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Strawberry macarons with cardamom: recipe

Strawberry macarons with cardamom

In France, people still can’t get enough of macarons. Available in their current form since the beginning of the last century, Paris is still in the grips of a macaron craze that started around about the time of the cupcake craze in the USA.

I am pretty good at macarons but am always keen to perfect them. Until now, I have been using the so-called French meringue method, which involves whisking egg whites with sugar as the basis for the macarons, as opposed to the seemingly more complex Italian meringue method. This involves whisking the egg whites and then adding a sugar syrup which you have heated to 118°C. The latter, method, even though more complex, is supposed to give you more reliable macaron shells with less of a tendency to crack in the oven.

Until this week, I thought I was perfectly happy with the French method, until, while making the Paris Brest from the last post, I realized that making the Italian meringue was a lot easier than it sounds. So, I started experimenting with Italian meringue macarons and haven’t looked back since. Not only are they much more reliable, they have a better texture and the characteristic gooey centre that you find at Ladurée and Pierre Hermé, here in the city.

I am not going to go into details about how to make the macaron shells here since you can find that plastered all over the Internet. However, I will share the recipe for the filling for these Strawberry and Cardamom macarons which I made this week. Also, I was given a tip by a French pȃtissier which I will share with you. When filling the macaron shells, gently press the inside of one of them so that it caves in. You can then get more filling inside the macaron and the filling will help to turn the inside of the cookie all gooey. Try it. It’s amazing.

Cardamom, a spice best known in Indian savory cooking, adds a delicate sophistication to the strawberry ganache in this recipe. It’s quite subtle, but the overtones of honeyed eucalyptus are a perfect partner to the strawberries’ sugary sourness.

Strawberry Macarons with Cardamom

Active time: 10 mins
Total time: 1 hr 10 mins

50ml / 1/4 cup heavy cream
3 cardamom pods
100g / 3 1/2 ounces white chocolate
4 large strawberries
20 macaron shells

1. Crush the cardamom pods and place them in a saucepan with the cream; bring to the boil and then leave to infuse for at least 30 minutes. Remove the cardamom pods and discard.

2. Bring the cream back to the boil; then remove from the heat, add the white chocolate and leave for 10 minutes. Then stir the chocolate until it has all combined with the cream.

3. Blitz the strawberries in a mixer and then add them to the chocolate and cream; stir until combined and then refrigerate for at least one hour.

4. Put the mixture in a piping bag and use it to fill the macarons; place in the refrigerator overight before serving.

 

Paris Brest

Paris Brest
The Paris Brest is a relative newcomer in the constellation of French pȃtisserie, invented as it was in 1891 to celebrate the annual bicycle race between Paris and the town of Brest in Brittany, some 600 kilometres from the capital. As such, it is rubs shoulders with the like of the Saint Honoré and the Opéra in the club of celebration cakes.

The traditional Paris Brest is a ring of choux pastry, sliced through the middle and filled with a special cream which is a mixture of crème pȃtissiere, meringue, butter cream, and praline. The top of the cake, which symbolizes a bicycle wheel, is topped with flaked almonds and dusted with confectioner’s sugar.

The recipe I followed here, in Christophe Felder’s Pȃtisserie! is the traditional one, but nowadays, most shops in France carry one based on the version by Philippe Conticini, where the flaked almonds are replaced by craquelin, a kind of crispy brown sugar caramel. You’ll have to wait for my custom version next week to find out all about that.

The recipe was relatively easy to follow. The complexity lies in making the different creams, which all come together in the end in an extravaganza of sweetness, not particularly suited I might say to the modern French taste, which favors a lighter amount of sweetness. I am also afraid that Felder’s measurements were right out  for this one. The recipe says that it will make 20 pieces, whereas I actually managed to make 6. Also, the recipe calls for 3 eggs for the pȃte à choux. I blithely added three eggs and found the mixture far too liquid. I have a lot of experience with pȃte à choux and realized immediately that this was wrong. Therefore, I had to start again and noticed that the correct consistency was achieved with 2 eggs. Next time I will trust my usual recipe for the proportions.

The cream filling was delicious, even if, as I said, a little rich. The original idea was to provide energy for those taking part in the bicycle race. The modern taste in France has moved away from really sweet things sometimes even mixing the sweet and the savory. The almonds added a lovely crunch to the cake which balanced the fondant cream inside perfectly. You can see why this has been a winner for more than 100 years.

Lemon ginger meringue pie: recipe

 

The task this week was to take the classic tarte au citron that I made last week and update it into something original. Following the rules I set myself from the interview with Philippe Conticini that I blogged about, I had to include all the original ingredients but to put my own slant on it. So I ended up with a lemon ginger meringue pie.

So, the classic tarte au citron has two main elements: pȃte sucrée (sweet pastry), and the lemon curd filling. For the pastry, the classic recipe contained ground almonds. For a twist, I substituted ground pistachios, a packet of which had been sitting in my cupboard saying ‘use me, use me’ for a few months. I then decided to add fresh ginger to the lemon curd. Ginger and lemon are a classic combination and this added a slightly spicy kick to the curd which was very welcome: add a kick to the curd will now be my motto.

Finally, I wanted to do something contemporary with the presentation, influenced by two of my patisserie idols, Christophe Michalak and Cyril Lignac. I therefore added a french meringue topping, a common combination with tarte au citron, but which I piped into little balls on the top of the tarte and finally grated lime zest a common Michalak touch, which looked like a rain of emeralds.

Here is how it turned out, and the recipe is below. If you end up making it, send me pics. I’d love to see them.

For the pȃte sucrée:
120g / 1/2 cup butter
80g / 2/3 cup icing sugar
1 sachet of vanilla sugar
25g / 1/4 cup powdered pistachios
a pinch of fleur de sel
1 egg
200g / 1 1/2 cups flour

For the filling:
1 lemon zest
1 5cm / 2-inch piece of ginger cut into matchsticks
120ml / 1/2 cup fresh lemon juice
3 eggs
120g / 1/2 cup caster sugar
175g / 3/4 cup butter cut into cubes

For the meringue:
3 egg whites
100g / 1/3 cup caster sugar

Make the pȃte sucrée:
1. Soften the butter with a spatula in a bowl; sift the icing sugar, vanilla sugar, and powdered pistachios. and mix with the until fully combined.  The mixture should be fluffy.

2. Beat in the egg; sift in the flour and gently stir with the spatula; as soon as the flour is combined, bring the mixture together with your hands into a ball. Do not knead or work the dough.

3. Flatten the dough into a disk, wrap it in plastic film and refrigerate for at least two hours.

3. Heat the oven to 180°C / 350°F.

4. Roll the dough out until it’s about 2-3mm thick and then place it into a 20cm / 8-inch buttered pȃtisserie ring, placed on a piece of baking paper on a baking sheet; prick the base of the with a fork and then bake for 20 minutes. Alternatively you can use a 20cm / 8-inch tin.

5. Leave to cool completely.

Make the filling:
5. Place the lemon zest, ginger, lemon juice, eggs, and sugar in a saucepan and stir to mix all the ingredients together; stirring all the time, bring gently to the boil.

6. Pass the mixture through a sieve and then add the butter; mix together with a hand blender until you have a smooth mixture.

7. Pour the mixture into the pastry case and smooth over the top with a spatula; place in the refrigerator for an hour.

Make the meringue:
8. Whisk the eggs whites using a stand mixer until stiff peaks form; add the sugar and beat on high speed until the mixture is glossy, about 5 minutes.

9. Using a piping bag cover the top of the tart with balls of meringue; place under a grill until the top of the meringue begins to turn a light brown.

10. Grate the zest of a lime and some fresh ginger on the top of the tart.

 

If you like this recipe you will definitely like this lemon tart related recipe:

Lully lemon and raspberry ripple tartlets from MattyBBakes

 

French lemon tart

Following on from my last blog post, this weekend I decided to learn how to make tarte au citron, a luscious lemon tart using the recipe from Christophe Felder’s Pȃtisserie. The classic tarte au citron, consists of a wafer thin sweet pastry case, filled with a mouth-puckering lemon cream, the contrast between the sweet and sharp making a refreshing ending to any meal. This recipe included a garnish of lemon slices braised in syrup and an apricot jelly glaze.

Felder’s instructions for the sweet pastry, or pȃte sucrée were very clear and easy to follow. His only advice was to not mix the pastry too much, so as soon as it came together, I scooped it up with my hands, made it into a ball, wrapped it in plastic film, and put it in the fridge. It needs to chill for a minimum of two hours before it is firm enough to roll. As I was wrapping it, I was delighted to see small black flecks, the grains from a vanilla pod, distributed evenly throughout the dough. Unfortunately this is where my pleasure ended since I was about to discover that pȃte sucrée is very hard to handle.

The main problem is that it’s very sticky and also very weak. It’s prone to adhere to the work surface, unless you are lucky enough to have a chilled marble pȃtisserie worktop—I’m not—and it also breaks easily when you are placing it in the mould. As per the recipe, I was using a traditional French pȃtisserie ring, harder to line than a tin but the best way to avoid so-called soggy bottoms to your pastry cases. The base of the pastry touches the baking tray directly and so there’s less chance of condensation building up underneath as it cools. It’s also quite hard to get a perfect edge on the top of the pastry unless your ring is perfectly buttered. If it is, the advantage is that the pastry will shrink slightly and you can just lift the ring off. I will confess that I baked three pastry cases before I was happy with the result, which still was not perfect. There were some small imperfections in the sides which I think were caused by over-buttering the ring.  I feel I still need to practise.

The two other main steps were more straightforward. The lemon filling, made by whisking lemon juice, sugar, and eggs into a cream and then melting butter into it, was very similar to making a lemon curd. Then you had to the boil slices of lemon in sugar syrup which would eventually act as a garnish. By the time I had placed the lemon cream into the cooled pastry case I was feeling much better as it had begun to look just like the one in the pictures in the book. Always a rewarding experience.

After chilling the assembled tart in the fridge for one hour, I was ready to place the slices of lemon on the tart and then glaze it with melted apricot jam. The recipe called for a mixture of apricot and quince, but I couldn’t find the latter without visiting a speciality shop in the centre of the city. I will try it next time and report if it makes a huge difference. I also need to find apricot jam without pieces in it, as I was a little disappointed that I managed to paint some pieces onto the tart. You’ll see those in the pictures. However, it added a beautiful glossy lacquer to both the pastry and the filling which sparkled in the light.

The finished tart garnished and glazed.

Then came the moment of truth. Felder says to keep the tart in the fridge until it’s ready to serve. I did this and tried the first piece the evening of cooking it. The pastry was still very crisp and broke a little while I was cutting it, but the taste was divine. The perfect balance of citrus and melt in the mouth cream. Leaving it overnight in the fridge made the pastry soften to the perfect consistency and the flavours really infuse into the cream. I would recommend leaving it overnight before serving next time. My last tarte au citron had been in a bistro on the Rue du Bac a couple of weeks ago, and I would have been more than happy if they had served me this one.

My next step now is to rethink this into something original, retaining, as per Philippe Conticini’s rules, all the original elements. I already have some ideas, but let’s see how it goes. Come back next week to find out.