tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59738422779142862742024-03-13T18:50:10.034-04:00sweetspotMichaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-28257473297225592512012-07-16T18:13:00.001-04:002012-07-16T18:14:25.460-04:00Weird Macarons in BrittanyI happened to be in the little Breton town of Quiberon last week. The town itself is a pleasant enough resort perched at the extreme end of a peninsula that juts into the Atlantic. The local specialities are caramels, crisp cookies made with butter and sea salt (think shortbread) and, most especiall, sardines. Several sardine factories offer their wares in stylish shops (yes even canned sardines have style in France). Above and beyond the cookie boutiques there are more pastry shops per acre than I've ever seen. And of rather high quality I might add. What caught my eye, though, was a patisserie that had decided to take the local fishy specialties in a totally different direction, mainly using sardines, mackerel, tuna and the like as fillings for macarons. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrEBa_9chusDovqxCClbta153uJrLIOTlUd_Wu04CsTAe5yvC_vc1ERwnQwa9eb74cEaMbT92_tC3Zg3PcFjD3XmFrQtExAp7HBMX7-rfVes4oEyyV_Ph8ixJ3NPf3JRubiDJwSlMvPldp/s1600/sardine+macaron-1524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrEBa_9chusDovqxCClbta153uJrLIOTlUd_Wu04CsTAe5yvC_vc1ERwnQwa9eb74cEaMbT92_tC3Zg3PcFjD3XmFrQtExAp7HBMX7-rfVes4oEyyV_Ph8ixJ3NPf3JRubiDJwSlMvPldp/s400/sardine+macaron-1524.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Weird? Yes. Good? I'm a little ambivalent there, though I should add that I only tried the sardine one which tasted, well, like a paste of sardines inside of a macaron. Very sweet and savory all at once. It would probably be intriguing in the right context. I'm not sure walking down the street was exactly it. Yves & Diane Deniard, 22 rue de Port Maria, Quiberon, France, +33 (0)2 97 50 19 87.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-21007594818146072962012-02-09T09:30:00.003-05:002012-02-09T09:32:31.463-05:00A Thousand Years of Sugar Sculpture<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One question that food
historians just can’t resolve is just how much Arabic influence there is on
medieval European food. Some have argued
that medieval cuisine is little better than a distant echo of the glories of Baghdad
and Cordova while others insist that the smattering of Middle-Eastern recipes
in European cookbooks represents nothing more a few exotic dishes added to an
otherwise indigenous repertoire. The
more I read about Arabic cooking in 10th and 11th centuries, the more I am
inclined to go with the first view. Of
course Arabic cooking itself didn’t appear out of a vacuum. You could probably argue that it was a
synthesis of Persian and Byzantine styles with a dash of Indian, Turkic and
Bedouin influence.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I thought a lot about this
when I was doing research for may last book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.sweetinvention.net/">Sweet Invention: A History of Dessert,</a></i> since it was unquestionably
the Arabs who introduced sugar cultivation to the Europeans. Along the way, they gave us such things as
custard, cannoli and marzipan (and possibly puff pastry and sponge cake). What I didn’t think they gave us was sugar
sculpture, which became all the rage in the Renaissance, a fad that continued
well into 18th century not only in Christendom but the Ottoman Empire too. I didn’t even believe it when I read about it
in Sidney Mintz’s brilliant <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sweetness and
Power,</i> figuring his information was second hand. Who ever heard of Islamic sculpture? Well a lot I knew.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfapENCrB_SnpM_IayoEvRSTyAVNiInctdkrvurKKHfRNlJtPX_vinawtRfgXp_GeIMpcENA1ZePBq-QXt_hraoqYEgLPtr_upQ9s80mpWCl4R5JeHKfPtfCQmPLWn36oTPRjY7MgzTwr5/s1600/34+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfapENCrB_SnpM_IayoEvRSTyAVNiInctdkrvurKKHfRNlJtPX_vinawtRfgXp_GeIMpcENA1ZePBq-QXt_hraoqYEgLPtr_upQ9s80mpWCl4R5JeHKfPtfCQmPLWn36oTPRjY7MgzTwr5/s400/34+small.jpg" width="297" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Photo: Metropolitan Museum of Art, Sculpture: Ivan Day</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Admittedly, the evidence for
medieval Arab sugar sculpture is pretty skimpy.
The cookbooks don’t give any instructions for making the kind of sugar
paste necessary to make it but there is one source that is pretty explicit,
mainly <span style="line-height: 150%;">Nā</span><span style="line-height: 150%;">ṣ</span><span style="line-height: 150%;">ir-i Khusraw, a Persian visitor
to Fatimid Egypt. "The last day of Ramadan 440 (1049),” he writes, “they
said that fifty thousands maunds [about 150,000 pounds] of sugar were
appropriated for this day for the sultan's feast. For decoration on the
banquet table I saw a confection like an orange tree, every branch and leaf of
which had been executed in sugar, and thousand of images and statuettes in
sugar..." Now let’s say his numbers were a little off, even so there must
have still been many, many sugar sculptures.
I asked Ellen Kenney, a professor of Islamic art at Cairo’s American
University whether this seemed plausible and she wasn’t fazed. She writes, “Nā</span><span style="line-height: 150%;">ṣ</span><span style="line-height: 150%;">ir-i Khusraw is a reliable
narrator… and statuary in the medieval Islamic context is not unheard of by any
means. Especially in palaces, figural sculpture is known from descriptions and
archaeological contexts, fashioned from more durable materials than sugar. For
example, the Fatimid palace in Cairo reportedly contained sculptures of gold (I
think portraits of the royal family) and I believe examples of figural statues
in stucco were excavated at a Ghaznavid palace in modern Afghanistan.” She points to an (admittedly Persian) <a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/works-of-art/66.23">sculpture</a> in the
collection of the Metropolitan Museum.
The Met <a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/fati/hd_fati.htm">website</a>
offers a brief outline of the Fatimid art (including figurative sculpture) that
confirms Professor Kenney’s point.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Not that any of this proves a
direct connection between renaissance Italian sugar sculpture (or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">spongade</i> as it was known in Venice) and
the medieval Arab variety but it does seem implausible that the Italians, who
depended on the Arab world for all their early sugar imports, wouldn’t have
picked up the idea of making sculpture out of the sweet stuff along the
way. The additive typically added to the
sugar to make it hold together was tragacanth gum and guess where that comes
from? Yup, the Middle East.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Again, there is no way to make
a connection but one of the best known reports of sugar sculpture in the
Ottoman Empire comes from the </span><span style="color: #141413; line-height: 150%;">seventeenth-
century Turkish travel writer Evliyâ Çelebi who describes a sweet makers’
parade that concluded with the sugar artists of Galata, who sold fruit
preserves and candied fruit that, which, for the procession, they mounted and
carried on cypresses and fruit trees made entirely of sugar. I had assumed that these confectioners were
of Western European origin since the Galata neighborhood tended to be populated
by Venetians and other Italians. But who
is to say that the tradition hadn’t been kept up in the Middle East? </span><span style="line-height: 150%;">Nā</span><span style="line-height: 150%;">ṣ</span><span style="line-height: 150%;">ir-i Khusraw</span><span style="color: #141413; line-height: 150%;">’description of a sugar tree is awfully suggestive
of an Egyptian connection. I haven’t
come across any mentions of sugar trees in the Italian context. It is, of course perfectly possible that the tradition
developed in one place (Egypt?) was refined in another (Venice?) and adapted in
yet a third (Istanbul?). Suffice it to
say that this sort of inquiry tends to bring up more questions than it answers.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-44715569308833475812012-01-10T12:42:00.001-05:002012-01-10T12:42:53.801-05:00In Praise of Sugar<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Health obsessions come and go. You will recall the successive demonization of fat,
cholesterol, trans-fats and the great anti-carb crusade. The last of these caused perfectly
rational people to convince themselves that a diet of bacon cheeseburgers was
perfectly OK as long as you abjured the bun. I suspect 2011 will be recalled as the year when demon sugar
caught the fancy of the nutritional exorcists. And don’t think this is an isolated American phenomenon, I
just read a long article about how sugar is leading us to damnation in the
Czech Republic’s foremost financial paper, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hospodarske
Noviny</i> (here’s the <a href="http://life.ihned.cz/jidlo/c1-54353480-touhu-po-sladkem-mame-v-krvi-rychleji-kvuli-tomu-starneme">link</a>
if you happen to read Czech).
Nonetheless, the American health-advice industry still leads the world:
just read Gary Taubes <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/17/magazine/mag-17Sugar-t.html?scp=1&sq=Is%20Sugar%20Toxic?&st=cse">“Is
Sugar Toxic?”</a> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">New York Times</i>
article from last April. That
piece was largely devoted to examining claims made by Robert Lustig, a
specialist on pediatric hormone disorders and childhood obesity at UCSF. Lustig makes no bones about it: sugar is poison and it is evil. By the end of the article Taubes
appears largely convinced. “Sugar
scares me too,” he writes and worries about giving it to his sons. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lustig’s argument is not that too much sugar is bad but
rather that any amount of refined sugar is bad. It’s like saying that because rhubarb contains oxalic acid
(which can cause health problems) strawberry rhubarb pies should be
banned. Americans have a tendency,
though, to label food “good” or “bad.”
If you eat the good stuff you will be svelte and fabulous and never die
and if you eat the bad you will go straight to hell wearing XXXL sweats from
Walmart. Subtlety does not make
careers or sell newspapers. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That said, Americans undoubtedly do eat too much sugar and
other sweeteners, probably about twice as much as is healthful according to a
FDA study quoted by Taubes. But
what exactly does that mean? We’re
eating some 90 pounds per year.
Which works out to about a half a cup a day or 24 sugar packets. A quarter cup would be probably be fine
though, according to the FDA study, and just in case you’re wondering, that’s the
equivalent of 8 Toll House cookies, 4 glazed donuts or about 3 slices of
pumpkin pie. The problem, of
course, isn’t that people are eating too much dessert but rather drinking too
much soda. But telling people to
eat a sensible quantity of sugar rather than abstaining altogether just isn’t
the American way. It’s like the
advice American teenagers are given about sex: just say no. It’s no wonder our teenage pregnancy
rate is one the highest in the developed world and our obesity rate is just as
bad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So why can’t we just be sensible about all of this? I think it has a lot to do with the
fundamentally puritan nature of our culture. At the root of this is the idea that pleasure is
sinful. Abstaining from pleasure
(especially such sensual pleasures as sex and food) will ensure you a place in
heaven while self-indulgence will send you straight to hell. Sometimes the vocabulary makes this
self-evident. Sugar is
“demonized.” It is “evil.” Sometimes it’s more subtle than
that. There is a widely held
belief that it is up to you to determine how long you live. The more discipline you have, the
better you are able to control your natural urges, the closer you can get to
life everlasting. The good (those
who haven’t succumbed to their instincts) get to play golf in the Elysian
fields well into their nineties, while the bad (who lived on Coke and KFC) are
punished with an early, painful end.
This is the secular answer to heaven and hell but there is the same moralizing
quality. When citing various studies on the effects of diet, journalists often
write that eating or not eating ingredient X lowered the study participants’
death rate. Of course what they
mean is the death rate from a particular disease but that’s not the way it
reads. To the best of my
knowledge, our death rate remains 100% no matter what we do or eat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are hard-wired to like sugar much as we are designed to
enjoy sex. Pleasure has an
evolutionary basis. In nature,
foods that are sweet are invariably not poisonous whereas bitterness signals
danger. In many cultures
children’s first taste of real food is something sweet and kids naturally
gravitate to sweet foods. Does
that mean that they should be indulged with a diet of Cocoa Pebbles and
soda? Of course not, but neither
should they be told that those things are “bad.” They need to learn that pleasure has its time and place;
otherwise they will only associate it with being drunk in the back seat of a
borrowed car—and regret it the next day.
There is a twisted logic at work here: if pleasure is sinful you can only get pleasure from sinful
activities and thus the greater the transgression the greater the pleasure. You will notice that the term “sinfully
rich” does not occur in Catholic Europe, but to us “sinful” is just a synonym
for “pleasurable.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sugar has long been a natural target for those who wish to
save our souls. Well before the
current sugar-bashing fad, sugar was associated with the miseries of the slave
trade and, while it is undoubtedly true that European sugar consumption habits
in the 17th and 18th centuries were the primary cause of the transatlantic
slave trade and its associated horrors, it does not follow that sucrose is
somehow malevolent. Was the sugar
produced by peasant farmers in India during this time more virtuous? Or the beet sugar produced after 1800 morally
superior? Certainly 19th century
abolitionists thought so (there was a movement to boycott slave-grown sugar in
the early 1800s). Some made this
explicit, describing consuming slave-grown sugar as partaking “of other men’s sins”
and the need to refrain from the pleasures of the tea table to safeguard their
own virtue. (See <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=nHxDAAAAIAAJ&pg=PA160&dq=pleasure+sugar+slavery&hl=en&sa=X&ei=7G4MT4uiK8fv0gG-ovTeBQ&ved=0CE4Q6AEwBQ#v=onepage&q=pleasure%20sugar%20slavery&f=false">Lectures
on Slavery</a>, 160).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
More recently
(in the 1970s) sugar was linked with hyperactivity in children though
the consensus among researchers is that no such link exists.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Undoubtedly the current sugar witch hunt will come and go
leaving people ever more conflicted and confused about what is on their plate
and ever guiltier about each and every pleasure. But in the meantime I have every intention of enjoying my
next donut or that slice of tarte au citron and feeling virtuous pleasure with
every bite.</div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-9863747899124419342011-12-09T11:26:00.001-05:002011-12-09T11:48:05.085-05:00PunchFinally, as some approximation of winter settles in here in New York, I am reminded of visiting Vienna in its pre-Christmas cheer a couple of years back. I was doing research for <i>Sweet Invention</i>, traipsing from pastry shop to pastry shop. (Yeah, I know, it's a tough job.) And I kept running across groups of people standing around, their cheeks rosy and their fists filled with steaming mugs. Needless to say, I had to investigate, and discovered one of Vienna's winter wonders: punch (pronounced "poonch"). No this isn't the cold, spiked Kool-Aid you find at office parties but more like a rich, mulled wine. There are dozens of variations: some spiked with brandy, others with schnapps (aka eau-de-vie). They're delightfully warming and, given their alcohol content, they are highly conducive to holiday cheer. There was a punch craze all over Europe about two hundred years ago but whereas the taste for it faded in places like France and even England (its birthplace, thus the name), here the tradition held on. <br />
<br />
Here's a recipe I put together by combining a few online sources. Great after a skating party, a day on the slopes or the most dangerous sport of the season, competitive holiday shopping.<br />
<br />
<b>Punch</b><br />
<br />
makes about six, 6-ounce servings<br />
<br />
<br />
1/2 cup brandy<br />
1/2 cup golden rum<br />
2/3 cup raw sugar or to taste<br />
3 cloves<br />
1 small cinnamon stick<br />
2 pods cardamom<br />
2-inch piece of vanilla pod, split lengthwise<br />
4 slices orange (preferably organic)<br />
4 slices of lemon (preferably organic)<br />
<br />
1 bottle red wine (Beaujolais works well or if you want to be more authentic use something like Blaufrankisch)<br />
<br />
Combine brandy and rum with sugar, spices, orange and lemon slices in a small pan. Heat to about 150°F. (Do not allow to boil!) Remove from heat, cover and let stand for several hours. Combine wine and brandy mixture and heat until very hot but not boiling.<br />
<br />
Happy Holidays!Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-27677942873668575742011-11-30T12:18:00.001-05:002012-02-09T09:33:42.127-05:00The Origin of the Bûche de Noël<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I was recently contacted by a journalist from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Saveur</i> about the origins of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bûche de Noël</i>, the “traditional” French
Christmas dessert. (For the
article and a recipe, see <a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/Traditional-French-Buche-de-Noel" target="_blank">Gabriella Gershenson, “A Slice of Christmas,” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Saveur</i>, December 2011</a>) Today, you’ll see
the cake in every single French pastry shop around the holiday, made in the
shape of a yule log. It is
generally made in the form of a sponge roll cake frosted and filled with
buttercream. The idea derives from
a folk celebration of Christmas where a log, large enough to burn for 3 days,
is ceremoniously placed on the fire.
The Brits have a similar tradition. (For the log, not the cake.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxM5MjKo30hFZcoo8pr-0hhXMZN4MMiAjupu88EhJLAGmnvNKLojEnBgNJN79GM6XtaCMFVMQHHHZEISn2p7mxsU9LMUuVyljHO9c5doqrEB7MdcYBuhuTLi69PIEwwQneXHvaWQCBbsxv/s1600/buche+de+noel+%25281+of+1%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxM5MjKo30hFZcoo8pr-0hhXMZN4MMiAjupu88EhJLAGmnvNKLojEnBgNJN79GM6XtaCMFVMQHHHZEISn2p7mxsU9LMUuVyljHO9c5doqrEB7MdcYBuhuTLi69PIEwwQneXHvaWQCBbsxv/s400/buche+de+noel+%25281+of+1%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But what of the cake?
The earliest recipe of the cake shows up in Pierre Lacam’s 1898 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le memorial historique et géographique de la
pâtisserie</i>. The earliest
mention however is a couple of years earlier in Alfred Suzanne’s 1894 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La
cuisine anglaise et la pâtisserie</i><b> </b>where he notes in passing
that it is (was?) the specialty of a certain Ozanne, presumably his friend
Achille Ozanne (1846-1898). Of
course we have no idea of what this looked like. An article in the French newspaper <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Figaro</i> adds an interesting tidbit (see Pierre Leonforte, “<a href="http://recherche.lefigaro.fr/recherche/access/lefigaro_fr.php?archive=BszTm8dCk78Jk8uwiNq9T8CoS9GECSHiq84fC7lwoMOHwlF1%2FwhnB87tuoPGuORPgxmw8kJpVUOZy6BaSOXVcw%3D%3D">La
bûche de Noël : une histoire en dents de scie</a>,” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Figaro,</i> 17 December 2000): according to Stéphane Bonnat, of chocolatier <a href="http://www.bonnat-chocolatier.com/">Félix Bonnat</a> her great
grandfather’s recipe collection from 1884 contains a recipe for a roll cake
make with chocolate ganache. Admittedly she makes no claim to this being the first
bûche de Noël.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It makes sense that the cake, like so many other Christmas
traditions (think Santa, decorated Christmas trees, Christmas cards, etc) dates
to the Victorian era, to a time of genteel, bourgeois domesticity. In France, in particular, a certain
romantic image of peasant traditions had become part of the story the French
told themselves about themselves and while the average Parisian bourgeois could hardly be
expected to hoist logs into their 4th floor apartment, they could at least show
solidarity for their country cousins by picking up a more manageable <i>bûche</i> at the local pâtisserie. That the result was a little kitsch fit the middle class sensibility
too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If I had to guess, I would date the cake to the 1880s though
it seems not to have taken off until the following decade. For an early recipe that begins to
resemble today’s version see Joseph Fabre’s<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
</i>1905<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k57280474/f40.image.r=b%C3%BBche.langEN">Dictionnaire
universel de cuisine pratique</a></i> <span style="line-height: 150%;">(This is the second
edition of the book—the first was in 1894—but I haven’t been able to locate
that particular edition), or look for </span>Gershenson’s article.<span style="line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-34059185605120188032011-11-28T17:08:00.001-05:002011-11-29T09:45:15.867-05:00Ladurée Comes to New York<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Despite my considerable curiosity, I held off some months before visiting <a href="http://www.laduree.fr/en/scene" target="_blank">Ladurée</a>'s new outpost on Manhattan's Upper East Side. Quite frankly, I didn't want to deal with the lines of macaronophiles eager to plop down $2.70 for each little cookie. And then there was that little snooty voice inside of me that kept saying, well it couldn't be as good as Paris. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbEbDU9zuwOoV0XbzpKyhJRslFRF0Dv9Cb-KmMGxfC2q0SK97mDbzXif3eNcdAqFkGhDRiD-y7G9BPYSqqpNxjrklQ9J_Hg-Py1XbMMRb_HtvUt3gLaNbV1X9n2MgkgIt4K7JbEKLG-in/s1600/IMG_1230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbEbDU9zuwOoV0XbzpKyhJRslFRF0Dv9Cb-KmMGxfC2q0SK97mDbzXif3eNcdAqFkGhDRiD-y7G9BPYSqqpNxjrklQ9J_Hg-Py1XbMMRb_HtvUt3gLaNbV1X9n2MgkgIt4K7JbEKLG-in/s400/IMG_1230.jpg" width="302" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">To give a little background here, in Paris, Ladurée is the high temple of the macaron. Perhaps </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://www.pierreherme.com/" target="_blank">Pierre Herme</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">'s macarons are better and more inventive, but it is Ladurée that put these almond meringue cookies filled with buttercream on the map. They claim that the idea of creating the little sandwich cookies came from </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; color: #2d2d2d; line-height: 19px;">Pierre Desfontaines, a distant cousin of the Parisian shop’s first owner, some 60 years ago. While the claim is difficult to corroborate I'll take their word for it until something better comes along. Not that the idea of macarons is in any way new–in France it dates back to at least 1643. Even the idea of filling them was around in the 1800s, though the filling was jam in those days.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6vIWEB_HSfLsTaEMp3yD9WmkhHovVuPVxK2V9kQO0kTSMoF20OR4eZoB7CWS5-LqV2AHh8lnndy4aktMVUNQPlT0AEykP_085qXuTk9AHSZKN2NQB6oUSnFG4yYggefoOpTKSUdE6wpW/s1600/IMG_1226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6vIWEB_HSfLsTaEMp3yD9WmkhHovVuPVxK2V9kQO0kTSMoF20OR4eZoB7CWS5-LqV2AHh8lnndy4aktMVUNQPlT0AEykP_085qXuTk9AHSZKN2NQB6oUSnFG4yYggefoOpTKSUdE6wpW/s400/IMG_1226.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; color: #2d2d2d; line-height: 19px;">But today Ladurée is the last word on macarons and they've turned the little cookie into a world-spanning empire with outposts all over Europe, the Middle East and Japan. It's a little surprising that it took them this long to get to America. Needless to say, Ladurée is far from a small artisanal operation, it's more on the order Tiffany's or Louis Vuitton, though admittedly the French confectioner's luxuries are a lot more affordable. But can they keep up the quality while manufacturing macarons by the ton? Surprisingly, the answer seems to be yes, at least if the cookies at the Madison Avenue branch are any indication. A friend and I split four of them and here's my brief review (the texture on the cookies themselves was perfect, crisp yet barely resisting to the tongue):</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; color: #2d2d2d; line-height: 19px;">Coconut: these were perfect, a delicate distillation of coconuttiness</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; color: #2d2d2d; line-height: 19px;">Lemon: great flavor though I was a little surprised that the lemon buttercream was a little broken, this happens to me all the time, but I expect better than that from the Parisian masters</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEvA0IyrZAQd5tRmFU1VBqpDuBMKK4wv4VDx9Pdb_b_cWDtsYjIpiniT6P2Mmzgzq3LcmwQ9DsSmN5YSFZhzApWMGBu3CQ5fDGXpkb2_DD4W04cl8R74bFWYPe_wftFxrQHjaBtXdPJyQ/s1600/IMG_1225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEvA0IyrZAQd5tRmFU1VBqpDuBMKK4wv4VDx9Pdb_b_cWDtsYjIpiniT6P2Mmzgzq3LcmwQ9DsSmN5YSFZhzApWMGBu3CQ5fDGXpkb2_DD4W04cl8R74bFWYPe_wftFxrQHjaBtXdPJyQ/s400/IMG_1225.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; color: #2d2d2d; line-height: 19px;">Raspberry: brilliantly intense flavor though I'm not convinced that leaving in the raspberry seeds does anything to the flavor</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; color: #2d2d2d; line-height: 19px;">Violet-cassis: this was perhaps the one dud, any violet flavor was swamped with the cassis and, while the texture of the cookie itself was exemplary, the filling seemed, well, gummy</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; color: #2d2d2d; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; color: #2d2d2d; line-height: 19px;">That said, they are likely the best macarons in New York. Though if you have the option, get on that plane to Paris.</span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-52842881793188450162011-11-16T15:25:00.001-05:002011-11-19T11:17:43.061-05:00Nun's Breasts<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well I just couldn't resist sharing a brief article that appeared in <i>Centro</i>, a local paper in the southern Italian town of Pescara, brought to my attention by Luca Colferai (a Venetian and the <i>primum movens</i> of <a href="http://www.ilridotto.info/" target="_blank">Il Ridotto</a>). To see the photo gallery associated with the article see this <a href="http://ilcentro.gelocal.it/pescara/multimedia/2011/11/16/fotogalleria/sise-delle-monache-il-dolce-malizioso-d-abruzzo-compie-125-anni-31008881/1?ref=HRSN-6" target="_blank">link</a>. The following is a rough and ready translation of the abridged version that comes with the photo gallery, the full article is <a href="http://ilcentro.gelocal.it/chieti/cronaca/2011/11/16/news/sise-delle-monache-la-storia-in-un-dolce-foto-5290346" target="_blank">here</a>:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3nerALyVRzGQsustYH7WpnOZiNIXLLTkT7dDapofjWDM-JDgxGjSVV0oAzXlASlqSXNvU4Q6aCLKNO8HIu80jxqLiKcBuLXKjAzBivvwy07shz9NG-efrHk0yoUzsbXZgOikZygFhKOG/s1600/sisi+delle+monache.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3nerALyVRzGQsustYH7WpnOZiNIXLLTkT7dDapofjWDM-JDgxGjSVV0oAzXlASlqSXNvU4Q6aCLKNO8HIu80jxqLiKcBuLXKjAzBivvwy07shz9NG-efrHk0yoUzsbXZgOikZygFhKOG/s320/sisi+delle+monache.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: initial; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> photo: Federico Deidda</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;">Nuns' Tits, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">Abruzzo's</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> wicked dessert celebrates</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">125 years.</span></span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">A</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">simple</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">but delicious</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">dessert made with just a few quality ingredients</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="">: sugar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;">, flour</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">and eggs</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">to</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> make the sponge</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps"> cake;</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">fresh milk</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;">, eggs</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;">,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">lemon zest and</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">flour for the pastry</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps"> cream</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> These were created in Naples </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">between 1884</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">and 1886</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> by a native of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">Abruzzo</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">who had come to Naples to</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">learn the secrets</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">of pastry</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> As for the res</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">t, such as the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps"> quantities</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">of the ingredients</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="">, this remains</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">a secret</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">passed down</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">from </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">generation to generation,</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps"> unknown</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">outside pastry shops</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> The origin of the name of what is now the sweet symbol of the town of </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;">Guardiagrele [a town in Abruzzo] is also a mystery. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">The first theory</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">is that the</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">original</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> term was "tre monti"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps atn"> [</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;">three mountains], which referred </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">to the</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">mountains</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">of the Maiella [now a national park]</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;">,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> but was then </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">transformed into</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">nuns' tits by the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">popular imagination</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">The second hypothesis originates in the common belief among the laity that </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">nuns,</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">to make their feminine shape less evident</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;">,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">placed</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">a lump</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">of clothes (the third breast) </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">between their</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">breasts</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">The third</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">theory has it that nuns of the Order of Saint Clare simply invented this sort of sponge cake and thus the association with the sisters. The colloquial name was simply a malicious play on the dessert's shape. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class=""> Article:</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">Rossano</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">Orlando. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps"><br /></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps">If you're interested in a <a href="http://rubbahslippahsinitaly.blogspot.com/2007/12/sise-delle-monache.html" target="_blank">recipe</a> you could give this one a shot.</span></span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-25258626673798321542011-11-15T11:13:00.001-05:002011-11-16T15:25:25.480-05:00Pastry Jeremiad<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like just about everything that happens in New York, the
opening of <a href="http://dominiqueansel.com/" target="_blank">Dominque Ansel’s</a> new pastry shop in Soho was accompanied by a great
deal of hype. And truth be told, I
was excited too, because ever since François Payard closed his patisserie on
Manhattan’s Upper East Side, the city hasn’t had a decent French pastry
shop. Ansel has good pedigree.
Most recently he was the pastry chef at Daniel which has the reputation of
serving up some of the best French cuisine in town. So my hopes were high as we
weaved and darted through the stream of Soho shoppers on a Sunday afternoon. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The pastry shop is modest, with a small glass-enclosed
kitchen at the back that reveals a couple of banks of convection ovens. There is a very pleasant back yard
where you can take the pastries, something of a rarity in New York. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhclbxRBhCA3R_Uagrq20AWJgXCyxRGocAS2x_8gPe_SqrLTfoSOjPMENCZ0tCEEsJxGBAWuVWURG-o1_2twUyK5A4s7c8an9qaUhq4sn1IDvNoLyDxmGzKxlVQrgbB5RZiL8cv-ftpYhKM/s1600/IMG_1222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhclbxRBhCA3R_Uagrq20AWJgXCyxRGocAS2x_8gPe_SqrLTfoSOjPMENCZ0tCEEsJxGBAWuVWURG-o1_2twUyK5A4s7c8an9qaUhq4sn1IDvNoLyDxmGzKxlVQrgbB5RZiL8cv-ftpYhKM/s400/IMG_1222.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We came on a Sunday afternoon so the
full assortment wasn’t out, though looking at the board there appear to be no
more than about a half-dozen pastries available at any given time. There is also a selection of
Viennoiserie and Ansel has to be lauded for selling that Breton specialty the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">kouign amman,</i> a disk of butter, pastry
and caramel. Can’t report on that
because they were sold out. I did
try a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">palmier</i> though, which isn’t
made so differently. It was OK,
more dense and doughy than buttery and ethereal. So let us return to the pastry. Which was fine.
About the level of a provincial French pastry shop without too much
ambition or technique. In other
words just about the level of other New York French-style pastry shops. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOBRqjJAB6oUGIwjNp6i4EbVHaN6e_2SrNAmmNi34bHStAxpMcWpSfnOiPvWkvAPe2DKiiNMBDPcDcUvbb1H14Jtw4jcaBcjz3_ls5hKZoi0tRC3tvmw93Vh1Dlps3F8_OYRMKP3Wj3z1O/s1600/IMG_1223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOBRqjJAB6oUGIwjNp6i4EbVHaN6e_2SrNAmmNi34bHStAxpMcWpSfnOiPvWkvAPe2DKiiNMBDPcDcUvbb1H14Jtw4jcaBcjz3_ls5hKZoi0tRC3tvmw93Vh1Dlps3F8_OYRMKP3Wj3z1O/s320/IMG_1223.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
Take the “bunny cake” which exhibited about as much finesse
as a Crumbs bakery or the gingerbread which looked like something sold at
Zaro’s.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsoKFcRxp7QfgXDF7LtNmUS9GDuvOU2ZQNrE9dnKmiQ26Z2DOhhU-Fv_pOxn35f1zf2T-tvVOvRagIWaljEnqPYIsuP5NUZx2uOAVz9eIkGbmDI_YZMKDpnDEenQVOFSnnMCrubXFtRjyk/s1600/IMG_1224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsoKFcRxp7QfgXDF7LtNmUS9GDuvOU2ZQNrE9dnKmiQ26Z2DOhhU-Fv_pOxn35f1zf2T-tvVOvRagIWaljEnqPYIsuP5NUZx2uOAVz9eIkGbmDI_YZMKDpnDEenQVOFSnnMCrubXFtRjyk/s320/IMG_1224.JPG" width="240" /></a>My wife had the mini tarte
tatin which seemed like the beginning of a good idea. An individual thick round of apple nestled on a cookie
base. But it’s as if there was no
follow through. Somehow for $5.50
you expect a flight of imagination, or at least a modest leap. Like Starbucks you’ll find the cups and
plates are paper, the forks plastic.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s an interesting question, why French-style pastry shops
here are so mediocre. Obviously it
has something to do with an undiscerning clientele weaned on Twinkies and
Dunkin Hines. But that can’t be
all of it. After all we have good
Italian restaurants which is clear evidence that we can overcome Chef
Boyardee. Real estate may be part
of it too as well as the wage structure.
After Payard closed his wonderful pastry shop uptown he opened <a href="http://www.payard.com/Locations/loc-fpbnyc.htm" target="_blank">Francois Payard Bakery</a>,
which is all about mass production.
My suspicion is that he just can’t get the workers with the necessary
skill level to make genuinely artisanal pastry. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In France pastry cooks have to go through a multi-year
apprenticeship (with little pay).
Why would anyone bother to do it here when you can just open up another
cupcake bakery and hire workers with the skill set of twelve year olds. Another reason why French pastry seems
to be holding on in France in ways that it can’t here was pointed out to me by <a href="http://www.patisseriehamonemmanuel.com/" target="_blank">Emmanuel Hamon</a> a talented
pastry chef in Brest. In France
people visit their neighborhood pastry shop virtually every day because they
buy their bread there as well. As
a result buying pastry isn’t some sort of esoteric, once a month activity it is
a quotidian reality. This, in
turn, supports numerous pastry shops which increases competition leading to
better quality and variety. Of
course those conditions don’t exist here but still, you'd think a city like New
York could support at least one stellar patisserie.</div>
</div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-63665151519530564822011-10-28T13:45:00.000-04:002012-01-17T16:08:21.597-05:00Pumpkin Macarons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Macarons can be made in dozens of flavors but given the
season, I thought it would be fun to do a pumpkin version. I have a bit of a pumpkin obsession,
having authored a whole book on the subject: <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Great-Little-Pumpkin-Cookbook/dp/0890878935/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1319916878&sr=1-1">The Great Little Pumpkin Cookbook</a></i>. Macarons do require a certain degree of precision but they
are not as hard to make as some people would have you believe.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKElwGJ7e3JgHtz9hKe7SvC90kbGI7WQJsSqVixEeKvDPj-ZQnlhU8L2NLa6Y9oSP95B2L98aWdudbv9S4Y_cqdjcvpK0Gv9laQycNGK8O7f3pHOD0apgwNH0_CewQ-CchdONwkRM-vxK_/s1600/IMG_5716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKElwGJ7e3JgHtz9hKe7SvC90kbGI7WQJsSqVixEeKvDPj-ZQnlhU8L2NLa6Y9oSP95B2L98aWdudbv9S4Y_cqdjcvpK0Gv9laQycNGK8O7f3pHOD0apgwNH0_CewQ-CchdONwkRM-vxK_/s320/IMG_5716.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
You will need some almond flour. If you can’t buy it, you can make your
own, just make sure the almonds are really dry. Separate the eggs at least 1 hour before using or preferably
the day before. And if you want to
ensure all the macarons are the same size draw circles of the desired size <u>on
the back</u> of the parchment. And
do use a scale, it makes a huge difference here. And, oh yeah, don’t make them on a rainy day! (The pictures below were taken on a rainy day which is why the macarons didn't rise as evenly as they would otherwise.)<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The recipe makes about 2 dozen 1 ½-inch macarons</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
215 g (7 ½ ounces) confectioners’ sugar</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
140 g (5 ounces) almond flour or sliced almonds</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
100 g (3 ½ ounces) egg whites (about 3 large) at room
temperature</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
pinch salt</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
25 g (2 tablespoons) castor or superfine granulated sugar</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
orange food coloring preferably paste or gel</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pumpkin buttercream (see following recipe)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1. Line two 18- by 13-inch cookie sheets with parchment
paper adhering them to the sheets with a little butter.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2. If sliced,
grind the almonds very fine in a food processor with about half the
confectioners’ sugar, scraping regularly.
Add the remaining confectioner’s sugar and cinnamon and process until very fine. Pass through a medium-coarse sieve and
regrind the remaining almond bits if necessary. If using almond flour, sift together with the confectioners’
sugar. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3. Beat the
whites and salt with an electric mixer until soft peaks form. Add the granulated sugar and beat until
stiff and shiny. Add enough
coloring for an attractive orange color and beat until homogenous. Using a
rubber spatula fold in the almond mixture in two additions until just
homogenous. The mixture will
deflate.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTQkMXC2itQj8N46JcAnjJWFj4BgeHfHafFX-ILomi42Xtvpg2-ljOV9L86IdmihfXnTizfj8NmzuoaQkQZUuRZ4OWqDEdmxClqrLgEHo_sDu1jXMUpDbuB4aZskf6hGfaZKuSkkiROtzK/s1600/IMG_5699.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTQkMXC2itQj8N46JcAnjJWFj4BgeHfHafFX-ILomi42Xtvpg2-ljOV9L86IdmihfXnTizfj8NmzuoaQkQZUuRZ4OWqDEdmxClqrLgEHo_sDu1jXMUpDbuB4aZskf6hGfaZKuSkkiROtzK/s320/IMG_5699.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJVAg6c5TqCtAM4s6b77I3_ucGxT2zKgRSrZSSDwvL39FAA4BKGqwRNBzSt7jq0jTsdVbGC05KKmk3fxF9Kbj0yCRO03YL7R_NO8qhMcN5WJU6pxAhEradG7Ime8gHMgy4NMQNzqhci-N/s1600/IMG_5700.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJVAg6c5TqCtAM4s6b77I3_ucGxT2zKgRSrZSSDwvL39FAA4BKGqwRNBzSt7jq0jTsdVbGC05KKmk3fxF9Kbj0yCRO03YL7R_NO8qhMcN5WJU6pxAhEradG7Ime8gHMgy4NMQNzqhci-N/s320/IMG_5700.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmDfBKfEu77P_DMjQp23NG3y5d5U68ec3DDkLyxWqwxc-MH1mxE0FnrPvCBTuz44C_h0UBrBiTzYvg-MCp9J_LMHxhE6GzwVw1U-3ghQkf_TFQK7yZCVm7StzZNbgvzUyiUtB7xa5qN_Un/s1600/IMG_5701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmDfBKfEu77P_DMjQp23NG3y5d5U68ec3DDkLyxWqwxc-MH1mxE0FnrPvCBTuz44C_h0UBrBiTzYvg-MCp9J_LMHxhE6GzwVw1U-3ghQkf_TFQK7yZCVm7StzZNbgvzUyiUtB7xa5qN_Un/s320/IMG_5701.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
4. Fit a piping bag with a 3/8-inch (1 cm) round tip. Pipe the batter onto the baking sheets in circles about 1 inch in diameter. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXUFqJBxN90Z0VBvjK9otwZ4CscjgfbIuP-aQ3cul7xoVxd1POAiLOAu_m61Q4WPqO1mcxCZP3gb6Oy3f02iaXDAHs_zZbjVMdGUlVABicHGozRH5zBe4BjRjJ34wrIBPETQTZeK-U5kj0/s1600/IMG_5703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXUFqJBxN90Z0VBvjK9otwZ4CscjgfbIuP-aQ3cul7xoVxd1POAiLOAu_m61Q4WPqO1mcxCZP3gb6Oy3f02iaXDAHs_zZbjVMdGUlVABicHGozRH5zBe4BjRjJ34wrIBPETQTZeK-U5kj0/s320/IMG_5703.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Let the macarons dry about 20 minutes (a
little longer is OK if you need to cook them in two batches) so a little skin
forms on the outside. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5. Preheat oven to 425°F.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6. Set the macarons in the center of the oven and
immediately lower the temperature to 350°F. Prop the door slightly ajar with a wooden spoon or something
similar. For small macarons, bake
about 8-10 minutes, larger ones will take about 12-15. They are done when shiny and hard on the outside. When you pry one apart it should be a
little moist in the middle. Set on
a cooling rack and cool briefly.
Remove from the macarons from parchment while still warm. Cool on cooling
racks.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIz6ev8lhitnAR0-eBoHHexbvrq3-_k2r0L_al0hetCN86_NOH5MLWMhghTpIAyVm6efaE5-guJCmx8evx5qd73lq0YepfSfZeHE9XkOm2FY5uNehECBcr_KBsRnEPPw6meDVmliXRJtE-/s1600/IMG_5704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIz6ev8lhitnAR0-eBoHHexbvrq3-_k2r0L_al0hetCN86_NOH5MLWMhghTpIAyVm6efaE5-guJCmx8evx5qd73lq0YepfSfZeHE9XkOm2FY5uNehECBcr_KBsRnEPPw6meDVmliXRJtE-/s320/IMG_5704.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7. Sandwich the
macarons with 1-2 teaspoons of buttercream. Set in an air-tight container and refrigerate overnight.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXNh5MrxecTJE2rqtw7ii81AzC3tKtQBULCZLterQevhYGAxksNG74iZkyaGYGK23XXidjrjqvxUD_B8C3CNoS8zisueHLDLuv4AMQ4NIp4P8MSKBIpmeUzaCt726DvfKOiu_QRLYZi44/s1600/IMG_5714.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXNh5MrxecTJE2rqtw7ii81AzC3tKtQBULCZLterQevhYGAxksNG74iZkyaGYGK23XXidjrjqvxUD_B8C3CNoS8zisueHLDLuv4AMQ4NIp4P8MSKBIpmeUzaCt726DvfKOiu_QRLYZi44/s320/IMG_5714.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsEOve_7HG8uIAIeFZdRNEIGmcZvX4T_z8kR3VG3aACC4kFIoD8QDUgK8_q69aauqor7e0ZStYKkyDMykB1sksqWXCfo4AAsyUwt1CuSdABGb6XQftRGZYlu3JvwBqTei5nAEpnjmx2A4/s1600/IMG_5715.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsEOve_7HG8uIAIeFZdRNEIGmcZvX4T_z8kR3VG3aACC4kFIoD8QDUgK8_q69aauqor7e0ZStYKkyDMykB1sksqWXCfo4AAsyUwt1CuSdABGb6XQftRGZYlu3JvwBqTei5nAEpnjmx2A4/s320/IMG_5715.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
PUMPKIN BUTTERCREAM</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
makes about 2 cups (enough for about 4 dozen macarons)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2 large egg whites</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2/3 cup raw sugar</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
pinch salt</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6 ½ ounces (13 tablespoons) unsalted butter, slightly cooler
than room temperature, cut into 1-inch pieces</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 teaspoon vanilla extract</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
½ cup canned pumpkin puree (at room temperature)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
¼ teaspoon grated nutmeg</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
large pinch ground cloves</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
orange food coloring, preferably paste or gel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1. Beat the egg
whites in a stand mixer until they form soft peaks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2. Meanwhile
combine the sugar and about 3 tablespoons water in a small saucepan over
moderately high heat. Bring to a
boil and cook to the soft ball stage (235-240°F) on a candy thermometer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3. Gradually
pour the syrup into the egg whites with the mixer on low speed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxNK08MmVQHt3aJyap1pvOlLF9LU8V9EVg-l1_h27WfwCLuQprzZXnHNODU5QiicKwkDQ_-AotFIBgrZ7tcKkIdGbTSvxLsiTe_Vw7Ls1jKjT7kgKXth4wIY7mRh8Eo3GWg5vRCCdDKLeY/s1600/IMG_5707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxNK08MmVQHt3aJyap1pvOlLF9LU8V9EVg-l1_h27WfwCLuQprzZXnHNODU5QiicKwkDQ_-AotFIBgrZ7tcKkIdGbTSvxLsiTe_Vw7Ls1jKjT7kgKXth4wIY7mRh8Eo3GWg5vRCCdDKLeY/s320/IMG_5707.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Scrape down the sides and beat on high
speed until the meringue is at room temperature.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiifgUNu_moQwS2IIRmyVEgWVLcVRtlU5aiZapJi77zV2jklfy42edBDBnGMJXkiw-wy99vUoIzLVkXcwJLEOQMe9P2NAxhViZTSa8HHPzcVh_CUwNBLcefilZrKwclUmU3jG4DKekrnvVP/s1600/IMG_5709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiifgUNu_moQwS2IIRmyVEgWVLcVRtlU5aiZapJi77zV2jklfy42edBDBnGMJXkiw-wy99vUoIzLVkXcwJLEOQMe9P2NAxhViZTSa8HHPzcVh_CUwNBLcefilZrKwclUmU3jG4DKekrnvVP/s320/IMG_5709.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Gradually add the butter and salt, scraping down the sides
of the bowl regularly. Beat until
completely smooth and fluffy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZBuIMDVEdmoRGDOZd1al0o9ezWYf1YhEow21hBjQ8QOicf_sF194aI3JqQTpR3AjoSIvnpmUnx8O7pvWrtVADYrGd2OSg2TIRR-irh-zihmxhaABHHYW9SggPuOVCkcgf3678yZhpPhZf/s1600/IMG_5710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZBuIMDVEdmoRGDOZd1al0o9ezWYf1YhEow21hBjQ8QOicf_sF194aI3JqQTpR3AjoSIvnpmUnx8O7pvWrtVADYrGd2OSg2TIRR-irh-zihmxhaABHHYW9SggPuOVCkcgf3678yZhpPhZf/s320/IMG_5710.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Gradually beat in the remaining ingredients adding enough orange food
coloring to give the buttercream an attractive pumpkin color. If the buttercream seems to be separating
beat on high until it comes back together.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAjW7GlieaOCKRgeO2JwcpCC1XPLstT5F5SEaRi9LCz5xIE5HI5c8HQmo2rDNM1s9q73Z8sb_cesT8KgFQgGLf7I14bx5RUrqB5KJ_d-CIpQ2930W08tsEEfKPFaiiRrJsDPOtLCGqSowv/s1600/IMG_5713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAjW7GlieaOCKRgeO2JwcpCC1XPLstT5F5SEaRi9LCz5xIE5HI5c8HQmo2rDNM1s9q73Z8sb_cesT8KgFQgGLf7I14bx5RUrqB5KJ_d-CIpQ2930W08tsEEfKPFaiiRrJsDPOtLCGqSowv/s320/IMG_5713.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-20146430274973023382011-10-11T19:33:00.000-04:002011-10-11T19:33:26.365-04:00A Little Cookie Detective WorkAmong the many desserts that I never covered fully in Sweet Invention because I just ran out of time and space was the humble drop cookie, perhaps one of the defining recipes of the home-baked American repertoire. What I mean is all those doughs make with sugar and butter that spread in homey, irregular rounds: chocolate chip, oatmeal, peanut butter and their kind. <br /> <br />The word cookie is undeniably Dutch in origin (from koekje=small cake) and began to be used English-language American cookbooks by at least the 1850s. Still, what it seemed to mean at this point was a small cake, a kind of muffin, rather than what we would think of as a cookie. In those days drop cookies were mostly called drop cakes. These little cakes came here from England. The eighteenth century cookbook author Hannah Glasse has a recipe (she calls them drop-biscuits). These, however, resemble lady fingers in texture rather than what we would think of as a cookie. Closer to the idea of a cookie is something called a “rout cake.” Mary Eaton, a British cookbook writer gives a recipe in <i>The Cook and Housekeeper's Complete and Universal Dictionary</i> (1822): <br /> <br />ROUT CAKES. <div>
To make rout drop-cakes, mix two pounds of flour with one pound of butter, one pound of sugar, and one pound of currants, cleaned and dried. Moisten it into a stiff paste with two eggs, a large spoonful of orange-flower water, as much rose water, sweet wine, and brandy. Drop the paste on a tin plate floured, and a short time will bake them. <br /> <br />(For an explanation of the name, see <a href="http://www.lynsted.com/html/georgian_-_rout_cakes.html">http://www.lynsted.com/html/georgian_-_rout_cakes.html</a>.) Most drop cakes are what would consider a “cake”. And the same is true of early drop cookie recipes. The first real drop cookie recipe that I’ve been able identify (though the rout cakes do seem to be a distant ancestor) is something called “Boston Cookies” which begin to show up in the 1880s. These are essentially the earlier rout cakes but with less liquid and flour but more sugar. <i>The Household: A Cyclopedia for Modern Homes</i> (1881) gives the following recipe. <br /> <br />BOSTON COOKIES. <br />One cup butter, one and one-half sugar, two and one-half flour, one and one-half raisins chopped fine, one-half teaspoonful soda dissolved in a little warm water, three eggs, a pinch of salt and nutmeg and other flavoring to the taste. Mix well, roll thin, or better still, drop into the pans with a spoon and sprinkle granulated sugar over each. <br /> <br />When you look at the original Toll House cookie recipe, the proportions of butter, sugar and flour are identical (Nestlé later altered the proportions slightly.) This then may the direct ancestor of the drop cookie. Now to figure out whether it really did originate in Boston! <br /><br /> </div>
Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-29988396473671985742011-10-05T11:34:00.002-04:002011-10-05T11:37:37.665-04:00Bashing Wedding Cakes<div style="text-align: left;">So I was in a taxi cab with an NPR reporter (busy shilling <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Sweet Invention,</i> my new book on the history of dessert) when he told me a story that I find just fascinating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He was originally against the idea of having a wedding cake at his nuptials but he eventually relented, but in a rather singular way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He and his bride to be decided to replace the usual multistory extravaganza with a wedding-cake-shaped piñata and fill it with small bottles of booze and Twinkies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>To top it all off, the couple placed sugar day of the dead skulls on top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have to say that I was equal parts fascinated and horrified.</div><p class="MsoNormal">Having spent the last couple of years delving into the symbolic baggage of desserts (chocolate money, Barbie cakes, bone-shaped cookies, and so on) I couldn’t but stop and rejoice at all the symbolism inherent in bashing apart a symbol of wedding bliss filled with toy-sized bottles of booze and sweet relics of childhood.</p> <img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 199px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-veWA4wdRCeTS7uAOB4jsSiLl0Ii1egkT0_1Ip-GGmJyNQHlOPr84iozkQ2nLiiLjSSOXU4ubbY_EnPkSv4TpR2h4WSRk4AWhq-x1v599vfRNtNdIXYiFIzjSbl6LGINk9ynIlGTdROAf/s320/4283754889_69c4da85b9_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660032373822384706" /><p class="MsoNormal">Let me very briefly note the symbolism of the more ordinary wedding cake (or bride’s cake as it was sometimes known in the 1800s).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In those days there was a kind of parallel between the virginal bride and the white-frosted cake, sometimes made explicit by the orange blossoms placed on both the bride and cake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The fashion for these white cakes originates with multi-story confection created by (mostly likely) Alfonse Gouffé for the wedding of the future King Edward VII and Princess Alexandra of Denmark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The idea caught on and white wedding cakes (they used to be pink or even red) became de rigueur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">One anthropologist has noted that the act of the newlywed husband and wife plunging a knife into the cake represents the consummation of the marriage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If that is the case what does the smashing of the piñata represent?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The next step is, of course, to share the cake among the guests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They are, in effect, the witnesses of the marriage act.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The cake, quite literally embodies this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You can draw a parallel to the sharing of the host in a Catholic mass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So what does it mean to consume a plastic-wrapped, industrially-produced mélange of chemicals?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Moreover one that is associated with childhood?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Are we bearing witness to the creation of a new consumer unit with child-like impulses born out smashing apart a traditional symbol of marriage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Then there are the toy-sized bottles of booze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In the nineteenth century, candy manufacturers used to make sweets in the shape of gin bottles, guns and cigars so that kids could play at being adults.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Like so many of candy-like cocktails popular today, the little bottles seem to point to the fact the line between child and adult is little more than a blur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But what should we make of the sugar skulls?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>An ironic reminder that all, including symbols and marriage, are as dust to dust?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Or just more spooky candy, no more threatening than Jack-o-lanterns on Halloween. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Well I guess kids will be kids…till death do us part.</p> <!--EndFragment-->Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-43228054984160901752011-09-26T10:40:00.007-04:002011-09-26T10:58:29.130-04:00Gelato on a Stick<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkQLO67tiDP-IW9vdhHwcBFodw9y64xCQiab765yYL8LiVn2VLIJOuzuyWJvdiYaapuAW0wqct8H86zhQtUbEx2ASVzPeX0-97-KyEXx8WYhyC6I-w6mYV0ceZnOkvyj7alfJ4OHyQKuf/s320/popbar+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656681281694672354" style="float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 224px; height: 262px;" border="0" /><p class="MsoNormal">As a rule, I’m usually not fond of downmarket desserts go upmarket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You know, the fancy restaurant smores, the French pastry chefs making ring dings but while I have some principles they tend to get weak-kneed when it comes to gelato.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Which brings me a little hole-in the wall in Greenwich Village called <a href="http://pop-bar.com/">Popbar</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The conceit here is that the place makes it’s own popsicles/ice cream bars which you get to dip in one of several chocolate coatings, sort of good humor on an expense account.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The gimmick wouldn’t be much more that cute if it weren’t for the quality of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>popsicles which are either made with gelato or sorbetto (sorbet).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>On a cool September day, the ones made with fruit sorbet didn’t seem quite as inviting as the gelati, so we went for the chocolate, gianduia and pistachio gelato.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>All were yummy: the chocolate was terrific, the pistachio only a trace less so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8h3JrAnBrt6sEwwRjowfLLumK8gI-o8iRgp79_ivq_J0LQi99dahj6X6yTi3rI7066RfJhBBw4hbjxp0aFQnDfgryhM6S4w1BqruSn_aeRDAMyDG7ZF1cWx7Az0pJG5KdwlJYqSOsr2Qt/s320/popbar+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656681441285597298" border="0" />Only the gianduia seemed a little wan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The friendly lady behind the counter dipped them in melted chocolate and rolled them in nuts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Worth a detour if you’re shopping at nearby <a href="http://www.murrayscheese.com/">Murray’s Cheese Shop</a> or the other worthy stores of Bleecker Street nearby.<!--EndFragment--></p>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-10605652803385049232010-09-14T15:54:00.002-04:002011-09-14T15:59:19.279-04:00The Infantilization of American Taste<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Increasingly, Americans are eating like children. The most recent bit of evidence comes from an article in </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">New York Times</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> about milkshakes served at fancy New York bars (</span><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/08/dining/08shake.html?scp=1&sq=milk%20shakes&st=cse"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/08/dining/08shake.html?scp=1&sq=milk%20shakes&st=cse</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">).</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Americans have a fondness for drinks containing ice cream that goes back to the nineteenth century when soda counters were a respectable alternative to bars and taverns. In that abolitionist era, milk and milk products were the antithesis of the devil’s brew, associated with mother’s milk and purity, though not necessarily with childhood. The first ice cream-laced beverages were often carbonated “ice cream sodas” or “malts” made with malted milk and ice cream. (Malted milk is dry milk powder mixed with malted barley.) Shakes as we know them didn’t come along until the invention of the blender in the 1920s, which happily coincided with the beginnings of American road culture. Soon enough these calorie bombs became a favorite treat at roadside ice cream stands like Dairy Queen. Today’s “large,” (almost a liter) Dairy Queen chocolate shake is over 1100 calories. While ice cream sodas tend to have a Frank Capra small town association milk shakes evoke images of roller-skate outfitted waitresses in California drive-ins à la </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">American Graffiti.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> They elicit early adolescence rather than childhood, an age of furtive kisses rather than teen pregnancy.</span></span><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And after that excessively wordy digression, let us turn to </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The New York Times’</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> article which reports on the reinvention of the milkshake as a cocktail. In Brooklyn, now New York’s coolest borough, a reimagined bowling alley serves bourbon-spiked milkshakes. The rest of the menu, according the owners was designed with “childhood memories of birthday parties” in mind—but with booze. The trend has jumped the East River into creaky Manhattan where milkshakes have been spotted at the ultra-trendy Momofuku. In one recipe, the pastry chef </span></span><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Christina Tosi</span></span><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> takes cereal milk (that is milk left over from eating dry cereal) and spikes it with Kahlua and vodka. There’s ice cream in there too. In Los Angeles where cool is always much cooler, chef Maria Swan, serves milk shakes based on such combinations as </span></span><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">añejo tequila with dulce de leche (a sort of caramel), and Cherry Heering with lavender vanilla ice cream. She readily admits her inspiration is Bob’s Big Boy. While in and of itself, the trend is little more than a clever conceit, when you begin to see it as part of a wider phenomenon it heralds a significant shift in culinary culture. Some years ago, American restaurants and bars came to be afflicted by a plague of cocktails. It started with frozen margaritas but them moved to increasingly more complex mixtures. The result is invariably sweet. Moreover the drinks often share the palette of Crayola crayons. Foods associated with childhood, especially mac and cheese, now have restaurants dedicated to them. A place down the street from me offers a version with “</span></span><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:Arial;color:#3B3B3B;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Brie, Figs, Roasted Shiitake Mushrooms and Fresh Rosemary” along with more conventional offering.</span></span><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> “Sliders,” small hamburger-type sandwiches are now filled with sophisticated fillings like duck confit and braised venison. Childhood desserts like cupcakes have turned into a global phenomenon. This is reflected elsewhere too.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Fancy restaurants offer deconstructed s’mores, the campfire dessert made with packaged graham crackers melted Hershey’s chocolate and marshmallows. Of course in the white-tablecloth version, the biscuits are home-made, the chocolate is French and the marshmallows are made with Tahitian vanilla. But the result is a little like the ten year-old smearing her face with her mother’s lipstick. Or perhaps the forty-five year old buying a toy car for fifty thousand dollars? Is this kid food masquerading as grown up food, or adult food pretending it’s child’s play?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Recently, social scientists have postulated that we should add another stage to the development of the human animal. In much the way that adolescence was invented in the 19th century, they propose a period of life called young adulthood that spans the period between the teenage years and “real” adulthood, which now seems to arrive at thirty. If this is indeed true then these childhood foods offer a sort of the booster seat to the grown-ups table. Or do they? Do the thirty-year olds then advance to a more adult phase of taste. Or do they simply continue eating more highly sweetened foods you can pick up with your hands for breakfast, lunch and dinner?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 24px; font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">American brides now often turn to cupcakes instead of wedding cakes to celebrate their nuptials. It’s an interesting shift in symbolism. Whereas the white wedding cake so clearly stood for virginity devoured, the cupcakes seem to indicate that a wedding is just another childhood birthday party. I’m all in favor of parties but does the food have to cater to the tastes of a six-year old?</span></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-57711629639315809252010-05-30T10:01:00.008-04:002010-09-30T10:29:14.179-04:00Cupcakes and Macarons<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I was recently in Paris, in part to interview the master pastry chef <a href="http://www.pierreherme.com/">Pierre Hermé</a>.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">In case you haven’t leafed through a <i>Paris Match</i> in the last dozen years, Pierre Hermé is one of those French culinary hypercelebrities, appearing regularly on television programs to deconstruct the state of French cuisine today.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">All the same, his celebrity is of an older more glamorous variety.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">He has not yet degraded himself by appearing on</span></div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Iron Chef.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">He is a recipient of the </span><span lang="FR" style="font-size:100%;">Légion d’Honneur</span><span style="font-size:100%;">, his nation’s highest honor.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">He brought a new spirit of inventiveness to French patisserie and as a consequence the French press has branded him with the rather dreadful moniker of the “Picasso of pastry.”</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 460px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoN1ArE3rBmRkUx-ECPwczjAOA_k8wNysLuVI0n9CqatZ7nx1iRQ6QJXqI5q0QX-wQFr0BGizZoKbOAqHmhUMatNoul1KPUI9fkBxWnhpp2C0c39ExtVBAme230bxbSkqu4WWOtJb1slTB/s320/macarons.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522709610174777298" border="0" /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Macarons at Ladurée</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">in Paris</span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">I mention all this simply to contrast his fame with his personality which is entirely generous and free of any pretension. Hermé has the easy grace of the truly successful.</span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">We met in his miniscule office above his boutique in the ever fashionable Faubourg St.-Germain.</span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">The boutique is tiny and resembles an ultra-trendy jeweler</span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">more than a pastry shop.</span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Each sweet sparkles under the carefully arranged spot lights.</span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">You can only fit in about a half-dozen customers at a time so naturally the line snakes out the door and down the block.</span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">(Hermé is a master of PR.)</span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Upstairs, our conversation inevitably led to the macaron for this is the maestro’s claim to fame.</span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Displaying no false modesty, Hermé admits to having started the macaron fad that swept pastry shops across the world in the last decade.</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">For those who haven’t visited a pastry shop in the last five years I should explain that</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">the macaron is a confection of sugar, egg whites and almonds and goes back to at least the seventeenth century. I had always assumed that it was one of those Italian imports that arrived with Marie de’ Medicis or one of her crowd, but I have begun to have my doubts.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">I just can’t find any use of the term in Italian that doesn’t refer to pasta (or an idiot).</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">(How “maccheron,” meaning pasta in both its meanings would become almond cookies is baffling to me—nevertheless the Académie française dictionary insists this the French word’s origin.) But whatever its origin it became a classic of the French pastry repertoire.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">There were lots of variations, including macarons stuffed with jam but it wasn’t until the 1940s (?) that someone had the bright idea of sandwiching two of these delicate cookies together with buttercream.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">And it wasn’t until the late 1990s that they became a multinational phenomenon and for this we have to thank M. Hermé.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Bored of plain old chocolate and vanilla he started infusing his macarons with flavors of roses, green tea, licorice but also with such things as wild rose, fig and foie gras (that’s one in one macaron, mind you).</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Next thing you know, pastry shops in Los Angeles, New York, Brussels and Vienna had leapt onto the idea.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Today you can walk into Picard, the French frozen food chain and pick up a selection of macarons with flavors like basil-lime, white peach-rose, and yuzu praline!</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">So why the obsession?</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">I have a couple of notions about that.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">At their best the macarons are genuinely delicious.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">The intensity and clarity of the flavor translates into pure, uncomplicated pleasure.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">They are also small so that they are a practically guilt-free dessert, so important in this day and age when we give up pleasure so that we may prolong our joyless lives as long as possible.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">The flavors are often exotic but safe.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">They’re difficult to make so that we can exercise our connoisseurship by finding the very best producer—yet they’re informal.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">You eat them with your hand.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">It’s all so very 2010 (or perhaps 2005).</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6Gd3FoTdDFbcjfPub440f3qWIRhc3dRiyhk_yW2NV2qOPPLgDtkRJGDq2XMlS56Gzd6Qtr4IxWRkqJMartOysOJkYQSEAuObZvjgap3BDmGHY9wZCkASPcCckwIfwZKtiKMbfVKNMT_w/s320/IMG_1674.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522709878070387602" border="0" /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in; line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Cupcakes at Gerstner in Vienna</span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Now even as macarons have swept the French-style pastry shops in the United States there has been a local fad that is oddly analogous, mainly for cupcakes in an equally wide panoply of flavors (bacon, “chai-latte,” tiramisu, peanut butter...). </span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">For years it was a staple at children’s birthday parties, and like the macaron of old, in no more than two or three flavors.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">However unlike the macaron you need virtual no culinary acumen to make a cupcake.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Most people make it from a cake mix.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">And like macarons, cupcakes have gone global.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The two desserts aren’t strictly analogous but I do think they give you insight into the state of European and American culture today.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Increasingly, the old bourgeois structure is breaking up in on the old continent to be replaced by something at the same time more cosmopolitan yet attached to some hypothetical Europeaness.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Luckily so far it has only been nationalism lite (if you set aside the Balkan conflagration).</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">It would be interesting to analyze the exotic flavors of the macaron and where they come from.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">I bet it isn’t Africa or the Muslim world.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">In France the flavors often come from herbs or those extra-safe foreigners, the Japanese.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Yet even while the macaron may be informal it is still a very adult-sort of treat.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">There is still a line drawn between childhood and adulthood by most Europeans.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">But in the United States a youth culture has been dominant ever since the baby boomers hijacked the nation.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">In America, the ideal age is about 16.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Old enough to drive and screw but as yet with many of the tastes of childhood.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">When not at work, the average American man dresses in sneakers, jeans, tee shirt and a baseball cap, the uniform of a twelve-year old.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">To an enormous extent these tastes apply to food as well.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Sweet is the favorite flavor in America, whether in pasta sauce, bread, ketchup, breakfast cereal or 90% of all beverages.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">American’s love eating food by hand.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Think of sandwiches, hot dogs, hamburgers, burritos and, naturally, cupcakes.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">The cake you don’t need to eat with a fork with a gooey uncomplicated appeal to childhood, much like the rest of American mass culture.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">It is the perfect dessert.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Yet as different as the two cultures are we all know how they are gradually turning into one.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Walk through a typical European airport and it’s hard to tell anyone apart by dress alone any more.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">The fashion-makers across the world are using the same media to set their trends in motion.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">The most recent trend out of France seems to involve marshmallows (guimauves) a treat that seems almost as binational and infantile as Jerry Lewis.</span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-69553003339842880922010-04-13T12:00:00.010-04:002010-09-30T10:34:36.044-04:00Carnival Donuts in Innsbruck and Venice<div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">A few weeks back I happened to be in Innsbruck just as the Carnival celebrations were coming to a close.<span style=""> </span>The holiday is decidedly more low key here than in Rio or New Orleans and has none of the pomp of Venice. In the Tyrol, which claims Innsbruck as its capital, fat Tuesday, or Fasching, is celebrated with a parade of the good burgers hidden behind grotesque masks straight from a Hansel and Gretel nightmare. Kids opt for princesses or Power Rangers, or whatever Disney dishes out that year.</div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style=""><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRP_p4M8YLa6sWeF235J-GKDcvCmIddKkr0CimfJoGZ_FSTSQkOjL6H_314scOhnnQGGpmb-b79BrMMG3owa33Fr-foaBa1lpW0QEh7E3GtdwNHZ-eM4ahmAF3kcaxsroA0VS4nQLJNXu5/s320/IMG_0532.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516436111676694706" border="0" /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"><span style="font-style: italic;">Faschingskrapfen at Café Diglas in Vienna</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">But mostly, the imminent arrival of Lent is marked by an Alpine-sized avalanche of <i>Krapfen</i>.<span style=""> </span><i>Krapfen</i> filled with jam and cream.<span style=""> </span>Chocolate <i>Krapfen</i> and vanilla <i>Krapfen</i> but also the eggy, boozy <i>Eierlikor Krapfen</i> filled with an egg-based liqueur.<span style=""> </span>Of course Venetians would hardly be surprised that Carnival should be a time to gorge on fried dough balls, the city has its fair share of pre-Lenten fritters and for much the same reason as Catholic Austria. Doughnuts are an indulgence that used to depend on animal fat: clarified butter if you were really hoity toity but lard for most of the rest of us.<span style=""> </span>Great cauldrons of simmering lard, something that would be strictly forbidden for the next forty days and forty nights.<span style=""> </span>Thus the donut orgy before the fast.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">Of course donuts are hardly limited to the catholic world or even Europe as any fan of Homer Simpson is well aware.<span style=""> </span>They are certainly as old as the ancient Greeks and any civilization that has figured out how to fry food has its version.<span style=""> </span>In India there is the dayglow tangle of dough called <i style="">jalebi</i>, Arabs have <i style="">Luqmat al qadi, </i>a ping-pong- size fritter that translates as “judge’s morsel,”<span style=""> </span>Spanish speakers have <i style="">churros,</i> the Dutch have <i style="">olie bollen </i>which, according to some historians later turned into American donuts.<span style=""> </span>And, of course we mustn’t forget zeppole served on St. Joseph’s Day, right in the middle of Lent, proving once again that Martin Luther was right about the Italians.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">Roughly speaking there are historically two ways of making fritters.<span style=""> </span>In the case of<span style=""> </span><i style="">churros</i> and at least a some of the fritters that go by the name <i style="">bignè</i> in Italy (from the French beignet).<span style=""> </span>The dough is made by mixing flour into hot water.<span style=""> </span>You often find egg in there too.<span style=""> </span>There’s recipe for this sort of thing in the ancient Roman cookbook of Apicius.<span style=""> </span>Scappi, the renaissance maestro, calls a much enriched version of the same thing <i>frittelle alla Veneziana</i> (sic).<span style=""> </span>The other kind of fritters, the ones that are called fritelle alla veneziana today are essentially made with a bread dough, leavened with yeast.<span style=""> </span>And this is the category to which the much-beloved <i>Krapfen</i> belongs.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">The origin of a fritter called <i>Krapfen</i> probably goes back to the middle ages in Central Europe.<span style=""> </span>A recipe from 1531 has you mix in honey and wine as well as the usual eggs, flour and yeast.<span style=""> </span>These early recipes seem to have been unfilled.<span style=""> </span>Instead there is some evidence that they were dipped in honey or possibly some sort of fruit butter (apples and plums were traditionally boiled down in Central Europe without the addition of expensive sugar).<span style=""> </span>In this they may have resembled honey-dipped Levantive fritters or, for that matter, the <i>fritelle di Chanukà</i> of Venice’s ghetto.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">Filled <i>Krapfen</i> seem to have come along only when they moved to the big city.<span style=""> </span>In Vienna these filled donuts came to be called <span style="font-style: italic;">Faschingskrapfen</span>, because of their association with Carnival (<i>Fasching</i>) though <i>Krapfen</i> were by no means limited to the holiday. The Florentine <i style="">Gazetta Universale</i> reported that in Vienna April 7 1790, Leopold II distributed 300 pounds of prosciutto, 3000 pounds of roast veal, 3000 bread rolls 2000 <i>Krapfen</i> after annual ceremony when vows allegiance were exchanged between him and the representatives of his domains. Rather skimpy if you ask me but the Hapsburgs were known to be skinflints.<span style=""> </span>And <i>Krapfen</i> weren’t cheap.<span style=""> </span>They ran one to two Kreutzers unfilled and double that with a filling.<span style=""> </span>That would have cost an ordinary workman one or two hours of wages.<span style=""> </span>The really fancy ones were even more.<span style=""> </span>You could tell good quality <i>Krapfen</i> by the tell-tale ring around the edge.<span style=""> </span>It told you the doughnut was light enough not to sink in the cooking fat.<span style=""> </span>She as pretty as a <i>Krapfen</i> was high compliment.<span style=""> </span>And when a gentleman was to intimate with a lady that they would share a <i>Krapfen</i> you knew that a proposal had better be in the works.</p> <img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 542px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjynVfFeXi6FC0zoR263zI_iqZc8w191dH7JYgbkCMgB8u82FnBGxwteW3zZL-2Rw_unAEVQBSfNnDEDSzzj6e24cbJeBnBGrBDTNkav6QtuSfjwL-8Anu0uPXe15BYD3OL-RCp8YlSGjis/s320/IMG_1090.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516436119321903506" border="0" /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Krapfen at Pasticceria Tonolo</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">Yet just when the <i>Krapfen</i> craze reached Venice isn’t recorded.<span style=""> </span>Or at least I haven’t been able to track it down.<span style=""> </span>Presumably it came with the Austrian occupation after 1797 though I am skeptical that the locals would have leapt on the invaders’ fritter all that quickly.<span style=""> </span>But sooner or later the German donut’s very obvious appeal overcame any nationalist reservations and the locals adopted it as their own.<span style=""> </span>I am tempted to ascribe Florence’s <i>bomboloni</i> to the Austrians as well but here too I have no proof other than the very obvious similarity of the recipe.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">Who could argue with the appeal a sweet snack endorsed by both Homer Simpson and John F. Kennedy.<span style=""> </span>Well, OK, in both cases we’re dealing with fiction.<span style=""> </span>A cartoon character in one case and an urban legend that when Kennedy stood in front of the Brandenburg gate and declared himself a “Berliner,” he made a grammatical faux pas and inadvertently declared himself a jelly donut.<span style=""> </span>Well it turns out his grammar was actually just fine.<span style=""> </span>A pity, it would have been a much more universal statement of the unity of humankind, if you ask me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-21690457081328801522009-07-17T11:11:00.001-04:002009-07-23T18:56:47.242-04:00Monastic Sweets in BarcelonaSpain isn’t the first place you think of when you contemplate dessert. Just why is a little unclear, the next-door Portuguese are dessert obsessed. Lisbon has more pastry shops than Paris, with a much smaller population. So why are the Spanish so lukewarm about dessert? Perhaps there isn’t really a place in it in the Spanish meal system. The Spanish eat a small breakfast but given the late meal times there is the national institution of snacking—tapas. You eat tapas at eleven to get you to lunch at 2 or 3 and you eat tapas in the early evening so you’re not starving by the time the 10 PM supper hour arrives. It’s hard to fit in a leisurely coffee and dessert somewhere in there. Perhaps equally important, the savory snacks end up doing the jobs of sweet snacks in places like Vienna and Brussels. Instead of a doughnut and coffee there is a slice of <span style="font-style: italic;">tortilla </span><span style="font-style: italic;">española</span> and a glass of cava. Portugal, on the other hand, has much more of a coffee culture (the Portuguese seem to have as many words for coffee as the Inuit do for snow) so that a late morning snack will most likely be some sort of pastry washed down a sweet slug of caffeine. This is all theory mind you generated by a visit to Barcelona.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcMtUM6myE3UEunWj2iXEr9vvvL0FLrPTNgQGDrAuzr8cPo_nqPLGLjmicF-OzHhXmOyAa5P6x1eMjeQOxN2sY37HI3C9PfYAe35LcHfgPJ8lJwrT7Gvxi0Ikz5s6OiFqQHiOZhCuoT6m/s1600-h/caelum.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 483px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcMtUM6myE3UEunWj2iXEr9vvvL0FLrPTNgQGDrAuzr8cPo_nqPLGLjmicF-OzHhXmOyAa5P6x1eMjeQOxN2sY37HI3C9PfYAe35LcHfgPJ8lJwrT7Gvxi0Ikz5s6OiFqQHiOZhCuoT6m/s320/caelum.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361679962256667010" border="0" /></a>Barcelona is one of my favorite towns. It has the perfect location, right between the beach and mountains. It has wacky architecture. It has great food. Not only are there the ubiquitous tapas but the Spanish explosion of innovation is mostly centered here. The Boqueria is the world’s finest and largest covered market. But dessert? The pastry shops tend to be few and far between and vaguely French. The ice cream is expensive and either a pale imitation of Häagen Dazs or gelato. Still, there is at least one sweet spot worth seeking out. Located deep in the Barrio Gotíc, Caelum (c/De la Palla 8, tel. 933026993) specializes in serving and selling Spanish monastery sweets. You can taste them upstairs but it’s more fun to go to the downstairs cellar that once served as a Jewish baths. It’s all gloomy and candlelit in the best possible way. There are cakes of various kinds which seem just a little too homemade (and the ubiquitous brownies) but there is also a wide selection of packaged monastery sweets you can taste. Many seem to be based on some sort of almond paste which is fine by me. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ALq9QIlMFfgnL9CoGfyTKhuVlV_rn0AHxpW9XJRTogJw3Cq-81aV0f6NrOX_YLKxBg3aQmLWv7khcx8RWAOWBsxp7m4c-PrN2fcrECnqcA5JXLS_-8regvZg5i30GFjB_e4PK8NP5y2E/s1600-h/lunitas.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 342px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ALq9QIlMFfgnL9CoGfyTKhuVlV_rn0AHxpW9XJRTogJw3Cq-81aV0f6NrOX_YLKxBg3aQmLWv7khcx8RWAOWBsxp7m4c-PrN2fcrECnqcA5JXLS_-8regvZg5i30GFjB_e4PK8NP5y2E/s320/lunitas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361679963783311874" border="0" /></a> The <span style="font-style: italic;">lunitas</span>, for example are a kind of half-moon of very thin pastry enclosing a moist marzipan-like filling. The pastel de piñon is much like an Italian pinoli cookie but somehow denser, chewier and more intense. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxErR8omj5IcQ9_hIMh5iAWVWyjilEIpSUYzZHpH-fDeHBXdcXy8IO6_tPK8optZAcn3aKHGRKb1OUDBlCt52K_BTTeDnYier4Fki5zlsgi80tlneAd3gknrYmzbVjV990PHog0TKKsj-Y/s1600-h/pestinos.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 313px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxErR8omj5IcQ9_hIMh5iAWVWyjilEIpSUYzZHpH-fDeHBXdcXy8IO6_tPK8optZAcn3aKHGRKb1OUDBlCt52K_BTTeDnYier4Fki5zlsgi80tlneAd3gknrYmzbVjV990PHog0TKKsj-Y/s320/pestinos.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361679969971066578" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Pestiños</span> (also called <span style="font-style: italic;">borrachuelos</span> on the package, presumably because they’re made with wine—<span style="font-style: italic;">borracho</span> means drunk in Spanish), on the other hand resemble tiny doughnuts little bigger than a wedding band. There’s also something distinctly medieval about them, tasting, as they do, of honey and olive oil. The fourth monastery sweet I tasted was something called a <span style="font-style: italic;">polvoron</span>, a kind of cookie that is the shape of a very large sugar cube. As you bite into it, it shatters into a powder (thus the name which comes from <span style="font-style: italic;">polvo</span>—powder), it's barely sweet with perhaps just a hint of cinnamon. This is one of those cookies, like biscotti, that cries out for some hot chocolate, or perhaps a sweet monastic liqueur?Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-51822677340893735732009-07-08T18:56:00.003-04:002009-07-23T19:03:21.440-04:00Chicken PuddingEvery culture has its own taboos and rules about what is edible and inedible. There are also rules about what may or may not be combined: “thou shall not seethe a kid in his mother’s milk” in the Jewish tradition, Italians have a taboo about combining cheese and fish and most Europeans (with the huge exception of Spaniards) do not mix fish and meat. The great majority of the citizens of the EU also can’t abide meat that is sweet more than savory. The idea of dessert based on meat is fundamentally repugnant. Of course this was not always the case. In the UK mincemeat has traditionally been made with meat—though nowadays the only animal product it contains tends to be suet. Medieval Europe used to be obsessed with blancmange, a pudding typically made with chicken, almonds and sugar. Today, if you want to taste anything vaguely similar you’ll need to travel to Turkey.<br /><br />In Istanbul, I had arranged to meet Mary Isin in front of <a href="http://www.hacibekir.com.tr/">Haci Bakir</a>, the city’s most famous confectioner. Mary has written a book on Turkish sweets and like every good Brit (she has lived in Turkey for ages but still…) she adores a good custard. Haci Bekir is renowned for it’s Turkish delight but there’s nowhere to sit down, and no custard, so Mary dragged me across the street to Hafiz Mustafa Şekerlemeleri (Hamidiye Caddesi 84-86), a café that dates back to the 19th century. After a brief conversation with the owner her face lit up with a triumphant smile and she dragged me upstairs to the pastry maker’s café, a low-raftered affair—so low that the beams are covered with foam to prevent the customers from inevitable concussions. What she had been after arrived in a few moments. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOoH6xmX-BihMjb2WCY6tO22Z8GfjqaR2bahgfgJnHNcuM_eDaXpSwOEhTz-SuWuhyyGkVXvLS1_8drDvaZ-yq9PofUPdYnuWIZEjOTHK-R0VVbXVZ7-I9NB8M8WqMcp5GsGlXZhszgKqi/s1600-h/Tavuk+Gogsu.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 249px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOoH6xmX-BihMjb2WCY6tO22Z8GfjqaR2bahgfgJnHNcuM_eDaXpSwOEhTz-SuWuhyyGkVXvLS1_8drDvaZ-yq9PofUPdYnuWIZEjOTHK-R0VVbXVZ7-I9NB8M8WqMcp5GsGlXZhszgKqi/s320/Tavuk+Gogsu.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361794376712592098" border="0" /></a>Tavuk Göğsü is about the closest thing to medieval blancmange. It is a milk-based pudding, thickened with rice starch and chicken. Yes chicken and plenty of sugar. As you bite into it, it has a texture that is oddly both chewy and smooth with little shreds of chicken breast in it. When the pudding is made, the bottom is caramelized to give it that contrasting bitter dimension. It’s very good, really. And if you don’t like it there’s always baklava on the menu.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-74774892280468115632009-06-01T16:44:00.007-04:002009-07-23T11:56:30.756-04:00All in the Name of ScienceSo I thought I would test out the hypothesis whether you could make a Sacher Torte in 1832, or at least whether the chocolate was up to snuff. The first trick, of course was to get chocolate that would have been made the same way it was back then. Mexican chocolate is, sort of, though the brands typically available have cinnamon and sometimes almonds added to them. Luckily Taza Chocolate in Somerville, MA is making a stone-ground chocolate that is made, as best as I can figure out, much the way Baker’s and other companies would have made their chocolate a couple of hundred years ago.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_IkjwBqBEIohLcGEjfceGiO38EVE1EbQgE_zSnsDJl9ktcDMX4cLAfvp_bOPhIDfRpkqgpc4MRZSHBrO8IE7yvi7tYbpn6v_dSWUe7_yJ8IcakXUN410lQzl0tJMsR2KMQf4MgkgCy43/s1600-h/IMG_0990.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 381px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_IkjwBqBEIohLcGEjfceGiO38EVE1EbQgE_zSnsDJl9ktcDMX4cLAfvp_bOPhIDfRpkqgpc4MRZSHBrO8IE7yvi7tYbpn6v_dSWUe7_yJ8IcakXUN410lQzl0tJMsR2KMQf4MgkgCy43/s320/IMG_0990.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342467798570954658" border="0" /></a>I spoke briefly to one of the Taza owners, Alex Whitmore, and he explained how the chocolate is ground, mixed with sugar and then passed through granite rollers to smooth out the texture. No conching. And that’s critical because it is the invention of conching that created the really smooth texture we’re all used to now. Alex describes conching as a little like a long (mechanical) process of kneading the chocolate base which, rather than making the particles of cocoa smaller, smoothes their edges. It also mellows the flavor—you apparently loose the sour edge that chocolate naturally has. I have to say that I find the sour, almost spoilt milk flavor, of Taza off-putting. But then I grew up on Lindt and its likes. Americans who grew up on Hershey’s—which most European chocolatiers criticize for exactly this sour milk flavor profile—would probably like it. It is gritty though.<br /><br />At any rate, if there is a chocolate that resembles the chocolate circa 1830, this is probably it. And how did it work on the Sacher torte, or more specifically the glaze? I can report that it did just fine. It melted a little more unevenly than normal but otherwise it behaved perfectly adequately. The resulting glaze was shiny and smooth, just as it should be. (I did overcook the glaze a little—I find it hard to get right when I’m making just a little glaze—but it still worked.)<br /><br />The recipe I used was loosely adapted from Rick Rodger’s Kafeehaus, probably the best Viennese dessert book in English. His history is shaky but the recipes work. I wanted to make a 7-inch cake so I beat 6 tablespoons butter until smooth, beat in 2 3/4 ounces of bittersweet chocolate and 4 room yolks. Then I beat 4 whites until semi-stiff, beat in 7 tablespoons sugar until meringuish. This I folded into the yolk mixture, then folded in a half cup flour. That was baked in a (buttered and floured) 7-inch springform for about 45 minutes at 350°F. This was chilled to room temperature and flipped up-side down. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvto2J8WWTbbuZ4y-MjGaQuq76MiansKXqkH92Z_Qvbv0u4S2UXCLu6BtGKOKJK4J39yeYEEphIwGXHdah2ACraqSkokTFb5i5lEK3R6XFAfF5niL9heM_ki51xbrK4VC8w86VsQ54mN2t/s1600-h/IMG_0991.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 381px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvto2J8WWTbbuZ4y-MjGaQuq76MiansKXqkH92Z_Qvbv0u4S2UXCLu6BtGKOKJK4J39yeYEEphIwGXHdah2ACraqSkokTFb5i5lEK3R6XFAfF5niL9heM_ki51xbrK4VC8w86VsQ54mN2t/s320/IMG_0991.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342467672794001890" border="0" /></a>Then there was the apricot glaze made by boiling down apricot preserves until thick and syrupy (make sure you buy preserves made with sugar not corn syrup!) then strained and brushed all over the cake. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2kzTaVmBIvbyABqhQQQsKMw8Mvf3BmwaCUQgJ6SqF55IkaFx-IoKHTcf4PlxNkXRBku0UJxc2wFT1Eo7OXL9AGJqU2JkG7_H6n06HyxKuSuOwNr-zE-hVQkActnWI_YtmgAl_8aoMeDF4/s1600-h/IMG_0992.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 381px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2kzTaVmBIvbyABqhQQQsKMw8Mvf3BmwaCUQgJ6SqF55IkaFx-IoKHTcf4PlxNkXRBku0UJxc2wFT1Eo7OXL9AGJqU2JkG7_H6n06HyxKuSuOwNr-zE-hVQkActnWI_YtmgAl_8aoMeDF4/s320/IMG_0992.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342467666331699282" border="0" /></a>Finally I took a 3-ounce bar of Taza 60% Stone Ground Chocolate, combined it with 3/4 cup sugar and about a third cup water. This was simmered until glaze consistency. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgolqrIHlwPs7kEd9DIti4fiahhLV_ymj1XCgIR_p-AZ1Vvz2jhdzFcFN1Y3ws7oBknw6KwUBHu13d3-vyihmmBcg6WiFmifZK4KPF7qMa1pG3IcG6vVilIGlKAfPpRLKRECz-x7Acb7F8V/s1600-h/IMG_0993.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 381px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgolqrIHlwPs7kEd9DIti4fiahhLV_ymj1XCgIR_p-AZ1Vvz2jhdzFcFN1Y3ws7oBknw6KwUBHu13d3-vyihmmBcg6WiFmifZK4KPF7qMa1pG3IcG6vVilIGlKAfPpRLKRECz-x7Acb7F8V/s320/IMG_0993.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342467672883052738" border="0" /></a>Rick says to cook it to 234°F which is all very well, but try getting an accurate measurement from a half-cup of glaze! I usually test it by dropping a few drops on a frozen ceramic plate. You want the consistency of fudge, more or less. Finally, I spooned the glaze over the cooled apricot glaze.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguZnZTv2U_UOQh2uy53a63kOdd6-3Kt1d8FXyweyBTFzUgfypNljNc7RehXKTdn-rhwkr2aJFPMXTjAVNW0w8f4m75TIbjfjgKgm8xBxCKLm82nwqcypoAAxkDdFwo8lpaordR4mjDMwdw/s1600-h/IMG_0994.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 381px; height: 283px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguZnZTv2U_UOQh2uy53a63kOdd6-3Kt1d8FXyweyBTFzUgfypNljNc7RehXKTdn-rhwkr2aJFPMXTjAVNW0w8f4m75TIbjfjgKgm8xBxCKLm82nwqcypoAAxkDdFwo8lpaordR4mjDMwdw/s320/IMG_0994.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342467662756667522" border="0" /></a> Incidentally, the cake shouldn’t be refrigerated. It will keep fine, covered, for a couple of weeks. In a sense that’s the whole point of it. And yeah, you have to serve it with Schlag—whipped cream. Did the 15-year-old Sacher really invent this on the spot? My guess is that it took some years to get it right. But there is no reason to think that he couldn’t have due to the ingredients on hand at the time.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIVDVxIipalRPGFf4Famge_SRy0IxiU7pdWdojvltOSEbs7xrMUHpTKP-8EXlxp7j7qgHKQoKNIg_D-vMSl8KbUNJaEYdWCwSUUmSP5CUkU9eZisir-BBXh0JZRtF6oQslp4ZpUx3eRYuA/s1600-h/IMG_0996.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 381px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIVDVxIipalRPGFf4Famge_SRy0IxiU7pdWdojvltOSEbs7xrMUHpTKP-8EXlxp7j7qgHKQoKNIg_D-vMSl8KbUNJaEYdWCwSUUmSP5CUkU9eZisir-BBXh0JZRtF6oQslp4ZpUx3eRYuA/s320/IMG_0996.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342467657856239490" border="0" /></a>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-69551735765387228432009-05-26T14:59:00.004-04:002009-07-23T12:03:20.956-04:00The Sacher Story<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">I returned recently from a quick weekend trip to Vienna—a few too many tortes for two days—not that I’m complaining.<span style=""> </span>But between bites I had a conversation with Ingrid Haslinger which got me thinking about stories and history, or at least about the kind of tales that are told about food.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Dr. Haslinger is a food historian and probably the most knowledgeable person in Austria (or elsewhere for that matter) on the culinary habits of the Hapsburg court.<span style=""> </span>She’s written books about it and if you visit the jaw-dropping collection of Imperial Silver (the so called <a href="http://www.hofburg-wien.at/en/things-to-know/vienna-hofburg/the-former-court-silver-and-table-room-in-vienna.html">Silberkammer</a>) in the old imperial palace (the Hofburg) she’s the one who wrote the labels that explaining what’s what.<span style=""> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">At any rate we got to talking about the story of the Sacher Torte.<span style=""> </span>The legend—as it is told in repeated retellings —is that the young Franz Sacher was once in the employ of Prince Metternich.<span style=""> </span>(This was the string-pulling, reactionary<span style=""> </span>chief minister of Austria in the early 1800s, the guy who is generally<span style=""> </span>credited with setting up the post-Napoleonic European order. ) One day, the prince had a few of his chums over for dinner for which the fifteen-year old<span style=""> </span>Sacher whipped up the first Sacher Torte.<span style=""> </span>The noble-blooded diners applauded and the world’s most famous cake was born.<span style=""> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">You have to admire the narrative:<span style=""> </span>the adolescent wunderkind struck with the spark of genius, recognized immediately by the savvy old diplomat and his cronies.<span style=""> </span>It’s a great story.<span style=""> </span>The only trouble is, it’s probably not true.<span style=""> </span>At least that’s Dr. Haslinger’s very credible hypothesis.<span style=""> </span>Other than the rather incredible age of the young Sacher there is the date when this was all supposed to happen: 1832.<span style=""> </span>The Sacher is a chocolate cake which is coated with apricot preserves and then a fudgy chocolate glaze.<span style=""> </span>The problem is that chocolate smooth enough to form the glaze hadn’t been invented yet—that would come in 1879 when Lindt developed a way of making<span style=""> </span>chocolate super smooth by processing it with a conching machine.<span style=""> </span>But the other bit of damning evidence comes from an interview with the old Sacher himself that appeared in 1906 where he says he came up with the cake in 1840s.<span style=""> </span>So what about the Metternich story?<span style=""> </span>It may well originate with his son Eduard who recounted it in a issue of the <i>Wiener Zeitung</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> in 1888 (or supposedly did according to Franz</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> Maier-Bruck's</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> <span style="font-style: italic;">Das grosse Sacher-Kochbuch</span>—I haven't been able to find the article in the actual newspaper). Did Eduard misunderstand something his father might have told him or did he simply put two and two together and get five?<span style=""> </span>Hard to say.<span style=""> He had run a </span> <a href="http://www.sacher.com/en-history-vienna.htm">hotel</a><span style=""> since</span> 1876 and a little publicity probably couldn’t hurt. It's interesting to note that the first recipe for it appears two years later though!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Let’s say for the sake of argument that the Metternich story is inaccurate.<span style=""> </span>Isn’t it still of enormous interest, especially to a food historian?<span style=""> </span>Certainly that it was widely circulated gave the cake inestimably more cachet than the more probable story that Sacher invented something like this cake (even if the glaze was later refined) in the 1840s to use in his catering business for ships on the Danube.<span style=""> </span>If it was indeed first promulgated in the 1870s, the Mettenich origin myth tells something about the era of increasing industrialization and the PR potential of a good story in an era of increasing mass media.<span style=""> </span>Dr. Haslinger tells me that we Americans are too prone to overemphasize the role of public relations in the history of food.<span style=""> </span>Perhaps.<span style=""> </span>But I would make the argument that the fable has had a greater influence popularizing the torte than any real history.<span style=""> </span>Stories matter. </p> <!--EndFragment-->Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-26677396846620759162009-05-17T22:05:00.010-04:002009-05-30T09:51:26.772-04:00OberlaaAfter long resisting Vienna's <a href="http://www.oberlaa-wien.at/index.php?lang=en">Oberlaa</a> chain (how could they be good if they have so many branches?) I succumbed. You see I had coffee with the founder yesterday and he is/was by all accounts altogether brilliant when comes to pastry.<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2v093nW-f8TtvRtCSafuQCQqbZa_eZgkCx5fNfuoxlPon1M3zD0hYs5cXh2-hifexlmKjzLV_DYtZ92bAawzkH2eH_BJV_IKnDh4V7ZcqrOwYpBf9PCtb8jWVVh8rXbAurU6DgHEcwMs6/s1600-h/oberlaa+blog.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 386px; height: 279px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2v093nW-f8TtvRtCSafuQCQqbZa_eZgkCx5fNfuoxlPon1M3zD0hYs5cXh2-hifexlmKjzLV_DYtZ92bAawzkH2eH_BJV_IKnDh4V7ZcqrOwYpBf9PCtb8jWVVh8rXbAurU6DgHEcwMs6/s320/oberlaa+blog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341612270160930466" border="0" /></a></div><div>The Neumarkt branch spills out into the square, packed with a mixture of locals and a smattering of foreigners on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Oberlaa is probably the least traditional of the best known Viennese <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">K</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">onditerei. </span>True to their reputation, the table menu features the "neu, new, nuovo, Mango-Schokolade Torte:" think layers of flourless almond cake (with a little praline perhaps?), Pariser Creme (chocolate mousse) <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUe84dtiqvDxodbZ5X-wq-9ynwRrEtW4bR5VA3F6lj1mqGyZlCHSERyQz1FZh0d1AM9lXExZUGwqwtf5uuQ5wHUsZpu-b0NO1FfnUMkyaSfKu8q0F88bOJcWmrbHouBQrX4YweYb_1fE5W/s1600-h/oberlaa+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 211px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUe84dtiqvDxodbZ5X-wq-9ynwRrEtW4bR5VA3F6lj1mqGyZlCHSERyQz1FZh0d1AM9lXExZUGwqwtf5uuQ5wHUsZpu-b0NO1FfnUMkyaSfKu8q0F88bOJcWmrbHouBQrX4YweYb_1fE5W/s320/oberlaa+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341612277629048434" border="0" /></a>and mango puree. And, oh yes, a thin layer of whipped cream. It's light and fruity, a nice balance of creamy chocolate and bright, tropical intensity. </div><div>There's a bit of Paris there in the mango—maybe even a little Guadelope—but it works. Perhaps because the chocolate isn't too strident.</div><div><br /></div><div>Their chocolates are good too if a little sweet for my taste. A little like a Whitman sampler but one that actually tastes good.</div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-77056290457691678522008-12-13T17:00:00.000-05:002009-02-23T10:36:31.471-05:00Sluka<a href="http://www.sluka.at/content/site/conditorei/de/geschichte/index.html?SWS=c3a8b2e78f3426c687b5d934885d64a4">Sluka</a>, another of Vienna’s famed Zuckerbäckers is holding up less well under the Christmas onslaught. Admittedly, its location next to the Rathaus puts it just a few steps away from the ginormous Christmas market that takes over the square in front of City Hall. The market is great fun in a hokey, carnival kind of way. Seemingly, there are miles of stands selling kitsch and wurst. And Sluka does not bear the overflow with grace. The service is more brusque than efficient, the harried waitress demanding payment even as she drops my order on the table. Looking over the shop-worn desserts I had selected the strudel, thinking it a safe bet. Not so, it turned out to be soggy, mushy and overly sweet. No need to go to Vienna for this!Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-57505799622889899982008-12-12T21:20:00.000-05:002009-02-23T10:37:18.816-05:00Demel<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZGeoaG2l2UMMQE50XduG5sM5OKsoIlPgfozML0QB8DUSuYnQk-LIYj9_KU-86ESE6hvd8JLWGWq5qmNHS93cwrO6MtEmt8iAdl37LokaSlP5_uB6hhnAiPXe0fHzbPalZGcpAeD8l7Ry/s1600-h/demel+sign.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 162px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZGeoaG2l2UMMQE50XduG5sM5OKsoIlPgfozML0QB8DUSuYnQk-LIYj9_KU-86ESE6hvd8JLWGWq5qmNHS93cwrO6MtEmt8iAdl37LokaSlP5_uB6hhnAiPXe0fHzbPalZGcpAeD8l7Ry/s320/demel+sign.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296046450906941810" border="0" /></a>Two weeks before Christmas, <a href="http://www.demel.at/index_flash.htm">Demel</a> is a madhouse. At five in the afternoon, the waitresses cut through the swaying shoals of tourists like sharks on a mission. The customers barely take heed though, transfixed as they are by so much towering confectionery. Demel’s is easily the city’s most picturesque Café-Konditerei with fittings that date back to the late 1800s. Admittedly,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSUbTSdWQp6iJF4GawUCzvLG-pTQFEwuaLd3gogeafFiZ19EYjTsXqn4er2KZGLKnP-OW5QSdrRwST_4S-wczUIKPWeZf_MYES358f0KhVOF0hX_oN7Xf8eVKi3pHukZtAEPH-JyDNRwH/s1600-h/demel+pic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 255px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSUbTSdWQp6iJF4GawUCzvLG-pTQFEwuaLd3gogeafFiZ19EYjTsXqn4er2KZGLKnP-OW5QSdrRwST_4S-wczUIKPWeZf_MYES358f0KhVOF0hX_oN7Xf8eVKi3pHukZtAEPH-JyDNRwH/s320/demel+pic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296046310781846258" border="0" /></a> the design is just about as chaotic as the crowd with a confusion of styles that comes with a century of decorative accretions. The latest change came in 2002 when <a href="http://www.doco.com/">DO & CO</a> the catering corporation that bought the storied confectioner added an open kitchen to the mix. Here, the curious can ogle the Sacher-Tortes being iced and chocolates receiving their final flourishes. I am of two minds about this. I love seeing the meticulous workers carrying out their métier, but it does turn the café into an even more Disneyesque production that it already is.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3Pn9wtlGLKR6iiIeg3TO4XiCd6K8yOsfcTUteuu_Vvaoo_Bc7v_o1mGB-6emqNnEnTbtfyEpPiNXnLZYrgmD5iuWYuLRgMRDU6Ha844bMenccEIDeS7UUNL62uRZOoiFnSolvo-bDJtN/s1600-h/Demel.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 357px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3Pn9wtlGLKR6iiIeg3TO4XiCd6K8yOsfcTUteuu_Vvaoo_Bc7v_o1mGB-6emqNnEnTbtfyEpPiNXnLZYrgmD5iuWYuLRgMRDU6Ha844bMenccEIDeS7UUNL62uRZOoiFnSolvo-bDJtN/s320/Demel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296045907068632322" border="0" /></a>All the same, the cakes look damn good—not merely the tortes but also the strudels, tarts, and other more homey confections. I stick to the cakes though, ordering a slice of Maroni-Torte, a four layer affair of chocolate and chestnut cream robed in an infinitesimally thin coating of marzipan and an overcoat of chocolate glaze. Textbook perfect and the little “kiss” of chocolate dipped chestnut cream on top just adds to the delight. Demel’s at least seems to be surviving the corporate takeover rather well.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-yaF1JxgrhRFMMtZDkXfP5oS7oQx8yjvEH90gi2ILnAC_dTCSNpzA0Gutr4jgYs9WYmVJkAcWSuFvg6hUsDJGEVOpAS7EHFAWZjCcZp5AehcOJXtzEoDCEAoFvYg788O_MYOPj9Rb3hPt/s1600-h/maroni+torte.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 368px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-yaF1JxgrhRFMMtZDkXfP5oS7oQx8yjvEH90gi2ILnAC_dTCSNpzA0Gutr4jgYs9WYmVJkAcWSuFvg6hUsDJGEVOpAS7EHFAWZjCcZp5AehcOJXtzEoDCEAoFvYg788O_MYOPj9Rb3hPt/s320/maroni+torte.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296045600136999330" border="0" /></a>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-14079475350877110162008-12-11T18:59:00.000-05:002009-02-23T10:37:18.817-05:00GerstnerThough <a href="http://www.gerstner.at/betriebe/gerstner-k-k-hofzuckerbaecker/reservierung-und-anfrage.html">Gerstner</a> dates back to 1843, the Café-Konditerei on Kärtner Strasse, one of Central Vienna’s main shopping drags, is of much more recent vintage. No Gemütlichkeit here, rather a contemporary urban vibe keeps the room humming with conversation, the steam-engine hiss of the large, utilitarian espresso machine and the constant timpani clink of china on marble counters. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEUEPf8tzLecN8993agoMMOiqMVHFnr0LWe6XnQ0g-mbQMiPnMhrNTRvRfADsrIOWgBuvurOGX36a5uIgKxyD-HWdGOJC3kIEJNSIovIA8fl7GVE4xdD47snuGgS9QdmT5VgNqXjWfZ88o/s1600-h/gerstner.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEUEPf8tzLecN8993agoMMOiqMVHFnr0LWe6XnQ0g-mbQMiPnMhrNTRvRfADsrIOWgBuvurOGX36a5uIgKxyD-HWdGOJC3kIEJNSIovIA8fl7GVE4xdD47snuGgS9QdmT5VgNqXjWfZ88o/s320/gerstner.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296038519335463202" border="0" /></a>The cakes are picture perfect though my Dobostorte —admittedly a dense confection of chocolate buttercream and some eight layers of vanilla cake—is perhaps a little denser than need be. And the coffee is thin.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQJo5ANjI8Dunmij2n6phxiK65Sgm7IMCklteAMQo4TfvLn2UDgO08fOBpvNkFVYUI4AXycqsBjY4NqYBx6DMEX7rR69ne2qfRFcMKsw8K_bE9NLn7_xBYp8n65UmUAIqYhRYTPPhjY7i/s1600-h/dobos.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 366px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQJo5ANjI8Dunmij2n6phxiK65Sgm7IMCklteAMQo4TfvLn2UDgO08fOBpvNkFVYUI4AXycqsBjY4NqYBx6DMEX7rR69ne2qfRFcMKsw8K_bE9NLn7_xBYp8n65UmUAIqYhRYTPPhjY7i/s320/dobos.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296038532695706210" border="0" /></a>And I’m a little put-off by the display of French-style macarons in the window. It makes me wonder if the management’s heart is really in the right place. I’m probably being unfair though, who am I to deny the Viennese these delightful Parisian treats.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-27750296875954250982008-12-10T20:49:00.000-05:002009-02-23T10:37:18.818-05:00Heiner Café-Konditerei<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzCqf6hFEppUmd1X84SEpHAkGshpoRwjmtpd2REu0BqEV191qU1YFdi2dISh6Ks7pZA2gymOuOYCmVqFnxYl90uM8OpXLs8xFosxfuYeB_SNwteQEgzHZWJDJ3Z_bVRKXIv1qrFZ9HKMd/s1600-h/IMG_0524.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 259px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzCqf6hFEppUmd1X84SEpHAkGshpoRwjmtpd2REu0BqEV191qU1YFdi2dISh6Ks7pZA2gymOuOYCmVqFnxYl90uM8OpXLs8xFosxfuYeB_SNwteQEgzHZWJDJ3Z_bVRKXIv1qrFZ9HKMd/s320/IMG_0524.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286819596761294386" border="0" /></a>A short walk from St. Stephen’s cathedral, <a href="http://www.heiner.co.at/">L. Heiner</a> is on Wollzeile 9, more or less cattycorner, from Hans Diglas’ café. Heiner has more Gemütlichkeit than class, the waitresses, outfitted with folkloric costume and orthopedic shoes, bustle with a slightly frenetic efficiency handing out fractions of cakes and sections of tarts. The Sarah <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilwBWzpvIMevKrCWB3-dB8BzRsduxYWiXPNlIj1BlfUkhrG7C2TkSiC7lmP7_QENS5u6z-6v9flHwXkSRVTN_lMEWOxlozYdqIH6c5GrDCToRdsZg73EzfYyWW2HrGRGw1j1Vjtu0BWSCP/s1600-h/IMG_0537.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 322px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilwBWzpvIMevKrCWB3-dB8BzRsduxYWiXPNlIj1BlfUkhrG7C2TkSiC7lmP7_QENS5u6z-6v9flHwXkSRVTN_lMEWOxlozYdqIH6c5GrDCToRdsZg73EzfYyWW2HrGRGw1j1Vjtu0BWSCP/s320/IMG_0537.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286819601307049298" border="0" /></a>Bernhardt Torte (€3.50) I order is a happy surfeit of cream upon cream; three layers of chocolate buttercream and two of mocha sandwiched by thin layers of walnut cake. All this is covered with a chocolate glaze. Yes, it’s a little over the top but what would you expect from a cake named after the famed actress.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxmbHhXIBvp4jYTV_YmG_8WvB2OlGpmqqp70EVrfZlUWWWGEoEFu3o8zQUoBEf_udMCBTCtMgLURxqBXNle-JFYzbEoiFoIez2FPSL0E3EQYN4cq5UB39ZFOEUR4WLHGHGbAqxUHWmIMhB/s1600-h/IMG_0541.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxmbHhXIBvp4jYTV_YmG_8WvB2OlGpmqqp70EVrfZlUWWWGEoEFu3o8zQUoBEf_udMCBTCtMgLURxqBXNle-JFYzbEoiFoIez2FPSL0E3EQYN4cq5UB39ZFOEUR4WLHGHGbAqxUHWmIMhB/s320/IMG_0541.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286819606849825842" border="0" /></a>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973842277914286274.post-56570970195791536092008-12-10T19:24:00.000-05:002009-02-23T10:37:18.818-05:00Café Diglas<span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH7WMztqp0cw4Enm1t7_dJx2ZtPIRaF73cZRdXKcbu071zQ9A5hD5b4zxlu_j8w9NcHhviF0dJGhvwiFkeroqeou5mxZJf8ydYccVm-S-hrYGBQKrW-rce2MfkFy2R2BcuNh8V-MqL_7W0/s1600-h/IMG_0533.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 357px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH7WMztqp0cw4Enm1t7_dJx2ZtPIRaF73cZRdXKcbu071zQ9A5hD5b4zxlu_j8w9NcHhviF0dJGhvwiFkeroqeou5mxZJf8ydYccVm-S-hrYGBQKrW-rce2MfkFy2R2BcuNh8V-MqL_7W0/s320/IMG_0533.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286812598490158610" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:100%;" >I met with Hans Diglas at his family’s <a href="http://www.diglas.at/">café</a> at the height of Jause, the Viennese ritual of coffee with a little something on the side. The tables were filled with scowling, grey-haired men cemented into corners, protected from the world by their daily paper; young </span></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Frauleins</span><span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" > in jeans inhaling cigarettes and exhaling gossip; tourists with lust-glazed gazes eyeing the </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Apfelstrudel</span><span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" > and jam-filled </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Krapfen</span><span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" > (doughnuts). Diglas is one of the few cafés that make their own desserts. Made fresh everyday, Herr Diglas boasts—as opposed to so many of the city’s Konditerei (pastry shops), he tells me, that freeze their cakes and defrost according to need. He declines to name names. Hans Diglas is hospitable to a fault, signaling to the waiter to bring over four desserts, “just to taste,” he assures me. Nevertheless he is quick to disabuse me of any illusions I may have about Viennese cafés and dessert. Not only did cafés here not serve desserts until very recently, he assures me, they were prohibited by law to do so. Though not every dessert was outlawed. For example the </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Nusskipferln</span><span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" > (nut-filled horn) he insists I try was allowed. But forget the tortes for which Austrian metropolis is renowned. Those came later, at least to the kind of café Herr Diglas owns.</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br />There is another sort of café, the so-called Café-Konditerei where desserts are the star attraction. These are the ones where ladies of a certain age traditionally linger throughout the afternoon nibbling on the endless permutations of butter, sugar and flour that the Austrians refer to as Mehlspeisen, (literally flour foods). The long history of the more typical café is of a place where men have congregated and consumed drug beverages, not merely the stimulating varieties but also wine, punch and other spirits. But sweets? Well European men are traditionally not supposed to have a sweet tooth. In Vienna the Café-Konditerei owners were so concerned that they were losing out on the male traffic that they petitioned the authorities to allow them to serve savory foods so that the coarser sex might have something to eat if they accompanied their lady friends to the confectioner’s shop.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYglIl8qJuENppbhMo_9kgE4P2mq11hQAH2OpLCr_f5b6bagmMVsgBUKCActe4SY9zaHKy3fx22HG2pgJS_HZuaTzLRfuPDz9rTUW3oVafz4c9Pg0Wj6LL7-toeXOGxY44QPITc90pyezo/s1600-h/IMG_0528.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 377px; height: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYglIl8qJuENppbhMo_9kgE4P2mq11hQAH2OpLCr_f5b6bagmMVsgBUKCActe4SY9zaHKy3fx22HG2pgJS_HZuaTzLRfuPDz9rTUW3oVafz4c9Pg0Wj6LL7-toeXOGxY44QPITc90pyezo/s320/IMG_0528.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286812730800580930" border="0" /></a><br />Originally those confectioners set up shop to cater to the upwardly mobile bourgeoisie who couldn’t afford their own </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Zuckerbäcker</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" > as these artisans are know in Austria. When a lady wanted to host an afternoon tea, she would contract one of these shops to supply the necessary sweets. The fashion for a sweet afternoon </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Jause</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" > seems to have arrived with a fashion for all things French around the turn of the nineteenth century. Eventually, the sweet shop would add a few tables and respectable ladies had a place to chat and nibble on </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Torten</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" > while their husbands cut deals in a smoke-filled Kaffehaus.<br /><br />But back to those </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Torten</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >. Don’t image for a moment that there is some antique origin to those delightful strata of sugar and fat. Even that delectable lodestar of Viennese confectionary, the buttercream, dates to the end of the nineteenth century. Jószef Dobos is credited with inventing it in the 1880s. It’s worth remembering that it is virtually impossible to produce buttercream on a commercial basis unless you have dependable refrigeration. So we can thank the industrial revolution not only for flush toilets and espresso but buttercream as well.</span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820647603488015604noreply@blogger.com0