Boxcar Kitchen - Something sweet

Far from perfect but still pretty good

esther — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 18:48:00 +0200

Over the winter I picked up a copy of Joël Robuchon's Tout Robuchon. It is kind of laid-out as one of those "if you only have one cookbook in your kitchen, it should be this one" books. It is page after page of French classics - a type of encyclopedia of modernized traditional dishes. I figured I couldn't go wrong with that, so I bought it even though there isn't a single picture in it.

The first recipe I made out of it confirmed my good judgment. I used Robuchon's quiche base to make a porcini, spinach, bacon quiche. It was heaven. I have never had such good quiche in my entire life. There was nothing watery or curd-like about it. It came out firm and custardy. In fact, it was so delicious that I barely even thought about all the cream that went into baking it.

The Far Breton was my next stop and it left me asking for more. A far is a traditional dessert from Brittany and its batter is a cross between a flan and a clafouti and is often garnished with prunes. A good far is better than good. The prunes baked into the eggy base are soft and sweet and comforting. I admit that I didn't follow the recipe to the letter because I didn't have any prunes but I was still pretty disappointed with the rather lifeless base. I did however, manage to polish off the thing but I don't think I'll be making it again.

With a tied score - one good recipe to one not so good recipe - the only thing left to do is to keep the test-kitchen fires burning. Next on the list is Robuchon's famous purée and I have a feeling it will be just as good as at the Atelier.

Far Breton adapted from Tout Robuchon by Joël Robuchon

140 grams flour
120 grams sugar
4 eggs + 1 yolk
25 cl milk
25 cl heavy cream
1 tablespoon dark rum
optional : 200 grams prunes or two medium apples

Generously butter a square baking dish or individual ramekins. In a large bowl combine the flout (sifted) with the sugar. Form a well and add the eggs and yolk. Beat with an electric mixture until the batter is silky and then add in the milk and cream little by little. Finish off by adding the rum. Pour the batter into the molds and then add prunes, sliced apples etc.

Bake at 180° C (350° F) for 30 minutes

Puttin' on the Ritz: Le Délice

esther — Sun, 24 Feb 2008 16:38:00 +0100

In October, to celebrate my 30th birthday, some friends gifted me with a baking class at the Ecole Ritz Escoffier. The hub was perfect in choosing a 4 hour-long Saturday afternoon class dedicated to chocolate. (Yeah!) The combination of spending an afternoon with a real-life pastry chef in a veritable professional pastry kitchen at on of the most prestigious palaces in the city was enough to make me swoon. The only hitch was the wait. The class was scheduled for January which meant three long months of perusing their website and obsessing about what we might bake.

The day finally arrived and it it was one of those unseasonable warm days that have made up the majority of this winter season. With just a light jacket and the sun on my shoulders, I took the bus along the Seine to the Concorde and then walked up rue St. Honoré. I cut through a marbled shopping gallery that spills out on the Place Vendôme and came face to face with the Ritz. As I crossed the threshold of the main entrance I couldn't help but have one of those "I can't belive I'm here" blasts of happiness.

There were 10 of us in the class and we were split up into two groups which meant that we really were able to be hands on and not just silent observers. Each armed with a plethora of utensils and crisp white aprons we got down to business. Our chef was relaxed, easy-going and really interested in answering questions and teaching us just as much about technique as about the recipe we were preparing. The dessert in question was Le Délice or The Delight: a Sacher spongecake layered with chocolate mousse (saturated with a simple syrup) and a pistachio crème, covered in a chocolate ganache and painted with cocoa butter.

The best part though was all the little "pro" hints that make baking at home so much more interesting. For example, instead of using cake pans you can use rings which de-mold a million times easier. If your cake bakes in the shape of a volcano it means that you've overmixed. Although I'm sure that never happens to anyone. You can use a pair of square dowels set on either side of your cake to act as a guide when cutting it into cross sections. When making chocolate mousse, you can add your sugar as a boiling simple syrup to your egg yolks which gives your dessert a longer lifespan. When making a dessert like The Délice, which has a caramelized cream center, you freeze it before assembly. Cool, right?

Now, the only thing I need besides a kitchen torch, a 10 pound bag of Valrhona 70% chocolate, and an airless paint sprayer for the cocoa butter finish is a spot in the Ecole's 6 week-long pastry program this summer followed by a champagne toast at the hotel bar!

Le Délice

Sacher Spongecake
5 1/3 oz almond paste
2 oz confectioners sugar
3 1/2 oz egg yolks
2 oz whole eggs
drop of vanilla extract
1 1/2 oz flour
1 1/2 oz cocoa powder
5 1/4 oz egg whites
2 oz sugar
1 1/2 butter

Whip the almond paste, confectioners sugar, yolks, whole eggs and liquid vanilla. Sift together the flour and cocoa and then delicately mix into the almond mixture. Whip the egg whites and sugar and then add the butter. Combine the two mixtures delicately and pour into a 2 1/2 in high circle. Bake at 375°F for 45 to 50 minutes.

Pistachio Caramelized Cream
2 cups milk
2 cups cream
5 2/3 oz sugar
12 egg yolks
3 1/2 oz pistachio paste

Boil the milk with the pistachio cream until the paste is dissolved. Add the cream to lower the temperature and then mix with the yolk and sugar. Pour cream mixture into rubber molds. Bake at 225° F until the cream is firm and doesn't wobble. However, make sure that the cream around the edges doesn't boil. Once baked, remove from the oven and cool. Place the creams in the freezer until hardended and then remove and remove from molds.

Note: The pistachio cream is divine on its own. Pour it in little shallow dishes, sprinkle the top with sugar and then caramelized with a kitchen torch.

Chestnut honey panna cotta with homemade fig jam

esther — Tue, 04 Sep 2007 15:50:00 +0200

Panna cotta has been wheedling its way to the top of my "to make" list for a while now. Originally, I planned on a lime panna cotta dressed with summer berries. But after my first attempt following a very, very bad recipe off epicurious.com, my craving for citrus and custard was thoroughly squelched. Usually, I read the comments and check the ratings religiously when I try a recipe off a website. And more often than not, I end up taking into account a least one insightful person's advice. Somehow I spaced out on that step for the panna cotta recipe. It was not until after the fact that I sat in front of the computer nibbling on some very dismal results that I discovered the many disappointing critiques.

Needless to say, panna cotta dropped a few notches from the number one slot. I wasn't able to come up with a recipe that brought something new to the panna cotta table, so I just decided to let it lie. So lie it did.... until I began to peruse the cache of treats brought back from our vacation in Corsica this summer.

One of my very prized possessions is a jar of chestnut honey. At 8 euros a jar, I decided that I didn't want to use it in just anything. The flavor is strong and woody unlike any other honey and I really wanted to spotlight it. Smooth, creamy panna cotta seemed like the perfect vehicle for the bitter honey. This time, I didn't bother with a specific recipe. Instead, I did a compilation of recipes, hoping that this time I would end up with something soft instead of rock solid cream.

The final product was exactly what I was looking for. I was nervous when I unmolded the panna cotta from the vintage tin molds I got from my mother for just such an occasion. After just a mini dip in a bowl of hot water, the cooked cream slipped out of its fluted casing without a glitch. I knew that the consistency was right even before I tasted it because when I shook it, the panna cotta jiggled and looked like it was about to burst, but never lost its shape.

The few green cardamon pods compliment the strength of the honey without masking it. The addition of a quick fig jam and a few drops of chestnut spread elevated this dessert to a zen master level. Honey and figs - a flavor marriage as old as the Romans can never go wrong.

1 1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup skim milk
1/4 cup chestnut honey
1 1/2 tsp unflavored gelatin
1 1/2 Tbsp water
4 green cardamom pods
vegetable oil

4 ripe black figs
4 tsp granulated sugar
1 1/2 Tbsp water

1 tube chestnut spread

Combine cream, milk and honey in a heavy saucepan. Crush the cardamom pods and add. Cook the cream over medium low heat until the cream just begins to simmer, stirring constantly. This takes about 15 minutes. Remove the cooked cream from the heat and let sit for about another 10-15 minutes. Strain the cream to remove the pods.

In a small bowl, add the gelatin to the water. Set aside for about 5 minutes.

Grease each of the individual tins with vegetable oil.

Add the gelatin to the cream over low heat until completely dissolved. Pour the mixture in the tins. I left mine in the refrigerator overnight.

For the jam, remove the skins from 3 large figs. Chop up the red fruit and combine with water and sugar. Cook the fruit down over medium heat until it has thickened and a rustic jam has formed.

To serve, quickly dip eat tin in a dish of hot water and turn out onto serving dish. Each panna cotta should be served with a dollop of fig jam and garnished with a few dots of chestnut spread.

Makes 4 individual desserts.

Mango Tatin

esther — Mon, 16 Jul 2007 14:04:00 +0200

Well, I thought that I was onto something with this one, but apparently my so called stroke of genius wasn't genius after all. So I guess that leaves me with just a stroke...whatever that means. It's somewhat deflating to come up with a really great recipe idea only to discover, after a two second Google search, that about 40 billion other people have had the same idea. I didn't do my research until after I made up this recipe so I might as well share it.

My very unique and personal inspiration for this mango tart tatin came from- yes, you guessed it- mangoes. Pretty creative, right? But these were not just any mangoes! I was hit by a stomach rumbling bolt of inspiration while I was riding home on the bus, munching away on a bag of dried mangoes. Sure there are lots of different kinds of dried mangoes, but after relentless testing, I can honestly say that N°12 Just Mango is by far the yummiest. They are my newest addiction and can be found at the Grande Epicerie or at my favorite lunch spot, Cojean.

What is so great about these particular dried mangoes? To start, they have the perfect consistency: leathery but not tough and plump without being gummy. Like the name indicates, it's just mango: no added sugar or strange crystallization. And because the drying process is natural, each piece is unique. My tatin idea came from one particular slice that happened to be more dried than the others. The sweet slightly burnt flavor immediately made me think of caramelized fruit which is the staple of the tarte tatin. The mango tatin is a funky take on the time-honored dessert that will convince even the most diehard traditionalist.

The key to making these 'boxcarkitchen style' is to let your caramel go until it is really nice and dark. It's important to remove the caramel from the heat right before it is almost too dark, stir the butter in right away and then quickly pour it into the pans before it hardens.

Mango Tatin!

100 grams sugar
2 Tbsp water
25 grams salted butter
1 ripe mango
1 puff pastry crust

Peel and slice the mango lengthwise into 1/4 inch slices. Then cut the mango crosswise on the diagonal.

Combine the sugar and water in a large saucepan over medium high heat. Stir with a wooden spoon until the sugar is completely melted and then leave it alone. Once the sugar starts to color, stop everything else and watch the caramel. Shake the contents once in awhile but do not stir. The color will change quickly and you really need to pay attention. Otherwise your dark caramel will turn into a burnt caramel.

When your caramel is one shade lighter than you want, remove from heat. (The caramel will continue to cook once it is removed from the heat source.) Stir in the butter and spoon into the tartelette pans immediately with great care!! (I'll reserve my burn stories for a later post).

Align the sliced mango on top of the caramel and cover with puff pastry.

Bake for about 20 minutes at 200°C.

Remove the pans from the oven. Let the tartelettes cool before turning them over and out of their pans. Otherwise all the caramel will run off.

Makes 6 tartelettes.

A rhubarb idea

esther — Thu, 21 Jun 2007 13:31:00 +0200

This clafoutis recipe has been a long time coming. It has taken me almost an entire year to finally figure out a recipe that I like. I started out last July by attempting an apricot clafoutis. I imagined sweet apricots melting into a nest of custard-like cake. The end result was disappointing. It tasted fine (maybe a little too sweet) but the consistency was a total failure. The clafoutis was decidedly more cake than custard and it didn't have the melt in your mouth quality that I was looking for.

I decided to give the dessert another try when Betsy asked for recipe ideas for rhubarb a few weeks ago. I'm so jealous of everyone back home that is inundated by rhubarb. Here, I could only find it at the market for a week or two then SWOOSH it was like it never even existed. I asked for it at almost every stall and I pretty much got the same answer everywhere, "Oh, no. We don't DO rhubarb." Well, I do DO rhubarb and was thrilled that my trip out to our local pick-your-own yielded a rather large almost untouched patch of rhubarb goodness.

My second attempt with a different recipe from the internet turned out to be another failure. This time the clafoutis was egg-y and too much like a flan but my patience paid off with a third attempt! I used my original recipe from Jean-Luc Petitrenaud as a starting point. I cut out most of the flour and replaced it with cornstarch, used light heavy cream instead of milk, replaced the double cream with light crème fraîche and added some almond extract. The extract gives the tart rhubarb a wonderful warm undertone without adding sweetness.

Bon appétit Betsy and Salinda!

Another current obsession is rhubarb compote with Greek yogurt, or pretty much on anything for that matter.

Rhubarb clafoutis!

400 grams rhubarb (about 2 cups)
@@75 grams sugar (1/3 cup) @
25 grams butter (1/3 cup)
2 eggs
2 Tbsp light crème fraîche
125 ml light heavy cream (5/8 cup)
2 Tbsp cornstarch
1 Tbsp flour
1 tsp almond extract

The standard measures are approximate but work, I hope!

Preheat the oven to 180°C (350°F). Wash and then cut the rhubarb into cubes. Mix about one tablespoon sugar with the rhubarb and place in the oven while it is heating up. Let it cook until you are ready for it. This will release some of the excess water.

Melt the butter over medium/high heat. The butter will start to foam and turn golden brown. Remove immediately and cool to room temperature.

Beat together the eggs, heavy cream, and crème fraîche. Mix in the sugar, cornstarch, flour, browned butter, and almond extract.

Butter the molds and sprinkle lightly with sugar. Remove the excess liquid from the rhubarb and place the fruit in the molds.

Pour the batter over the fruit until it is almost completely submerged.

Bake for 40 minutes or until nicely browned and puffy.

Makes 6-8 individual servings.

Semolina Cake à la fleur d'oranger

esther — Wed, 06 Jun 2007 20:54:00 +0200

Very rarely do I read a recipe and say to myself, "Wow, that looks really complicated for no apparent reason ; I think I'll give it a try." But this is exactly what happens when you are faced with yet another rainy Sunday in May, a freshly purchased bag of semolina flour and a Monthly Mingle birthday to celebrate.

The previous week, I had found a great Oriental grocer near the marché d'Aligre on my way to a friend's house. Paris is chock full of Middle Eastern/North African mom and pop shops but this one was particularly impressive. Shelves stacked from floor to ceiling with spices, conserves, and sauces covered the walls and the center of the shop was dedicated to everything in bulk. Dozens of fat, perfectly aligned bags full of flours and dried legumes were meticulously arranged. I quickly spotted the almost 10 different grades of semolina and immediately thought of a cake - an orange water semolina cake. I chose the second finest mill of flour and I was stunned when the owner weighed out EXACTLY 500 grams of flour with one scoop and a tiny flick of the wrist. I was so happy walking away with my 50 cent bag of flour. I was going to make a cake, a semolina orange water cake just for Meeta.

I decided to use a slightly snooty Food and Wine recipe as my launch pad. I've never used so many dishes to make a cake before. I did ended up changing the recipe quite a bit but I stayed true to the structure. Even though I ended up using milk and light cream and less butter than called for, I still thought the cake was a little oily. The original recipe was for one large cake and it was completed with a center layer of raspberry preserves and then sprinkled with powdered sugar. Since I made individual cakes, I tried the jam but found that it detracted more than anything from the cake. It was kind of like eating a high end jelly donut. The cakes were so much better plain and fresh from the oven. The semolina flour added a nice crunch to the outside and the inside was dense, steamy and perfumed by the orange flower water.

Happy Birthday Monthly Mingle!!

For the pastry cream:
1/3 cup milk
1/3 cup light cream
2 Tbsp. orange flower water
2 egg yolks
1 ½ Tbsp. sugar
1 tsp flour
4 tsp cornstarch
2 tsp softened salted butter
1/2 vanilla bean

For the cake transformation:
5 Tbsp. salted butter
1 tsp. lemon zest
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
1 Tbsp. orange flower water
1/2 cup sugar
2/3 cup flour
1/3 cup finely ground semolina flour
4 egg whites

Bring the milk, cream, and orange flower water to simmer with the vanilla bean in a saucepan. In a separate bowl whisk together the yolks, sugar,flour and cornstarch. Remove the vanill bean and whisk in the milk mixture. Return to heat. Continue whisking until thickened. Add the butter, pour into a dissh and let cool to room temperature.

Begin by folding the softened butter into the prepared pastry cream. Add the lemon zest, juice and orange flower water. Continue by whisking in about half the sugar, the flour, semolina, and baking powder until the batter is smooth.

In a separate bowl beat the egg whites with the remaining sugar until soft peaks form. Whisk 1/4 of the whites into the batter and then fold in the rest. The batter should be smooth but not over worked.

Pour into individual cake molds and bake at 175°C for about 25 minutes.

Makes about 12 mini cakes

Violet blackberry tiramisu - SHF #30

esther — Mon, 23 Apr 2007 18:08:00 +0200

I have one word for this Sugar High Friday- YUM. The Flower Power theme for this month is right up my alley. Whether it is peppery nasturtiums in a salad or on fish, jasmine meringues, candied violets, or jasmine gelée, using flowers in food is creative way of stepping a dish up a notch or two. Anything with violet is my absolute favorite.

When I was little my mom had one of those pretty French tins of violet candies that she kept in a little drawer by her bed stand. I remember quite vividly the first time I ever tasted one. I think my initial reaction was one of surprise and maybe even a little bit of something like, "Yuck, it tastes like perfume!” But after the initial surprise, the "Yuck" slowly developed into a "Yum". From then on I would sneak one every now and again, carefully opening the pretty flowered tin to pop a little egg-like candy in my mouth. Today, I can't get enough of that intense flowery perfume taste.

When I first started thinking about a dessert using violets, I thought about pairing it with raspberries like my current yogurt obsession but I wanted something a different and I really wanted to go more monochromatic using the blue-ish crème de violette as my base, hence the blackberries. The addition of almond extract in the cream brings the whole dessert together. The earthy sweetness of the almond is the perfect bridge between the perfumed violet liquor and the woodsy blackberries. I think that this is honestly the first time I have ever impressed myself with a dish. I mean, I share a lot of recipes but I think this one is my best so far and I highly recommend giving it a try. And although there are several different elements to prepare, the technique is simple and everything goes together quickly.

I think violet, blackberry and almond will be my new fetish trio. I think it would make a great perfume too actually.

Individual violet blackberry tiramisu

3 dozen ladyfingers
crème de violette
200 grams mascarpone cheese
50 grams sugar + 1 Tbsp.
2 eggs
1/4 tsp almond extract
3 cups (approx.) fresh blackberries
1 Tbsp water
1 sheet gelatin
6 metal cylinder molds

Begin by putting aside about 6 whole blackberries per individual dessert. Reserve 2 for decoration and cut the other 4 in half lengthwise. Cook down the remaining berries (about a cup) with the water and 1 Tbsp. sugar over low heat. Soak the gelatin in a dish of water until it softens and then add to the berry compote. Once the gelatin is dissolved, remove from heat and let cool to thicken.

Beat together the egg yolks and sugar until it turns white. Continue by whipping in the mascarpone cheese and then the almond extract. Beat the egg whites until stiff and then gently fold into the mascarpone mixture. Refrigerate while you prepare the other steps.

Soak the ladyfingers in the crème violette. The ladyfingers should soften with the liquid but still hold there shape (infused by not soggy). Place three soaked ladyfingers side by side and then, with a cylinder mold, cut out a circle. You’ll need two circles per individual tiramisu.

To assemble the tiramisu, begin with a layer of ladyfingers followed by a layer of almond mascarpone. Arrange the halved berries on top of the cheese and then continue with another layer of ladyfingers followed by a layer of blackberry compote. Finish off with a final layer of mascarpone.

Refrigerate overnight. Remove the tiramisu from its mold with the help of a flexible knife just before serving. Decorate with remaining blackberries. Serve with a cup of perfumed jasmine tea.

Makes 6 individual tiramisu

Picketing for pie: Blackberry rights

esther — Tue, 20 Mar 2007 15:32:00 +0100

Originally, this was supposed to be for the Waiter, What's in My...Pie event but that didn't really work out. Well, actually the pie BEFORE this one was supposed to be for the event but that pie quickly turned into the pie that WAS. This one almost suffered the same dangerous fate if not for the sheer and heroic willpower of my mother.

On one of the many blustery nights when I was back home, my mom and I decided to turn on the oven, heat up the kitchen and make ourselves a pie. And since we all (my pops included) think that blackberry pie is hands down the best pie on the planet, the flavor decision was unanimous. The smell of flakey crust and bubbling berries soon filled the house and we all sat around the kitchen waiting impatiently; very, very impatiently. When the oven timer finally went off, it was dark outside and there was no light left to shoot the pie. So, we ate it. All of it. Well, we did share it with my aunt and uncle but still, there wasn't a single sliver left to photograph.

What to do? We did what any good bakers do. We made a second pie the very next day. The crust was even closer to perfection and not a single ounce of berry juice spilled out through the venting. The pie was picture perfect. The only problem was that once again, it was evening, there was no light and the very bad berry pie monsters were getting hungry; very, very hungry. You know that you're a goner when your reasoning starts going something like, "Well, if the three of us only eat half of the pie tonight, that leaves an entire half for pictures tomorrow."

And then, it happened. A slow and steady chant began to fill the room, "More pie, down with photos!, MORE PIE, down with photos!, MORE PIE, DOWN WITH PHOTOS." To my surprise I heard my own voice echoed by my dad's. We were pie possessed and the official unofficial pie strike had begun. We chanted; we stomped our feet; we paraded through the living room. We were united!!!! No backing down until we had more pie!!

Our solidarity paid off, we got our second piece, er... I mean 1/3. I'm almost ashamed to admit that I ate 5/6 of a blackberry pie in less than 48 hours. But then again, it was good; really, really good.

PS: My mom was the only one with enough willpower and thanks to her sacrifice there was one piece left the next morning. This photo is dedicated to her.

Black or other berry Pie

Flaky Pastry for Two-Crust Pie
2/3 to 3/4 c sugar
2 Tbsp. flour (or 1 1/2 T. quick cooking tapioca)
1/2 t. grated lemon zest
1 to 2 tsp. lemon juice
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/8 tsp. salt
4 cup fresh or frozen berries (blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, loganberries or boysenberries)
1 Tbsp. butter

Roll out two crusts and line a 9 inch pie plate with the bottom crust.

Combine all the ingredients except the berries and butter.

Arrange half the berries in the lined pie plate and sprinkle without about half the sugar mixture. Add another layer of berries and the remainder of the sugar mixture.

Dot with butter and add the top crust. Crimp the sides and vent the crust.

Bake at 425°F for 40-50 minutes until the filing is tender and the crust is nicely browned.

Serve warm or cold if there happens to be leftovers.

Seducing Mr. Winter: SHF #28

esther — Sun, 18 Feb 2007 17:36:00 +0100

This past week I flew into New York to spend a few weeks visiting my parents. I had decided to wait to do my Sugar High Friday entry with my mom since I figured that it would be a great first project for the two of us. Plus, for some reason, things always seem to taste better when they come out of your childhood kitchen.

We very quickly decided on one of my mom's best "For dinner parties-To impress" recipes: Mocha chocolate mousse with raspberry liqueur compote in chocolate shells. Everyone who has ever tasted this dessert, even those non-chocolate lovers, has succombed to its chocolatey wiles. Not only are you knocked out by the double duo of chocolate and raspberry, but the presentation itself is pure seduction.

Huddled over the stovetop we listened as the weather channel reported on the biggest snow storm of the century (well, sort of). We were hoping that the seductive smell of warm molten chocolate would ward of winter's angry ways or that ruby red berries would at least conjure up distant memories of long forgotten summer afternooons. It seemed that the more we stirred, the more the snow came tumbling down. The end result was enough chocolate mousse to feed Emperor Qin's army and snowbanks as long and as high as The Great Wall of China.

Snowbound and hungry, we lavished our plates with this decadent dessert and seduced ourselves sick.

Mocha chocolate mousse with raspberry liqueur compote

Mousse:

1 lb. special dark chocolate
1/4 cup salted butter
2 tsp. espresso powder
1/3 cup water
2 egg yolks
1/3 cup Kahlua
4 egg whites
4 Tbsp. sugar
1 cup heavy cream

In a double boiler, melt together the first four ingredients, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat.

Mix together egg yolks and Kahlua.

Whisk together egg mixture and melted chocolate mixture. Cool to room temperature.

In a large bowl, beat egg whites until foamy. Add in sugar and continue beating until firm moist peaks form. Spoon over cooled chocolate but do not mix in.

In the same bowl, whip cream until soft peaks form. Fold chocolate and egg whites into cream.

Pour into bowl and refrigerate for at least 4 hours or overnight. When scooping mousse dip the scoop in hot water.

Ruby red raspberry compote:

20 oz thawed raspberries
1/4 cup seedless raspberry jam
1 Tbsp. cornstarch
1 Tbsp. Chambord

Strain raspberries over a saucepan to remove seeds. Add jam and juice, and then bring to a boil. Remove from heat.

Dissolve cornstarch in liqueur and whisk into sauce. Cook over medium heat until thickened.

Chocolate shells:

8 oz. special dark chocolate
aluminum foil
assortment of seashells

Line the outside of shell with foil; smooth out the wrinkles wth a tea towel. Melt chocolate in a double boiler. With a pastry brush, paint on a thin layer of chocolate leaving a 1/4 in. edge. Refrigerate and repeat.

Gently remove the seashell from the chocolate shell and then peel away aluminum foil. Keep shells refrigerated until ready to serve.

Assembly:

Nestle one small shell in a larger shell and then scoop on a dollop of mousse. Drizzle with raspberry sauce and then finish with a generous helping of fresh raspberries.

Honey lemon tarts for my honey

esther — Wed, 07 Feb 2007 16:46:00 +0100

Once again Meeta has chosen another great Monthly Mingle. She is bringing us Sweet Love to the table: an homage to our valentines and sweets that say I love you and nothing screams sweet love like sour lemons, at least in my house anyways.

I didn't have to think very hard to find the perfect treat for the hub. Lemon tarts and pain au chocolat are pretty high on his list of favorites and yet I never make either of them. By the time you tally up all the bakeries in Paris that make exquisite bread and pastries, making certain things yourself starts to seem useless. But the fact that we were very recently deceived by some no good very bad tartelette au citron, I started to think that maybe I could do better. Then, not only could I please the hub but I could also finally break in my new tartelette pans!

I got the honey idea from this month's issue of Food and Wine. One of the featured desserts is a honey lemon custard served with crème fraîche. Although I don't usually use honey in my baking, I was intrigued by the idea and decided to give it a whirl. I actually changed the recipe quite a bit by cutting yolks, adding whites, more zest, less honey and the results are phenomenal. The honey doesn't just add sweetness. It brings out this whole other mellow warm flavor that is the perfect foil to the zip of the zest.

I think that this curd is by far the most unique and sophisticated that I have ever tasted and I had a bit of inspiration as I was filling up the last crust. This lemon curd is so good that I think it is worthy of an attempt at recreating Keyser's feuilleté au citron that has now become famous among my family and friends.

Honey Lemon Tarts

2 whole eggs
1 egg yolk
3/8 cup fresh squeezed lemon juice
1 tsp lemon zest
1/8 cup mountain honey
2 Tbsp salted butter
1 sheet puff pastry

Start by making the shells. Place tartelette pans on the rolled out puff pastry. Trace a circle of dough about 1/4 inch larger than the tin around each one. Turn over and mold pastry dough to the tin. Using a fork, perforate the bottom of each individual crust and weigh down the bottom with beans.

Place unbaked crusts on a cookie sheet and bake for 15 minutes at 175°C or until golden brown. Once the crusts are removed from the oven, get rid of the beans, remove the crusts from their tins and let cool.

In a large bowl whisk together the eggs, yolk, lemon juice, zest and honey. Cook the lemon mixture for about 6 minutes over a bain marie being sure to whisk the entire time. Once the lemon mixture has thickened to a nice custard, remove from heat and whisk in butter.

Let the curd cool a few minutes and then spoon into individual crusts. Don't let the curd cool too much otherwise it will lose its silky consistency and will be harder to spread. Chill tarts for at least 2 hours.

Decorate with fresh figs or berries and serve.

Makes 8 tartelettes.

A bout de souffle: Sweet lime soufflé

esther — Fri, 26 Jan 2007 16:09:00 +0100

So what's the secret ingredient to a perfect soufflé? I've been attempting to answer this very question for quite some time now and when Tami at running with tweezers decided to launch a soufflé-centric Hay Hay It's Donna Day, I figured that I would give this finicky food another chance.

My previous attempts were based on a savory cheese soufflé but this time I thought I would try to recreate the fabulous lime soufflé that I had this summer at our favorite seafood restaurant in Brittany.

I probably would have had better success if I had stuck to a real recipe but I wanted to see what would happen if I lightened the whole thing up a bit: ie. cut down on the amount of yolks and butter. I literally held my breathe for the 30 minutes of cooking time and sat in front of my oven door, fingers crossed, willing the soufflés to rise. When it finally came time to remove the desserts from the oven, I was indeed breathless. They had puffed!!! I pulled them out of the oven... and they were still puffed!

I think that these are the best visual results I have had so far but I was once again disappointed with the overall texture. The magical puffiness still eventually just sort of deflates and turns to yummy goop and I'm still nowhere near my dream of the perfect soufflé.

Lime soufflé

250 cl of milk
75 grams sugar + 1 Tbsp sugar
Juice and zest of one lime
1 egg yolk
3 egg whites
2 tsp cornstarch
pinch of cream of tartar

Heat milk, sugar and zest in a saucepan. First combine the lime juice and cornstarch then add to milk mixture and thicken. Then remove from heat and add egg yolk. Let cool.

Beat egg whites, 1 Tbsp sugar and a pinch of cream of tartar until stiff. Fold in milk mixture.

Butter molds and fill 3/4 full.

Bake at 180°C (350°F) for 30 minutes.

Makes four soufflés

Note: The soufflé had great flavor but I would prefer cutting the sugar so as to better highlight the lime.

Chocolate chocolate bread pudding

esther — Wed, 24 Jan 2007 20:31:00 +0100

Well, I missed Sugar High Friday. I don't know how, but my brain was completely scattered and I missed Monday's deadline. Oh, well. But since I already had bought all the ingredients and have been thinking about this event for the past two weeks, I'm not going to let a little thing like a deadline keep me from enjoying a fine chocolate dessert.

Now, I know this might sound strange but I'm not really one of those people who crave chocolate desserts and actually, I very rarely make them. Chocolate mousse and brownies are pretty much the extent of my chocolate repertoire and most of the time I order something creamy or fruit based when we go out to eat. This is not to say however that I would actually go so far as to REFUSE a chocolate dessert. I will scarf it down but with just a tad less excitement than is due.

My mother and sister have been talking about chocolate bread pudding for ages and I still hadn't given it a try. I could eat a whole pan of regular bread pudding in a heart beat and I am a creature habit so I had been putting off the chocolate version.

Now that I have made this pudding, one thing is sure. It is defintely being added to my list of chocolate desserts with its rich chocolate custard and occassional crunchy crust.

In keeping with the SHF theme, I chose to use the chocolate that I always use. It isn't anything incredibly fancy but it does the trick. I used Nestlé corsé which is 64% cocoa. I had a bar and lots of remainders of bars tucked in the back of my cupboard. I like to buy it for baking and then I end up nibbling on the bar until there isn't enough left to make anything (hence the lots of little bits). I also added some Van Houten cocoa powder for good measure.

Chocolate chocolate bread pudding

1 3/4 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup sugar plus 1 Tbsp for the topping
1/4 cup 2% milk
300 grams dark good quality chocolate
1 Tbsp cocoa powder
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
about 1/2 baguette (4 cups)

Begin by cutting the baguette into chunks.

In a heavy bottom sauce pan, simmer heavy cream, milk and sugar until the sugar it dissolved. Add the majority of the chocolate and the cocoa powder and combine.

In a separate bowl, whisk together egg and vanilla.

Add the chocolate mixture to the egg mixture slowly, stirring continuously.

Add bread and remaining chocolate. Place in a shallow dish and sprinkle with sugar.

Bake at 160° C (325° F)

Note: Don't over do it on the bread. It is better to have too little than too much otherwise the pudding will end up being too bready and with not enough custard.

A not so mellow yellow: pots de crème au safran

esther — Thu, 11 Jan 2007 16:39:00 +0100

Last week we were walking around our neighborhood looking for a place to eat. If you happen to know Exelmans, you'll know that this is not as easy as it sounds since the neighborhood is otherwise known as the Bermuda triangle of the 16th arrondissement. Housing is a dream but the area lacks the quaint shops and restaurants for which Paris is known. Needless to say, stomachs were rumbling and we pretty much pointed our fingers, spun around three times and headed to Iannello.

The meal was great but the dessert du jour was amazing. The chef had prepared miniature versions of each of the desserts featured on the menu. I love this idea because it takes all the stress out of ordering especially if you're not quite sure if you want something chocolate and sinful or light and fruity. Everything was delicious from the strawberry tiramisu to the profiteroles but the jewel of the platter was the pot de crème. Nestled in a dark black bowl was a perfectly creamy sunshiny yellow custard. I guessed the secret ingredient right away and was as much enamored by the flavor as by the color.

Here is my successful attempt (if I may say so) at Iannello's petit pot de crème au safran. The sweet saffron custard is unlike anything I have ever had and is a mind blowing change from the traditional flavors of chocolate, vanilla and coffee. This recipe is definitely something to get excited about. I know that I am going to have a blast playing the 'what's the secret ingredient game'.

Pots de crème au safran

1 cup heavy cream
3 egg yolks
1 dose powdered saffron
1/4 cup sugar
pinch of salt

Edit: After another taste test, I think the sugar definitely has to be cut and therefore the saffron as well. Watch for an updated recipe.

With a whisk, combine the egg yolks in a large bowl until they are light yellow . Do this gently so as to not add a lot of air to them. Add the sugar, 1/4 cup of the cream and salt. Mix until dissolved.

In a saucepan combine the rest of the cream and the dose of saffron. Heat until just below bowling and then add slowly to the egg mixture.

Choose an array of little pots or dishes and evenly divide the uncooked custard. I was served the custard in a little black dish which created a real contrast but since I don't have any black dishes, I used white espresso cups, bowls and dishes. Cover each dish with aluminum foil.

Line the bottom of a baking dish with a dishtowel. Place the pots in the baking dish and fill it with water. The water should go half way up the dishes.

Bake for about 30 minutes at 180°C (350°F) or until the edges are set and the inside is still very wobbly. Remove the pots from the oven and let set for an hour. The pots de crème can be made and refrigerated for a couple of days.

The skinny on tarte fine

esther — Thu, 30 Nov 2006 18:44:00 +0100

Every year, we have the same problem with our Thanksgiving meal. By the time you get around to finishing numerous glasses of champagne, a few dainty appetizers, a light starter, a healthy helping of turkey & co., multiple choice wedges of cheese, there is little room left to really enjoy dessert. I never have this problem but this year I decided to take pity on my typically growning guests who "just couldn't eat another bite".

First off, I pared down the appetizer and completely skipped the starters. I figured that this would open the dessert window just a wee bit wider. Now all I had to do was find a treat that fit through it. The idea of pumpkin pie was quickly dismissed. My mom always made this great torte made of layers of thin pastry, homemade applesauce and cream. This was on the right track I still wanted something even simpler. Who really wants a creamy dessert after dutifully eating half a cheese platter?

After flipping through a few cookbooks I decided on a tarte fine aux pommes. Thin tarts are one of Frances often overlooked treasures. During my first few years here, I would stand outiside pâtisseries with my nose pressed against the window admiring the religieuses, paris-brests, or opéras. It is only after several years and many trips to the bakery that I find myself gravitating towards more organic things. You know like a croissant over a pain aux chocolat.

This apple thin tart was so much fun to make. The amount of time that I spent on arranging the apple slices borders on mental illness but the end result was worth it. The tart was light and tart and not a single piece was left unfinished. The next morning as we gobbled down the rest we mused about how if we just ignored the idea of the butter filled puff plastry, it was like eating an apple for breakfast.

Thin apple tart

5 jonagold apples
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablesppon salted butter

1 puff pastry

Roll out the puff pastry until it is very thin on a sheet of wax paper. Prick the dough all around with a fork.

Peel, core and cut the apples. The apples should be cut very very thin but thick enough so that they don't break. Sprinkle the apples with a little lemon juice to keep them from turning brown.

Using the inner larger apple slices begin forming a pattern starting on the outside working in. The apple slices should overlap. I alternated directions in a circle form but you could do rows for example with a square tart.

Sprinkle the apples with the sugar and bits of butter.

Slide the pastry into the oven on the wax paper and bake at 200°C for 30 minutes.

Cho ka ka o- Sugar High Friday #25

esther — Fri, 24 Nov 2006 11:51:00 +0100

I found this recipe when I was looking online for truffle ideas for Sugar High Friday #25. My inital thought was to research some flavor combinations and then branch off on my own to create something totally cool and unique. However, when I stumbled upon these caramel-dark chocolate truffles with fleur de sel, I knew that I didn't need to go any further. Sometimes, perfect already exists and in that case, you should just do your best to duplicate it.

Not only does this recipe favor my recent and ongoing addiction to caramel, but it also showcases the sophisticated fabulousness that is chocolate and salt. The process was pretty long but well worth my diligence and patience. The caramel chocolate center is complex and dense accented by a light dusting of cocoa powder the defines the outer layer. The final drape of dark chocolate gives the truffles a polished look and nice crackle in your mouth.

I've decided to serve these beauties for Thanksgiving dessert (we are celebrating today) along with a fine apple tart and egg nogg. Since my guests are dark and white chocolate lovers, I tried my hand at another combination. Unfortunately the process is still in the works since I can't seem to get the white chocolate hard enough to roll but the flavor is exquisite. If they ever harden up in time, white chocolate truffles with l'eau de fleur d'oranger will be the finishing touch! (photo to come)

A very big thank you to the Passionate Cook for hosting this month's event!

Caramel-dark chocolate truffles with fleur de sel

20 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, finely chopped, divided
1/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons water
2/3 cup whipping cream
1/4 teaspoon fleur de sel

1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
Additional fleur de sel

Place 8 ounces chocolate in metal bowl over saucepan of barely simmering water (do not allow bottom of bowl to touch water); stir until chocolate is smooth. Remove chocolate from over water.

Combine sugar and 2 tablespoons water in small saucepan. Stir over medium heat until sugar dissolves, occasionally brushing sides of pan with wet pastry brush. Increase heat; boil until syrup is deep amber color, brushing down sides and swirling pan occasionally, about 4 minutes. Add cream (mixture will bubble). Stir over very low heat until caramel is smooth. Mix caramel and 1/4 teaspoon fleur de sel into melted chocolate. Chill until truffle filling is firm, at least 3 hours.

Place cocoa in bowl. Using 1 tablespoon truffle filling for each truffle, roll into balls, then roll in cocoa. Arrange on baking sheet. Cover; chill overnight.

Line 13x9x2-inch baking sheet with foil. Place remaining 12 ounces chocolate in medium metal bowl over saucepan of barely simmering water; stir until chocolate is melted and smooth and thermometer inserted into chocolate registers 115°F. Remove bowl from over water. Working quickly, submerge 1 truffle in melted chocolate. Using fork, lift out truffle and tap fork against side of bowl to allow excess coating to drip off. Transfer truffle to prepared sheet. Repeat with remaining truffles. Sprinkle truffles lightly with additional fleur de sel. Let stand until coating sets, at least 1 hour. (Can be made 1 week ahead. Cover and chill. Bring to room temperature before serving.)

Makes about 32. From Bon Appétit January 2004

An apple a day...

esther — Fri, 03 Nov 2006 16:54:00 +0100

Does it still count if said apple is draped in pastry and doused with butter and sugar?

Since the orchard expedition, I've been satisfying all cravings for sweets with apples in one form or another. Last week I made individual crumbles with some Grannys and I attempted my first tarte tatin using a few perfectly round Idareds. Crumble is THE recipe in my dessert repertoire. It is what I make when I don't want a hassle because I know it will be good and it is easy. The funny thing is that it is probably one of the only things I make completely sans recipe. The tarte tatin was ok. I somehow managed to scarf down the remaining piece(s) for breakfast but it still needs some work and I think I need a new recipe. Any good ones?

So last night after preparing an all too healthy dinner, I decided that a treat was in order but I didn't want to go overboard either. When I was little, I bought my mom Martha Stewart's Pies & Tarts for Christmas one year. I don't know who was more pleased because I immediately took it hostage and spent hours pouring over it. One of my favorite photo series was the baked apples and pears in pastry and I had been thinking about it ever since I walked through our front door with my apple bounty.

Here is my rendition. Honestly, although I can count all the ingredients on one hand this was not as easy as pie, literally.

Apple pie without the pie

1 - 1 1/2 pie crust(s)

(Unfortunately, I cannot divulge the exact make-up of my pie crust. If I did, I would be bombarded with hate mail and disowned by my family)

3 medium size apples - granny smith
sugar
cinnamon
salted butter

Divide the crust into three and roll out separately. Roll the dough into a circle thinner than for a pie and large enough to encompass the apple. I found that it helps to do an inverted scallop along the edge of the dough. This eliminates the extra dough during the wrapping phase.

While singing the ABC's, remove the stems of the apples and save. Remember at which letter the stem breaks and choose your soul mate's name accordingly. Core the apple but leave the bottom intact.

Once the cores are removed, sprinkle with a touch of brown sugar, a pat of butter and a dusting of cinnamon.

Place apple in center of the rolled pastry and envelop the apple. Be sure it is tight around the apple and that the top is sealed.

With the extra, cut out leaves freehand and top the apples with a stem. Brush the apples with a light egg wash and sprinkle sparingly with white sugar.

Bake at 200° C (400° F) for 25 minutes or until golden brown.

"Little bites of delight"- SHF hits a home run

esther — Fri, 27 Oct 2006 10:53:00 +0200

Mini pumpkin mousse in caramel verrines

Last weekend I was walking around Montmarte enjoying our unusually mild weather with some friends. One of the bookstores that I passed had set out a table full of cookbooks. Talk about a way to get everyone to stop, look and eventually buy. They had a great collection of the Marabout books and I was happily flipping through a copy dedicated to soups when this lady (a rather rude lady I might add) sort of pushes me and my friend aside and starts browsing the collection. She looks at one book on verrines (pretty much anything served in a glass), turns to her friend and says, "Oh, I just HATE verrines. It is so à la mode. I mean EVERYTHING, just EVERYTHING is served this way now." Despite what you may have heard, "à la mode" does not mean "with ice cream". It means "in fashion".

Ok, my first thought was how can you feel that strongly about serving dishes? I mean, I'm as neurotic as the next person and I love dishes but what have verrines ever done to deserve such disdain? Many people have a tendancy to hate was is all the rage just to be different. I think this lady was one of them, especially judging from her clothing choices.

My second thought was that verrines are very very cool. I love them at cocktail parties! They are the one thing you can eat without having to lick your fingers afterwards. You get to use mini spoons and they are cute! They are the neatfreaks solution to fingerfood. No crumbs, no oozing cream...nothing dropped on the freshly cleaned rug. I had found my Sugar High Friday project for the petits fours theme.

I've been really into caramel lately and have become slightly obsessed with the process. Its absolutely amazing what you can do with sugar and a bit of water. I've found myself standing at the stove watching sugar boil for no particular reason with no specific recipe in mind. I just start it up and see what happens. If only I had been this interested in biology in high school. I would have been this fabulous Nobel scientists with crazy hair, a pocket protector and tons of cash in my bank account. Instead, I spend my time making, burning and eating caramel.

So I decided to put my new fascination to good use and make my very one verrine-ish cups out of caramel. It wasn't very hard to figure out what to put inside either. I am a pumpkin lover, my other half is not. Mini pumpkin mousse cups would mean that I could enjoy all the goodness of pumpkin without being once again forced to eat an entire pie.

Pumpkin mousse

8oz. pumpkin
1/2 cup evaporated milk
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/8 tsp. cloves
1/8 tsp. ginger
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
1/4 cup sugar plus 1 tsp.
1 1/2 sheets gelatin
2 egg whites

Set gelatin to soften in a bowl of water.

At the sametime, combine milk and sugar in saucepan and warm over medium heat. Add salt and spices. Once the milk is warm but not boiling, add the sheets of gelatin which should dissolve immediately. Add the pumpkin to the saucepan and whisk until smooth.

In a large bowl combine egg whites and 1 tsp. sugar. Beat the egg whites until soft peaks. Fold into the pumpkin mixture . Refrigerate until set.

Caramel Verrines:

1/2 cup sugar
2 - 3 Tbsp. cold water

Pour water into a heavy bottom saucepan. Add sugar and combine to form an even white paste. Dissolve sugar slowly being sure to wipe the sides of the casserole to avoid any cristalization. Do not stir. Once the caramel has reached the desired color, remove from heat and stir.

On a sheet of aluminum foil, pour caramel into small free form rounds. Once the caramel is cool enough to touch, mold it into mini cups. The caramel cools very quickly and will set completely if left too long. It is better to work in sets of 4 cups at a time in order to control temperature and form. The remaining caramel can always be reheated and softened.

Quetsches, mon amour: a life in plums

esther — Thu, 05 Oct 2006 19:45:00 +0200

After scouting around my market for the best quality/price ratio on Sunday morning, I finally joined a long patient line of people waiting to be served. My eyes were set on a plump pile of damsons in distress and I was going to wisk them away to their culinary fate. For the last few weeks, I had been treating myself to paper bags full of green gage plums just like the ones my siblings and I used to gorge ourselves on until we were sick. In addition to that, I'd also been popping sunny candy sized mirabelles like M&Ms. It was now time to move on to the quetsches.

So I stood in line practicing under my breath, "Un kilo de quetsches, s'il vous plaît...quetsches, que...tsches, quetsches." Ok, I've lived in France for years, I've studied the language, I speak it well. However, nothing, absolutely nothing replaces that addictive, thrilling, sick to your stomach feeling of using a new word for the very first time. This wasn't just any word either. This was quetsches and possibly the name of my future first born (just kidding)!! But, I digress. It was my turn, the automn sun grew a little brighter hitting the plums just so and the fruit lady shoveled two big scoops into a paper bag.

Usually, I just throw plums in a bowl and we eat them by rote and never really enjoy them outside their natural state. I'll admit that I don't have a single recipe for baked goods with plums but for some reason, all I could think about was a questches tarte.

I jingled a few recipes and finally ended up making a simple butter crust. I washed the bottom of the uncooked crust with a whisked egg white and then sprinkled it with crushed spectulos cookies (my secret sin of the moment). I then took a hint from Cannelle et Cacao and cut the questches almost all the way through into quarters and then placed them cut side up to bake. After sprinkling the fruit with a dusting of sugar, I set the time for 35 minutes at 180°C.

An autumn tarte of cozy plums, bunched together like a bouquet of black tulips.

Jasmine Meringues with Lychees and Cream

esther — Thu, 21 Sep 2006 17:00:00 +0200

I wanted to do something interesting after making the kisses and I started thinking a lot about vacherin which is a meringue based dessert. The general structure is made up of layers of meringue and cream or ice cream and finished off with seasonal fruit. Raspberry seems to be a popular flavor for this dessert.

The most traditional meringue flavors tend to be vanilla, chocolate, almond and lemon. While these are all delicious and simple, I wanted to adopt a more complex flavor combination à la Ladurée. They have a series of flower based macaroons (violet, orange blossom and rose). I had picked up some jasmine essence at Paris' Asian market, Tang Frères and had been itching to use it. The result was perfumed and awesome just like biting into a bouquet of flowers.

Meringues (modified Colin Cowie recipe)

1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup superfine sugar
4 egg whites
1/8 tsp salt
1/8 tsp cream of tartar
1/2 tsp vanilla
2-3 drop of jasmine essence (be careful not to use too much- the flavor develops during baking)

Add salt and cream of tartar, vanilla and essence to the egg whites and beat. Slowly add in the sugar while mixing continuously. The final result should be stiff shiny (so shiny that you can see your reflection shiny) egg whites that make proud little peaks that stand up on their own.

For this recipe I piped the meringue into 3-4" circles and baked them at 120°C for about 30 minutes and then finished them off with the oven door open.

Makes about 4 larger of 6 smaller meringues

Patisserie cream

250 ml of heavy cream
150 ml of 2% milk
3/4 tsp vanilla
3 egg yolks
80 grams sugar
40 grams flour

Heat the cream and milk to a boil and add in the vanilla at the last minute.
At the same time, beat together the yolks, sugar and flour until you have a thick consistency that ribbons into the bowl.
Add the milk to the egg mixture and continue to heat over a low temperature while all the while whisking. Once the mixture thickens up, remove and place in the fridge to cool.

Last Meringue-o in Paris

esther — Fri, 15 Sep 2006 18:51:00 +0200

I'm not really a connoisseur of meringues but for some reason I've only had thoughts for them lately. I also wanted to give my new hand mixer a whirl and it was wonderful - wonderful to not have to further aggravate my serious case of Popeye arm from beating things by hand.

I read quite a few recipes before settling on one by (dare I admit it? gulp) Colin Cowie which was part of his perfect Easter entertainment menu. I know, I know, I can hear the accent and elevator music queuing up now. I was going to use this French recipe from a traditional cookbook that I have because I thought they were French. Why not go right to the source, right?

Surprisingly enough though, after some google-ing, I found that French cooking is not our Mister Ed. Apparently, meringues came on the scene in the late 1600's or early 1700's and it turns out that they were not even remotely invented by the French but by an Italian living in Switzerland. In the end, my French recipe was put aside for lack of baking instructions which seems to be the key component in the meringue universe.

Colin Cowie won. I piped out my vanilla (Tahitian) meringue into bite size kisses and baked them at 120F°. After about 20 minutes I thought that they were baking too quickly and finished them off with the door of the oven slightly ajar. The result was a creamy colored dry puff of vanilla sweetness that melted on your tongue revealing a slightly denser center. I think my friend N, who is a connoisseur, would approve.