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[A dress as bright as the sun - Melon and champagne sorbet]


It seems I've always been what you would call a summer lover. Forget ski bunnies; for me everything is about sun, heat, sea, sand and ice cream. Oh and I forget: sunglasses.
I am truly inspired by summer and I think it shows.

In fact I *so* love summer that I can remember every single one of them: from 1989 to now. Most of my summers were spent at my grand-parents' house on the Atlantic coast and I would have my lovely cousin as a companion de jeu.

We would build des châteaux de sables immenses [sand castles], pretend we were selling ice cream (which was indeed made of a mix of sand and sea water), make rose water (that smelled like anything but actual rose water) and eventually, we would watch Peau d'Ane over and over again.
It had to be our favourite movie. Actually we knew every single song from it. But we were, first and foremost, fascinated by Peau d'Ane's dresses.
Une robe couleur du temps [a dress the colour of the sky]
Une robe couleur de lune [a dress the colour of the moon]
Une robe couleur de soleil [a dress as bright as the sun]

We would inevitably end up arguing about which dress was the most beautiful; for me it definitely was the robe couleur du temps. Though, I also really liked the dress as bright as the sun; a tough decision for sure.

However, no matter how pleasant these recollections are, my greatest memory has to be les melons charentais [melons from Charente] that my grandmother used to take back from the market every Saturday morning.
They were juicy and sweet; actually they were exactly what you expect from a melon.

Melon and champagne sorbet
Today I'm still considering melon as a favourite because it offers endless combinations.
I think it does work really well as a sorbet; it's fragrant and the bitterness of the champagne counterbalances the sweetness of the melon.
The resulting sorbet was really smooth and not icy at all. A real keeper.

Just a short note about how to make ice cream without an ice cream maker - although using an ice cream maker is more convinient and will give better results, you can try the freeze and mix method:
"Pour the ice cream mixture into a wide freezer-proof container. Cover with a sheet of greaseproof paper to avoid ice crystals forming on the surface. Cover with a lid and place on a level surface in the coldest part of the freezer.
After between ½-1½ hours, the sides of the ice cream will be solid, and the middle will remain a wet slush. Transfer it to a bowl and whisk with an electric beater, or by hand, until uniformly thick.
You could also pulse it in a food processor. When smooth, replace it in the freezer. Repeat 3 times, every ½-1 hour, or until the ice cream is uniformly thick. Freeze for another hour." (adapted from Waitrose)

Labels: ice creams and other iced delights, recipe inside

As you now, already know, I’ve arrived in New Zealand last Saturday; pretty jetlagged - to tell the truth - but still immensely happy.
There was just this thing that kept me slightly disappointed.
I had dreamt of beautiful sand beaches and a sun so bright you could hardly see. Well, what I found arriving here was – let’s say – far from my expectations.
Imagine England during autumn. Then you’ve got it: a cloudy, freezing cold weather; nothing less, nothing more.
Not really what you would call summer, wouldn’t you?

Though, today something happened. After the rain - so cold I thought it was snow -, the clouds disappeared leaving place to a harsh and hot sun.
I immediately switched my Converses for KJacques (lovely leather flip flops from St Tropez) and although my feet are now begging for thick wool socks, I can’t help but smile. Smile from happiness: summer is finally here.


Peach, almond and yoghurt cake
adapted from Bill Granger’s simply bill

While I didn’t make this cake today (actually made it last week with the New Zealander summer in mind) it makes a beautiful summer cake.
Think a moist, light yet dense and deliciously scented cake.
Again this cake comes from Bill Granger, who’s now become my reference for no-fuss cakes.
Indeed, I always loved his way to cook and enhance clean, simple flavours; but I seemed to have forgotten him a little - in favour of my ultimate food-hero: Pierre Hermé.
Luckily when I decided to go for a bake-lots-of-cakes day, I stumbled across this and this. The gorgeous pictures and appealing flavours had my name written all over.
I couldn’t resist and I’m glad I didn’t. This day, although exhausting, resulted in two stunning cakes – one that help me face my disgust for the chocolate-orange combination and one that was perfect to turn me on to summer.

The latter is a really straight forward cake that is perfect for breakfast, lunch, tea; or indeed for anytime of the day. A real keeper!
The yoghurt makes for a wonderfully most cake, while the peach and good dose of vanilla provided a subtle and stylish flavour.
And the almonds! What a nice touch: they give both a lovely aroma and a beautiful look.

Labels: cakes of all kind, recipe inside

Sometimes seducing a guy is a very easy task: you think, you wink, you double blink - dans la poche [easy peasy].
And other times it just isn’t; no matter how hard a girl tries, nothing happens.

Back in 1998, I remember this boy in my class whose hair definitely recalled Son Gohan’s (as a Super Saiyan – c’est evident).
It seemed he fancied anything but me; well he must have changed his mind.
Two years later, when I brought him a jar of some marmalade I had made I saw sparkles in his eyes.
I will never forget that day, the day he fell in love with me.
See! All it needs to win a guy’s heart is a jar of marmalade.

That day was now more than six years ago; though, whenever I try to play the lovely-and-adoring-girlfriend and bring breakfast to bed, I can get two different faces: either the as – grumpy – as – usual or the I – love - you marmalade – so – much.
You’ll guess the latter is only found when a fat pot of marmalade is sitting on the tray.
Hopefully I can never run out of it. Indeed I’m a very lucky girl and have a beautiful bitter orange tree in my garden, which gives dozens of oranges every other year.


Bitter oranges
The oranges from my garden are slightly smaller than regular oranges and thus are perfect for jam making as the pith isn’t too big.
If making marmalade, you must use organic non treated oranges.
Even though my oranges are 100% organic I wash them to get rid of bugs or earth/sand traces.


How does marmalade solidify? – Pip is the word
What I really like about this marmalade is that you don’t have to use any extra pectin as the pips provide enough of this gelling substance.
Pectin is a molecule made of different groupings of polysaccharides (complex sugars) and allows the formation of a gel.
There are two types of pectins: HM and LM which indicates the degree of etherification of the molecule. The higher the etherification, the faster the gel will set.

Bitter orange’s pectin and more generally, citrus fruits’ pectin, is HM (High Methoxyl) and can only form a gel in presence of acid (orange) and sugar. What a lucky (and delicious) coincidence!

Here we enclose the pips in muslin bags and soak them in the orange/water mixture so they release their pectin.


Bitter orange marmalade
This is not really a recipe as the quantities of water and sugar are utterly dependent upon how many oranges you have.
What you have to remember is that you’ll need:
1,8kg of water for each kg of orange
1,3kg of caster sugar for each kg of the orange/water mixture
Then you all you have to do is follow the steps. Easy!

Note - the marmalade will look runny at first but will solidify when resting.
It’s quite unusual to let the jars sit, open until the jam is set, but it allows the gel to form evenly.

Note bis - I just love this marmalade spread on hot crusty bread!

Note ter - Take in consideration the fact that this marmalade is made over three consecutive days.

Labels: favourites, jams and preserves, recipe inside

[Mandarin chocolate cake]

When I was younger – and by younger I mean a lot more younger -, my father who worked at home used to take me to Cannes where we would go to Rohr, a posh salon de thé for tea.

He always had orangettes: candied orange peels dipped in bitter chocolate.
That was the kind of love me, feed me and hug me moments; except that I secretly loathed orangettes.
C’est amer et dégoutant! [it’s bitter and horrid], I would think hard (penser fort).

From then, I happily declined every chocolate/citrus treat I have been offered.
This combination is just not appealing to me. Well, I should say was, because I’m now happily and officially converted.


Gâteau au chocolat et à la mandarine
adapted from Bill Granger’s open kitchen

This cake combines the deep flavour of dark chocolate and the subtle sweetness of mandarin.
I think it works particularly well because mandarin is both fragrant and sweet; definitely not too sharp and it gives a satisfying intensity to the flourless chocolate base.

Serve the cake with mandarin slices to enhance the citrus taste and provide lovely juices.

Labels: cakes of all kind, chocolate, recipe inside

I am a real perfectionist; the kind that would throw away a sheet of paper whenever something looks wrong: either the writing, the colours... just about anything in fact.
I’ve been known to remake things entirely for un petit rien [barely anything] from school notebooks to cakes; from paintings to recipes.

Indeed when it comes to recipes I’m rarely satisfied. It has to and it needs to be P-E-R-F-E-C-T.
Though, sometimes it clearly isn’t. But in this case, I could do anything to achieve perfection; and if it involves staying, covered with chocolate, flour and sugar, in a kitchen all night, then I don’t mind.

Riz au lait perfume à la vanille
It took me a long time to find the perfect recipe for riz au lait à la vanille.
Indeed, I did find my redemption in riz au lait au chocolat, but really wasn’t satisfied with the white kind of riz au lait.

It’s something quite tricky: too much rice and it’ll end up rock-hard; too much milk and what you’ll get will be looked over as a soup.

This riz au lait is just as it should be: creamy, beautifully flavoured and very comforting.
What makes it special is its cooking technique inspired by the lovely Dorie Greenspan. Parboiling the rice in water makes for an almost starchless grain which is unlikely to get sticky resulting in a perfectly balanced ratio of 'rice grains' and 'vanilla cream'.

For extra comfort, you can have it while it’s still warm. And then, you’ll understand what perfection really means.

Labels: favourites, recipe inside, spoon desserts, vanilla

Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you utterly fail.
I did try, in fact, to resist to Pierre Hermé’s sablés au chocolat et à la fleur de sel.
But then, from the photo above you can tell I’ve given in – and what a defeat; because although I easily concede that, ‘yes, I’ve been weak and lacking of will-power’, now my current and unique obsession is to remake these as soon as possible (still I will make an effort and wait for at least a day or two).

Nevertheless, it is not my fault. It seems that every single person on this planet s’est donnée le mot [has been conspiring].
I was already, at the beginning, vulnerable and very receptive to the charms of these cookies: intensely chocolaty and beautifully salty. And the worldwide conspiracy didn’t help – at all.

By September I had developed weird symptoms of what might have looked like the ‘rage syndrome’: sudden attacks for no apparent reason; the dog fanny will often be sleeping and then attacks without warning. Its her eyes become dilated and sometimes change colour during and after an attack.
Beware because the dog fanny is totally confused when attacking and will not respond to any attempts to stop it her. The attacks are very unpredictable and the dog fanny will appear disorientated afterward and unaware of its actions, then return to its her normal self shortly after.
Victims are usually members of the family who have one or more chocolate and fleur de sel sablés in their hands.

However, and from what I remember, the climax of the strange behaviour I had was reached on the 5th January; when Deb posted, not one but, three pictures of the coveted little - rounds - of - pure - chocolate.
It was too much! Definitely too much!
I started panicking, fell petrified onto the floor and begun to sway, moving quickly from one position to another.
That’s all I can recall from that day; because, when I woke up the next day everything seemed back to normal. Back to normal except that now sitting on my bed table laid a plate of Pierre Hermé’s cookies instead of the usual pile of cookbooks.

* All you’ve read above is pure fiction :) Well, who am I kidding? Let’s say it is only very close to what really happened!



Sablés au chocolat et à la fleur de sel
adapted from Dorie Greenspan’s Baking from my home to yours

In French, sablés litteraly means ‘sandy’. And these are indeed deliciously sandy.
I love the contrast between the melting chocolate chunks and the texture of the sable itself.
The addition of salt is a brilliant idea: it doesn’t only enhance the profound chocolate taste but it also makes these cookies particularly desirable.
Dorie says you can keep them for three days – stored in an airtight container; though, I highly doubt you’ll be enough strong-minded to resist!

Note - The dough can be kept in the fridge for three days or frozen for two months (in which case you needn’t defrost it before baking; just slice the logs into cookies and bake the cookies 1 minute longer).

Labels: chocolate, cookies, favourites, pierre hermé, recipe inside

[A delicious Christmas log – Vanilla, candied chestnuts and fluffy chestnut macaron]


We all know one of those people who dream about Christmas all year long and when it’s finally time to celebrate - around mid-October (because, yes, these people start to act much earlier than others) -, spend days and nights thinking about the dinner, the presents, the decoration...

Well, I am one of these people.
Hi, my name is Fanny and I am a Christmasholic.

It usually starts from the 26th of December, occasionally from the 27th.
I know and feel it’s not sensible, but can’t help.
Without I even notice it, I’m already in the mood for next Christmas.
Whether it’s about the tree ornaments, the Christmas cards or the menu, I can’t stop my brain coming up with tons of ideas.
Thus, I keep hundreds (and I’m only slightly exaggerating) of Moleskine notebooks to write down every single one of these ideas.

When Christmas finally - and actually – arrives, I just have to leaf through these paper treasures to set all the variables of the equation:
ax + by + cz = BCPE
(BCPE standing for Best Christmas Party Ever)

A week ago, while searching for some inspiration for la bûche I remembered les petites notes griffonées sur un coin de feuille.
It reads - une délicieuse bûche de Noël: vanille, marron glacé et macaron à la châtaigne.


PS – I would understand now if you consider me a chestnut aficionado.


Bûche à la vanille et au marron glacé sur un macaron à la châtaigne
This bûche is made of a candied chestnut mousse encased in a vanilla mousse and wrapped in a stripped joconde.

Regarding the joconde biscuit, the result didn’t turn out as beautiful as expected. I guess the use of my father’s glue comb (self-note: buy a set of decorating combs!) has something to do with the almost disaster.

Both the mousses are delicious and complementary: the chestnut mousse is rich and sweet while the vanilla one is slightly tangy and more firm making for a balanced and delicate pudding.

The macaron is probably the best part of the bûche: satisfyingly sweet with caramel undertones and a pleasant chestnut flavour; definitely the real winner of the unforgettable Christmas Eve dinner.
Culinary speaking I’m not sure it would qualify as macaron though. Dacquoise would probably be more accurate, but the chewy texture, shiny crust and little ‘feet’ exude the macaron-attitude.

Labels: christmas, entremets, pierre hermé, recipe inside, vanilla

[Fetishist, me? – Emotion infiniment vanille]



Since I saw a television program about vanilla the other day, my dormant love for this delicate spice has been stimulated and definitely awaken.

There must be something unique about this plump, dark and oily pod; which makes it a fetish for every food lover.
Pierre Hermé says nothing less than ‘j’aime la vanille pour la pureté de son goût’ and it shows: November’s fetish collection was all about vanilla; from macarons to tartes, from éclairs to émotions.
Mais pourquoi faire simple quand on peut atteindre la perfection?
Because perfection there is: Pierre Hermé created a blend of three different vanilla types to achieve the perfect ‘goût vanille maison’.

Les vanilles



La vanille du Mexique – Vanilla planifolia
It seems logical to start with mexican vanilla as it’s considered to be the ‘mother of all vanillas’.
Indeed, the first vanilla crops were found in Mexico where the Aztec would call it tlixochtitl - black flower.
Back to the kitchen, Mexican vanilla is creamy and sweet with woody undertones and has lots of seeds; which makes it perfect for uncooked puddings: from blanc-manger to ice creams.

La vanille de Madagascar – Vanilla bourbon (though, scientifically Vanilla bourbon is the same specie as Vanilla planifolia)
This one is perhaps the most sold over the world.
I guess its strong and rich vanilla flavour and its fat pod are the reasons for this success.
I am myself a self-proclaimed addict of bourbon vanilla – I throw it in nearly everything and the results are always lovely. Especially with baked goods; while with other vanillas the flavours can be altered by high temperatures, the strength of bourbon beans makes for a beautifully perfumed cake/bread...

La vanille de Tahiti - Vanilla tahitensis
I have a strange relationship with Tahitian vanilla – although it’s very different from the two species mentioned above I really like it.
Do you think the fact that my mother was born in Papeete has got something to do with it?
The pods are short and very plump (due to high water content – almost 35%) and have a pleasing floral and fruity fragrance. In few words: perfect with fruits – as part of a glaze brushed over the juicy berries of a tart or in syrup poured over a freshly-baked baba to serve with a dollop of whipped cream and caramelised pineapple slices.

Emotion infiniment vanille
This recipe is inspired by Pierre Hermé’s Emotion created for the Fetish Infiniment Vanille collection (14-26 nov. 2006).
As I had no recipe for it, I went ‘par-ci et par-là’ and came up with somewhat a recipe.
Yes, I know the actual Emotion has mascarpone in it – but I ran out of mascarpone so I went for the chiboust option and I’m glad I did as it brings creaminess to the whole thing.

It entremet is basically made of three layers (from top):
- Bourbon vanilla chiboust
- Bourbon vanilla baba infused with Tahitian vanilla syrup
- light Mexican vanilla 'gelée'

It’s not as time-consuming as the lengthy recipe suggests. You just need to prep up the things:
1. make the babas
2. while the babas are baking, make the vanilla syrup
3. make the vanilla gelée
4. make the crème patissière
5. make the Italian meringue and fold into the crème pâtissière to get a light yet creamy chiboust
6. ‘montage de l’Emotion’ = place each baba over the light vanilla gelée and top witn pipped chiboust

Labels: favourites, pierre hermé, recipe inside, spoon desserts, vanilla

[Smooth and grainy - The paradox of chesnut and vanilla jam]


Some weeks ago I decided to have a ‘jam-making’ weekend to celebrate my new cookbook from Christine Ferber.

I had heard lots of positive reviews about Mes confitures and couldn’t resist getting my hands at it.
Thus I randomly picked three recipes – all very vanilla-ish:
- confiture de châtaigne à la vanille [chesnut and vanilla jam]
- confiture de potimarron à la vanille [pumpkin and vanilla jam]
- confiture de tomate rouge à la vanille [tomato and vanilla jam]

Les châtaignes
I love chestnuts and their earthy smell.
They remind me of Christmas; especially of fairs where you would get piping hot chestnuts served in newspaper cones.
And while I’m on a confessional mood I should tell you that I am a severe crème de marron addict.
I can eat it straight from the pot – with a spoon.

Confiture de châtaigne à la vanille
I first thought it was supposed to be like a spread but after having read the recipe twice, I notice Christine doesn't call for a food mill. She just say 'crush any big bits with a wooden spoon'.
I find it quite original - chunky crème de marron.

Hence I was slightly disappointed when a lovely lady from Christine Ferber’s shop in Alsace told me it was a smooth jam.
I had had high expectations about a deconstructed crème de marron.

Anyway, it didn’t stop me from boiling the chestnuts and peeling them.
It actually took a lot of time and nerve to peel the chestnuts. I burnt my finger almost a billion times resulting in my poor thumbs being really sore and red!
Hopefully the nearly ready jam will ease my pain. Comfort food, they call it!

Indeed I wasn’t disappointed: the jam turned out as excellent as I expected it to be.
Sweet, but not overly so.
A perfect texture - smooth and grainy, but in a good way.
A delicious nutty taste you don’t get in bought-crème de marron (even the Faugier one).

Labels: jams and preserves, recipe inside

[A storm, two cars and a millionaire’s shortbread]


Ivonne and Orchidea, asked us to share a special dish both comforting and full of memories. Here is my little story:

There are some days that are unforgettable; I mean, not willingly unforgettable. Those kinds of days you'd prefer not to remember or actually, days that end up making great stories for long winters' nights.
Indeed, if I knew an effective mean to reprogram my brain in order to dismiss memories from these days, I'm not sure I would go for it (though, I certainly would if asked right after 'la catastrophe' [the disaster]).
Looking back, I - now - remember those times with a hint of emotion because of all the lessons they taught me and all the benefits I've retained over the years.
Funnily enough, it seems that the benefits in question are mainly food-related. As if I was more keen to cook (or more possibly to eat) when utterly shocked.

Last July - the 29th to be accurate, my home-town was hit by a violent storm. My parents had left the house a few days before for a three-week journey.
The thunder started rumbling.
Without being aware of it, I started counting the seconds to get a rough idea of the location of the storm.
1, 2... Still far!
The minute after I felt what was unknown for me before - a loud crashing noise echoed and a bright light made me blind for a short moment. All this at the same exact time. The lighting had just hit the small road in front of my house.
I rushed to the kitchen and turned off all the electric appliances - including the oven, where a cake was being baked for 'le goûter'. Then, without thinking, I grabbed my father's car keys and jumped into the car, heading towards the south to escape to the storm.
When I finally got to my boyfriend's house I felt relieved yet shocked.

That night I received a text from my parents saying they would not be reachable for the next three days.
It was ok. I was in a safe place now.
But as the saying goes, 'il ne faut pas mettre la charue avant les boeufs'.

The next day, I was waited for in Cannes. But before going there, I had to go home to change clothes.
Just four kilometres away from home, the car stopped and wouldn't start again. I tried to reach my dad with no success - then I remembered the text and wondered why such a thing happened while I was alone. Alone. I must have prayed really hard because a few moments later I could finally hear the motor.
I was more than happy to be home again.
When ready to leave, I decided to take the other car - my mother's. I didn't want to risk to stay stuck in Cannes.

I went to the party. Everything went well. But then, later that night, when I got into the car and tried to start it, everything went from 'well' to 'dark'.
The battery was dead*.

Can you believe that in two days I faced a storm and the loss of two cars?

I was devastated. Devastated yet willing to bake. I picked up the first book on the shelf and decided I would make the first recipe I would spot. Millionaire's shortbread, it was; sounded good and comforting. Just what I needed. That THE benefit from this experience. Indeed I've made this recipe at least twice since that day of July.
And everytime I make these shortbreads, I still feel the same comfort they brought me after this awful day, which obviously make them taste even better (if possible!).

Hopefully, incidents do not happen that often. That would be too exhausting a life (even if you got a keeper-recipe each time)!

* Apparently the magnetic vibes of the storm had emptied the battery.

Millionaire’s shortbread
Apart from the fact that these squares brought me all the comfort I needed after that tiring event, they are very good.
The base calls for coconut, which is a great twist for the regular shortbread. The caramel mixture is so yummy I could eat it straight from the pan with ‘une petite cuillère’ and the use of oil (I prefer to use cocoa butter, but you can easily substitute it with sunflower oil) in the chocolate layer help getting a glossy look without having to temper the chocolate.
Note – I couldn’t help but use salted butter in the caramel mixture. I am such a ‘caramel au beurre salé’ lover!

Labels: bites of sweetness, favourites, recipe inside

[I’m late, very late; or maybe I’m just in wonder(tart)land – Chocolate riz au lait]


Time goes by and I suddenly realise that all I’ve been writting about last month are a pie, a tarte and a crostata.
Have I missed something? Was October the month of tart?

There must be something comforting in baking tarts.
The reward of turning simple ingredients such as butter, flour and sugar into a delicious dough, the calmness of kneading it and the reassuring fragrance that fills the entire house.
And indeed, there are – at least for me - few things that make me feel as comfy as tarts do.

A tart seems to be perfect to warm up the cold days autumn is now bringing us.
I guess my current passion for tarts will not stop anytime soon: I can’t wait to recreate the lovely pecan tart I had in Toronto and the pasteis de Belem a sweet friend brought me back from Portugal.
A never-ending tea tart party!

Though, I feel like something will – for a short moment – sooth my tart cravings.


Riz au lait au chocolat
Riz au lait, litteraly milk rice, is the French name for a pudding made of rice cooked in sweetened milk.
It is usually flavoured with vanilla or even cinnamon if one wants to feel warm and cosy.
But I like my riz au lait best when very chocolaty. But then I am the ultimate chocolate lover!
This quite unusual twist brings out – in my humble opinion – the creaminess of the pudding and transforms the rather homely dessert into a luxurious treat.

Labels: chocolate, recipe inside, spoon desserts

[When i was a child... - Figs and almonds tarts]



Indian summer they call it.
I would rather say ‘opportunity to still get figs at the end of October’.
In fact, France is being blessed with summer-like temperatures and I am, on the other hand, blessed with plump figues noires [black figs].

I am a devoted lover of figs. When I was a child, I used stand up on my balançoire [swing] to reach the higher branches of the fig tree of our backyard, and then eat the result of my harvest in less than ten minutes. But I was fooling no one, my stained fingers and lips spoke for themselves!


Crostata di fichi
This is the perfect way to use ripe figs. It makes a well balanced pudding – the tartness of the figs complements the sweet frangipane in such a delicious way.

I think it tastes even better the next day, just chilled. I even had it for breakfast with a generous dollop of yoghurt.

Just a short note - althought the tins i used are *supercute* i really advise you to bake the tart in a 28cm tart tin as the frangipane/fig ratio is slightly too high when using two small tins instead of a large one.
It does improve the taste and balance to have less frangipane per slice and thus to use a 28cm tin.

Labels: recipe inside, tartes

[Fernand and the magic potimarron - Pumpkin pie and other autumn treats]

It happens once a week, sometimes even twice.
While I’m drinking my ever-favourite matcha soy latte on the stairs just in front of the main door of my house, I spot a paper bag, hanging on the gate.

I remember the first time; me, leaving the cup of tea on the higher step and walking down - slightly hesitant. I grab the vintage brown paper bag suspended on the faded gold gate.
The corners of the bag are stained.
I carefully open it while going up the stairs and to my greatest delight I discover its content: bright-orange carrots, gorgeous potimarron, shiny shallots and delicious coings [quinces].

Then I see a small paper - maintained pleated by a fine raffia ribbon - at the bottom of the bag. I carefully untie the bow and read the sweet note:
‘J’espère que ça vous plaira, ce ne sont que de modestes légumes de mon jardin mais qui sentent délicieusement bon l’automne.
Si vous avez un peu de temps, je serai ravi de vous faire visiter mon potager.
Fernand’
[I hope you’ll like it. Only humble vegetables from my garden, but they deliciously smell like autumn.
If you’ve got a little spare time, I’ll be glad to show you my kitchen garden.]

What a kind person! From then, I’ve been waiting for that old paper bag and literally craving for it.
And when it’s finally time for the sweet delivery I can’t refrain that smile on my face.

I smile. Sheer joy. But also because I can’t help but imagine Fernand picking his most beautiful vegetables, packing them with love and quietly hanging the bag on the gate without I even notice.


Pumpkin pie


Pumpkin pie has always been on of my favourites. It reminds me of the warmth and treasures of autumn.
I remember making this exact pumpkin pie years ago and I sincerely can't remember who gave me the recipe. All I know is that's it's both a keeper and a crowd-pleaser.
ps. I’m not giving exact cooking times because I didn't write them down.
As you can see on the picture the edges of the pie crust are slightly burnt: I tried to bake blind the pastry first and then bake the whole pie, which obviously didn't turn out as expected. Thus I can only advise you to check the pie now and then. It is cooked when set but still a little soft in the centre.

Labels: favourites, garden and campagne, recipe inside, tartes

Did I really need to write another post about Pierre Hermé? No, not really if we consider I've already spoken about this genius at least six times before.
I'm sorry but I can't help.

Pierre Hermé, je t'aime.
I love every single thing you make. Who can deny that you are the most creative pâtissier of the world.
Avocat banane chocolat
Pêche abricot safran
Chocolat au lait banane passion
Just to say three of them.

Pierre Hermé, je t'aime.
Though I already secretly knew I had to be a pâtissier, you gave me the courage to finally face the truth. Now I'm brave enough to say that as soon as I'll graduate and save enough money I will attend the pastry course at le Cordon Bleu to, one day, open my own patisserie.
Maybe it was my fate. I am a Lenoir's mascotte afterall.

Pierre Hermé, je t'aime.
By publishing a book collecting all your recipes you couldn't make me happier. At the second I had PH10 in my arms, I knew we would love each others.
This book is more than a cookbook. It's my bible. Whenever I feel like making something special I only have to open the book and choose (and there you don't have to be fiddly about the choosing time – it is long but every second is worth it).

After that love delclaration you may think I'm insane and though I pretend I'm not, I am, well almost!
I simply love Pierre Hermé's work to the point of no-return.
So when I say Pierre Hermé, I love you; I do mean, in fact, I love what you do, but isn't I love you more poetic than I love what you do?

This was just an introduction to a dessert I made the other three days.
- Did I already say how much I loved Plaisir Sucré?
- Everyone says YES!
So I pass this part.
Anyway this is, for me and for most of the people I know, milk chocolate heaven.
It was then a quick decision to make one for my dad's birthday. Though, I wanted it to look more like a birthday cake; thus when I found the recipe for Coeur Velours (otherwise know as Coeur Plaisir Sucré) I knew it was the ONE.

It takes quite a long time to make – I started Friday whereas the birthday party was on Sunday.
But although it's really time-consuming I simply don't mind because, for me, making of of Pierre Hermé's creation is like choosing the perfect wedding dress or to grow the perfect orchid. It needs time, love and devotion.

Here is its history.

Coeur Velours
This entremet de fête, as Pierre Hermé calls it, is another form of the famous Cerise sur le Gâteau.
It makes a lovely birthday cake and would be perfect in fact for every occasion (have you ever thought of self-inflicted parties – think 'I have a new car, why not make a party', or 'it's raining, why not…').
Pierre Hermé suggests that it should be eaten alone to underline the different tastes and textures and I can only agree with my maître-à-penser.

Labels: chocolate, entremets, favourites, pierre hermé, recipe inside

When something is available for only few months you should rush for it; especially if it's fleur de courgette.
Fleurs de courgette, or courgette flowers are associated with provençal cooking in my mind because I don't know other ways to cook them that the way old grand-mères niçoises do.
But they're also linked with a memory of mine. The kind of memory you'd prefer to have forgotten. Though, this memory is thankfully soothed by the gorgeous courgette flowers. I suppose I'm not being very clear, so let me develop.

It is a hot summer day during the late eighties. My parents brought me on holiday along them and I am eager to discover the wonderful city of Marseille.
We go to the gorgeous beaches; we walk through attractive fruit/vegetable stalls at the farmers market...
It was all perfect. Perfect until the day my dad decided we should go at the grand place where the boule pétanque challenge takes place.
We sit here on a wooden faded-green bench and we watch.
It is so hot! But the high trees provide an enjoyable shadow, making the heat more bearable.
As usual, my chatty dad starts talking with the players and my name comes to the conversation.
'Fanny'
'In Provence there is a tradition. When a pétanque player looses 'il est fanny' [he's fanny]; meaning that he has to kiss the bottom of a girl called Fanny.'
I am there, sitting and unable to face my destiny. I am scared: I think the looser will actually try to kiss my bum (which is by the way prettily draped in a new-bought dress).
So as soon as the game reaches its near-end I press my parents.
'Maman, Papa! Allez on y va!' [Mum, Dad! Come on! Hurry up!]
Few minutes later we are – to my relief – quitting the grand place and heading towards a crique [creek] where friends of my parents are waiting for us.
As we are walking the air is getting packed with aromatic perfumes. 'On arrive bientôt!' [We're approaching!].
I can see the creek. A tiny little creek and a giant wooden tent! I rush inside the tent where Marcel is preparing the dinner.
I immediately spot the small basket filled with gorgeous yellow flowers. I ask Marcel what there are.
'Fleurs de courgette' 'J'aime pas les courgettes' [I don't like courgettes]
'Mais là, je suis sûr que tu vas adoré' [Maybe, but i can tell you that you're going to love this]
Indeed he was right. I loved it: a delicious combination of crispy batter and soft flower.
That night, Marcel also delighted us with a luscious bouillabaisse [fish soup].


Beignets de fleur de courgettes
These are, as suggested above, a pure treat: almost melting inside and dead-crispy outside.
Use male flowers for this and if you can, remove the stamens.
The batter I used here is a tempura wannabe though it's a little more thick.

Labels: favourites, make a meal of it, recipe inside

[It's hot! - Chocolate-hearted brioches]
Despite allowing you to go to the swimming pool/beach instead of doing the really-urgent-things-to-do, the heat wave that hit the south of France has few advantages.
Though, I try to remain as optimistic as possible.
OK it's deadly hot. But yeast is active at high temperatures, isn't it?

I really love to work with fresh yeast: its strong peppery smell; its lovely soft-rubber texture that's transformed in an airy mousse with hydration-warming.
However I always find it a bit difficult to get dough to rise properly during cold winters. Thus summer is, for me, the perfect time for a bit of yeast action: from chocolate soft rolls to bread; from cinnamon rolls to foccacia.

I do think that yeasted goods are highly rewarding for some reasons. One of them might be the scrumptious smell of freshly baked bread/rolls that fills the entire house or the delightful relation between the dough and you during the kneading-part of the job (once I start kneading the dough and feel it becoming warmer and softer it would be hard to stop me).

La brioche
Brioches are the typical pastry French children are served for breakfast or for le goûter and I was no exception.
I remember waiting endlessly for my dad to bring me to the boulangerie les mercredis [Wednesdays] where I would always have une brioche au sucre s'il-vous-plait [a sugar brioche, please]. These brioches were special in two ways, the first one being the ritual and the second one being the hidden surprise inside the brioche.
Because surprise there was! The first bite wouldn't tell you anything, but from the second bite you'd discover a melting chocolate heart.

Labels: chocolate, recipe inside, yeasted treats

[Yum, it's so delicious - Chocolate chip muffins]


Today I have a confession to make.
I did say that ChocolateChocolate wasn't that good because
I did think that there were too many similar recipes; making the reading a bit confusing but
I did buy it and
I did like the cover, design, writing and pictures but
I did still think there were far too many junk chocolate added to the cakes and bars then
I did make one recipe and another
And now I do love this book.

The recipes are trustful. You can't go wrong: well explained, accurate measurements (even if it's in cups and spoons).
This book is now a favourite although I won't try all the recipes (especially the ones with chopped chocolate bars added or the ones loaded with shredded coconut).

To tell the truth, I was still unsure about my book choice when I received the book from amazon, but when I made the flourless bittersweet chocolate cake I slightly changed my mind. Maybe it wasn't as bad.
Though the true révélation was when I made the chocolate chip muffins. A pure killer recipe.

Chocolate chip muffins are the type of food I wouldn't eat as a child. I would always go for madeleines and sablés, but certainly not for muffins – not enough fashionable at that time to be sold in France.
Now I crave muffins – not as big as a piece of cake but equally delicious (to say the least).
Though I'm always scared when buying a muffin – it is going to be too dry or too cakey?
With Lisa's muffins, you really don't have to worry. They're perfect.

Giant chocolate chip muffins
These muffins are just delicious. The crumb is fine and light and you have chocolate chips at each bite.
They keep well for 3 days – though I love them still warm from the oven, but the big bonus is that you can freeze them baked for up to a month!


PS. Congrats to Sam that got oven 2000$ of pledges!
'Now Sam you can relax and have bite' says Lapinou...

Labels: chocolate, cupcakes and muffins, favourites, recipe inside

I've always been in love with mangoes. But when I spotted this mango on the farmer's stall I couldn’t help but imagine myself walking through a mango orchard in India.
In my dream, the trees were beautiful. The air smelled like orange and lime tree flowers with just a hint of vanilla.
The mangoes were so red they looked like rubies suspended in a mass of green feathers. I picked one of these plump jewels. My fingers closed around something as smooth as a silk ribbon.
The farmer, who was looking at me with sympathy, gave me his small knife so I could peel off the divine skin of the fruit. He knew I couldn’t resist for another minute.
I carefully skinned the mango, revealing its golden flesh.
I closed my eyes and took it to my mouth. It was firm and juicy and tasted just like I had imagined.
Then I woke up. It was anything but India. But I still had that mango in my hand.

Mangoes are the sort of fruit I can never have enough of. Even though I buy almost a dozen of mangoes per week, they seem to disappear faster than it takes to say 'good bye'.
Before I even realize how good they are I've already devoured at least three of them! Can you believe this?
Finally, only one –out of twelve- was left. I had to keep it in a safe place by making this extraordinary tart.

Mango tart
This tart is an elegant way to use mangoes. The custard – bursting with vanilla flavours – is balanced by adding whipped crème fraiche and nicely enhances the vanilla hint of the mango.
The pastry is quite difficult to work with but patches beautifully, so don't be scared.

Labels: favourites, recipe inside, tartes

A little more than a year ago, the movie Charlie and the Chocolate factory was finally released on screen.
As a foodie and chocolate-addict I had to see it. I was sure I would enjoy and I did.
The story is great. But my favourite part of the movie is the behind-the-scene stuff: the luscious chocolate river, the whipped cream, the back-shop… A pure delight for both the eyes and mind.

Ever since I’ve been obsessed with chocolate (ok I admit I am finding a reason to my ever-chocolate-obsession); but how one can’t be obsessed with chocolate once one discovers the creativity and yumminess of Willy Wonka’s chocolates.

Sometimes I like to think that the WW chocolate factory does exist and that I am able to buy its delicious treats.
Sadly I can’t.
But by making this gelato I found the true essence of Willy Wonka’s ever lasting chocolate gelato: creamy, intense, delicious.

To tell the truth I came across gelato quite late in life. All I knew was crème glacée [ice cream] and sorbet.
I’ve always find ice cream a bit too creamy and sorbets a bit too icy; so the discovery of gelatos (or gelati) has changed my whole perception of iced delights.
I don’t really know how gelato should be defined, but in my approach a gelato (which is by the way the Italian name for ice cream) is an ice cream made without cream, but still containing eggs and dairy products.

I love gelato for many reasons:
it is creamy but not heavy
it is soft and not icy
in one word: THE ice cream luxury
As Willy Wonka could have said!


Intense chocolate gelato
This gelato is very intense. I love its deep chocolate-flavour, its creamy texture and the fact that it holds its shape well even by hot summer weather.

Labels: chocolate, ice creams and other iced delights, recipe inside

Remember, a few days ago I was wondering about how to use the tons of apricots from my backyard.
I got some lovely ideas from Joycelyn: slow roasted apricots in orange caramel; from Melissa: chilled apricot soup with Muscat and from Estelle: tarte renversée aux abricots et au sucre muscovado.
These recipes sound good for sure, but I didn't have le coup de foudre you need to have when discovering a recipe for the first time.

Then I completely forgot about apricots and decided to just have them fresh from the tree or in a chilled drink.
That's only when I started browsing for a pistachio cake recipe through my cookbooks that I found the best way to use these apricots for a sophisticated dessert – pistachio cake with orange blossom syrup.

The recipe originally calls for fresh figs. But figs aren't available yet here. Though, I was determined to make this cake with or without the figs.

Aren't pistachio and apricots known for being a winner combination? I had find: 1) a recipe to use the apricots I had been stocking and 2) a substitute for the figs.

Pistachio cake with orange blossom syrup
This cake reminds me of lazy afternoon spent on a charming terrace in Rabat, drinking delicious thé à la menthe and tons of homemade patisseries.
The breeze, the sea, the perfumes... are set back in my mind at each bite. These days are one of the best I've had and thus this cake is high-placed on my top-ten favourites.
It's definitely airy and all the flavours go so well together: pistachio, apricot and orange blossom. In one word, the Moroccan essence!

Labels: cakes of all kind, favourites, recipe inside