freedom, confident, smart young man that he had grown to be; off he flew to working summers at community construction sites (this was France, so think châteaux) or biking across France or thumbing his way across Europe.

Snacks were scheduled as sharply as mealtimes, goûters at 10 a.m. and quatre-heures at 4 were glasses of milk or juice, a demi-tasse of sweet, black coffee and cookies, madeleines or pound cake, simple, plain, vanilla snacks served up to the gathered family around the table, a scheduled break, the time in the middle of the morning or afternoon, solidly marked halfway point between two meals, for a pause, down time. Then back to work.

My family was stoutly and firmly modern, smack dab, front and center in the 20th Century. Dad worked for NASA, working towards putting man on the moon, mom was a working mother before working mother was a common notion. Our Florida home was bright and airy, windows thrown open to the fresh air, lots of room between sparse furniture for four children to play. Our vast yard was always filled with children, running, playing tag and hopscotch and ball, noisy and rambunctious. Breakfast and lunches were catch-as-catch-can, bowls of cereal, sandwiches thrown together by tiny hands, chips and freetos piled high on paper plates, eaten in the kitchen or outside or in front of the television. 

Dinnertime was indeed a ritual, on the table at 6:00 sharp every evening as dad walked in through the door and silence was demanded as the sound of Walter Cronkite droned on in the distance, background noise, dinner music. Meals would come from a box or a can as often as homemade; my own mother was never enthralled with the art and act of cooking and unashamedly reveled in the convenience of convenience foods, made for women such as she. Mom just needed to feed one husband and her brood. On weekends, dad often took over, firing up the grill and tossing on steaks or burgers or heating up the griddle for pancakes. He baked cakes whenever he had the time, filling our home with snacks at the ready, cakes and pies and pudding among the bags of candy, boxes of cookies and whatever else young kids – or adult sweet tooth’s – could crave.

School was freedom, even though the rules having to do with grades and behavior strict. We biked there and biked back until high school when we were allowed to drive the folks’ car. Studies were creative, imaginative, fun. Summers meant the whole family piling into the station wagon and driving all day, all night up to stay with relatives for two weeks, let loose among the cousins, freedom in the streets, parks and The City when we were teens. We ate to our hearts’ content, barbecues and cookouts, delis and picnics, summer informality. 

Snacktime was no ritual in our humble home. Rather it was an act of instinct, of constant lust, of sustenance as much psychological and bodily. Grab a book, grab a handful of cookies; jump on the bike, pop open a chocolate drink; flip on the television, settle in with a slice of pie or bowl of ice cream. No traditions to follow, no prescribed schedule nor imposed conventions. Anything and everything was allowed, wherever, whenever, our good judgment and self-control trusted. Home baked, bagged, packaged and industrial, new-fangled, trendy, advertised on tv, it was all at our fingertips.

Share our similarities, celebrate our differences. 

– M. Scott Peck 

Bring these two childhoods, these two traditions and these two diverse cultures together and raise two sons and snacktime becomes caught somewhere between the two continents. Their eating habits – along with their inclinations, attitudes, expectations and way of living - have been formed by French traditions and American freedom, by French structure and formality and American self-discipline and informality. My own easygoingness and gluttony towards sweets and snacks really has little effect on the boys except as it concerns the occasional chips-or-cake for a meal. They snack only when they are hungry and rarely out of the established time for goûter. Individually, each has his own taste, the desserts that turn him on, but as they grow older, their differences and the field narrow and, oddly enough, they are losing any remnant, any sign of a sweet tooth. They occasionally ask me to bake but almost uniformly request baked goods that are not so sweet, not so creamy, not so fancy. Back to basics.

So when I find that when I get it just right, hit the nail on the head… or rather la tête… all three of my Frenchmen, mes français, gobble it up, clean the plate and make this American very well pleased indeed. A pat on the back and a cultural job well done.

Every few days Clem shows up at the apartment unannounced and asks, “Did you make donuts? Where are the donuts?” He knows that I brought home pans for baked donuts from my recent trip to the States and he wants donuts. These little bite-sized chocolate cinnamon donuts are simple treats indeed yet with the taste and texture more of little bitty cupcakes than donuts, moist, tender and chocolaty without being overly sweet… and much easier and more fun to eat, just popped one by one into the mouth. These mini bite chocolate cinnamon donuts are the perfect snack, dusted liberally with powdered sugar, served with a glass of milk or a cup of coffee or tea.

BAKED CHOCOLATE (or vanilla) MINI DONUT BITES

I bought two pans for baked donuts while in the States, one for regular-sized and one for mini-donuts; I much prefer baking than frying donuts both for more control (I tend to burn things I deep fry) and simply to have a cakier and less fatty snack. I started roughly, very roughly, with the recipe from Wilton that came with the pan (the recipe itself did not work very well). The resulting mini-donuts – each one just a bite – is barely sweet, quite chewy and incredibly addictive. 

Makes approximately 24 mini donut bites

1 cup cake flour, spooned into the cup and leveled (see *note below for vanilla donuts)
¼ cup unsweetened cocoa powder (see *note below for vanilla donuts)
½ cup granulated sugar
1 ¼ tsp baking powder
1/8 tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp salt
½ cup buttermilk + more buttermilk or milk as needed, 2 – 3 Tbs
1 large egg, lightly beaten
1 ½ Tbs unsalted butter, melted
Powdered/icing/confectioner's sugar for dusting

* For Vanilla Donuts, replace the ¼ cup unsweetened cocoa powder with ¼ cup more cake flour. Add ¼ tsp vanilla extract to the batter keeping or omitting the cinnamon as desired. These can be brushed in melted butter and tossed in cinnamon-sugar.

Preheat the oven to 425°F (215° - 220° C) and lightly grease – or spray with nonstick cooking spray - the indentations of the mini donut pans.

Sift together the flour, cocoa power, baking powder, salt, cinnamon and sugar into a medium to large mixing bowl; whisk or stir to blend.

Add the ½ cup buttermilk, the beaten egg and the melted butter and stir or whisk until blended, adding more buttermilk or milk one tablespoon at a time until all of the dry ingredients are moistened and smooth and the batter is thick but pourable.

Fill each donut cup ½ full with the batter. Bake in the preheated oven for 6 – 8 minutes or just until set, puffed and the donuts spring back when lightly pressed. They should begin to pull away from the sides of the cups.

Remove the donut pan from the oven and let cool on a rack before popping the mini donuts out of the pan. When completely cool, roll or dust generously with powdered sugar or drizzle with glaze.

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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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Gâteau à la Crème for Bread Baking Babes

Vanilla Bean Rum Custard-Filled Brioche Cake

There are limits to self-indulgence, none to restraint. 

– Mahatma Ghandi 

That day of the month approached on little winged feet. Closer and closer it flitted, mocking, daring, grinning the grin of the devil. I stared once again at the recipe and doubts crossed my mind, piling up like bricks, weighing down any curiosity or temptation that may have slithered their way between the cracks. The very name itself gâteau à la crème promised at once heaven and hell: the divine, ethereal taste and texture of fine brioche married in perfect union with the ambrosial, smooth vanilla-kissed cream; the Satanly richness, the devilishly voluptuous cream wreaking havoc on hips and health. The Bread Baking Babes and that exasperating, dizzying, maddening deadline and the difficult choice of whether one can or cannot, should or should not attempt the recipe was driving me mad. So many eggs. So much butter. Cream galore. Visions of fat danced around my head. Images of men, not a one with much of a sweet tooth to speak of, shaking their heads and wandering away, leaving me in front of an uneaten treat and disappointment. Nightmares of fellow Babes aghast at my irresponsibility, devastated by my lack of sisterly camaraderie. My own self caught between a rock and a hard place, between the devil and desire. Pourquoi tant de haine? Why such cruelty?

The gourmand is in harmony with the outside world. 

He is in fact a normal person.

 – Édouard de Pomaine 

Yet I finally caved in. The morning of the day the post must be posted, the cake offered up to the world has arrived. As usual, I act at the last possible second. Very like me. I drag myself out of bed, now hit by the terrible cold that others in the house have been suffering for weeks. Or, more exactly, drag myself from the sofa where I had taken refuge at 3 o’clock in the morning, having woken in the night hot and uncomfortable, and begin rifling through the cupboard for ingredients. Decision made, cream-filled brioche cake on today’s menu. I make the announcement to JP who, much to my chagrin, rolls his eyes and pointedly reminds me that there is still uneaten pudding in the refrigerator from yesterday’s experiment. But he finally shrugs his shoulders, deciding to let me have my way, and wanders away, crazy wife no good.

And there he is, doubting husband, standing at the kitchen counter, eating to his heart’s content, not willing even to wait until son arrives for snacktime. His eyes glowing with delight at the sight of these treats, he is, after all, quite pleased that I baked today.

This month’s Bread Baking Babe Kitchen of the Month is Lien of Notitie Van Lien and she is exhorting us, tempting us to create an incredible creamed-filled brioche, a veritable Gâteau à la Crème for we Francophiles. Do not be afraid of the word brioche – this is one simple dough to put together. Give yourself plenty of time as the dough must rest several times, but the dough itself is one of those no-knead recipes that come together in a snap, only a bit of beating with a mixer oblige. The cream filling whisks together in no time at all, to flavor as one pleases (I encourage you to visit the other Babes to see what they have come up with).

I am so glad that I made that decision to bake, no matter the inspiration. Although I waited, although I doubted, although husband rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, this is, as Ilva stated so eloquently, a keeper. This gâteau à la crème is boulangerie-perfect, boulangerie-delicious, and the perfect recipe for those who have little experience with yeast. Next time, make the entire recipe for cream filling, divide in half and flavor two different ways, and offer yourself and your loved ones a truly fantastic and oh-so French treat. For breakfast or snack or both. Thank you Lien, for choosing a terrific BBB Bread for March.

My fellow Bread Baking Babes:
Bake My Day - Karen
blog from OUR kitchen - Elizabeth
Feeding my Enthusiasms - Pat/Elle
girlichef - Heather
Living in the Kitchen with Puppies - Natashya
Lucullian Delights - Ilva
My Kitchen In Half Cups - Tanna
Notitie Van Lien - Lien
Paulchen's Foodblog - Astrid
Provecho Peru - Gretchen
Thyme for Cooking - Katie

And if you would like to bake this Gâteau à la Crème along with the Babes and earn your Buddy badge, visit Lien’s blog to find out how! Just send your link to Lien by the 30th of the March!

I will send this wonderful treat to Susan of Wild Yeast for Yeastspotting.

GÂTEAU À LA CRÈME – CUSTARD-FILLED BRIOCHE CAKE
Adapted from Raymond Blanc’s Kitchen Secrets

This is a halved recipe for 2 small gâteaux or 1 gâteau + 1 small loaf over
3 hours total preparation time, 25 to 30 mins cooking time

For the brioche dough:
250 g untreated strong plain flour (I used regular flour)
3 1/2 g salt
2 Tbs caster sugar
1 Tbs fresh yeast or 1 1/2 tsp (5 g) active dry yeast
3 ½ large eggs (approximately 200 g), preferable organic (the other half egg will be used for the glaze) *
150 g unsalted butter, cut into small cubes (cool room temperature)

For the crème/custard filling for 2 small gâteaux:
(half this recipe if making 1 small filled gâteau and 1 plain loaf as I did)
6 free-range egg yolks, preferably organic
60 g caster sugar
1 lemon, juice and zest (I omitted the lemon and used the seeds scraped from ¼ a vanilla bean + 1 Tbs rum or to taste)
250 ml crème fraîche (I used heavy cream)

For the glaze:
½ large egg, preferably organic *
10 g (¾ oz) butter, cut into cubes, optional (I omitted the butter)
1 Tbs or so nibbed or pearl sugar to decorate
1 Tbs or so slivered blanched almonds to decorate, optional

* to measure out half an egg, simply place one egg in a bowl on a digital scale and whisk the egg until blended. Weigh. Pour off half the egg into a small cup or recipient and reserve for the glaze. Add the remaining 3 whole eggs to the bowl with the remaining half an egg and whisk to blend before adding to the dry ingredients.

Prepare the brioche dough:

Place the flour, salt, sugar and yeast (keeping the yeast away from the salt as it will attack it and damage its ability to ferment) in a large mixing bowl or the bowl of a stand mixer. Add the eggs (* see note above) and mix with a dough hook attachment for 5 minutes on low speed until the eggs are completely incorporated (alternatively, place the ingredients in a large mixing bowl and stir together for 5 minutes).

Increase the speed of the beater or your stirring and beat for another 5 minutes until the dough comes away from the edge of the bowl. Add the cubes of butter a few cubes at a time and continue to beat for 2-3 minutes until the butter is completely incorporated and the dough smooth and creamy.

Remove the bowl from the machine if using. Cover with clingfilm or plastic wrap and set aside at room temperature for 1 hour to prove. At the end of the hour, place the covered bowl in the refrigerator and chill the dough for a further 1 hour; the dough will be easier to work with if chilled. Feel free to keep the dough in the refrigerator for more time if necessary.

Preheat the oven to 360°F (180°C).

Lightly flour a work surface and your hands. Take half of the brioche dough and gather it together with the palms of your hands to form a ball, then place it on a parchment-lined baking tray and flatten it slightly. Starting from the middle of the dough, gently press the dough flat and spread it out to form a circle to approximately 9 ½ inches (24 cm) in diameter, leaving a 1 inch (2 cm) edge or rim all around - this will create the rim of the tart. Be careful not to stretch the dough and try to keep the base even in thickness. Use the second half of the dough for a second gâteau or use it to make a small loaf.

Cover the prepared dough shapes with lightly greased plastic wrap (I buttered mine) and a clean kitchen towel and place the dough in the warm area for 25 minutes.

Prepare the cream custard filling:

Mix the egg yolks, sugar, lemon zest and juice together (or other flavoring) in a large mixing bowl and gradually mix in the crème fraîche (or heavy cream). Set aside.

Prepare the glaze and the cake:

Brush the rim of the gâteau with the egg yolk and sprinkle with the nibbed or pearl sugar and slivered almonds, if using. Prick the base of the dough evenly with a fork for even cooking and rising of the dough. Pour ½ of the crème mixture - ¼ of the mixture if making 2 cream-filled cakes and you have made the entire recipe - inside the rim of the dough of one gâteau, and dot with the butter if using. Pour in the other ½ or ¼ when the baking sheet is already in the oven, so you won't spill. (prepare the second one the same way) and bake in the preheated oven for 25 minutes, or until the brioche has risen and the filling is set. Remove from the oven and set aside to cool, then serve.

If making the small braided brioche with half the dough, brush the braid with egg, sprinkle with nibbed or pearl sugar and slivered almonds and bake in the preheated oven for 25 minutes.

NB: For this recipe you will need a food processor with a dough hook attachment. I used a hand mixer with dough attachments.

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