If It Works...Well, Try Another Version!

It's four in the afternoon on a cold, dreary day in France.

Children run out past the school gates, towards their mothers, fathers, siblings or nannies, and all await one single thing: le gouter. In France, the after school snack is something of a national tradition, and very rightfully so. After a long day of learning conjugations or the name of all the rivers in the country, children have built up quite an appetite. While some families choose a daily stop at the boulangerie for a warm pain au chocolat--bakeries time the availability of warm pastries according to when school ends--others opt for a snack at home.

The afternoon snack is an important moment of the day: students around the country mellow down, have a seat, and chat about their day. It's a great opportunity to talk about what went well or what went wrong, and why. Sitting at the kitchen counter, a mug of hot chocolate between my cold hands, I cherished the conversations I had with my Maman during my four o' clock snack.

Besides the ubiquitous pain au chocolat, another after school staple is the madeleine. Its shape--shell-like, golden, with a beautiful bump in the center--makes it attractive from the first look. Next comes smell: warm butter, a slight citrus aroma. Irresistible, if you ask me. 

Held between the index finger and thumb, it is moist yet holds its shape. After the first bite, it becomes nearly impossible to put down. You can only hope that there are more where that came from, because stopping after only one madeleine is like refusing a free pair of diamond studs. Wait, where did I even get that idea? My ears aren't even pierced, so actually I could, in theory, refuse a free pair of studs. Never mind, then.

Few treats compare to a madeleine when the subject of afters chool culinary joy is evoked. One of those treats might just be chocolate mousse. For many Americans, chocolate mousse is a fancy dessert, beloved by French-inspiration restaurants. In France, however, mousse au chocolat is just the opposite: a simple dessert eaten straight out of a large bowl or slathered onto a thick slice of fresh buttery brioche.

If you put two and two together, an amazing after school snack comes to life: madeleines dipped...in chocolate mousse. Although I have a classic, easy-yet-delicious recipe for each, I couldn't resist trying out something new. Juste pour voir. 

The end result? Rich madeleines infused with lemon aroma, fluffy like a dense, brand-new pillow. A silky chocolate mousse, delicate yet with a powerful chocolate taste. Together, they form a tasty duo: complementary flavors, complementary textures--something you might want to try for your next after school snack.

Oh, one more thing: I had my after school snack at ten at night. Does anyone ever tell you, when you're eight years old, that school won't end at four forever? 

Madeleines

makes 12 

zest of 1 untreated lemon
80g / 1/3 c. + 1.5 TB granulated sugar
85g / 3/4 c. + 1.5 TB  all-purpose flour
10g / 1 scant TB baking powder
80g / 5.5 TB unsalted butter, melted
2 eggs
15g / 2TS honey

Make batter the day before baking.

Combine granulated sugar and lemon zest in a large bowl. Rub together to release lemon oils from zest. In another bowl, sift flour and baking powder togather.

Add eggs and honey to bowl, beat until foamy. Gently incorporate flour mixture. Add melted butter and stir. Do not overmix. Refrigerate batter overnight or at least 12 hours in a closed container.

When ready to bake, preheat oven to 400°F/200°C.
Butter and flour a madeleine pan if using metal. Fill each hole 3/4 up.

Bake 8 to 10 minutes until golden. Let cool in pan five minutes and invert onto a wire rack.

Serve immediately or store in an airtight container.

Chocolate Mousse

serves 4 to 6

180g / 1 c. / 6.5 oz. semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, chopped
1 TB whole milk
10cl / 1/3 c. + 1.5 TB whipping cream
10g / 3/4 TB unsalted butter, room temperature and cut into pieces
3 eggs, separated
1 TB granulated sugar

Place chopped chocolate in a large bowl.

Bring milk and cream to a boil in a saucepan. Pour over chocolate and whisk for one to two minutes until mixture cools down to 100°F/ 40°C. Whisk in butter.

Beat egg whites with sugar to stiff peaks. Add egg yolks a few seconds before you stop the beaters.

Incorporate one fifth of egg mixture into chocolate ganache and mix. Pour back into the remaining egg whites, and incorporate delicately until combined.

Refrigerate until serving, but no longer than 24 hours.

Letting You In On A Secret

...This is a little hard for me to say. I've got a secret cake.

You know the one. When you have company and serve it, all you can hear are sighs of pleasure around the table. People go crazy over it. The paparazzi chase it around town.

Alright, I may be exaggerating just a tad--but you get the point. Everyone has a cake in their repertoire that looks insanely time-consuming, tastes amazing, and takes just a few minutes to put together. And no, I'm not even talking about anything requiring a box mix. The secret ingredient here is...ladyfingers.

Last year, I was off to Saint Dié for a Summer weekend with my family during my Maman's stay in France. The day before I arrived, she asked me if I wanted to eat any type of cake in particular. I didn't have to think much before the words spurted out of my mouth:

Mascarpone. Raspberry. Layer Cake. Almonds.

I could never really put the name of this cake into words: what it really is, I can hardly describe. Like a fluffy mountain of cake, moist layers hidden between cloud-like mascarpone mousse...and fresh, juicy raspberries. Imagine all this, encased in a layer of toasted slivered almonds. 

Before hanging up with Maman on the phone, I mentioned one last thing: "Don't bake this cake if it's too time-consuming, though."

Her reply: "Bake? What? This is the easiest of no-bake cakes, ma poule."

You know those paintings of the Holy Light? Pardon the blasphemy, but I saw the clouds part and spears of bright, beautiful sunlight bear down on me right at that moment. My beloved cake doesn't even go near an oven, yet it becomes a beautiful, beautiful thing.

My advice here would be not to make your own ladyfingers. If you do, this just becomes a regular--albeit amazing and unforgettable--time-consuming cake. If you can find fine, fresh ladyfingers (if you live in France, you can), don't pass up the opportunity to be in on the secret.

Let others taste, but don't divulge a single thing. This is a secret you'll enjoy keeping--but let's keep it between us, alright?

Raspberry Mascarpone Cake

serves six to eight

Note: I made a small version of this cake by diving the whole recipe by five.

for the cake:
500g / 1 lb. fresh raspberries
40 fresh ladyfingers
350g / 1.5 c.  mascarpone
30cl / 1 and 1/4 c. whipping cream, very cold
125g / scant 3/4 c. granulated sugar
1/2 TS vanilla extract

for the syrup:
125g / 1 c. confectioner's sugar
3 TB raspberry eau de vie (feel free to substitute any alcohol you like)
30cl / 1 and 1/4 c. water

decoration:
20 raspberries
80g / 1/2 c. slivered almonds

Make syrup: Heat water and confectioenr's sugar in a saucepan until sugar dissolves. Add alcohol and remove from heat.

Make mascarpone cream: Beat mascarpone, granulated sugar, and vanilla together.

In a cold bowl, beat whipping cream to stiff peaks. Delicately oncorporate mascarpone mixture and set aside.

Dip lady fingers one by one in syrup, without getting them too wet, and place in bottom of a 9 in ch springform or classic cake pan.

Spread 1/3 of mousse on top. Add 1/2 of the raspberries.

Add another layer of ladyfingers dipped in syrup, 1/3 of the mousse and 1/2 of the raspberries. Finish off with another layer of ladyfingers dipped in syrup.

Refrigerate for 12 hours or overnight. Refrigerate remaining mousse.

An hour before serving:
Toast slivered almonds in a dry skillet or in the oven.
Place cake on a plate and frost with remaining 1/3 of the mousse. Decorate with toasted slivered almonds and fresh raspberries.

Refrigerate another hour before serving.

What's for Dinner? Zucchini. What's for Breakfast? Zucchini.

It's that time of year, they say.

"Zucchini abounds in your vegetable garden--what a better way to use it than in dessert?"

Let's get things straight here. I do not have a vegetable garden. My vegetable garden bears the name of Carrefour Market, has bright green walls and bright lighting. And no, I'm not referring to some kind of greenhouse. 

The few zucchini I do get from a vegetable garden come from my aunt Mimi or my uncle Roland in Saint Dié, which consequently isn't very often. When I get homegrown zucchini, I can't wait to eat it raw (do you do that too?) or lightly sauté it with some delicious pesto. As much as I love zucchini bread, it's the last thing that comes to mind when I've only got a pound for my personal use.

I keep reading about homegrown vegetables and what to do with your bumper crop, and I'm getting jealous. I wish I had a vegetable garden of my own and so much zucchini it fills my whole apartment. In the meantime, I decided I would just pretend--and the best way of doing that is to make zucchini bread.

"I just don't know what to do with all this zucchini. Whew. I had to make zucchini bread--couldn't help it."

On a more serious note, this is a great bread. For those of you who aren't huge fans of cinnamon in baked goods, you might think some zucchini breads go overboard spice-wise. I personally love spices, but also enjoy a bread with a more simple taste that lets the zucchini shine. Adding low-fat yogurt was a great way to bring moisture and make the bread breakfast-healthy. 

Even if you don't have crates of zucchini lying around, I suggest you give this a try. It might just convince your friends to give you their extra zucchini--and that's never a bad thing.

Yogurt Zucchini Bread

makes one loaf

1 medium zucchini, grated (yields about 1 to 1 1/4 c.)
3/4 c. low-fat or fat-free plain yogurt
1/4 c. vegetable oil
2 c. all-purpose flour
1/2 TS baking powder
1/2 TS baking soda
1/2 TS salt
1/2 c. granulated sugar
1/4 c. raw cane sugar or brown sugar
2 eggs

Preheat oven to 350°F / 180°C.

Grease a 9-inch long loaf pan and set aside.
In a medium bowl, mix yogurt, oil, eggs and sugars. Add grated zucchini and mix.

In a large bowl, mix remaining dry ingredients. Delicately incorporate wet ingredients, but do not overmix.

Pour into prepared loaf pan and bake until golden and a knife inserted in the center comes out clean, about 1 hour.

Cool in pan and invert onto a wire rack.

Store loaf at room temperature, in plastic wrap, for three days maximum.

Tiramisu: Not the Final Try

Oh, Versailles... Strolling through Marie-Antoinette's gardens, stopping at the fountains... You almost feel like you're in Italy.

Wait, what?

I'm getting everything mixed up. But I know why. It all started with Tiramisu.

I've been wanting to make tiramisu for a while, but every time I even think about it, our Italian neighbor's amazingly creamy version comes to mind. If only I could make tiramisu like that, I think. Don't ask why, but when I finally decided to make some for last weekend, I pulled out my classic French Larousse des Desserts.

Well that's a little strange, you might think. Who pulls out a Betty Crocker book when they need a recipe for profiteroles? Let me explain. The Larousse des Desserts is a pretty amazing compilation of all the well-known and not-so-famous desserts of France, directed by Pierre Hermé. And like many bakers, I tend to consider Pierre Hermé as someone to look up to, and especially some who never gets it wrong.

Sure, it puzzled me a little that the egg white to yolk ratio was 1:1, but I kept going. I wanted this tiramisu to be the real deal. Alright, I'll admit, I strayed away from the original a bit when I added grated chocolate and included almond extract instead of marsala. But still--I had high hopes that my tiramisu might come somewhere near the heavenly memories I still have of the one I had over two years ago.

Maybe next time. As I feared, the texture of this tiramisu is very mousse-like, and airy rather than very creamy. It's by no means bad--I had no trouble whatsoever eating my share and a little more than that. All I could say is that it's a bit underwhelming....and disappointing. But like I always say, a disappointment can only lead to more successful tries in the future--anyone feel like sharing a great recipe?

That will teach me not to get French and Italian desert classics mixed up in the future. As a result, I'm booking my flight right now to go spy on my neighbors as they prepare a tiramisu. Well, that or I could just ask my parents to knock on their door. Not as fun, though.

Tiramisu

yields three to four servings

2 eggs, separated

5 to 10 fresh ladyfingers, depending on their size (mine were very large so I only used five, especially since I was serving the tiramisu in individual glasses)

125g (1/2 c.) mascarpone

40g (3.5 TB) granulated sugar

150 ml (1/2 c. + 2 TB) water

100 ml (1/3 c. + 1 TB) freshly brewed coffee

marsala (optional: I used bitter almond extract)

approx. 30 g / 1 oz. chocolate, grated

Whip egg whites to soft peaks.

In a saucepan, mix water and sugar together. Bring to a boil and boil for no longer than three minutes. Pour slowly into egg whites and beat until cooled.

In a medium bowl, whisk egg yolks and mascarpone until smooth. Delicately incorporate into egg white mixture.

Lightly dip ladyfingers into coffee and place in individual glasses or in a medium dish. Sprinkle with marsala or a drop of almond extract. Add a layer of mascarpone,  and grated chocolate. Top with another layer of ladyfingers, mascarpone, and chocolate until you have used up all the filling.

Refrigerate at least two hours, and ideally a full day or night, before serving.