samedi 7 novembre 2009

Photos of Italy part 2

Lisa asked me for more photos of Italy after the first post. I hadn't intended to show more but as I can never refuse her anything, here are some others. Hope they brighten up your November evening. Next time though, we'll talk about chocolate.

In Riva del Gardo


Lake Garda
Verona where true love conquers all

Some Venitian specialities

Wandering through the streets of Venice




One last glimpse before I said goodbye

lundi 2 novembre 2009

On friendship and a panettone trifle


It was always the same routine; I would get up early and walk through the empty campus to the library in the mornings. It had only just opened and there was still a lingering smell of disinfectant at the bottom of the stairs. A man watched whoever came in and out. He seemed ageless with pale skin, a young face and grey hair; we never exchanged words but simply smiled. As I pushed through the door to enter the stacks, a feeling of exhileration came over me. This was my space where I was free to read whatever I wanted for as long as I wanted and I remember just enjoying endlessly wandering among the different rows of books. The large, light reading room was silent and empty so I picked a table in my favourite part next to long windows which looked out onto the park so I could admire the changing colours and light and didn't feel I was missing out on too much of the day outside. Once there was a tiny grey squirrel scuttling by with a large piece of toast in its mouth.

Although I was a philosophy student, it wasn't the books in my chosen subject which most attracted me but the French literature ones. I used to take huge piles of them over to my desk and study each one in turn. I couldn't read them all of course, but I was greedy. Never before had I had so many books by unknown authors available to me or rare books by writers I loved. I remember the complete corrspondence of Proust and books by and about Duras and Baudelaire as the things I cherished the most. Over time, the books became like friends to me with their own history; sometimes, I used to leave notes or photocopies for friends in old, dusty editions of Sand or Flaubert which didn't seem to leave the library.

At another desk close to mine was often D., an Erasmus student from Italy who had spoken to me before one of my very first lectures when I had arrived too early (as usual) and was nervous. In lectures, she used to squeeze my knee whenever she knew that I had the right answer but was too shy to respond. "Why don't you answer then?", I asked her. "I'm not English and everyone will know I'm Italian if I open my mouth." She was so warm and vivacious and I had never found anyone I could talk to so easily. We shared films and books and she came to sleep over at my place where our conversations continued into the early hours. Although her English was often broken, she also said the most wonderful things. On the station platform waiting for her train, she told me that the best thing about coming to England was meeting me, words which really touched me.

Sometimes she could be a little too pushy; why bother reading Verlaine when Rimbaud was so much better? Wasn't it important to me to be the best philosophy student? (I ended up being the worst by the third year because of the literature addiction and lack of interest in analytic philosophy).

Ironically, the thing that divided us the most was food. Everything I made for her she hated. The shortbread was too fatty and she was horrified when I suggested eating a pot of cottage cheese because it was 200g! Even back then, I had long abandoned the idea of having a dream figure and reassured myself that anyone who ever went out with me would love my baking and never expect me to diet (or at least that's my excuse for lack of discipline and gourmandise). For her though, it was obviously different. I can only imagine my look of disbelief when I made her a fondant au chocolat, only to be told that she hated cake. When I told her of my admiration for Nigella and my love of her recipes, she snapped "Why are we talking about this?!" Somehow, I felt rejected and hurt, probably an overreaction. From that point on, I didn't treat her very nicely. Over Christmas, her boyfriend came to stay and I didn't once get in touch when they much have felt a little bored or lonely. At our last meeting after logic exams, she gave me a copy of Albertine disparue which I finally hope to start next week after all this time and my very first Panettone, in spite of her dislike of cake. Something was broken between us though and she left shortly afterwards for Italy.

Later I searched desperately for her address which must have got lost in piles of papers and which I still hope will turn up one day. There are so many things I have forgotten about her and often wonder whether she ever thinks of me. Most of all, I regret not being kinder to her. Perhaps it was because I was searching for someone who could understand me completely, reassure me and with whom I could share everything, an idea of friendship that was too demanding and idealistic. I especially think of her in the colder months when I see panettone in the supermarket and it reminds me too of my first New Year's Eve in Berlin with Lisa when she made a delicious panettone trifle. After we went down to a bridge on the Spree and drank Sekt in a mass of fireworks exploding as the new year began. I love that the word "trifle" means something small and unimportant, like a bagatelle because as a dessert it's so spectacular and extravagent. It's something you can't make quickly but also not impossibly complicated either.

Trifles have always been something special for me because ever since I can remember, we have eaten it at Christmas. I'd been wanting to make my own for ages, only to find it was in Nigella's Feast all the time and that I simply hadn't noticed. I made mine with real custard like in my mother's trifles but feel free to skip it if it's too time consuming or stressful. You can also use Pandoro like Nigella does if you don't like raisons or prefer something simpler.

Panettone trifle (adapted from Nigella Lawson's Feast)

For the base

1 panettone (500g)
1 tin of sliced apricots in juice (I hate tinned fruit in syrup but if you like it sweet, you can take this instead. Other fruits are also possible but I think apricots or peaches work best)

For the custard

8 egg yolks
350ml full fat milk
250ml double cream
2 tablespoons sugar

To decorate

750ml crème fraîche, sweetened slightly
Some grated dark chocolate

1. Cut the panettone into 1 cm slices and place at the bottom of a large glass bowl. Place a layer of apricots on the cake and then pour over the juice. Place in the fridge.
2. To make the custard, begin by heating the cream and milk either in the microwave or in saucepan until just under boiling point. Remove and put to one side.
3. Beat the egg yolks and sugar together in a bowl and then pour over the slightly cooled milk and cream. Wash and dry the the saucepan.
4. Pour the eggs and cream mixture back into the clean pan and place over a low heat. Stir all the time until it thickens. The most important thing with custard is NOT to let it boil. Nigella suggests filling the sink before you start with cold water, placing the pan in it and whisking very fast if this happens so please don't panic. She cooks her custard on a high heat but I'm not that courageous and prefer to be patient and stir for a long time (you'll probably need 10 minutes + but don't worry, it will thicken). When the custard is as thick as you want it, turn off the heat, pour into a jug and cover the top with clingfilm to stop a skin forming.
5. When it's cool, pour it over the fruit and panettone in the bowl, cover with clingfilm and place in the fridge overnight.
6. To decorate it the next morning, whip the cream with some sugar until it's thick enough then spead it over the custard with a knife and grate chocolate over it. You can eat it straight away but the flavours intensify and it tastes even better after 1-2 days.

Variations: trifles are extremely versatile. You can use plainer cake or chocolate cake if you prefer. An alternative to tinned fruit could be dried fruit soaked in water which Nigella uses and instead of fruit juice, you could pour alcohol over the cake. Greek yoghurt is a nice alternative to cream.


vendredi 23 octobre 2009

Voyage en Italie


When we left, the sky was grey and full of snow with nothing to see on the horizon but clouds and fine snowflakes falling at regular intervals. The tops of the mountains around us in Austria became whiter and whiter and the fir trees looked as if they had been dusted with icing sugar. Yet all that changed when we arrived in South Tirol, on the other side of the Brenner Pass. A place where autumn and winter don't seem to exist; there is only summer, followed by some cooler months. In the valley lined on both sides by sculpted mountains with dark green vegetation, you find fields upon fields of apple trees but not the kind you see in your typical garden. They look so fragile and small, weighed down by large quantities of beautiful pink apples. Vineyards for grappa stretch far into the distance next to silvery grey olive trees. The cold and the snow from just a couple of hours ago seemed so unreal. High up above, little villages, towers and castle are perched on the rocks overlooking the way that Hannibal once took.


We stopped at the lake of Toblino with it's beautiful little castle in the middle and the cyprus trees I've always loved so much. Families walked by the lakeside, talking animatedly and young couples embraced and took photos.





There was the first night in an abandoned hotel in Dro with its glacial rooms, green swimming pool and rows of pink balconies with plastic chairs which made you feel the loneliness of the end of season. In the morning, we breakfasted alone in the icy lounge on tiny white rolls with cheese, croissants, doughnuts filled with crème patisserie and scolding hot coffee which I tried to warm my hands with. Outside though, the sun was already shining with perhaps the most beautiful, clearest light I have ever seen. Often, I find the heat and humidity of summer oppressive but it felt so wonderful to have the golden rays on my skin. The famous castello of Arco on top of steep limestone cliffs rose up on the skyline and then we reached the lush shores of Riva del Garda in the nothern part of Lake Garda with its light coloured villas, exotic gardens and palm trees which reminded me of le Parfum d'Yvonne. The light danced on the water and in the afternoon, little waves disturbed its calm surface on which dozens of little white boats and windsurfers were sailing.



Strange looking apples on Lake Garda

In Verona, we strolled close to San Zeno and searched for Juliet's house and her balcony where she called down to Romeo. On the walls, hundreds of little notes had been stuck by lovers all over the world with romantic messages and it was impossible to move for huge numbers of tourists who had also come to see the meeting place of the starcrossed lovers. Around the corner, I discovered a charming square with a statue of Dante which made me long to read the Divine Comedy in Italian, an idea which I quickly abandoned when I saw the two enormous volumes on sale. On the way to Vicenza that evening, I watched the dying glow of the sun which seemed to stretch its long fingers across the countryside for miles and illuminate the stone houses of the tiny villages we passed through.




Most beautiful of all though was Venice. After some Mr. Hulot moments at the station, I boarded the train from Vicenza early the next day. Nothing prepared me though for the vast expanse of blue water as we were arriving, a view that somehow touched me as I thought one day how the city will sink back into it and disappear. Close to the train station, I bought an apple cake, or strudel as its called here and set off to explore this place I had dreamed of for so long.



Every little street is full of poetry with its countless bridges reflected in canals as clear and smooth as Murano glass. The houses with the lines of washing and closed shutters seem to contain so many secrets and I wandered back and forth for hours with only the distant chimes of a church tower bell to remind me of the passing of time. I had never felt so inspired by light and colours before.



After fresh gnocchi with tomatoes in a charming wine cellar and a hot chocolate in a trattoria, I took the boat across from Fondamente Nuove to Isola San Michele or the Island of the Dead. Here there are barely any tourists and most of the other passengers were taking flowers to the cemetary. Large cyprus trees on the island stand over you like candles and the only sounds are those of the gravel as you walk along the different alleys and the splashing of the water all around. There is such a feeling of peacefulness here which deeply moved me like never before. I thought of the wonderful painting by Böcklin and the final journey to this amazing place where eternity begins.





The musical cries on the shore announced the return to Fondamente Nuove. Close to Campo Santi Giovanni e Paolo, I savoured a perfect tiramisù ice cream and came across a wonderful French bookstore where I bought Venises by Paul Morand and Christ Stopped at Eboli by Carlo Levi and immediately regretted leaving Dictionnaire amoureux de Venise . The light was becoming softer and even more luminous. At last, the tourists made their way home and I felt another side of the city come alive with its special charm reserved for those who linger in the shadows. Though I returned that evening exhausted, feeling a little ill and also sad to leave this place which captured my heart, I know that it was simply the most perfect day and that there is so much more to discover and return for.



jeudi 15 octobre 2009

Päuschen


I've already mentioned it so many times so I guess everyone knows I'm headed for Italy on Saturday. In a way it still seems unreal, yet I feel an almost uncontrollable sense of excitement at the idea that Vicenza, Verona, Trieste and Venice will soon no longer be just names to me. Here in Berlin, there's a damp chill in the air and I've dug out my winter coat and gloves. Somehow, I miss the beautiful autumn light we had in Marienbad and hope to see the ravishing colours glow at least a little longer. In the train to Munich at the end of September, I remember seeing wonderful lines of pumpkins in fields close to the last remaining sunflowers and had the impression they were defiantly resisting the changing temperatures.


Yet now it's truly the season of hot tea, soups, cinnamon, chestnuts and serious comfort food. While many complain about the long, dark evenings, somehow I also enjoy being wrapped up warm and strolling around Berlin which, for me, is always loveliest at night. Looking up to the lights of the beautful buildings round where I live, they always seem to represent so much life and warmth and make me want to be part of that. Bergman films, Jane Austen novels and knitting are the things I most like to devote myself to when it's cold outside. And yet, the thought of crystal azure skies and golden sunshine on a clear dry day in Italy makes me feel exhilerated; Venice, the city of Proust, the setting for so many books and films I love and Trieste on the Adriatic sea where Svevo and his English teacher James Joyce once lived. As ridiculous as it sounds, just checking the weather forecast next week made me tremble with emotion at the thought of all the things I'm dying to experience and the lazy hours with J. when we can just chat or wander the streets as evening falls.


I hope to return with many photos and recipes to share with you but first there's still so much to organise. As always, the choice of books has top priority! It's only a short trip but somehow the idea of being without something to read or being bored terrfies me. The Thomas Bernhard autobiography is a must, as is Proust, Svevo's Confessions of Zeno and the book of Ingeborg Bachmann poetry. Taking all these is a little crazy because I certainly won't get through them but maybe the bibliophiles among you will understand. So the blog will be on holiday for a week but just before I go, I'd like to leave you with a recipe for Russian Zupfkuchen, one of my favourite cakes and a mix of cheese- and chocolate cake. It wasn't as good as the one at Datscha or Anna Blume as my difficult gas oven burned the top but as Chrissi kindly reminded me not to be too much of a perfectionist, I was satisfied with my first attempt! Actually, the sun came out for the only moment that day when I was taking the pictures so I took that as a good sign. The trees in the yard behind my room were glistening with raindrops and I stopped for a moment to savour the light.

Zupfkuchen

Pour Ju qui aime le Zupfkuchen autant que moi et en souvenir de tous nos repas ensemble!

For the base

400g flour
200g sugar
150g soft butter
30g cocoa
1 egg
1 pack of baking powder

For the filling

500g quark/ fromage blanc
200g sugar
100g soft butter
3 eggs, separated
a pinch of salt
a few drops of good quality vanilla extract

Pre-heat the oven to 180°

1. To make the base, cream the soft butter together with the sugar then mix in the egg until smooth and frothy. Sift in the flour, baking powder and finally the cocoa. You should have a kind of dough that's not too dry or too liquid. Take 2/3 of it and press it into a well greased Springform tin so that you have a layer on the bottom and sides.
2. To make the filling, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form, then add the pinch of salt and continue whisking until the whites form stiff peaks.
3. Mix together the egg yolks, sugar and butter together until smooth then pour in the quark and vanilla extract. Finally, gently fold in the egg whites a little at a time until completely blended.
4. Sprinkle over (zupfen) little pices the remaining base mixture like Streusel or crumble.
5. Bake in the oven for about an hour. In order to stop the top burning, I suggest placing a layer of tin foil over it after 20 minutes. When the middle seems set, remove from the oven. Leave to cool completely before opening the Springform tin.

I wish you all a great weekend and a wonderful week. Take care!

samedi 10 octobre 2009

Harlequinades 2009, plus little pleasures for the weekend


This weekend was supposed to be perfect with numourous baking challenges, plus a speech contest, all of which I thought would be a success. Sadly, things didn't go so well in either of those areas and I ended up walking home tonight in the rain without an umbrella and feeling frustrated. Luckily, after some tea, pasta and an Italian film, my mood isn't quite as dark and I'm at last ready to tell you about Harlequinades. It was Rose who suggested I take part; basically the challenge is to read at least one romantic novel (the equivalent in anglophone countries is probably Mills and Boon) and discuss it in an interesting way in order to grasp its philosophical and sociological significance. French speaking readers can find more info here. Some people might raise their eyebrows at my book choice but it's been ages since I read something like this and I had fun doing it. Actually, I thought it might be nice to have a romance in German to see if the clichés are similar. At Dussmann, the choice was surprisingly limited but I did manage to stumble across Frühling und so (Spring and so on) which is not only a Spiegel bestseller, but also set in Berlin. It tells the story of Raquel, a teenager and her sexual and romantic journey over one year in the German capital. Raquel is actually the Spanish version of Rachel which means "ewe" or one of purity so it's ironic that it's the name of our heroine.

The book is actually divided into four chapters, entitled spring, summer, autumn, winter and spring. I wondered whether the journey of the heroine would be one of profound self-discovery as in the beautiful film by Kim Ki-duk which is also called Spring, summer, autumn, winter and spring but each section is not so different, except in the various moods which the changing seasons create. Will Racquel ever be able to get over being left by Noa, her long-term boyfriend? Does the man of her dreams really exist at all? Is it possible to have a physical as well as an intellectual connection?

Raquel is what many would call a typical teenage girl; she worries about her looks and figure, goes out with friends and feels torn between her divorced parents and their separate families. The novel describes the modern patchwork family extremely well. Already though, she has a clear idea of the kind of life she should have in ten years and often expresses disapproval of those who haven't achieved that level. At thirty, for example, you shouldn't simply have an ordinary job on a film set but do something more important in the social hierachy.

She meets men easily and is aware of her seductive powers over them. Yet all too often, they seem to lack her emotional maturity and powers of observation. With sex, Raquel is often able simply to treat her body as an object, something separate from her emotions and is constantly analyzes herself from the outside. One of the nicest aspects of the book is that fact that it combines sexual advantures with the everyday life of Berlin and the many different areas form a backdrop which makes it a refreshing read. Raquel sees the social problems around her relating to Hartz IV, the long-term unemployment benefit many Berlin's citizens live on and alcohol and drug addiction in notorious areas like Kotti.

I won't spoil the ending for you but just want to finish by saying that there are some surprising twists along the way and that the author, Rebecca Martin is certainly good at writing about sex.

And the pictures in this post? So there's no recipe for you tonight but it's late on Saturday night and I had no energy to prepare much - sorry! The pictures are of two things I treated myself to yesterday; perhaps the last good tomatoes of the season - sweet and crisp - which I enjoyed with some good bread and cheese and a concerto torte from Lenôtre in KaDeWe. Maybe it's because I've gotten used to simpler cakes but it was somehow nicer to look at than to eat. In any case, you can savour them with your eyes and I promise you another recipe before I leave for Italy at the end of next week.

mardi 6 octobre 2009

Les soleils des demi-sommeils


I'd like to tell you of the skies, clear and crisp and blue or of the flames of autumn trees shimmering in the sunshine or of the day awakening us in our room above the thick yellow curtains. But somehow neither the words nor images can capture our two days in Marienbad; the only thing to do was to try and catch the hours as they went by and fix them in my memory. On the train journey, I travelled along the same route as in spring but this time, night was closing in. The same familiar fields and bell towers around me were barely visible in the dusk. Close to the Czech border, I sat almost alone in the carriage and watched as the conductor made his way home into the black velvet darkness underneath the glare of the neon lights. As we passed through Franziskovy Laszne, I thought of our nights there and saw the aquaforum where groups of people bathed happily outside in a small heated pool. In May, the burning images and poetry of Ingeborg Bachmann accompanied me but this time, I took the Thomas Bernhard autobiography with me in its beautiful yellow cloth edition. A friend had warned me how disturbing it was but nothing prepared me for the power and sadness of what I was to read. It opened with his days spent in a boarding school in Salzburg under the bombs and destruction of the Second World War and continued with his short time at the Gymnasium (high school) where he described the pain and rebellion of being an outsider. There was so much that touched on my own experiences that I felt the anger inside of me thinking back to my own school days and the people I knew. Even though at moments, the book seems unbelievably difficult to get through, it's defintely one of most amazing I've ever read. It's also wonderful to have a voyage of self-discovery and memories while travelling deep into the forests of a country I still know so little of.




In Marienbad, we stayed on the fourth floor of a hotel where all the other guests were much older. In the evenings, you could hear Bruckner or other classical symphonies playing across the town. I have always loved being high up above the streets to observe the people around. From our balcony, the colours of the trees seemed to become more and more intense each day and the stunning yellow buildings glowed in the morning sun. We ate breakfast in a vast hall, more suitable perhaps for ballroom dancing and felt lost in its space. In the sleepiness of the afternoons, I closed my eyes and heard the voices and different languages of the tourists walking down below and the gentle song of the fountain in the park opposite.


During the evenings and afternoons, we walked along the different avenues and in the parks where the light had never looked so beautiful. There were the colonnades and grand hotels, the villa Eva with its green neon sign against the white exterior and the empty clay tennis courts which will soon be abandoned for the winter. In the Classic café, we sat on the leather barquettes underneath black and white pictures by Peter Lindbergh and with candles flickering gently on the tables. I had pehaps the best Käse Sahne Torte ever (cheesecake) and returned there the next day only to be disappointed by the orange cheesecake which looked so tempting but was somehow tasteless.




We went out one last time onto the balcony to savour the view over the town and embrace on a Sunday afternoon with dramatic clouds on the horizon. It felt so sad to leave a place so different from my usual life where you can wander through forests and sun drenched streets without ever getting bored. I wondered how everything will look as the days turn colder and the trees lose their leaves, whether things there will seem as timeless as they do now.



J. and I said our goodbyes as I started my long trip home and back in Berlin, I felt as if I had been away for weeks. I tried out a recipe for minestrone soup which was amazingly comforting against the thought of a brutally early Monday morning start and the chilly evenings.

Minestrone soup - serves 4 (from Basic Cooking)

1.5 litres vegetable stock
500g potatoes, peeled and diced
Half a leek
2 large courgettes, thinly cliced
Approx. 1/3 of a head of celery
2 large carrots, peeled and thinly sliced
2 Roma tomatoes
1 tin red kidney beans
Salt, pepper and parmasan to serve

1. Bring the vegetable stock to boiling point in a large saucepan. Peel and dice the potatoes and add to the boiling water along with the leek, courgettes, carrots and celery. Cover the saucepan with a lid and leave for 15 - 20 mins.
2. Pour boiling water over the tomatoes and remove the skins. Chop roughly and add them to the soup, with the drained kidney beans. Cook for another 15 mins approximately over a medium heat or until everything is cooked but not soft.
3. Season with salt and pepper and grate over some parmasan. Best served with warm, crusty bread and a good film.

dimanche 27 septembre 2009

Autumn memories, plus pâte feuilletée for the Daring Bakers


(I accidentally published the picture without the text while I was fiddling around so apologies for the confusion for those who saw that!).

It was perhaps the last beautiful day of autumn before the cold and darkness of winter set in. When I awoke, the sunlight was already streaming into our apartment and the sky was clear and the deepest blue. Though the trees were not yet bare, many of the leaves were tinged with gold or red and acorns and conkers lay scattered on the ground. Somehow I already had a feeling the day would be special and we set off early for Potsdam along the cobbled streets you find in the East. Potsdam was a place we visited back in 2006 before arriving in Berlin but that was at the height of summer when everyone seemed a little stunned by the heat. Along both sides of the tree lined roads, there were already rows of parked cars as others set out to picnic and walk. We stopped for lunch at a curious place with fake petrol pumps decorated with pictures of red Indians. Most tables were occupied by bikers and I couldn't imagine the food would be any good. How wrong can you be though? J. had the lentil soup and I chose potatoes with Fromage Blanc and onions (a speciality I thought was found more in Northern Germany but which is actually more common in the South as I learned from Christa - thanks for the info!), followed by homemade apple cake with fresh cream. It was simple but perfect being there, enjoying every minute.

Afterwards, we walked close to the Glienecke Bridge where captured spies were once exchanged at the time of the Iron Curtain. Around us, lamas grazed in gardens of exotic houses with thatched roofs while others took tea in a converted castle down by the river Havel.

We drove up to the Sanssouci palace and park where Frederick the Great used to live in summer. It's still perhaps my favourite park where I've sat many hours reading or strolling until I came to the most amazing buildings like the orangery or the Chinese tea room with its golden roof. This time, we walked hand in hand, looking at the statues and the yellow walls of the palace glowing in the sunset. The hours had gone by unnoticed and I felt heaviness in my heart at the thought of returning. Somehow, the loveliest days of autumn fill me with joy but also a kind of strange melancholy as you can feel the need to catch the fading light while it lasts. The evening became cooler with sharpness in the air; on our way back, we stopped to look at a favourite spot of J's down by the lake and held each other close. I often think back to that day two years ago, especially as the autumn weekends in Berlin are now spent alone. When we still had our apartment in Pankow, I would take his sweaters and wrap them around my shoulders when it grew dark, as if I could somehow feel his warmth but now there are just these sun-drenched images of an Indian summer to do that.

This month's Daring Baker's challenge seems perfect for autumn when the days are getting shorter and you long for something special to bring back the warmth of summer. Admittedly, after the Dobos Torte last month, I was terrified to find out that I'd have to make puff pastry and vol-au-vents. Couldn't it be something easier? I remember Ju once telling me "La pâte feuilletée est un truc impossible à faire soi-même, c'est à oublier." And if she couldn't do it, could I? I had visions of butter oozing and pastry that wouldn't rise. The only thing to do was to take a deep breath and get my rolling pin out. What happened? Well, it was not only much easier than I could ever have imagined but it was also fun. I decided to make two large square vols-au-vents with caramelised apples but immediately regretted not having made more pastry because the variety of things you can do with puff pastry is simply amazing and J. expressed a strong desire for something with spinach and ricotta. Thanks to Steph from A Whisk and a Spoon for inspiring me. Otherwise, I'd probably never have ever attempted anything so scary. And believe me, if I can do it, so can you!

The September 2009 Daring Bakers' challenge was hosted by Steph of A Whisk and a Spoon. She chose the French treat, Vols-au-Vent based on the Puff Pastry recipe by Michel Richard from the cookbook Baking With Julia by Dorie Greenspan.

Puff pastry (aka pâte feuilletée) is something most of us usually buy at the grocery store, but in order to be really daring, we should make our own at least once in awhile, right? Kitchens should be getting cooler in the northern hemisphere, and are hopefully still cool-ish in the sourthern hempisphere, so I’m hoping you will all join me in making homemade puff pastry from Michel Richard’s recipe, as it appears in the book Baking with Julia by Dorie Greenspan. With our homemade puff we’ll be forming vols-au-vent cases to fill with anything we chose.

Puff pastry is in the ‘laminated dough” family, along with Danish dough and croissant dough. (In fact, if you participated in the Danish Braid challenge back in June 2008, then you already know the general procedure for working with laminated dough.) A laminated dough consists of a large block of butter (called the “beurrage”) that is enclosed in dough (called the “détrempe”). This dough/butter packet is called a “paton,” and is rolled and folded repeatedly (a process known as “turning”) to create the crisp, flaky, parallel layers you see when baked. Unlike Danish or croissant however, puff pastry dough contains no yeast in the détrempe, and relies solely aeration to achieve its high rise. The turning process creates hundreds of layers of butter and dough, with air trapped between each one. In the hot oven, water in the dough and the melting butter creates steam, which expands in the trapped air pockets, forcing the pastry to rise.

Equipment:

-food processor (will make mixing dough easy, but I imagine this can be done by hand as well)
-rolling pin
-pastry brush
-metal bench scraper (optional, but recommended)
-plastic wrap
-baking sheet
-parchment paper
-silicone baking mat (optional, but recommended)
-set of round cutters (optional, but recommended)
-sharp chef’s knife
-fork
-oven
-cooling rack

Prep Times:
-about 4-5 hours to prepare the puff pastry dough (much of this time is inactive, while you wait for the dough to chill between turns…it can be stretched out over an even longer period of time if that better suits your schedule)
-about 1.5 hours to shape, chill and bake the vols-au-vent after your puff pastry dough is complete.

Forming and Baking the Vols-au-Vent

Yield: 1/3 of the puff pastry recipe below will yield about 8-10 1.5” vols-au-vent or 4 4” vols-au-vent

In addition to the equipment listed above, you will need:
-well-chilled puff pastry dough (recipe below)
-egg wash (1 egg or yolk beaten with a small amount of water)
-your filling of choice

Line a baking sheet with parchment and set aside.

Using a knife or metal bench scraper, divided your chilled puff pastry dough into three equal pieces. Work with one piece of the dough, and leave the rest wrapped and chilled. (If you are looking to make more vols-au-vent than the yield stated above, you can roll and cut the remaining two pieces of dough as well…if not, then leave refrigerated for the time being or prepare it for longer-term freezer storage. See the “Tips” section below for more storage info.)

On a lightly floured surface, roll the piece of dough into a rectangle about 1/8 to 1/4-inch (3-6 mm) thick. Transfer it to the baking sheet and refrigerate for about 10 minutes before proceeding with the cutting.

(This assumes you will be using round cutters, but if you do not have them, it is possible to cut square vols-au-vents using a sharp chef’s knife.) For smaller, hors d'oeuvre sized vols-au-vent, use a 1.5” round cutter to cut out 8-10 circles. For larger sized vols-au-vent, fit for a main course or dessert, use a 4” cutter to cut out about 4 circles. Make clean, sharp cuts and try not to twist your cutters back and forth or drag your knife through the dough. Half of these rounds will be for the bases, and the other half will be for the sides. (Save any scrap by stacking—not wadding up—the pieces…they can be re-rolled and used if you need extra dough. If you do need to re-roll scrap to get enough disks, be sure to use any rounds cut from it for the bases, not the ring-shaped sides.)

Using a ¾-inch cutter for small vols-au-vent, or a 2- to 2.5-inch round cutter for large, cut centers from half of the rounds to make rings. These rings will become the sides of the vols-au-vent, while the solid disks will be the bottoms. You can either save the center cut-outs to bake off as little “caps” for you vols-au-vent, or put them in the scrap pile.

Dock the solid bottom rounds with a fork (prick them lightly, making sure not to go all the way through the pastry) and lightly brush them with egg wash. Place the rings directly on top of the bottom rounds and very lightly press them to adhere. Brush the top rings lightly with egg wash, trying not to drip any down the sides (which may inhibit rise). If you are using the little “caps,” dock and egg wash them as well.

Refrigerate the assembled vols-au-vent on the lined baking sheet while you pre-heat the oven to 400ºF (200ºC). (You could also cover and refrigerate them for a few hours at this point.)

Once the oven is heated, remove the sheet from the refrigerator and place a silicon baking mat (preferred because of its weight) or another sheet of parchment over top of the shells. This will help them rise evenly. Bake the shells until they have risen and begin to brown, about 10-15 minutes depending on their size. Reduce the oven temperature to 350ºF (180ºC), and remove the silicon mat or parchment sheet from the top of the vols-au-vent. If the centers have risen up inside the vols-au-vent, you can gently press them down. Continue baking (with no sheet on top) until the layers are golden, about 15-20 minutes more. (If you are baking the center “caps” they will likely be finished well ahead of the shells, so keep an eye on them and remove them from the oven when browned.)


Remove to a rack to cool. Cool to room temperature for cold fillings or to warm for hot fillings.

Fill and serve.

*For additional rise on the larger-sized vols-au-vents, you can stack one or two additional ring layers on top of each other (using egg wash to "glue"). This will give higher sides to larger vols-au-vents, but is not advisable for the smaller ones, whose bases may not be large enough to support the extra weight.

*Although they are at their best filled and eaten soon after baking, baked vols-au-vent shells can be stored airtight for a day.

*Shaped, unbaked vols-au-vent can be wrapped and frozen for up to a month (bake from frozen, egg-washing them first).

Michel Richard’s Puff Pastry Dough

From: Baking with Julia by Dorie Greenspan

Yield: 2-1/2 pounds dough

Steph’s note: This recipe makes more than you will need for the quantity of vols-au-vent stated above. While I encourage you to make the full recipe of puff pastry, as extra dough freezes well, you can halve it successfully if you’d rather not have much leftover.

There is a wonderful on-line video from the PBS show “Baking with Julia” that accompanies the book. In it, Michel Richard and Julia Child demonstrate making puff pastry dough (although they go on to use it in other applications). They do seem to give slightly different ingredient measurements verbally than the ones in the book…I listed the recipe as it appears printed in the book.http://video.pbs.org/video/1174110297/search/Pastry

Ingredients:
2-1/2 cups (12.2 oz/ 354 g) unbleached all-purpose flour
1-1/4 cups (5.0 oz/ 142 g) cake flour
1 tbsp. salt (you can cut this by half for a less salty dough or for sweet preparations)
1-1/4 cups (10 fl oz/ 300 ml) ice water
1 pound (16 oz/ 454 g) very cold unsalted butter

plus extra flour for dusting work surface

Mixing the Dough:

Check the capacity of your food processor before you start. If it cannot hold the full quantity of ingredients, make the dough into two batches and combine them.

Put the all-purpose flour, cake flour, and salt in the work bowl of a food processor fitted with a metal blade and pulse a couple of times just to mix. Add the water all at once, pulsing until the dough forms a ball on the blade. The dough will be very moist and pliable and will hold together when squeezed between your fingers. (Actually, it will feel like Play-Doh.)

Remove the dough from the machine, form it into a ball, with a small sharp knife, slash the top in a tic-tac-toe pattern. Wrap the dough in a damp towel and refrigerate for about 5 minutes.

Meanwhile, place the butter between 2 sheets of plastic wrap and beat it with a rolling pin until it flattens into a square that's about 1" thick. Take care that the butter remains cool and firm: if it has softened or become oily, chill it before continuing.

Incorporating the Butter:

Unwrap the dough and place it on a work surface dusted with all-purpose flour (A cool piece of marble is the ideal surface for puff pastry) with your rolling pin (preferably a French rolling pin without handles), press on the dough to flatten it and then roll it into a 10" square. Keep the top and bottom of the dough well floured to prevent sticking and lift the dough and move it around frequently. Starting from the center of the square, roll out over each corner to create a thick center pad with "ears," or flaps.

Place the cold butter in the middle of the dough and fold the ears over the butter, stretching them as needed so that they overlap slightly and encase the butter completely. (If you have to stretch the dough, stretch it from all over; don't just pull the ends) you should now have a package that is 8" square.

To make great puff pastry, it is important to keep the dough cold at all times. There are specified times for chilling the dough, but if your room is warm, or you work slowly, or you find that for no particular reason the butter starts to ooze out of the pastry, cover the dough with plastic wrap and refrigerate it . You can stop at any point in the process and continue at your convenience or when the dough is properly chilled.

Making the Turns:

Gently but firmly press the rolling pin against the top and bottom edges of the square (this will help keep it square). Then, keeping the work surface and the top of the dough well floured to prevent sticking, roll the dough into a rectangle that is three times as long as the square you started with, about 24" (don't worry about the width of the rectangle: if you get the 24", everything else will work itself out.) With this first roll, it is particularly important that the butter be rolled evenly along the length and width of the rectangle; check when you start rolling that the butter is moving along well, and roll a bit harder or more evenly, if necessary, to get a smooth, even dough-butter sandwich (use your arm-strength!).

With a pastry brush, brush off the excess flour from the top of the dough, and fold the rectangle up from the bottom and down from the top in thirds, like a business letter, brushing off the excess flour. You have completed one turn.

Rotate the dough so that the closed fold is to your left, like the spine of a book. Repeat the rolling and folding process, rolling the dough to a length of 24" and then folding it in thirds. This is the second turn.

Chilling the Dough:

If the dough is still cool and no butter is oozing out, you can give the dough another two turns now. If the condition of the dough is iffy, wrap it in plastic wrap and refrigerate it for at least 30 minutes. Each time you refrigerate the dough, mark the number of turns you've completed by indenting the dough with your fingertips. It is best to refrigerate the dough for 30 to 60 minutes between each set of two turns.

The total number of turns needed is six. If you prefer, you can give the dough just four turns now, chill it overnight, and do the last two turns the next day. Puff pastry is extremely flexible in this regard. However, no matter how you arrange your schedule, you should plan to chill the dough for at least an hour before cutting or shaping it.

Steph’s extra tips:

-While this is not included in the original recipe we are using (and I did not do this in my own trials), many puff pastry recipes use a teaspoon or two of white vinegar or lemon juice, added to the ice water, in the détrempe dough. This adds acidity, which relaxes the gluten in the dough by breaking down the proteins, making rolling easier. You are welcome to try this if you wish.

-Keep things cool by using the refrigerator as your friend! If you see any butter starting to leak through the dough during the turning process, rub a little flour on the exposed dough and chill straight away. Although you should certainly chill the dough for 30 to 60 minutes between each set of two turns, if you feel the dough getting to soft or hard to work with at any point, pop in the fridge for a rest.

-Not to sound contradictory, but if you chill your paton longer than the recommended time between turns, the butter can firm up too much. If this seems to be the case, I advise letting it sit at room temperature for 5-10 minutes to give it a chance to soften before proceeding to roll. You don't want the hard butter to separate into chuncks or break through the dough...you want it to roll evenly, in a continuous layer.

-Roll the puff pastry gently but firmly, and don’t roll your pin over the edges, which will prevent them from rising properly. Don't roll your puff thinner than about about 1/8 to 1/4-inch (3-6 mm) thick, or you will not get the rise you are looking for.

-Try to keep “neat” edges and corners during the rolling and turning process, so the layers are properly aligned. Give the edges of the paton a scooch with your rolling pin or a bench scraper to keep straight edges and 90-degree corners.

-Brush off excess flour before turning dough and after rolling.

-Make clean cuts. Don’t drag your knife through the puff or twist your cutters too much, which can inhibit rise.

-When egg washing puff pastry, try not to let extra egg wash drip down the cut edges, which can also inhibit rise.

-Extra puff pastry dough freezes beautifully. It’s best to roll it into a sheet about 1/8 to 1/4-inch thick (similar to store-bought puff) and freeze firm on a lined baking sheet. Then you can easily wrap the sheet in plastic, then foil (and if you have a sealable plastic bag big enough, place the wrapped dough inside) and return to the freezer for up to a few months. Defrost in the refrigerator when ready to use.

-You can also freeze well-wrapped, unbaked cut and shaped puff pastry (i.e., unbaked vols-au-vent shells). Bake from frozen, without thawing first.

-Homemade puff pastry is precious stuff, so save any clean scraps. Stack or overlap them, rather than balling them up, to help keep the integrity of the layers. Then give them a singe “turn” and gently re-roll. Scrap puff can be used for applications where a super-high rise is not necessary (such as palmiers, cheese straws, napoleons, or even the bottom bases for your vols-au-vent).

For my filling, I used 6 apples, peeled and cored and caramelised them in 75g of melted butter with 50g of sugar until they were golden and soft. Then I simply transferred them to the empty vols-au-vent cases which J. and I consumed ravenously with afternoon tea.