u m a m i

Sweet beginnings

                  

C brought along a magnificient pannetone for Christmas but we were too full to enjoy it so it stood forlornly on the cake stand until last weekend, when we invited Sui Mai and her very soon-to-be husband over for steamboat and mahjong. Sliced, toasted and then buttered is my favourite way of enjoying it, pairing comfortably with a cup of milky tea. The Italians eat it with a glass of sweet sparkling Asti which strikes me as a lovely idea too. 

                  

As for the French, there is always the tradition of La Galette des Rois, a round pie/cake of puff pastry with almondy frangipane filling. This pie is made and eaten in celebration of L'Épiphany, the feast day reliving how the three kings found baby Jesus. The kings took twelve nights to find the baby whom we all know was born in a lowly manger with presumably no address, hence the last day of Christmas is also known as Twelfth Night. Also the time to take down the decorations and put up some red and gold Chinese New Year trimmings.

Hidden in each galette is a little favour, in olden days it was a fève (pea) but these days anything goes, like in the galette brought over by Sui Mai, we found a tiny ceramic Bambi. The person who finds the fève gets to wear a golden crown and is treated like a king or queen. Rather fun, especially if the galette tastes good. It should have light flaky crust with a filling that is not too rich or sweet. All the versions I've tasted, well all two of it so far, were yummy.

Every baker is selling them until end of January, and chances are restaurants and dinner party hosts will also be featuring this festive cake in their menu. At Maison du Chocolat they even have a version split it in half horizontally and sandwiched with dark chocolate.

M & M's

                        

Yesterday I bought a crepe-with-banana from one of the crepe-stands at the corner of rue Odessa and rue Montparnasse. Just banana? Or banana and Nutella? the lady behind the window asked. Just banana, thanks. She made the crepe from scratch, and when the pancake turned pale gold, she sliced a ripe banana and scattered it on one half. Then she grabbed the jar of Nutella and made to open it. No, no Nutella, I reminded her. Sorry, she said, I am so used to it, everybody orders banana with Nutella. I said, non, I don't like chocolate very much. Oh really, she said, her tone astonished, that is just bizarre.

It isn't just her, other people have said it too. I don't detest chocolate, but I don't go mad for it. I just don't crave it or have longings for it like some people I know. I've even passed this bizarreness to husband, so sometimes, months can go by without there being any chocolate at home. And since we are on this subject, I would add too that I don't like cheesecakes much, nor angel food cake- the former for being too rich, the latter for being too airy and pointlessly sweet. But I like meringues and pavlovas in moderation, and chestnuts, well, I love very much, in my opinion there isn't such a thing as a too-sweet marron, even the glaced ones. I also abhor anything with cinnamon in it, so that rules out most American- influenced apple confections, donuts and fruit cakes. Come to think of it, perhaps I really am a bit strange.

But there may well be a cure for my affliction. See, there's a Maison du Chocolat near our apartment. Everytime I walk by it I see that it is full of customers, groups of tourists even have their pictures taken in front of the store. I've gone inside too but did not feel the magic. Until one day when it was raining, and I ducked inside for some warmth. My eyes were attracted to their beautiful eclairs, in particular their caramel eclairs with a single glaze of caramel piped smartly along its length, reposing elegantly along one window. Alongside, a trio of chocolate cakes, all covered in a brilliantly smooth chocolate mirror. I brought home a piece of cake and a caramel eclair. The eclair was fabulous, it was piped full of caramel cream, sweet with a burnished edge like the taste of broken shards of burnt sugar. But the cake, well, it was equally riveting, so much going on in one confection- the mousse, the glaze, the boozy raisins-. it was practically a chocolate assault weapon. We marveled at the richness, the sophisticated finish and the absolute deliciousness of really good chocolate. It wasn't quite an epiphany, but I could sense the curse lifting.

                        

Looking at my archives, I surprised myself with how few sweets we ate at home last month. No baklavas, no macarons, no pretty pastries. We ate a lot of gariguette strawberries in the second half of March but in terms of baked goods, all I could dig up was these pictures taken on a Sunday stroll along Marais. Being in the Jewish quarter, the shops are open on Sundays, and Boulangerie Malineau stood out for their offbeat offerings. Robyn had blogged about their psychedelic marshmallows. My fourth sister, when she was in Paris last weekend, loved their fruity cookies baked in cute mouse shapes. Malineau seem to do biscuits, biscottis, scones and rustic, unadorned back-to-basics items really well. The range available on Sundays seem to be more comprehensive than weekdays though. 

The cake above, they labelled as a congolaise. It looked so cute and homely, and the name was so exotic, so even though we didn't know what it was, I had to try it.

                      

Congolais is, as it turned out, a type of coconut cake. Buttery coconut cake. I broke it in half and discovered that the crisp nutty crust gave way to golden interior packed with sweet shredded coconuts and moist buttery cake crumb. It was like eating a Bounty advertisement, only of course way better and elementally satisfying. After that, I saw other boulangeries' versions of congolais, and had not been tempted by any of them because in comparison, theirs look so pallid and unappetising.

                      

The second thing that we liked is a seemingly ordinary cake, baked in big pound loafs and sold by the weighted slices. I've never seen cake tinted in these shades before, in pale pastels, so much more subtle than the usual food colorings, and it was like this too in the eating. We could taste butter, and fruit flavours in the pleasingly open-pored textured cake, quite novel for us.

Typing this in the middle of the night with the long weekend ahead, I think to myself, a repeat visit to Malineau is in order.

Sweetly, sweetly

                        

February, even though it was a short month of only 28 days, saw quite a lot of sweet treats eaten chez moi. First up, a a quarter wedge shot of this pastry I bought from the cheese stall at the market, without first finding out what it contained. Fortunately it was a pocket full of a very agreeable mix of goat cheese and soft dried figs. On another occasion we bought another piece, only to find out it had a very stinky cheese baked into the insides, minus the figs, boy that was nasty, so now I make sure to check with the cheesemonger first.

                      

This rice flour cake layered with a kind of dryish powdered milk custard paste is a particular favourite of my husband. I honestly don't see the attraction, it was hard to even swallow a nibblet. From one of the dozen snack shop/internet cafe/bahn mi joints in the 13th arrondissement.

                     

Husband loves these peanut brittle slabs too, and again, the little snack stores in the 13th have a good turnover of these, enough to ensure very fresh supplies.

                     

True to my short attention span, we have not been eating much baked goods and have stopped popping by the neighbourhood MiDoRe. This may be in part attributed to the batch of mini beignets that was disappointingly dry and cakey, I may be used to the Singapore versions which are lighter and softer.

                     

Some treats from Noura's. Happily for our teeth too, our fixation on these nut honey pastries are slowly waning, we're now able to survive on about one fix a month.

                     

These cloudlike pastries are called 'bugnes', a variation on beignets I guess. Light yet substantial in taste, with a transient melting character from the buttered layers and icing sugar, a paperbag of these goes down the gullet faster than one can say 'wow, these are yummy!'. From le Fournil de Mouffetard on 123 rue de Mouffetard.

                   

Along the same little street as le Fournil de Mouffetard, at number 112, is a branch of Nicolsen Chocolatier. I am not into chocolates but their jellied fruit bonbons, all laid out like twinkling gems on the glass counters, never fails to tempt me. These pretty sweets are soft and intensely fruity, lovely treats for any occasions.

                   

Closer to home, I am always passing a little chocolate shop Malitourne at 30 rue de Chaillot, so one day decided to buy a little something from them. The raspberry sable was delicious, the sable biscuit satisfyingly short with good crunch, and the rich fruit filling not too teethachingly sweet. The macaron though, was horrible, the insides were so soft it was akin to eating uncooked dough, so it went straight into the bin.

                   

Macarons don't appear in our cake stand much, I don't exactly know why. Maybe because it is so available, maybe I've seen too many American tourists eating the supersized ones outside hotel lobbies and the Hediard down my block, I don't know, but like chocolates, I cannot fathom what the fuss is about. Give me griottines any day. To date, I've tried the ones from Laduree, la Maison du Chocolat and MiDoRe, and have been excited by none of them. Of course I have not yet tried the universally acknowledged best from, I know, Pierre Herme, but in the meantime, I remain an unbeliever. Anyway, these were from a box of ten mini ones that I bought from the market for a dinner party, I found the shell too crisp- when bitten into there is a little airpocket space between shiny top and softer squidgier insides, splitting hairs maybe, but cheaper, and in all honesty, not worse or better than its fancier cousins.

All these happened in February of course, we are now in warmer March, and we have been eating a lot of strawberries dressed in with near-syruppy Dodi balsamic vinegar, but that's for next month. A revoir!

Honey, what's for dessert?

                  

This cake stand was purchased at Williams Sonoma, San Francisco on my first trip there circa 2001. I lugged it all the way back to Singapore, where like so many other implements it languished in the pantry. I am not and probably shall never be a prodigious cake maker. But now we are in Paris, land of magnificient pastries, why bother making when you can readily purchase these indulgent treats.

Thus was borne the idea for this series. Every month I will post the desserts that we have served at home. Most if not all will be shop bought, we intend to eat our way, slowly and with moderation of course, through the pastries in this city.

Not shown unfortunately is three slices of elegant cakes from Sadahoru Aoki, elaborately composed of ganaches, mousses, fondant, sponges and I dunnowhat, the four of us gazed in awe, ate in silence and wandered at the ephemeral delicacy and gorgeousness. No time to even think of taking out the camera.

Here are more 'everyday' offerings. The routine is thus: we'll put any sweets in the stand which sits on the dining room sideboard. Then whoever comes to the dinner table will know that there is dessert that night and it will be something pretty and sweet.

                

We count ourselves very blessed to be within spitting distance of many Lebanese eateries. Noura on one side of my block, and Al Diwan on my left. As we turn right more often than we turn left, especially when we shop for provisions, Noura has been getting all our business in January. We'll hear more of Al Diwan next month, promise.

The first time we popped into the Noura's delicatessen, Ave Marceau, husband went a little crazy, he thought the cakes above were tau-sar-pias. Ignoring my warnings he went ahead and chose a few, then he got a shock at the cash register when he realised that these things are sold by weight! Next, we bit into some of them and found them to be densely packed with date pastes, nut pastes etc, and encased in strongly scented almond pastry. Too heavy for our tastes, but they keep for days and GG who has a sweet tooth finally ate them up. I too made a mistake with the jallebi lookalike, it was sweet enough to give any dentist instant caries.

                

But it is never a mistake buying the baklavas from Noura's. Or the almondy gooey cake. Always impeccably fresh, with multiple layers of melting crisp filo pastries, light flower scented syrups and nutty nuts, we have to ration ourselves to one piece per sitting, otherwise we would just grow sideways.

                

There are at least 20 boulangeries within 5 minutes walking distance of our apartment, but we always go back to Mi Do Re, on Rue de Chaillot. Maybe it is their bright lighting, or their chirpy service, or that little tray of something that customers can sample (brioche today, cereal bread another day), or the appetising range of sandwiches that is irresistable to the locals, especially come lunchtime, whatever the X factor is, Mi Do Re is always busy, and not so cookie like in its offerings, I've passed by many boulangeries to see the similarities. Their goods look just that bit more glistening, more mouthwatering somehow, maybe I'm biased. But it is true we are always stopping by for something or the other. Above is their pear and chocolate tart, we shared it between four people. At first husband was disappointed that there was only 1 piece of cake on the table. But a quarter portion is enough to satisfy our sweet teeth, what with the sweet short pastry, chocolatey base and fresh pear slices. 

               

More from Mi Do Re. Their citron tartelette is nicely tart yet smooth and rich. I love citrus more than chocolate so this was the second time we had it. The double puff assembly is fancifully called Religeux, it was really indulgent with plenty of coffee icing.                

               

Another source for sweets is the President Wilson Market. The Italian stall has these crumbly almond cookies which are great with coffee. The cannolis were bought by sister who was astonished that I've never had them before. To be honest I didn't like them very much, the filling reminded me of buttercream which I'm not too keen on, but I'm keeping an open mind about cannolis. The Italians are mad for them apparently, so there is probably nicer versions out there.

Of course, that's not all the sweet things that we've been indulging in, but that'll be the subject of another series....