If Sophie has a defect - apart from being French, which she was kind of born with and it's not really her fault so stop laughing at her - it's that she doesn't really appreciate dessert. Apart from pavlova, for some strange reason. I mean, you can make a 12" pav, set it down in front of her and by the time you've turned back around with the cake-slice to serve her, half of it's gone. Let's be honest, it's not just her - although she is an extreme case - most frog-persons we know would die for the stuff. Or at least commit unspeakable acts. What is it about soggy meringue, whipped cream and fruit that will lead people to sell their children on the wharves at Marseilles?
I don't know, because I don't actually like the stuff that much, which is doubtless one reason why our kids are still running around free rather than having one leg chained to a wall and serving tea in a low-life souk somewhere in Morocco.
Whatever, following are two recipes which I've never ever made for Sophie and probably never will. Now were I to offer her chicken in cream sauce with morilles and vin jaune ... we'd be selling her kids in Marseilles. (To get the cash to buy the morilles and vin jaune, obviously.)
For both the recipes which follow, you will need some sweet short pastry. You can either make it, or buy it. I've a confession to make: if it's flaky pastry I tend to buy it, unless it's for the galette des rois, when I will suffer and make it myself. I buy it partly because I'm not actually a chef patissier and consequently don't feel obliged to make it, but mostly because it's a pain in the arse to make. Properly, anyway.
But anything else is a doddle. You may well have your favourite recipe, in which case feel free to use it: I use (for one tart) about a cup of flour, 50 gm or so of butter, a few tablespoons of sugar, ditto powdered almonds, milk to mix and, on occasion, a tablespoon of orange-flower water. If you're planning on making both, you'll obviously need double the quantity.
There are several schools of thought concerning the butter. One holds that you should use nothing but unsalted. Right, that's them consigned to the 7th pit of hell, freezing in Satan's icy blasts and hopefully wondering where they went wrong. Another believes that you should chop the butter into the flour until you've got a mixture like breadcrumbs - they're merely misguided, and I wish them no harm. Personally, I like to mix the dry ingredients together with a fork, add the butter in 0.5cm chunks, stir in the liquid until it just holds together and then fold and knead it very lightly. Like this you get what is technically known as bastard puff pastry, which I like. It's semi-flaky, and very buttery. There should be big smears of butter in it when you roll it out. (Incidentally, the same principle - less the almonds, sugar and orange-flower water, obviously - and using an egg instead of/as well as the milk - works really well for quiches. If anyone still eats them, these days. They go really well with a salad.)
The next thing to worry about is whether or not to bake blind. Most books will tell you that having rolled out yer pastry and lined the dish, you should stick a round of baking paper on top and fill it with either dried beans or hideously expensive ceramic replicas and bake for 15 minutes, the idea being to stop it puffing up and making unsightly blisters.
For one thing, this depends on the filling you're going to put in. For some - like the peach tart below, yes, you do want to bake blind - otherwise you'll get prematurely soggy pastry, which sounds rather like some sexual dysfunction but isn't. For others, like the redcurrant meringue or a tarte frangipane aux cerises (which I may tell you about another time), you do not.
Whatever, if you are baking blind, I personally can't be arsed with the baking paper and the beans: stick the lined pie-dish in the oven for 10 minutes, pierce any large bubbles with a knife so that they deflate, then take out your pastry brush and paint the base with lightly-beaten (ie well-whipped with a fork) egg-white and stick it back in for another 5 minutes. This will a) seal the holes from the knifepoint and b) seal the pastry so that it doesn't start to dissolve with the fruit juices from the filling.
Right, on with the fun. First up is - tada!I don't know, because I don't actually like the stuff that much, which is doubtless one reason why our kids are still running around free rather than having one leg chained to a wall and serving tea in a low-life souk somewhere in Morocco.
Whatever, following are two recipes which I've never ever made for Sophie and probably never will. Now were I to offer her chicken in cream sauce with morilles and vin jaune ... we'd be selling her kids in Marseilles. (To get the cash to buy the morilles and vin jaune, obviously.)
For both the recipes which follow, you will need some sweet short pastry. You can either make it, or buy it. I've a confession to make: if it's flaky pastry I tend to buy it, unless it's for the galette des rois, when I will suffer and make it myself. I buy it partly because I'm not actually a chef patissier and consequently don't feel obliged to make it, but mostly because it's a pain in the arse to make. Properly, anyway.
But anything else is a doddle. You may well have your favourite recipe, in which case feel free to use it: I use (for one tart) about a cup of flour, 50 gm or so of butter, a few tablespoons of sugar, ditto powdered almonds, milk to mix and, on occasion, a tablespoon of orange-flower water. If you're planning on making both, you'll obviously need double the quantity.
There are several schools of thought concerning the butter. One holds that you should use nothing but unsalted. Right, that's them consigned to the 7th pit of hell, freezing in Satan's icy blasts and hopefully wondering where they went wrong. Another believes that you should chop the butter into the flour until you've got a mixture like breadcrumbs - they're merely misguided, and I wish them no harm. Personally, I like to mix the dry ingredients together with a fork, add the butter in 0.5cm chunks, stir in the liquid until it just holds together and then fold and knead it very lightly. Like this you get what is technically known as bastard puff pastry, which I like. It's semi-flaky, and very buttery. There should be big smears of butter in it when you roll it out. (Incidentally, the same principle - less the almonds, sugar and orange-flower water, obviously - and using an egg instead of/as well as the milk - works really well for quiches. If anyone still eats them, these days. They go really well with a salad.)
The next thing to worry about is whether or not to bake blind. Most books will tell you that having rolled out yer pastry and lined the dish, you should stick a round of baking paper on top and fill it with either dried beans or hideously expensive ceramic replicas and bake for 15 minutes, the idea being to stop it puffing up and making unsightly blisters.
For one thing, this depends on the filling you're going to put in. For some - like the peach tart below, yes, you do want to bake blind - otherwise you'll get prematurely soggy pastry, which sounds rather like some sexual dysfunction but isn't. For others, like the redcurrant meringue or a tarte frangipane aux cerises (which I may tell you about another time), you do not.
Whatever, if you are baking blind, I personally can't be arsed with the baking paper and the beans: stick the lined pie-dish in the oven for 10 minutes, pierce any large bubbles with a knife so that they deflate, then take out your pastry brush and paint the base with lightly-beaten (ie well-whipped with a fork) egg-white and stick it back in for another 5 minutes. This will a) seal the holes from the knifepoint and b) seal the pastry so that it doesn't start to dissolve with the fruit juices from the filling.
Peaches and cream tart.
I have to admit that I lifted this one from an Australian author, Stephanie Alexander. I find her style condescending, but the recipes are good.
Beat hell out of three egg yolks, 1/2 cup castor sugar, a few drops of vanilla essence, a tablespoon or two of cornflour and 3/4 cup of sour cream. Feel free to add more flour or cornflour if you're worried that the mixture looks too sloppy. But hey - we're making a soufflé here. Then - the bit she forgot - beat the egg whites until very stiff and gently fold them in. Spread some of the mixture on the base of the tart and cover with thinly quartered peaches, or nectarines, or both. Spread the rest of the mixture over the top, smooth, and sprinkle with brown sugar. (Use a sieve for this. Otherwise it will not so much sprinkle as descend in huge lumps.) Bake until set (about 25 minutes), serve, pig out. Like I said, bake blind for this one.
Tarte meringuée aux Groseilles (aka redcurrant meringue tart).
This one comes from the clippings folder - can never find it when I want it, but luckily enough it's sort of got built-in now, like the recipe for clafouti and homard palestine. You will need about 300 gm of redcurrants for this one, so if you haven't got them adapt. Use frozen raspberries, for example. Do I have to tell you everything?
Whatever, beat two egg yolks up with sugar and 100gm or so of powdered almonds until white and creamy. Put them aside while you whisk up the egg whites with some more sugar until firm. Fold half the egg whites into the yolk mixture along with half the redcurrants, spread into the lined pie dish. Now fold the rest of the redcurrants into the remaining meringue and spread over the tart. You could probably sprinkle that with sugar too. Cook, eat. Yum.
Postscript
You may have noticed that I've not explicitly noted points during the preparation of these two at which you may reasonably take a drink. Sorry for the oversight, it will not happen again. On the other hand, assuming they're both in the oven, you've got a good half hour before you need to worry about them, so feel free.
Tarte meringuée aux Groseilles (aka redcurrant meringue tart).
This one comes from the clippings folder - can never find it when I want it, but luckily enough it's sort of got built-in now, like the recipe for clafouti and homard palestine. You will need about 300 gm of redcurrants for this one, so if you haven't got them adapt. Use frozen raspberries, for example. Do I have to tell you everything?
Whatever, beat two egg yolks up with sugar and 100gm or so of powdered almonds until white and creamy. Put them aside while you whisk up the egg whites with some more sugar until firm. Fold half the egg whites into the yolk mixture along with half the redcurrants, spread into the lined pie dish. Now fold the rest of the redcurrants into the remaining meringue and spread over the tart. You could probably sprinkle that with sugar too. Cook, eat. Yum.
Postscript
You may have noticed that I've not explicitly noted points during the preparation of these two at which you may reasonably take a drink. Sorry for the oversight, it will not happen again. On the other hand, assuming they're both in the oven, you've got a good half hour before you need to worry about them, so feel free.
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