Macaroons recipe:
Ingredients :
-125 gr almond powder
-225 gr confectioner sugar
-20g cocoa powder (facultatif)
-3 egg whites
-30 gr sugar
-coloring (powder only)
Beat confectioners' sugar and almond flour in a food processor until combined. Sift mixture 2 times.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Whisk whites with a mixer on medium speed until foamy. Add sugar and whisk until soft peaks form. With a spatula add the almond powder and the confectioner sugar in 3 or 4 doses.
Transfer batter to a pastry bag fitted with a 1/2-inch plain round nozzle, and pipe 3/4-inch rounds 1 inch apart on parchment-lined baking sheets, dragging pastry tip to the side of
rounds rather than forming peaks.
Tap bottom of each sheet on work surface to release trapped air.
Let stand at room temperature for 15 minutes.
Reduce oven temperature to 325 degrees. Bake 1 sheet at a time, rotating halfway through, until
macaroons are crisp and firm, about 15 minutes.
Let macaroons cool on sheets for 2 to 3 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack. (If macaroons stick, spray water underneath parchment on hot sheet. The steam will help release macaroons.)
Suggested fillings:
Chocolat ganache:
-250g chocolate
-250g heavy cream
Pour cream over chocolate in a heatproof bowl. Let stand for 2 minutes. Whisk mixture until smooth. Let cool, stirring often.
Mascarpone cream:
-200g whipping cream
-100g mascarpone
-30g sugar
-Several drops of speculoos or jam, for flavoring
In a mixer, place the cream, the mascarpone and the sugar and whisk until picks form. Place in
the refrigerator until use.
Sauce au caramel beurre salé
-80 g sugar
-40 g salted butter
-10 cl heavy cream
In a medium saucepan, bring the sugar to a boil. Using a wet pastry brush, wash down any crystals on the side of the pan. Boil over high heat until a deep amber caramel forms, about 6
minutes. Remove the saucepan from the heat and carefully whisk in the cream and butter. Let the caramel cool to room temperature.
~JD
"Sous Louis XIV, etre intellectuel devient une situation non seulement honorable mais anoblissante" [Under Louis XIV, being intellectual became a situation not only honorable, but ennobling] (Jean-Marie Apostolides, Le roi-machine, 37).
Showing posts with label Cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cooking. Show all posts
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Saturday, October 29, 2011
The Verb is "Macaroner"
Thanks to EDUCO, I got another shot in a French kitchen, this time, making macaroons.
Unlike the last cooking class, which was held in a private apartment, this one was professionally-run, in a patisserie, which probably explains why it was so absolutely mediocre. Not only was almost everything measured and mixed for us in advance, but the instructor was constantly switching to English to explain even the most basic concepts (rather than just words like tamiser, "to sift"). There were supposed to be 10 of us, but 11 showed up, so I ended up being paired with two very stupid, very hedonistic girls, which was rather a disappointment.
That aside, I learned a little bit about French pastry-culture, including some cooking words involved in the making of macarons. For instance, one should blend the initial mixture of egg whites and white sugar until it forms a bec d'oiseau (bird's beak) on the end of the beater. Ordinary macarons are cookies, just like American macaroons, but Parisian macarons also contain a garniture (filling) inside of a sandwich of the two biscuits (cookies) which together form the coque (shell); the flaky edges are called the coloret (no translation, as far as I know, and I'm uncertain of the spelling). After the initial mixing, one begins the macaronage, ("macarooning"): I'm not kidding; to "macaroon" is a real word in the French language. Macaronage consists of quickly and repetitively beating and scraping the batter against the side of the bowl, with the help of a sort of flat flexible plastic scraper, in order to create a certain texture; when the batter descends in rubans (ribbons), you know that the batter is finished. After this, you pour the batter into a large bag with a douille (nozzle), and turn the bag over onto itself, forming a jupe (skirt). Using this, you dollop the batter into little macaroon-sized drops onto a layer of waxed paper affixed tightly to a baking sheet. One of the stranger processes follows this: the thorough beating of the baking sheet against the kitchen sheet, in order to égaliser (to level) the batter.
If you are a fancy pastry chef, then you have a special not-quite-oven, which will allow you to warm the macarons, and allow them to form a croûte (crust). Following this is a period in the real oven, at 100-120 degrees Centigrade (depending on the individual character of your oven. The macarons cooked, after a 10-minute cooling phase which I know well from home, they are ready to be removed from the waxed paper (otherwise, they will be torn apart). The macarons are paired, and then filled -- traditionally, macarons parisiens have a dollop of confiture de framboise (raspberry jam), surrounded by a periphery of cream; raspberries are nice and acidic, and therefore cut the sweetness of the very sugary cookies. Parisians have discovered all sorts of things to put into their macaroons, however, and ours included chocolate, and creams flavored with vanilla, pistachio, and speculoos, respectively. Just to get very decadent, you can also apply a metallic red powder to the exterior of the raspberry macaroons, just to give them that appetizing gleam that indicates freshness.
We ate a few of the macarons, but brought half-a-dozen to a dozen back to our residences (in my case, via the library). The pâtissiere told us to keep them in the refrigerator for 24-48 hours, in order to allow them to acquire a soft texture, and to lose their brittleness. My 11 macarons have been chilling (in every sense of the word) in my fridge for about 40 hours now, so I'm thinking of bringing them out to share with Jamie (and whoever else is in her room) this evening.
The pâtissiere told us that she'd send us all the recipe; when she has, I'll addend it to this post. If you're planning on living in the CJL this spring, you can probably count on my attempting to make these (kosher, of course), at least once. Maybe during finals week, when we'll need all the cookies we can get our paws on.
~JD
"Je commandai aux quatre secretaires d'Etat de ne plus rien signer du tout sans m'en parler... et qu'il ne se fit rien aux finances sans etre enrigistre dans un livre, qui me devait demeurer, avec un extrait fort abrege ou je pusse voir, a tous moments d'un coup d'oeil, l'etat des fonds et des depense faites ou a faire" [I ordered the four secretaries of state to no longer sign anything at all without speaking to of the matter... and that nothing be done in regard to the finances without it being registered in a book, which would stay with me, with a highly-abridged summary where I could see, at any moment with just a glance, the state of the funds, and of the expenditures made and yet to make] ~ Louis XIV, Memoires.
Unlike the last cooking class, which was held in a private apartment, this one was professionally-run, in a patisserie, which probably explains why it was so absolutely mediocre. Not only was almost everything measured and mixed for us in advance, but the instructor was constantly switching to English to explain even the most basic concepts (rather than just words like tamiser, "to sift"). There were supposed to be 10 of us, but 11 showed up, so I ended up being paired with two very stupid, very hedonistic girls, which was rather a disappointment.
That aside, I learned a little bit about French pastry-culture, including some cooking words involved in the making of macarons. For instance, one should blend the initial mixture of egg whites and white sugar until it forms a bec d'oiseau (bird's beak) on the end of the beater. Ordinary macarons are cookies, just like American macaroons, but Parisian macarons also contain a garniture (filling) inside of a sandwich of the two biscuits (cookies) which together form the coque (shell); the flaky edges are called the coloret (no translation, as far as I know, and I'm uncertain of the spelling). After the initial mixing, one begins the macaronage, ("macarooning"): I'm not kidding; to "macaroon" is a real word in the French language. Macaronage consists of quickly and repetitively beating and scraping the batter against the side of the bowl, with the help of a sort of flat flexible plastic scraper, in order to create a certain texture; when the batter descends in rubans (ribbons), you know that the batter is finished. After this, you pour the batter into a large bag with a douille (nozzle), and turn the bag over onto itself, forming a jupe (skirt). Using this, you dollop the batter into little macaroon-sized drops onto a layer of waxed paper affixed tightly to a baking sheet. One of the stranger processes follows this: the thorough beating of the baking sheet against the kitchen sheet, in order to égaliser (to level) the batter.
If you are a fancy pastry chef, then you have a special not-quite-oven, which will allow you to warm the macarons, and allow them to form a croûte (crust). Following this is a period in the real oven, at 100-120 degrees Centigrade (depending on the individual character of your oven. The macarons cooked, after a 10-minute cooling phase which I know well from home, they are ready to be removed from the waxed paper (otherwise, they will be torn apart). The macarons are paired, and then filled -- traditionally, macarons parisiens have a dollop of confiture de framboise (raspberry jam), surrounded by a periphery of cream; raspberries are nice and acidic, and therefore cut the sweetness of the very sugary cookies. Parisians have discovered all sorts of things to put into their macaroons, however, and ours included chocolate, and creams flavored with vanilla, pistachio, and speculoos, respectively. Just to get very decadent, you can also apply a metallic red powder to the exterior of the raspberry macaroons, just to give them that appetizing gleam that indicates freshness.
We ate a few of the macarons, but brought half-a-dozen to a dozen back to our residences (in my case, via the library). The pâtissiere told us to keep them in the refrigerator for 24-48 hours, in order to allow them to acquire a soft texture, and to lose their brittleness. My 11 macarons have been chilling (in every sense of the word) in my fridge for about 40 hours now, so I'm thinking of bringing them out to share with Jamie (and whoever else is in her room) this evening.
The pâtissiere told us that she'd send us all the recipe; when she has, I'll addend it to this post. If you're planning on living in the CJL this spring, you can probably count on my attempting to make these (kosher, of course), at least once. Maybe during finals week, when we'll need all the cookies we can get our paws on.
~JD
"Je commandai aux quatre secretaires d'Etat de ne plus rien signer du tout sans m'en parler... et qu'il ne se fit rien aux finances sans etre enrigistre dans un livre, qui me devait demeurer, avec un extrait fort abrege ou je pusse voir, a tous moments d'un coup d'oeil, l'etat des fonds et des depense faites ou a faire" [I ordered the four secretaries of state to no longer sign anything at all without speaking to of the matter... and that nothing be done in regard to the finances without it being registered in a book, which would stay with me, with a highly-abridged summary where I could see, at any moment with just a glance, the state of the funds, and of the expenditures made and yet to make] ~ Louis XIV, Memoires.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Atelier de Cuisine
On today's menu: 1 French cooking class. Is your seatbelt fastened?
The cooking class was in a young French couple's apartment, in a nearly-silent corner of the 19th arrondissement, not far from the Parc des Buttes Chaumants, where Bruno and I had taken a walk together only a couple of weeks earlier. Our hosts were charming, intelligent, welcoming, and gifted with a very cute baby; the six of us felt at home immediately. The husband, Antoine, is an absolute gourmet, and loves cooking, using all sorts of exotic ingredients and nifty cooking tools, and inventing some very unique dishes; he cooks every day. Every time he revealed another amazing delicacy (such as purple carrots, Japanese radishes, Parisian honey, pepper from Madagascar, orange beets, etc.), he would cite the specialty store where he found it, and mention the address, for later reference. On the coffee table was a titanic Larousse Gastronomic dictionary (Larousse is the French equivalent of Merriam-Webster), and even the baby books in the playpen were about food.
The menu was vegetarian (although I'm the unique vegetarian in EDUCO), and I will relate the dishes in order of consumption. Using a little device called a toc-oeuf we cut the tops off of eggshells, and then drained the white, dropped the shells containing the yokes into boiling water for just a moment, filled the hot shells with a savory mixture of cream, pepper, and nutmeg, added a drop of local honey, and then immediately consumed, hot. I don't know whether the raw yokes were pasteurized or not, but they certainly were good! When we had finished cooking, we mounted to the 4th-story dining room, filled with light, and with a breathtaking view of Paris, especially Montmartre. The most beautiful dish we made that day was a raw, finely-sliced beetroot, sprinkled with sesame oil, hot peppers, and just a bit of Parmesan. The main dish was cooked lentils, filled also with the daikons and the carrots I earlier mentioned: amazingly full of flavor, and done just the right amount! For dessert, we enjoyed homemade savory icecream, which we had flavored with herbs picked from the couple's garden, alongside fried apple slices, which made me think just a little bit of a certain mother's apple crisp. At the end, there was, naturally, coffee. We made everything we ate, but we did not eat everything we made. By the time we left, it was mid-afternoon; Sarah, Adeh and I walked back to the Metro, and I spent the rest of the day trying to get some studying done.
This entry was short, but ASAP, I'm going to try to write up my all-day trip to Versailles. Expect to hear from me again soon!
~JD
"Pour marier ces soldats, Colbert envoya en Nouvelle France de jeunes orphelines pourvues d'une dot, un millier de 1665 a 1673" [To marry off these soldiers in New France, Colbert sent young female orphans, provided with dowries, to New France, a thousand from 1665 to 1674] (Michel Nassiet, La France au XVIIe siecle, p. 46).
The cooking class was in a young French couple's apartment, in a nearly-silent corner of the 19th arrondissement, not far from the Parc des Buttes Chaumants, where Bruno and I had taken a walk together only a couple of weeks earlier. Our hosts were charming, intelligent, welcoming, and gifted with a very cute baby; the six of us felt at home immediately. The husband, Antoine, is an absolute gourmet, and loves cooking, using all sorts of exotic ingredients and nifty cooking tools, and inventing some very unique dishes; he cooks every day. Every time he revealed another amazing delicacy (such as purple carrots, Japanese radishes, Parisian honey, pepper from Madagascar, orange beets, etc.), he would cite the specialty store where he found it, and mention the address, for later reference. On the coffee table was a titanic Larousse Gastronomic dictionary (Larousse is the French equivalent of Merriam-Webster), and even the baby books in the playpen were about food.
The menu was vegetarian (although I'm the unique vegetarian in EDUCO), and I will relate the dishes in order of consumption. Using a little device called a toc-oeuf we cut the tops off of eggshells, and then drained the white, dropped the shells containing the yokes into boiling water for just a moment, filled the hot shells with a savory mixture of cream, pepper, and nutmeg, added a drop of local honey, and then immediately consumed, hot. I don't know whether the raw yokes were pasteurized or not, but they certainly were good! When we had finished cooking, we mounted to the 4th-story dining room, filled with light, and with a breathtaking view of Paris, especially Montmartre. The most beautiful dish we made that day was a raw, finely-sliced beetroot, sprinkled with sesame oil, hot peppers, and just a bit of Parmesan. The main dish was cooked lentils, filled also with the daikons and the carrots I earlier mentioned: amazingly full of flavor, and done just the right amount! For dessert, we enjoyed homemade savory icecream, which we had flavored with herbs picked from the couple's garden, alongside fried apple slices, which made me think just a little bit of a certain mother's apple crisp. At the end, there was, naturally, coffee. We made everything we ate, but we did not eat everything we made. By the time we left, it was mid-afternoon; Sarah, Adeh and I walked back to the Metro, and I spent the rest of the day trying to get some studying done.
This entry was short, but ASAP, I'm going to try to write up my all-day trip to Versailles. Expect to hear from me again soon!
~JD
"Pour marier ces soldats, Colbert envoya en Nouvelle France de jeunes orphelines pourvues d'une dot, un millier de 1665 a 1673" [To marry off these soldiers in New France, Colbert sent young female orphans, provided with dowries, to New France, a thousand from 1665 to 1674] (Michel Nassiet, La France au XVIIe siecle, p. 46).
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