Rustic Apricot Tart

We ate quite a few of those delicious Bergeron apricots while in France, and back home, I was craving for more. So I made this ridiculously easy rustic apricot tart. This is the only free-form tart I've ever made, but I've made it several times, so it's quite a favourite. Once you've got the pastry out of the way, it's really just the matter of piling the fruit on top of it.

Note that this is just as lovely, if not better, on the following day. The apricot might look slightly worse for wear, but the pastry improves from some standing, as the moisture in the air makes it nicely crumbly and soft.

Delicious with either a scoop of vanilla ice cream or a dollop of whipped cream.

Rustic Apricot Tart
(Aprikoosipirukas)
Serves six to eight



Pastry:
150 g unsalted butter, at room temperature
100 g caster sugar
1 large egg
a pinch of salt
250 g all purpose/plain flour
0.5 tsp baking powder

If using a food processor, place sugar, salt, baking powder and flour in the processor and blitz to combine. Add butter and process until fine crumbs form. Add the egg, pulse couple of times until the mixture looks moist. Take out of the processor and knead with your hands until combined. Press into a flat disk.
Place the pastry on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper and a light dusting of flour. Roll out into something reminding you of a circle, about 5-6 mm (1/3 inch) thick.

Topping:
10-12 large apricots, stoned
100 ml all-purpose/plain flour (just under a cup)
100 ml caster sugar (just under a cup)
100 ml ground almonds/almond meal (just under a cup)

Mix flour, sugar and ground almonds until combined, pour into the middle of the pastry circle, leaving about 5 cm (2 inches) clean border around it.
Now layer the apricots of top, making about three layers, each one smaller than the one just under it.
With the help of the baking paper and floured hands, fold the edges of the pastry over the apricots (see the picture below).
Bake in a preheated 200 C / 400 F oven for about 20-25 minutes, until the apricots are soft and the pastry golden brown and cooked.
Remove from the oven, let cool a little and then gently transfer onto a cake plate.

Ispahan, almost

K. was in Brussels for two days and brought me this Macaron Joy from Wittamer pastry shop. The rose cream, raspberries and lychee are all there, but the signature red rose leaf is missing.

Rather delicious, I must admit. I had this with a cup of freshly ground Has Bean's Guatemala COE La Perla y Anexos speciality coffee this morning..

Mussels in Apple Cider Recipe

Take note - this is the first time I've blogged about a mussel dish, as well as first time I cooked mussels. But the resulting dish was a great success, and according to everybody who tried this, the recipe is definitely worth sharing. So that's what I'm doing :)

I served this on one of our semi-regular Scrabble nights, and we drank regular and almost alcohol-free French cider alongside this. It was a very good night indeed..

Mussels in Apple Cider
(Siidriga aurutatud rannakarbid)
Serves 4 as a starter or a light meal



1 kg fresh, live mussels
3 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp butter
50 g shallots, finely chopped
2 to 3 garlic cloves, finely sliced
1 large Granny Smith apple, peeled and cut into 1 cm cubes
1 lemon
300 ml (about 1 1/4 of a cup) dry French cider (we used Cidre Brut de Normandie)
1 tsp fresh thyme leaves

Clean the mussels carefully under cold running water. Throw away any mussels that are broken or that don't close when tapped gently.
Heat oil and butter in a large wide saucepan. Add shallots and garlic and sauté gently, stirring all the time, for about a minute.
Add apple cubes and cook for another minute or two.
Add cider, the grated lemon peel and lemon juice and thyme. Bring to the boil (NB! no need to season with salt).
Now add the cleaned mussels, shake the saucepan a few times and cover with a lid. Cook for about 2 minutes, then shake the mussels again. Cook for another 2-3 minutes, until all mussels have opened (throw away the few stubborn ones).

Serve the mussels with the cooking broth, garnish with some extra thyme. Some white ciabatta-style bread would be a perfect accompaniment for mopping up the cidery juices..

Macarons, made by K.

K made macarons for the New Year's Eve party. We had quite a few friends over for that occasion, and whereas I was mainly in charge of the savoury dishes, K. had (almost) free hands in deciding which sweet dishes to offer. He had wanted to make macarons for ages, so he decided to go ahead.

I must admit that I was a bit hesitant to start with. Macarons, as we all know (or at least that's the feeling I get when reading bloggers who have made them), are a tricky concoction, to say the least. They sound deceptively simple - icing sugar, ground almonds, egg whites - yet there are hundred tricks and insider tips you must know in order to succeed. Also, as you cannot buy ground almonds in Estonia, K. had to grind his own - using our small old coffee grinder - and sieve the meal again and again. Then you had to wait for the egg whites to dry and so on. In the midst of the preparations for a successful New Year's Eve party, our kitchen was a mess - and occupied by him - for much longer than I had ever planned or wanted..

But - his macarons were a success! He made three different types - matcha macarons with dark chocolate ganache, lingonberry macarons (substituting some of the almonds with ground dried lingonberries - that's the Estonian twist) with blackcurrant buttercream a la Pille (aka icing sugar mixed with soft butter and some unsweetened blackcurrant juice), and plain macarons with plain buttercream.

They were beautiful and delicate and very much macaron-like. Loved these!!!

K. wants to thank Kuidaore and Tartelette as well as Melissa for their excellent tips on how to succeed with macarons.




You can see more pictures here.

Makroonide teema Nami-Nami foorumis

Nigella Lawson's Cider and Mustard Pork Chops

I'm back and none of my bones are broken, although I've got some bruises here and there. It's not easy to slide those Alpine slopes when you're only on your second skiing holiday, you know :)

Today is the 90th anniversary of Estonian Republic, and I had planned to cook something special and Estonian to mark that special occasion. However, we're still a bit exhausted from all the travelling, and hence I decided to cook a very simple recipe from my most recent cookbook acquisition, Nigella Express. I got the book as a gift from a very special friend of mine, Roxy, who occasionally comments here on my blog, and I'm thrilled to bits, as I love my other three Nigella cookbooks (How to Be a Domestic Goddess, How to Eat, Feast). And the first recipe that caught my eye was Mustard Pork Chops (p. 11) - a French bistro classic, apparently. Here's a very slighty adapted version (Nigella used ready-made garlic oil) of an excellent, effortless, flavoursome and quick supper dish. K. was especially fond of the creamy cider-mustard sauce, so we'll probably have this one again soon.

We used Maille's A l'Ancienne mustard and the award-winning Ecusson Grand Cidre Pur Jus Doux cider.

Nigella Lawson's Cider and Mustard Pork Chops
(Sealihakotletid sinepi-siidrikastmes)
Serves 2



2 pork chops, approximately 450 g in total
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 garlic clove, peeled and bruised
125 ml cider
1 Tbsp grainy mustard
75 ml double cream
salt

Bash the pork chops 'briefly but brutally' (Nigella's words) with a rolling pin between two sheets of clingfilm to flatten them.
Heat the oil in a heavy-based frying pan, add the bruised garlic clove and fry gently for 1-2 minutes to infuse the oil with garlic. Remove the garlic clove and discard.
Add the pork chops and cook them over a moderately high heat for about 5-6 minutes on each side, until golden brown. Try not to move the pork chops during frying, as this way you'll get a nice even crust. Season with salt, if you wish. Remove to a warmed plate, cover with foil to keep warm.
Pour the cider into the pan, still over the moderately high heat, to de-glaze the pan. Cook for 1-2 minutes.
Add the mustard, stir, then add the cream and cook for a few minutes.
Place the pork chops on plates and spoon the cider and mustard sauce over.

Nigella served her mustard pork chops with potato gnocchi, we had a simple side salad.

***** I'm submitting this to this month's Weekend Cookbook Challenge # 25 Nigella Lawson and hosted by Ani at FoodieChickie *****

Tarte au Chocolat - the darkest chocolate cake ever

Photo updated in November 2010

If yesterday's salted butter caramel and milk chocolate mousse wasn't your cup of tea (maybe you're not into this salted butter caramel thing, or maybe you simply prefer dark chocolate to milk chocolate), then here's another dessert to satisfy your chocolate cravings this week: Tarte au Chocolat. It's very, very dark and intensely chocolatey, with crazy amount of butter and sugar added (with just a spoonful of flour, so if you're eating gluten-free, you could easily substitute gluten-free flour here). I got the recipe from a Finnish recipe leaflet "Jälkiruokaklassikkoja Ranskasta" or "Classic desserts from France" - and it had got rave reviews on my Estonian site, so I decided to try it myself. I'm glad I did - it tasted absolutely wonderful. If yesterday's pud was juvenile, to use Luisa's words, then this is very, very adult indeed.

Tarte au Chocolat
(Tarte au Chocolat ehk prantsuse šokolaadikook)
Serves 10



200 g dark chocolate (I used 72%)
200 g butter
200 g caster sugar
4 large eggs
1 Tbsp plain/all-purpose flour

Break the chocolate into pieces and melt with butter either in a microwave or in bain marie. Stir in sugar, let cool a little.
Using a wooden spoon, mix in eggs, one at a time.
Sift in the flour, stir until combined.
Pour the batter into a buttered 24 cm springform tin. Bake in the middle of a preheated 200C oven for about 25 minutes, until the cake is slightly crisp on the top, but still moist inside (see photo).
Take out of the oven and cool. Serve with whipped cream and season's berries.

More tasty chocolate cakes on Nami-nami:
Chewy Chocolate Walnut Brownies (January 2008)
David Lebovitz's Chocolate Sauerkraut Cake with Chocolate Glaze (December 2007)
Nigella Lawson's chocolate cherry cupcakes (April 2006)
Nigella Lawson's Store-cupboard Chocolate-Orange Marmalade Cake (November 2005)

K is guest-blogging about Cannelés, those little caramelised, irresistible buns from Bordeaux

[Pille is off to Budapest for a few days, so K. is using the opportunity to guest-blog again..]

Few years ago I took some French language courses in the city of Bordeaux, and opted for accommodation with a local family. I ended up staying with an excellent old-school French hosts: a retired couple Marie-Lucie and her husband Jean-Pierre, who had accommodated over hundred language students over the years.

Just before my arrival, the family had accommodated a student from Saudi Arabia, for whom it was the first trip outside his home country. Coming from deeply religious surroundings he couldn’t eat pork or drink wine. Seeing students from all over the world, always joyful Marie-Lucie was used to different cultures. But she also adored cooking and eating traditional and delicious French food, including some Clairet wine and hearty pork dishes... Sitting together at a dinner table was a sacred tradition for Marie-Lucie and Jean-Pierre. You can imagine how relieved they were to welcome a hungry Estonian guy appreciating everything her kitchen had to offer. In turn, I was ready to learn and be seduced by the Bordeaux cuisine.

During my two-week stay we savoured four-course dinners at home almost on a daily basis. The entire house was open for guests, except the kitchen in the mornings. It was behind these closed kitchen doors that Marie-Lucie and Jean-Pierre decided on the evening's menu. Most of the recipes were kept as small handwritten notes in huge plastic boxes labelled “poissons/crustaces”, “viande”, “entrées/legumes” etc (see photo on the right).

As expected, I could not keep myself out of the kitchen, and I learned many things. For example, do you know what the secret of happy marriage is? If wife and husband do not have an argument about finances, but argue about the perfect recipe for Tomates Antiboise. Jean-Pierre put the capers together with canned tuna into a blender. While I asked tête-à-tête from Marie-Lucie whether it would be better to chop the capers, she said that when they had been younger, she had a big argument with Jean-Pierre about this fundamental issue and she personally thinks that the capers should be chopped with knife instead of crushed in blender. But now, after several decades of conjugal life, she has given up and lets her beloved husband to do like he wants. On the other hand, although Jean-Pierre liked tête de veau, a French classic dish so vividly described in A Cook's Tour by Anthony Bourdain, and knew how to make it, it was a forgotten delicacy in the family as Marie-Lucie was not particularly fond of it.

I also had breakfasts at their home, enjoying different jams and cheeses. One weekend morning I was served innocent-looking buns that tasted superb. Before even noticing, I was already reaching for the fifth bun. Later I have learned that substantial quantities of cannelés can vanish very quickly in the presence of children and grown-ups alike. This was my first experience with cannelés, a miracle bun from Bordeaux that has not only an extensive Wikipedia entry in English, but even several dedicated web sites in French. Cannelé has interesting history, wrapped in the mystery.

This simple pastry, made of eggs, milk and flour flavoured with rum and vanilla is currently hugely popular both in Aquitaine and Gironde, with hundreds of producers. But as it turns out, it is rather easy to bake at home. Marie-Lucie kept always the batter on hand when the grandchildren were visiting, because they always asked for cannelés.

Traditionally, cannelés are baked in special metal fluted moulds (cannelé means 'fluted'). We have got silicone moulds at home - they are easier to handle, even if they don't yield as caramelised crust as metal moulds do. Usually 8 cannelés can be made with one mould and I strongly recommend buying at least two. If you're based in the US, then you can buy tin-lined copper cannelé molds and silicon mini cannelé molds - both by Matfer Bourgeat - from Amazon.com.

Cannelés
(Cannelé koogikesed)
Makes 16



500 ml milk
25 g butter
100 g plain/all-purpose flour
a pinch of salt
250 g sugar
4 egg yolks and 2 egg whites
1 Tbsp of rum
2 tsp of Bourbon vanilla extract

Whisk sugar, eggs and flour in a large bowl.
Bring milk and butter to a boil in a saucepan. Slowly whish into the egg mixture, stirring constantly.
Add vanilla.
Let cool to room temperature, then add rum.
The batter should be rather runny, just like a crepe batter.
Cover the mixture and keep it in the fridge for at least overnight or up to two days.
When ready to bake your cannelés, stir the batter again, and fill the prepared cannelé moulds three-quarters full.
Start baking at 275C, after 5-10 minutes lower the temperature to 200C and continue baking around 40-50 minutes until cannelés are dark golden to almost blackish brown*.
Extract from the moulds when cannelés are still hot. Cannelés should have a caramelised crust and be chewy, yet soft, inside.

Although I am very happy with the flavour of these cannelés, I have not yet figured out why my cannelés always 'climb' out of the moulds during baking. They finally fall back to the 'normal' size, but not always evenly, leaving the shapes somewhat uneven. I appreciate if you can give me a hint on this one.

* There seem to be two schools: those, who like cannelés golden brown outside and those who prefer them caramelised to black. At the stores in Bordeaux they are usually blackish.

You can read more about cannelés from these foodblogs: Chocolate & Zucchini, Kuidaore, La Tartine Gourmande (and Bea again), The Traveler's Lunchbox and 101 Cookbooks.

Previous guest posts on Nami-nami:
K is guest-blogging about Heston Blumenthal's perfect ice cream (August 2007)

Orange Oil Madeleines

It's customary in Estonia to treat your colleagues for something special on your birthday. In return you get lots of beautiful flowers, so it's actually a pretty fair deal :-) My birthday is on the same day as the birthday of one of my dear senior colleagues, who's well known at the Institute for her excellent culinary skills. I remember having met her about a decade ago, fresh out of university (me, that is), and falling in love with her eggplant-filled spicy pastries that were served at one of the informal meetings at the Institute (I was only loosely attached to the Institute back then). In any case, Klara and I share birthdays, our love for cooking, and even our specific research focus (national identities and multiculturalism). It made only sense to combine our skills and efforts for the small lunch-time gathering at the Institute then on Wednesday.

When negotianting the details, Klara told me that she'd be bringing her traditional onion pie (which was mouthwateringly delicious!), and I could bring something sweet to accompany a cup of coffee. I decided to make a batch of Chocolate Cherry Muffins, and something else that can be eaten without a cake fork. As I had - finally - acquired a silicone madeleine form in London, I wanted to make these dainty French pastries. They have been popping on many of my favourite foodblogs (just see my del.icio.us tags), and my first plan was to make matcha madeleines. But as I had bought a bottle of decadent-sounding orange oil in London, then K. suggested I'd do something with orange oil instead of matcha.

Oh - and my chocolate cherry muffins and orange oil madeleines were just as popular and equally quickly consumed as Klara's traditional onion pie. We're quite a team :-)

Orange Oil Madeleines
(Madeleines-koogikesed apelsiniõliga)
Adapted from here and here.
Makes ca 100 mini madeleines (a 5 ml)



4 medium eggs
150 grams sugar
a pinch of salt
150 grams plain flour
3 tsp baking powder
1 Tbsp orange oil (I used Boyajian Pure Orange Oil)
50 ml butter, melted

Pre-heat the oven to 190 Celsius. Brush the pans with some melted butter.
Beat together the eggs, sugar and salt in an electric mixer on medium-high speed, until you've got a thick pale foam. Add the Orange Oil.
Mix flour and baking powder, sift twice and gently mix into the eggs.
Fold in the melted butter until well combined.
Using a small teaspoon, spoon the batter into the greased madeleine pans (NB! there is no need to re-grease the madeleine pan between each batch later), so they'd be about 3/4 full.
Place in the pre-heated oven and bake for about 7 minutes, until the madeleines have raised and their edges turn lightly golden brown.
Remove the madeleines from the pan as soon as they come out of the oven (flip the silicone form over a parchment paper and if necessary, push them gently out). Cool.
Madeleines are best on the day they're baked, but you can store them in an airtight container for a day.

Celeriac Salad, or time to use up those root vegetables

Here's a recipe for a French celeriac salad - you know, just in case you've got a wrinkly celeriac hiding somewhere in the bottom drawer of your fridge :) Now that the spring is nigh, there's no need to keep those winter stand-by staples either..

Makes a good side dish to grilled white fish. Don't overcook the celeriac - you want some trace of crunchiness in your salad. Oh - and 'celeriac' is known as 'celery root' in the Northern America.

Celeriac Salad
(Prantsuse sellerisalat)
Adapted from December 1998 issue of Kodukiri
Serves 4



300 grams celeriac/root celery
50 ml mayonnaise
1 Tbsp Dijon mustard
1 small garlic clove, minced
salt
black pepper
few celery or parsley sprigs to garnish

Peel the celeriac and slice thinly (4-5 mm) and then cut into thick julienne. Blanch in a slightly salted boiling water for 1-2 minutes. Drain in a colander and cool.
Mix mayonnaise, mustard, season with garlic, salt and pepper. Blend the dressing with celeriac, garnish with a sprig of celery.

Other celeriac/celery root recipes to try:
Bea's Celeriac Soup
Betul's Stuffed Celeriac
Christine's Roasted Celeriac And D'Anjou Pear Soup
Clotilde's Celeriac and Sweet Potato Soup with Ginger
Elise's Celery Root Salad
Johanna's Celeriac Lasagne
Molly's Purée of Celery Root Soup
Stephen's Celeriac Remoulade

Cooking with friends: a special bottle of burgundy wine, a chantarelle cappuccino, a boeuf bourgoingnon, and a matcha loaf

Here’s how to get hold of that very special bottle of wine that you see at your friends’ place.

A fortnight ago K. and I were invited to have dinner with some good old friends of his, Peter & Kristel. We had a lovely meal, drank some good wine (and pomegranate juice) and watched holiday pictures from South Africa, where the couple had spent the New Year’s Eve. It was my first visit to their place, so I was shown around the house (lots of lovely art, a captivating fish tank). Before we continued with biltong and fig compote, we stood for a while next to the couple’s wine collection.

It was then that K. spotted a precious bottle of Burgundy: Clos de la Roche, Patriarche Père et Fils (Beaune, 1992). K. adores Burgundy, so he came up with a cunning idea.

So it happened that last Sunday, Peter & Kristel turned up at our doorstep with that very bottle of Bourgogne, as K. had managed to convince them that it’s indeed a good idea to drink this wine together. As a good bottle of Burgundy needs a good Burgundy dish, then I made my Boeuf Bourguignon again. We invited another couple, Paavo & Kristina and their little daughter Gretel over, too (yep, the ones who almost ate all my apple cake few months ago:), who contributed a starter. And not just a starter, but a stunning wild chantarelle cappuccino.

Cooking the chantarelles with herbs and cream:



The soup is ready – it does look like a real thing, doesn’t it? We used our new (well, we bought them in November) iittala Origo bowls and Arabia plates:



The incredibly smooth chantarelle cappuccino was garnished with thyme and served with stuffed baked portabello mushrooms - being made on the photo below. As you can see, then little Gretel (aged 5) is a good hand in the kitchen, although only half of the blue cheese ended up on the mushrooms, as Gretel ate the rest of it. Note that we all need some moral support in the kitchen – hence the wine glass on the worktop (for the mother) and the teddy bear (for Gretel):



For the main course, I made Anthony Bourdain’s boeuf bourgoingnon again.

And for the dessert, we had my matcha loaf (third time in less than ten days), this time made by K. and supplemented with some finely chopped almonds. K. also candied some fresh kumquats and piped some Madagascar vanilla flavoured whipped cream on top:



And as for the wine? Well, it was definitely good enough excuse for a lovely night in with old (for K.) and new (for me) friends. It was full of character for sure, even if the other bottle, Bourgogne A. Rodet (Antonin Rodet, 1998) was more to my liking..

Waiter, there's something in ... Anthony Bourdain's Boeuf Bourguignon

Making boeuf bourgoignon was one of my ten foodie resolutions for 2007. My dear Swedish friend Annika served a version of that French classic at a dinner party in Edinburgh early last year, and I decided then and there that I want to learn how to make it myself. So when Johanna, Jeanne and Andrew announced their new food blogging event, Waiter, there's something in my..., deciding that the first round is focusing on STEW, I knew this was the perfect moment to cross off one of the items on my to-do list.

And so I cooked a batch of boeuf bourgoignon, using a recipe from Anthony Bourdain himself. When searching through my cookbooks, food magazines and eGullet archives, I came across innumerable recipes, one more complicated than the other. Eventually I decided to go with a simple, and allegedly the authentic version of this über-French stew. That means no bacon and no mushrooms, though feel free to add those, if you're so inclined..

It's a pretty straightforward dish (unless you opt for Thomas Keller's version*, of course) - chop, fry, simmer, let cool, reheat and eat. Keep in mind that boeuf bourguignon, like many other stews, is considerably better on a day after, when the flavours have had ample time to mingle and develop. So if you want to serve this for appreciative guests, do some planning ahead and start the night before.

I didn't change much of the recipe, though I did simmer mine in the oven and almost doubled the amount of red wine. Please refer to the original recipe for the ingredients and process.

Anthony Bourdain's Boeuf Bourguignon, my wayAdapted from Washington Post 22 December 2004*
Serves 6



1 kg of beef shoulder or neck, cut into 4 cm pieces
salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 Tbsp olive oil
4 small onions, thinly sliced
2 Tbsp plain flour
500 ml red Burgundy wine
6 medium carrots, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 clove garlic
1 bouquet garni [a tied bundle of herbs, usually thyme, bay and parsley]

A little chopped flat-leaf parsley

Day One: cut the beef into chunks and season with salt and pepper.
On a heavy-bottomed frying pan, heat some oil on a high heat, then fry the meat in batches until dark golden brown all over. When browned, put into a casserole dish (see the picture on the right).
When you're done with the meat, then reduce the heat and fry the onions gently on the same pan until softened (about 10 minutes). Add them to the casserole, too.
Sprinkle the flour on the frying pan, stir to catch all the juicy meaty bits that have stuck to the pan. Add the red wine, stirring, and bring to the boil. Pour over the meat in the casserole dish.
Add the carrots, garlic and bouquet garni.
Pour enough water into the pot, so it covers the meat by few centimetres (you want about 3 parts liquid to 2 parts meat).
Cover, put into a 200C oven and simmer for about 2.5 hours. The meat should be more or less done by that time.
Take out of the oven, cool and and put the pot into a cool garage/larder/fridge overnight.

Day Two: about half an hour before you're ready to serve, put back into a 200C oven to reheat and finish cooking. The dish is ready when meat is really, really tender.

Before serving, remove the bouquet garni and discard. Add plenty of chopped parsley and serve with boiled potatoes.

The Chef suggests a bottle of Côte de Nuit Villages Pommard with this, but a more humble red would do, too.

PS: That's how break-apart-with-a-fork tender meat looks like:



* The same article "Boeuf Bourguignon, by Degrees" shares Boeuf Bourguignon recipes from Ina Garten (an American chef known for her Barefoot Contessa show at Food Network) and from Thomas Keller. Keller's recipe, as also printed in his book Bouchon, lists no less than 45 ingredients (thou some, like salt and pepper, occur more than once)!!

Work in progress: Tarte Tatin

No recipe, just a picture. Here's a Tarte Tatin I made in November during my apple-cake baking frenzy, using a recipe from Joanna Harris' book The French Kitchen. It was delicious, with wonderfully caramelised apples, and a melt-in-your-mouth crumbly shortcrust pastry. We finished it within 12 hours (the first few slices after dinner, the last crumbs for breakfast next morning). And that's just between two of us..



Yet K. insists the apple/crust ratio is wrong - he wants way more apples and a lot less pastry. Hence I'm looking for an even better recipe with more apples and less dough.

I'm thinking of trying Molly's good-looking one, especially as I've got a good bottle of Tokaji waiting to be consumed, and Molly claims it's a pairing made in heaven. However, I think I'd prefer one using shortcrust pastry instead of puff pastry.. Maybe I should attempt Clotilde's tarte tatin with salted butter caramel? What about this one from Epicurious using sour cream pastry?

Any other suggestions?

Chocolate & rice, anyone? Pierre Hermé's chocolate rice pudding

I recently exchanged some cookbooks with a kind fellow foodblogger Melissa. One of the books I got on loan was Chocolate Desserts by Pierre Hermé. The book is written by Dorie Greenspan and contains beautiful recipes & pictures of amazingly tempting desserts. It's definitely a gorgeous coffee table book - you can read the recipes, daydream over the photographs and almost satisfy your chocolate cravings by just imagining how the cakes, pastries, creams and puddings would taste like.

However tempting though, many of the desserts seem too much of an effort, involving usually quite a few separate steps and very long ingredient lists. Not really suitable for your easy midweek sweet. I'm convinced the desserts would be divine, but as my tastebuds are reasonably easily pleased with less effort as well, then most of Pierre Hermé's creations remain untackled by me at the moment. Maybe in the future, when I have more free time to play with my rolling pin and cookie cutters, I'll return to the book.

There are couple of interesting ideas (f. ex. Chocolate-Dipped Candied Mint Leaves as an alternative to After Eight mints) that I'll definitely keep in mind. And before I return the book to Melissa next week, I decided to try one of the more easy desserts: chocolate rice pudding.

Remember the rice pudding from your childhood? Well, according to the writers, this is

'Not your grandmother's rice pudding. Not even your mother's. This has all the cuddly, cozy warmth of a childhood dessert and all the sex appeal of a sweet for the raffiné crowd. Yes, it's creamy rice pudding as we know it, but it's made with Arborio rice - small, round risotto rice whose kernels stay firm at the core even when cooked through - plump golden raisins, and bittersweet chocolate, the ingredient that transforms this pudding, making its flavour deeper, its texture denser, and its character stronger.'

The dessert was incredibly easy to make and it's one of the few recipes in the book that covered less than 3 pages and required less than 20 ingredients:) Whole milk, Arborio rice, sugar, salt, butter, raisins and bittersweet chocolate (Hermé suggests Valrhona Guanaja, I used Green&Black's bittersweet dark chocolate with 70% cocoa solids) was all that the recipe asked for.

Chocolate rice pudding
(Riisi-šokolaadipuding)
Source: Chocolate Desserts by Pierre Hermé
Serves 6



950 ml whole/full-fat milk
100 grams arborio rice
2.5 Tbsp sugar
a pinch of salt
2 Tbsp unsalted butter, at room temperature
200 grams bittersweet chocolate, melted
125 ml/60 grams plump golden raisins

Pour the milk into a heavy-bottomed saucepan, add the rice, sugar and salt. Bring to the boil, stirring frequently (NB! the milk boils over very quickly, so pay attention!). When boiling, reduce the temperature and simmer slowly for about 15 minutes, until the rice is cooked through, but still al dente.
Remove the saucepan from the heat and stir in the butter. When the butter is melted, fold in the melted chocolate, stirring gently. Finally stir in the raisins.
Pour the chocolate rice pudding into individual serving glasses. Cover the glasses with clingfilm, cool to room temperature and then chill until ready to serve.

It was simple to make, and the resulting dessert was luscious and flavoursome, intensely creamy and chocolatey with al dente Arborio kernels giving a bit of texture. I ate the pudding plain, but authors suggest caramelised Rice Krispies, or raspberry coulis. I think a simple drizzle of single cream would also be nice.. And maybe finely chopped dried apricots instead of raisins.. Or raisins soaked in some rum for an extra kick?

Definitely recommended.

My first ever macaroon

For some time now already, I have been longingly glancing at pictures and recipes of macaroons at various foodblogs. The equisite creations at The Traveler's Lunchbox, Kuidaore and Anne's Food have left me drooling in front of my computer screen. Whispering names like Pierre Hermé and Ladurée in the same sentece as macaroons did nothing to convince me that I could muster these delicate sweets myself. I was convinced I am doomed to wait for my maiden trip to Paris to get a taste of my first ever macaroon.

Until yesterday. I had - finally - bought a hand held electric mixer cum mini food processor. I had some leftover egg whites in my fridge. I had picked up a packet of green pistachios last weekend. And Nigella's How to Be a Domestic Goddess: Baking and the Art of Comfort Cooking had once again found its way to my bedside table.

This could mean only only thing - pistachio macaroons á la Nigella:

"These are the world's most elegant macaroons. The colour alone, that waxy pale jade, perfectly matches the aromatic delicacy of their taste; and their nutty chewiness melts into the fragrant, soft paste with which they're paired." (p 53)

Tempting, isn't it?

Pistachio macaroons
(Pistaatsiamakroonid)
Source: Nigella Lawson, How To Be A Domestic Goddess



For the macaroons:
75 g green pistachios
125 g icing sugar
2 large egg whites
15 g caster sugar

To make the macaroons, grind the pistachios and icing sugar in a food processor until you have a fine dust.
Whisk the egg whites until fairly stiff, add the caster sugar and whisk until very stiff. Fold the egg whites into the pistachio sugar and combine gently.
Pipe small rounds onto your lined baking sheet, using a plain 1 cm nozzle.
Bake in a 180˚C oven for 10-12 minutes. The macaroons should be set, but not dried out.
Remove from the oven and let them cool, still on their sheets.

For the buttercream:
55 g green pistachios
250 g icing sugar
125 g softened unsalted butter

To make the butter cream, grind the pistachios and icing sugar into a fine dust again.
Cream the butter, and continue creaming as you add the pistachio sugar.
Sandwich the biscuits with the soft buttercream mixture.

Makes 20 macaroons (i.e. 40 sandwiched together).

I did many many many things wrong during my first macaroon baking attempt. My pistachio dust had quite a few crumbs in it. I should have whisked the egg whites patiently for another 5 minutes (but as I was simultaneously making some Hungarian gulyas soup for a friend who was coming for dinner, I got distracted). I used greaseproof paper instead of parchment paper and hence half of my macaroons remained stubbornly stuck on the paper (so I ended up with just 10 macaroons and loads of pistachio roll-ups:) I didn't pipe the mixture onto the baking sheet, but used a teaspoon, so the macaroons were unevenly sized and shaped.

But - they were delicious. They maybe didn't look perfect, but they looked cute enough. They were very very pistachio-nutty and beautifully green in colour. Just-barely crisp outside and mouthmeltingly chewy inside. Sandwiched with the pistachio buttercream, these were very elegant biscuits indeed.

UPDATE 15.2.2007: Although I didn't have much success with these macaroons in terms of looks, then Annie of BonAppeGeek was brave enough to try out this recipe after all. And at least one of her macaroons turned out perfect. Read her post here. I think I need to give those macaroons another go, too :)