Saturday, October 30, 2010

Medieval Custard Tarte

     Since this is supposed to be a French pastry blog, I decided to use the French spelling for tart.  This is a nod of both respect and adieu as I have decided to make this all about baking, not just about French pastry.  This is because I have discovered that I quite like American baking and French, well, not so much.  Or at least, not as much as I thought that I would.  So, I am widening my horizons and including baking from all nationalities.  That being said, I did use an authentic French medieval recipe to prepare this custard tart.  I started thinking about medieval cooking as I was contemplating the idea that I have been reincarnated and that one of my lives (possibly my only other) occurred in the middle ages.  Now, stop laughing.  This is not as absurd as it sounds.  Many great thinkers believe in reincarnation.  Unfortunately, I can't think of any right now, not being one of those great thinkers myself.  So, I believe that this is true because I have an overwhelming emotional reaction to the scent of lavender which was very commonly used at that time and deep down I feel that it stems from that time period.  Really, stop laughing.  Somehow this lead around to medieval cooking methods and this landed me smack dab in the middle of the French Tarte.  The tart was an ingenious invention, not unlike the sandwich, in that it is a dish that does not require either a plate or silverware which were both hard to come by in the middle ages.  It was very portable and tidy with the tart shell acting as an edible receptacle.  This recipe was incredibly simple with a sweet butter crust and eggs, milk, sugar, cornstarch and nutmeg for the custard.  All very easy and simple.  Or so it would seem.
     This is the first time that I used a dough that was this sweet and with only butter as the shortening agent.  It produced a very dense dough that required a small bit of kneading which seemed very foreign in a pastry recipe.  I have always worked with the idea that the handling of the dough should be kept to the barest minimum.  The crust it produced, however, was quite yummy, although denser than the pie crusts that I usually make.  The custard itself was absurdly easy.  The only complicated part (and it's not all that complicated) was tempering the eggs before they are added to the heated milk, sugar and cornstarch.  There was a moment of hesitation when adding the spices.  The recipe I was using called for cinnamon, but all the other recipes that I researched called for nutmeg alone.  Apparently, although not widely used in French cooking today, nutmeg was very popular in medieval French cooking.  Cinnamon was not as common at that time.  So, I chose to go with the more authentic nutmeg only recipes.  I imagine that it would have had more depth of flavor if I had used the cinnamon, but it was quite delicious with just the nutmeg.  It would seem that I will not get away with making any recipe without some sort of crisis in the kitchen and this one was no exception.  After I had made the crust and lined my tart pan and after the custard was ready to go in, I realized that I had way too much custard than would fit into the tart.  So, at the last minute I threw together an extra tart crust and tossed it into a pie pan.  The only problem with that is that it is always more difficult to bake two pies or tarts at once as the air circulation is compromised.  Because of this, one of the tarts had a fairly dark skin on top when I took it out.  So much so, that I peeled this layer off.  Unfortunately, it looked naked after that, so I put it back into the oven for another few minutes to try to reform a nicely browned skin.  Didn't really work, but I had one beautiful, perfectly browned tart.
     This is the one that I shared with my friend Krista and her family.  I also shared half of the first one with our friends Andii and Bruce.  I recommended that the tart be served with a bit of sweetened whipped cream.  This is how we enjoyed it at our house and while this is not something that most kids would chose first, my son Jeffrey did enjoy it.  Quite a lot.  So much so that he is thinking of joining me in the kitchen from time to time to help bake for this blog.....just one of the many blessings that have stemmed from this gastronomical journey.
A Votre Sante

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Financier Cake

     I know, I know, you've all been waiting with bated breath for this next post.  Well, it was just about complete and ready to go when our power suddenly went out last week and I lost the whole thing.  Devastating.  All that hard work gone, like a piece of my soul being ripped out and lost forever.  How do I get the words back?  Well, I can't, damn ComEd, so I'll just have to reconstruct.  Unfortunately that cake seems very far away now, but here it goes.
     I'm not quite sure where the name Financier came from for a cake, but the most commonly occurring reason in my research is that it came from a chef in Paris who made them for his wealthy banker clients.  The basis of this cake is a dense, chocolate and ground almond batter.  It is what is known as a "foam cake" or "sponge cake" or a "genoise" depending on who you ask.  This means that there is no rising agent in the cake except for the beaten egg whites.  The downside is that you have to get the cake into the oven immediately after incorporating all the ingredients into the batter.  The real downside is that I didn't do that little bit of research until AFTER I had made the cake.  So, things might have been a little bit different if I had known that ahead of time.  In any event, the most intriguing part of the batter is the butter, which is lightly browned on the stovetop before it is incorporated. This gives it a slightly nutty, caramelized flavor reminiscent of the top shell of a well fired creme brulee.
     Most Financier Cakes have some kind of fruit layer.  It could be anything, but I chose apricot.  Normally I am not a big fan of fruit with my chocolate.  In fact, as much as I love chocolate, I'd rather not have it at all if there is a fruit in residence.  Well, maybe a chocolate covered strawberry.  But just one.  So, apricot seemed the least "fruity" of the options.  Apricot preserves are boiled down and then strained to provide a translucent pop of flavor.
     Ultimately, the cake is covered with a rich chocolate ganache.  For those of you who don't know, and I was one of you before I made this recipe, ganache is made from chocolate and cream.  That's it.  No sugar, no butter, none of your typical frosting ingredients.  The result?  Heaven.  Dark, rich, luxurious, heaven.  I use Callebaut chocolate in all my chocolate recipes.  There are other, good quality, chocolates out there.  Valrhona is one and Ghirardelli would do in a pinch (which is great because it's the one good chocolate that you can get at your local grocery store), but not one of them compares to Callebaut in my book.  And let's face it, this is, actually, my book.  So the unique thing about this particular ganache recipe is that it calls for the middle layer to be whipped as it cools to provide an almost mousse-like consistency.  Then the top ganache layer is poured over the entire cake in one smooth layer.  The finishing touch is slivered almonds around the edge.
     The cake was beautiful to behold.  Unfortunately is was a little bit dry.  Huge bummer considering the amount of time involved in the preparation process.  The apricot was a really nice touch, for a fruit.  As a matter of fact, the cake was so incredibly chocolatey that the apricot did a nice job of breaking up the heavy feeling with a little zing of fresh flavor.  I shared this cake with my friends Julie and Brian.  It's up to them now to comment and let you know the real deal of how the cake was.  That is my only request when I share my baked goods with you.  Brutal Honesty.  Otherwise, what fun would the blog be if it were only a mutual admiration society?  On the other hand, if it IS good, you can say that too!

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Marscarpone Rice Pudding with Roasted Black Mission Figs and Port Wine Reduction

       Apparently, punctuality doesn't appear to be my strong suit.  I am a week late posting this blog, but lack of timeliness is a theme that ran through my first recipe attempt.  The French have a term, mise en place, which basically means,  get your shit together before you get started.  All your recipe components should be measured out ahead of time and if they can be placed in adorable white ceramic ramekins, well, all the better.  This I did for all the dry ingredients and the others I had at the ready in their containers.  Unfortunately, I failed to notice that the port wine that I produced from my cellar (marble topped cabinet in my living room...shhh...don't tell the teenagers) was, in fact, both open and upwards of 10 years old.  Consequently, three quarters of the way through the recipe I had to leave the constant vigilant attention of the simmering rice pudding to my 13 year old while I ran out to the store for more port.  For those of you who don't know, 13 year old boys are incapable of constant vigilant attention to anything except, perhaps, Modern Warfare 2.  But, we'll get to that later.
     On a beautiful late summer afternoon, I turned my attention to my first recipe in my adventure in cooking.  It looked easy enough.  I was able to dust off my Diet Center scale circa 1990 to weigh out my dry ingredients and put them into the aforementioned ramekins.  I had discovered a few days earlier that black mission figs are incredibly delicious, especially when paired with extra sharp white cheddar.  Luckily they were on sale at Whole Foods, so I was able to hold myself back from the 15 that were needed for the recipe.  The rice pudding itself was pretty simple...rice, milk, vanilla beans, cinnamon sticks, cinnamon, nutmeg, sugar and heavy cream.  The killer ingredient though was the marscarpone cheese which was added to the pudding at the end of cooking.  Yum.  The process, if not interrupted for a trip to the grocery store, would have proceeded without incident.  Unfortunately, when I left I forgot to mention to the 13 year old boy that stirring the pudding from time to time would be ideal.  Hence, when I returned 23 minutes later, there was a layer of rice pudding fused to the bottom of the pan.  As long as I didn't disturb the layer, I would be OK.   I do have to thank him for his help, however, because without it the recipe would have been a complete disaster.
     The roasted figs were fairly straight forward as well.  Figs, butter and a bit of sugar in a 300 degree oven and...10 minutes later a delicious, tender, vibrant fruit is ready.  The port wine reduction gave me a bit of trouble since it wouldn't reduce as much as the recipe called for in the amount of time it allowed.  This meant that the rice pudding was cooling longer than it should have before it was served and that, ultimately, I gave up too early and the reduction wasn't as thick as one would hope.
     When each of the three flavors were melded together it was a thing of beauty.  The port wine reduction livened up the somewhat one dimensional rice pudding and the figs gave a new texture which was interesting and delicious in it's own right.  I shared this dessert with my friends Lisa and Wayne and hopefully they will share their thoughts here.  Many thanks to them both for being my first guinea pigs.
     Next up on the roster is Pear Tarts with Chocolate Goat Cheese and Honey.  Can't wait!!!!!