Saffron Nectarine and Co.

As much as I love barking orders at people, I understand that part of a chef's responsibility is to inspire and push their cooks to think, grow and create.  If I could, I would shout from a mountain top to tell the world how great my pastry crew is!!  I'm hoping this camaraderie is not just a honeymoon phase of an intense restaurant/bakery opening, but more so because all of our personalities, work ethic, and career goals are moving in the same direction.  And I hope I'm not jinxing my team by writing this!

In one such effort to extract a little sparkle from a cook, I gave her the assignment to come up with a couple of tart ideas.  Jumping at the chance, I found a concise list of ambitious flavor and presentation options in my inbox very quickly.  Her idea for a saffron tart caught my eye immediately.  Not having worked with this rare and pungent spice very often, here arose a challenge for the both of us.  

I knew the earthy minerality of saffron would have to be balanced by some kind of fruit.  My first push was for figs, thinking that these eastern Mediterranean cousins would make an elegant match.  The saffron mousse turned out beautifully, but the fig pairing ended up falling a little flat and I yearned for some acid to balance the cream.  She suggested nectarine since they were coming into season and we already had a case in house.  Et voila!  A nectarine compote with chunks of the fresh flesh folded in rests in a bevelled rectangular tart shell, and stands as support for the saffron mousse.  A thread flecked glaze and crushed cashew along the seam keep the tart clean yet adorned enough to catch the eyes of bakery goers.

The result is not only a delicious tart, but is a testament to team work and paving the way for future creativity in young chefs.

Éclair Obsession

My fascination with éclairs is not a long standing one.  In fact, this obsession is quite infantile; which probably explains why I can't stop daydreaming about them.  Young love, perhaps?  When I was offered a chance to head up a French bakery a few months ago, I knew eclairs had to not just be a fixture of the showcase, but a feature to boot.  A shortlist of requirements came to mind immediately:  they have to be delicious (of course); they have to be beautiful; and they have to be straight.  Easy, right?  Well, I quickly found out how easy it was to make ugly and wonky éclairs that look like they've exploded and imploded simultaneously.  Test upon test of many a recipe ensued, including one from the illustrious Francisco Migoya, which is the one that stuck.  We pretty much adhere to his recipe exactly, except for his instruction to pipe long bands of batter that you then freeze and cut into exact lengths for "to the millimeter" consistency.  I love this idea, but I happen to also love the curvature of a rounded end; and so we strayed a little and now pipe the logs individually.  We are lucky enough to have a three-tiered deck oven which bakes the choux gently and beautifully, and limits cracking of the exterior.

Having overcome the straightness factor, on we marched into the flavor domain.  And this is where we can really have the most fun.  I knew I wanted to offer at least three different flavors, two being standard, and the third something a little out of the box.  "Chocolate" was a must.  Ours is filled with an unctuous, not too bitter - not too sweet  66% cremeux, and topped with a shiny strip of dark chocolate.  "Butterscotch Coffee", filled with butterscotch pudding and finished with a coffee glaze and ground espresso,  has become a favorite of both staff members and customers, and most of all my husband.  "Lemon Meringue" is our play eclair, filled with a tart lemon cream and garnished with a wavy mohawk of burnt meringue.  My eclair obsession could not have been more fueled than by the eclair master himself, Christophe Adam, whose shop "L'Eclair de Genie", in Paris is a place I can only dream of visiting.  For now, I just salivate at his online photos of some of the most ingenious eclair creations in the pastry world.  As soon as I spotted one of an eclair hollowed out from the top and filled with fruit to make a veritable "eclair tart", my mind was b.l.o.w.n.!  How simple, yet how clever!!  A trip to the market right now will load your arms with black raspberries, a rainbow of currants and gooseberries, blueberries and blackberries.  Filled with a Dulcey cremeux, the "Black and Blue" is born.  And really people, can there be anything more beautiful than this??? 

If I had my way, this would be the king of all pastry.  Way tastier than a cupcake, much better value than a macaron, and a million times less guilt-inducing than a doughnut.

Eclair, anyone?

The Real Deal

I've had Tarte Tatin on the brain lately.  Many a "Tatin for Two" passed through these hands during my time in England.  I had an urge to revisit this classic, but with a slightly different approach.  Still apples.  Still puff.  Just a change in assembly.  Nine out of ten recipes for tarte tatin will instruct one to tuck a round of pastry over a bed of apples resting in caramel, and bake the whole thing into one bubbly upside down pie.  I love this version, because the pastry has a chance to absorb the buttery caramel, which creates a deliciously gooey chew.  As a professional, this version also bothers me, because as soon as the apples turn right side up, the pastry's lifespan is invariably shortened before it dies a soggy, ugly death.  Of course, there are ways to keep tragedy at bay.  After baking and cooling, one can just flash the pastry topped tin in the oven and invert a la minute before getting on the plate.  But what if we want to display this beauty on a bakery counter?  How can a tatin linger and still have integrity? 
That's where the tenth recipe comes in.  Some smart guy out there thought to bake the two components separately and marry them later down the line.  This one gets fuji apples basted and confited in buttery vanilla caramel, then left to chill in the fridge overnight.  A disk of "ruff puff" is docked and baked to golden flakiness, then egg washed top and bottom.  The egg wash will help protect the pastry from getting too soggy once the apples hit it.  The cold caramel apples are arranged tightly in a pie plate and get compacted with another pie plate and a little brute strength.  Flash in the oven to melt out any hardened bits of butter and drain excess juices into a pot.  Invert apples onto pastry and glaze top with some neutral glaze boiled with the jus in the pot. If you are like me and bake the pastry a little too large for the round of apples, trim away the excess, contouring the knife around the fruit.  And also if you're like me, you will like the way the flakiness of the pastry exposes itself upon cutting.
This method makes the perfect "counter-top tatin", sitting perfectly un-soggy for hours.  I also prefer the crisper texture of the pastry against the melt in the mouth apples.  Large and hectic banquets also benefit from this technique, because who wants to be dealing with flipping over 100+ hot caramel pies to order?

A Bright Winter Tart



 

The winter doldrums really hit their stride this time of year.  We're all tired of the cold and ready to feel some warmth, hopefully just over a month away.  Citrus is always a lifesaver for pastry chefs during the season, not only in its bright flavors and colors but also in its versatility.  A quick grating of zest over a dessert make for nature's sprinkles.  Confits and marmalades pair with just about everything, from chocolate, to nuts, to booze, to ice creams, etc.  And of course, you can't beat biting into those fat segments that explode with juice in your mouth.  This standard frangipane tart turns awesome with meaty pink grapefruit segments baked into the filling.  The concentrated bittersweet-ness really plays off the mellow almond of the frangipane.  A little grapefruit glaze makes it extra pretty.

 

 



Tangerine Bundt: When a Pastry Chef Bakes At Home

 

I don't know what's gotten into me: maybe it's the time of year, or maybe it's my easy work schedule at the moment; but I've been inclined to bake at home a lot recently.  I really thought I had put my home baking days behind me, especially since moving to an apartment with a much smaller kitchen (14" of counter space, people!!).  In the past month, there have been a couple banana breads, a large batch of cookies, a chocolate loaf, and now this tangerine bundt.

And of those homebaked conquests, this one has turned out the most stunning.  Originally, I thought I would just bake a smaller recipe of batter in my standard loaf pan, but I knew I might be gifting this to a friend so I was yearning for something a little more sophisticated.  I'm lucky to have many awesome second-hand shops just steps away, and I found an angel food pan in great condition at The Goodwill (a steal at $4.99!).  In addition to the obligatory sexy drizzle of white icing, I was feeling in the mood to make the presentation extra fancy.  With a couple extra tangerines on hand, some confited zest was in order.  Not wanting the cake to look too "chef-y", instead of a micro fine julienne, ripped & ragged ribbons of zest were blanched and candied, along with some segments still in their membrane.

Tangerine Bundt
Makes 1

420 g   a.p. flour
1 tsp    baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda

250 g  soft butter
360 g  sugar
1 tsp kosher salt
grated zest of 2 washed tangerines

3  large eggs

60 g    freshed squeezed tangerine juice (about one tangerine)
170 g  sour cream
1 tsp   vanilla extract

Sift together flour with leavening.  Set aside.
Cream butter with sugar, salt and zest until fluffy.
Add the eggs, one at a time, scraping between each addition.
Combine juice with sour cream and vanilla.
Alternate adding the flour mixture and sour cream mixture, scraping the bowl often.
Pour batter into prepared pan.
Run your spatula around the center of the batter, creating an indented ring on the surface.  This will help the cake rise and crack evenly.
Bake in a 350F still oven about 40 minutes, or until a cake tester comes out clean.
Remove from the oven and immediately pierce several holes in the top of the cake.
Pour over hot tangerine syrup (recipe below) and allow the cake to cool completely in the pan.
Remove from pan and place on serving plate. (I did not invert my cake because I like a rounded top, but do as you like)
Brush the sides of the cake with some of the confit syrup to  make for a glossier finish.
Drizzle with icing (recipe below) and allow to set before arranging confit zest and segments on top (recipe below).
Gift to a friend or neighbor.

Tangerine Syrup
90 g  tangerine juice
45 g  sugar

Boil together until sugar dissolves.  Keep hot until ready to soak cake.

Confit Tangerine Zest and Segments
1 tangerine
250 g  sugar
250 g  water, plus more for blanching

Peel tangerine and rip the larger pieces into narrower ribbons.  Set aside.
Break apart tangerine segments without puncturing or tearing the membrane casings.  Remove any additional pith from segments.
Blanch peels 3 times, using fresh water every time.  On the third blanch, throw the segments in too.
Separate peels from segments and put peels in a pot with the sugar and 250 g water.  Bring to a slow simmer and continue cooking until peels are translucent, about 1 1/2 hours. 
In the last 5 minutes of cooking, throw in the segments to lightly candy.
Pour into a clean bowl and allow to cool.

Icing
150 g  powdered sugar
15 g    milk
squeeze of tangerine juice

Whisk together to make a pourable consistency.  If too thick, squeeze in a little more juice.  If too thin, add a little more sugar.