La Recette du Jour

I’ve been hoping for several months that I would be paired with Bellini Valli of More Than Burnt Toast for Taste & Create, and it finally happened! I was delighted, and looked forward to spending some time browsing her site. Unfortunately work and other stuff got in the way; and by last week I had a list of “only” a dozen or so recipes I wanted to try, and no time to try them.

Finally yesterday I had some free time,so I looked for something quick to do (in passing, I discovered that oddly enough Val — or at least her friend Lillian — was the originator of the crater banana bread I cooked for the last round of T&C). I hovered over the apple pancake, the apricot and ginger scones, the lamb sliders and half a dozen others … but finally, the pear upside-down cake looked irresistible for a chilly autumn day.

I used some of our local herb-flavoured garrigue honey, and Louise Bonne pears. Fresh thyme is hard to come by at this time of year, even here, so I sprinkled on some dried. Apart from that and my usual conversions, I followed the recipe exactly. It got the thumbs up from both of us, served still warm with a dollop of crème fraîche. OK, maybe it doesn’t quite reach the gingery, caramelised heights of my Best Dessert Ever, Springfield Pear Cake — the combination of pears and ginger can’t be beat in my opinion — but it is pretty darned close. The caramelised honey gave it a delicious spicy flavour, and the sponge was feather-light. I will definitely be making this again … and again … and again.

Thanks Val for an enjoyable browse and a delicious dessert — I’ve tucked several other recipes away for later!
Recipe for Honey and pear upside-down cake »

Tatins seem to be everywhere these days; first Bellini Valli of More Than Burnt Toast, then Loulou, then Ivy came up with their own versions. I saw Ivy’s post just as I had got home with a big bag of apples to make one myself. At a stroke, I tried Ivy’s idea of making small individual ones, using some perfectly-sized shallow gratin dishes. A great idea for anyone nervous about flipping the tatin; it’s much easier with small ones! I think I’ll be making these a lot now, although there is something impressive about a single large tarte tatin fresh from the oven, glistening with caramel and just waiting to be shared with friends.

Finally, if you are really, really nervous about making tatins, try this unconventional method from Chefs Gone Wild — the results look stunning, and that’s exactly the colour you should be aiming for — though personally I would not use puff pastry.

Once upon a time, tarte tatin meant apples, but now it’s come to cover a much broader spectrum, from sweet to savoury. Some of them are a travesty of what tatin is about in my opinion; it should be simple, not tricked-up with loads of extra ingredients, and the essential point is that whatever you use should caramelise to a rich golden brown; if it doesn’t, what’s the point? Things that produce too much juice or go soggy/disintegrate will not work. Whatever you choose, you must be brave and caramelise it to within an inch of its life; it must be deep golden-brown before you put the pastry on, otherwise your finished tart will be pale and disappointing. So that said, here are a few ideas:

• To a classic apple tatin, add some thin slices of quince for a wonderful added aroma, or mix pears and apples. I always add some grated lemon zest and a squeeze of juice to mine.
• Try a pineapple tatin; it works really well, and is a good use for a fresh pineapple that isn’t as flavourful as you had hoped. Peaches and apricots are good summer candidates too.
• On the savoury front, tomato tatin is obvious and excellent; either one large one as a main course with salad, or small individual ones served as starters.
• Shallots make a fabulous tatin: caramelise whole peeled shallots slowly in butter or olive oil with a sprinkling of sugar, and add some balsamic vinegar at the end. For the ultimate taste and texture sensation, make individual ones, turn out, and top each with a slice of pan-fried foie gras. This is sinfully good!

Domestic crises chez Nicky meant a hiatus for Taste & Create last month, and I’m pleased it’s back this month, thanks to Min, while Nicky takes a much-needed break.

My partner was a new one to me: Allison of Fridgg. First impression when I landed on her blog: “Wow, those photos are amazing!” Second impression: “Spam musubi?? Help! I don’t like spam and I don’t like sushi!” It’s all very well going out of your comfort zone, but this was a step too far

But undaunted, I continued searching, and my persistence was rewarded. Back in August, Allison had made a yummy-looking crater banana bread, and glancing at the fruit bowl I saw a ripe banana just waiting to be used. I’ve actually never made banana bread, so this was a first for me. I still felt at liberty to change it though. I’m not a fan of chocolate chips, in fact I don’t really go for chocolatey desserts unless they are made of large quantities of the best bitter chocolate. Or they are the milk chocolate soufflé at Lapérouse in Paris — I thought I’d died and gone to heaven when I ate that. Bananas say “rum” to me, so I substituted some rum-soaked jumbo sultanas for the chocolate chips.

It smelled fabulous while it was cooking, and I could barely wait for it to cool down before I tried some. I had wondered why it was called “crater” banana bread, but the crackled top did look like solidifying lava when I took it out of the oven. As for the end result, well, now I know what to do with over-ripe bananas. The inside was quite moist and the sultana layer had sunk to the bottom, making a gorgeously gooey, caramelised mess, but the edges and top were crunchy and caramelised, making a lovely contrast with the crumb. It’s so rich, more like cake than bread, that it’s probably most appropriate as a dessert, slightly warm, with ice cream or yoghurt. “I don’t like banana bread,” said Steve, and then had second helpings.

My metric version follows: this time I did stick to the quantity of sugar specified, even though it looked a lot, and double-checked all my conversions. Mine is also for a smaller cake than Allison’s.

As for the photos, well, it just wasn’t a good day, but don’t let them put you off!
Recipe for Crater banana bread »

As well as solving the problem of messy servings, this looks glamorous enough to serve to guests, has far fewer calories than traditional cheesecake and takes only 10 minutes to make. What’s not to like?
Recipe for Cheesecake, rearranged »

I unexpectedly came across some fresh apricots at the greengrocer’s the other day, and even though I have a ton in the freezer and more in jars, I couldn’t resist buying some. We’ve eaten so much apricot clafoutis recently that even though it’s delicious and easy, I decided to make a bit more effort this time. It’s not pastry-making weather, but a root around in the freezer produced a slab of pâte sucrée (sweet pastry), so away I went.

This tart is quite a lot of work if you have to make the pastry too, but the results are excellent, and it’s ideal for a summer party. Serve warm or at room temperature, with crème fraîche or ice cream.
Recipe for Apricot frangipane tart »

This is based on a recipe by Tartelette, which I found by using Food Blog Search to look for ways of using up raspberries and mascarpone. Hers had a crumble topping, but I decided to go for a classic brûlée. Easy to make, and delicious.

Recipe for Raspberry and mascarpone brûlée »

It’s apricot time again, the season for another crate of apricots from Julien’s orchard, now officially organic. His first crop was ruined by hail, so mine are from the second, large deep gold fruits with a rosy tinge. I confess I still have lots of jam left from last year, and even a jar of apricots in vodka, so I only took 5 kg this time. Some of them were halved, stoned, and went straight into the freezer between layers of greaseproof paper. Some made yet more jam, and others were simply eaten. That left me with about a dozen, and looking for recipes I happened across Loulou’s clafoutis. I already have several clafoutis recipes, but Loulou’s looked so tempting I just had to try it.

On closer inspection I was a bit worried by the oven temperature of 220C — I thought the eggs would curdle. So I did it at 200, but actually there is enough flour in it to prevent curdling, so I will do it at a higher temperature next time. This time, I just cooked it for longer.

We usually eat clafoutis warm or cold, but Loulou recommends letting it cool completely, and she’s right; it was good warm, but the leftovers were even better straight from the fridge this evening.

Like Loulou, I urge you to cook clafoutis; it’s so easy, and works with nearly any fruit, so you can do it all the year round, even with prunes in winter! Vary the flavourings according to the fruit — for example cinnamon with apples, or almonds with pears.

Recipe for Apricot clafoutis »

Our 25th wedding anniversary, and Steve’s birthday: how to resist a recipe called verrines passion, passion verrines? I love making dainty desserts in glasses too. So I launched myself into Mercotte’s complicated-looking recipe. Truth to tell, it wasn’t that difficult, and you can do much of it in advance.

One word of warning: I messed up the tuiles by miscalculating the amount of butter. They ended up chewy instead of crisp, so I zapped them in the oven after cutting them out, hence they were dark brown instead of golden like Mercotte’s. They are delicious though; the lemon and cardamom work really well. I’ll definitely do them again, and get them right next time. I couldn’t get any passion fruit juice or pulp either, so I made do with mixed tropical fruit juice for the jelly.

There are four elements: the tuiles, the caramelised almonds, the jelly and the cream. All can be made the day before, except perhaps the cream, and you can assemble them a few hours before the meal, then keep in the fridge.

This serves two, but you’ll have some almonds and tuiles left over. Tant pis!

Recipe for Pots of passion, by Mercotte »

I happened across a food blog event called Taste and Create in which food bloggers are paired up and cook something from each other’s blogs. It sounded like fun, so I signed up. I was a teeny bit alarmed when I saw who I’d been paired with: Megan is obviously a baker who specialises in fancy cakes, which are not my forte at all. I was worried I wouldn’t find anything I thought myself capable of cooking, but luckily I quickly found ricotta pound cake, which looked like the sort of cake I make to take to choir practice and doesn’t involve fondant icing. I briefly toyed with the chocolate cupcakes, but they involved piping bags and I just didn’t see myself with a piping bag; I think I’ve probably used one about once in my entire life, and that was for making Duchesse potatoes.

Next challenge: the American cup measures. Gah! I hate these! How do you measure a cup of butter?? Off to Google, and I found this handy calculator, instantly bookmarked.

So off to the kitchen with the scales and a measuring jug. Now I have to confess that even after I’d done the conversions I fiddled with the recipe. 340 grams of sugar to 170 g of flour?? Pound cakes normally have equal weights of egg, butter, sugar and flour, and I’m sure most Americans have a sweeter tooth than I do, so I reduced the sugar to “only” 200 g. This might have something to do with the fact that my cake took even longer than Megan’s to cook, and was very moist — er, soggy even. But it had a lovely crisp, caramelised outside which contrasted nicely with the golden yellow interior. It’s a “pudding” sort of cake; it would be nice with some soft fruit such as raspberries or blueberries, or even as the basis of a trifle.

So I’m not disappointed with my choice. Maybe I should put more sugar in next time though. The quantities below are what I actually used after my measuring/weighing/converting session; if you want the real recipe, I recommend visiting Megan’s blog!

Recipe for Ricotta Pound Cake »

I’ve always been a fan of anything lemon-flavoured, but I seem to have been going overboard lately. Every time I go to the supermarket they have piles of lovely firm untreated lemons, and I can’t resist them.

This originated as a recipe in Sainsbury’s magazine. Having just made some limoncello I had to try it. An additional motive was the hope of finding a form of jelly I can serve to French people without them going “eeeeew! Jelly!!” (le jelly invariably comes up immediately after “they boil everything to death” when you ask French people what they think of British food).

I think I have a winner here, the jelly cunningly concealed under layers of lemony custard and syllabub, the whole intensely lemony. The original recipe suggests folding broken-up bought meringues into the cream topping. Yes, it does need something crunchy, but I think meringues are the wrong thing. When you’ve made the custard, you will have five egg whites left over; use them to make tuiles to serve with the trifles. They look very pretty served in individual glasses; this makes 6 200 ml trifles.

It might look like a faff, but you can/must make the jelly and custard the day before serving (and the tuiles if making), and then assemble everything up to a couple of hours before the meal. The syllabub topping is better if left to stand for a couple of hours for the flavour to mature.

Recipe for Lemon trifles »