Saturday, July 11, 2009

A new taste: la bressane

Paris is just filled with discoveries. I haven’t even tired of the pain au raisin or the croissants. I have yet to try a chocolate éclair or apple turnover. But there, in Eric Kayser, I saw a pastry I’ve never seen before and had to have it: the bressane.

I asked if it was like a beignet; the vendeuse told me it was like a brioche. In fact, this round, flat pastry topped with cream, sugar and, in these cases, fruit, is from the Bresse area of the Rhône-Alpes.

The strawberry bressane was creamy and sweet.


The apricot bressane was tart with a modest dusting of pistachio pieces.


I can’t wait to see what other pastries I have yet to discover.

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

The croissant Nazi?

I don’t know about that. After reading about the best croissant in the city, I had to go check out this boulangerie on Ile Saint Louis. That the proprietor was said to be a cantankerous guy, fiercely protective of his goods and pride, made the intrigue that much greater.



But I witnessed no attitude. In fact, Hédi Habhab exhibited the patience of a saint—or at least more than I ever could have—as the tourists tromped in without enough French to say, “Un croissant, s’il vous plait.” I thought I was going to get a side of “mechant” with my baked good. Mais, non.




But what’s important is that the reports on his croissants were accurate: big, buttery, flakey and delicious. And they’re priced right at 90 centimes. I found mine a titch warm at 9 a.m. and weeping through the bag.



(Bonus points for his American patriotism.)



78, rue Saint Louis en l’Ile
4eme

Monday, July 06, 2009

Crushing on Pierre

Just look at these lovelies.




No wonder Pierre Hermé has been called “The Picasso of Pastry,” “The King of Modern Pâtisserie,” “The Pastry Provocateur,” and “The Magician with Tastes.” He’s the rock star of the French pastry world.



Pierre was the fourth generation of his family to make magic in the kitchen At the age of 14, Gaston Lenotre of the famed Lenotre Patisserie (a post to come in the not-too-distant future, bien sur), asked Pierre’s father if he could apprentice Pierre. So at about the same age that I started my illustrious career at Dairy Queen, Pierre began his in the French pastry world.


Five years later, he was the head pastry chef at Lenotre. Then he went on to Fauchon, and later still, he opened the Ladurée location on the Champs-Elysée. Not a bad CV. Now Pierre Hermé has seven boutiques in Japan and three here in Paris, one of which I became intimately familiar with last summer.

Everyone adores his macarons. With flavors like Campari and grapefruit and vanilla and olive oil, I am a fan, too. But given the choice of a Saturday afternoon indulgence, his cakes are just too exquisite to bypass.

This time, I got the La Maude Individuel.



I was seduced by the creamy-looking pillow atop the crunchy-looking shortbread. The creamy appearance was actually caramelized crème chiboust, which had a custardy taste and texture. Between it and the crust were some wonderful roasted peaches.



The use of cinnamon throughout was a little heavy-handed and overpowered the dessert for me. But of course I ate the whole thing.

72 rue Bonaparte
6eme

Wednesday, July 01, 2009

Pain au raisin: who knew?

I’ve always been a chocolate girl. As far as I’m concerned, anything with chocolate supercedes anything without it, including a croissant. Don’t get me wrong. A killer croissant is one of life’s best offerings. But at the end of the day, my heart belongs to pain au chocolat.

Then the pain au raisin came long.



It was about a month ago, and I had decided that I needed a little something for breakfast on my way to work. I stopped at Stohrer, a gorgeous patisserie that was founded in 1730 by King Louis XV’s pastry chef, Nicolas Stohrer, and which often gets the nod for the city’s best chocolate éclair (I’m waiting for a special occasion to try that one). I guess it was because I could tell myself it was healthier to eat a pastry with raisins rather than a pastry with chocolate at 8 o’clock in the morning that I, on a whim, piped up, “Un pain au raisin, s’il vous plait.”



It was otherworldly and I chalk it up to one word: tiède. The pain au raisin that I received—and promptly demolished—was still a bit warm from the oven. This meant that the butter and pastry cream or whatever was baked into it made the dough soft and springy, sweet and savory, melty and just this side of rich. It put a spring in my step all day.

51 rue Montorgueil
2eme

Sunday, June 28, 2009

A la Mere de Famille, encore!

An outpost of the historic chocolatier A la Mere de Famille conveniently opened around the corner from me. It inevitably lacks the charm of the original store, but it’s still a cute little shop. It’s still filled with beautiful treats. And it’s still close to me.

Strangely though, I haven’t been craving chocolate a whole lot lately. My urge for something rich has been—only temporarily, I assure you—replaced by desire for something sweet and chewy. Namely, dried apple slices. Which have replaced my epic cravings for dried pineapple.

I started poking around La Mere de Famille, remembering nice big bins of dried fruit in the ninth arrondisement location and, sure enough, back in the corner, beyond the pralines, caramels and bonbons, I found my happy little jackpot.


Voila, beautiful dried pineapple. And dried apple slices, too.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Ladelicious

My friend Alex is a soul sister in many ways. Her devotion to sweets is just one of them.

She had told me that the almond croissant she had at Ladurée last year was one of the best things she’s ever eaten. Naturally I had to try one—especially seeing as I walk by the Champs-Elysée tea salon every morning.

The 2,70 euro pastry—about twice the price of your average almond croissant—that I found is not just a regular old almond croissant, but rather a croissant aux noix, filled with walnuts and hazelnuts in addition to almonds. It was, true to Alex’s word, divine.

It didn’t have that showy powdered sugar top, but was slick with a sugary glaze. The sweetness of this glaze and the richness of the butter started duking it out with my first bite. But wait—with the second bite, the savory nuts kicked in. Magic. There was some serious heft between the fresh doughy pastry layers, making it rich and sweet, but not in a headrush sort of way.



I wanted to hate Ladurée when I came here because it seemed so in your face, with all the tourists rabidly toting the pastel green bags. But I can’t. I can’t hate a place that delivers such pretty and perfect pastries.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Just for laughs

Ordinarily I would think the chocolate stilettos, cigars and ties that Jean-Paul Hévin creates are so cheesy. Even the chocolate heart. Just give me a tablette, bouchon or bonbon.

And, well, I still do. But I love this guy’s chocolates and cakes so much, he’s such a choco-idol, that he can get away with it.


Even the chocolate iPod that he whipped up (seven years later), for Father’s Day.

Sunday, May 31, 2009

A feast for the eyes

What do you think the best job in the world is?

I used to think it would be a travel writer, getting paid to explore the chicest cities and most backwards, far-flung pockets of the world. But then I looked at these photos I took at Gerard Mulot yesterday and wondered how anything could top being a pastry chef.



Each one of these cakes—these, just a small representation of what beckoned from the never-ending display cases of his Left Bank patisserie—is a little work of art.



Each one has personality.



Each has its own color palette, design and distinctive details. Fresh berries. Crushed pistachios. Whipped cream. Chocolate fondant. Cocoa dusting.



Seriously. To use a really lame joke, I think being a pastry chef might take the cake.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Top 10 baked goods in Manhattan

I was asked a couple times recently about my to very favorite baked goods in New York. Obviously this is no easy task: it depends on the neighborhood, the time of day, the season, my mood, and if I’m wearing an elastic waistband. But, then again, let’s be honest: there’s always room for baked goods.

Here’s my top 10 countdown*:

10. Blackout cake doughnut at Doughnut Plant.
9. Baklava at Poseidon Bakery.
8. Almond croissant at Café Margot.
7. Ooey gooey cupcake at Sugar Sweet Sunshine.
6. Chocolate bread pudding from the Dessert Truck.
5. Peanut butter cookie at City Bakery.
4. Walnut chocolate chip cookie at Levain.
3. Banana cupcake with cream cheese frosting at Butter Lane.
2. Pain au chocolat at Patisserie Claude.
And, if I could eat just one beautiful, chewy, chocolatey, earth-moving thing every day for the rest of my life…
1. Cornflake marshmallow chocolate chip cookie at Momofuku Milk Bar.

* As difficult as this list was to create, it was made easier by not including chocolate or gelato. Or frozen custard. And sadly, it was a wee bit easier because Batch and Amai are no longer around (though I expect I’ll have to revamp after Pichet’s return later this year!).

Monday, May 25, 2009

The Biarritz chocolate train

How do I explain this one? A sixth sense for cacao? An exquisitely attuned nose that enables me to detect almond paste from over 400 miles away? Faith that any place in France is going to have to-die-for bonbons?

When I booked my trip to Biarritz, I knew rugby, pelote and thalassotherapy spa treatments were big. But I had no idea that the region had a storied chocolate history. I swear.

It was only on the TGV from Paris, furiously cramming to create my two-day itinerary, that my eyes came across this info and my heart skipped a beat: a chocolate museum? Vraiment?? And when I was searching for my hotel and passed three chocolatiers within 100 yards of each another, well, it was only then that I believed my beach weekend was taking a delicious detour (bikini be damned!).

The chocolate museum, Planete Musée du Chocolat, is (no pun intended) a sweet little place. It starts you off with a film about where and how chocolate is produced and then offers a handful of galleries devoted to chocolate molds and sculptures (created by Serge Couzigou), vintage advertising and packaging, and tools and machines from around the world and through the eras. At the end of the visit, you’re rewarded for your attentiveness with a cup of rich hot cocoa. And, of course, you’re spit out into the museum shop, where you can buy the house chocolate bars, bonbons, cocoa and cakes.

I skipped the shop to do my chocolate shopping at the local chocolatiers.

Henriet and Adam are located across the street from each other, reminding me of separated lovers—Henriet, traditional and decorated in pretty blue.




And Maison Adam, dark, sleek and contemporary.




Both have similar selections—chocolate bars, bonbons and bouches; marzipan molds and bricks, and pastries including the regional specialty, Gateau Basque.




The Gateau Basque comes in several variations. One, a drier, circular shortbread cake is filled with cherry preserves. The other is also made with shortbread pastry, but it’s a flatter, denser square slice that sandwiches a lemony custard filling. The former is from Maison Adam, the former from Henriet.

At both chocolatiers, the pates d’amandes—one of my favorite things—came in a spectacular array of flavors and varieties: raspberry, lemon, pistachio, pine nut, vanilla, chocolate…




Sometimes it was sliced and packaged like a chocolate bar, sometimes smaller bite-sized pieces were rolled in sugar and sold like a bag of suckers. It was delicious both ways.




And the chocolate bonbons were equally adventurous and divine: milk chocolate with passionfruit ganache, dark chocolate with African tea, praline with lemon and coriander, salty, floral, spicy… really, had I known I was training straight into chocolate paradise, I would have stayed for more than a weekend.




There was no time for La Maison de Kanouga or Daranatz (with those cheerily wrapped chocolate bars).





But, now that I know Biarritz’s sweet secrets, I’ll make sure the next visit is for an entire week.

Monday, May 18, 2009

A trio from Eric Kayser

Seven boulangeries, three chocolatiers and a gelato shop. That’s what I’ve unofficially counted in my neighborhood. (What can I say? I know how to pick ‘em.) While I have yet to make all the rounds—believe it or not, I’ve been to fewer than half of them—the ones I have tried have definitely not disappointed. Maybe that’s why it’s taking me so long to sample the others: I keep returning to the ones I already know and love.

And how could I not? One of the boulangeries is the famed Eric Kayser.

A fifth generation baker, Kayser opened his first boulangerie in 1996 in the fifth arrondisement and now has a half dozen locations in the city. He invented a machine that creates and maintains a liquid leaven that he uses in his breads in lieu of yeast, which enables slow rising and causes a lactic fermentation that gives delicious hints of milk and honey. He makes over 60 kinds of bread—using preservative- and additive-free flour—including a simple baguette that is crusty, doughy, springy and sublime. All that is to say, Eric Kayser is best known as a breadmaker.


But because there’s usually a line snaking out the door, I’ve found myself all too often staring at rows of beautiful croissants, tuiles, madeleines, financiers, biscuits and cakes while patiently waiting to buy my baguette.



All this while being enveloped in the irresistible smell of fresh baked goods. How could I not be seduced? They must be good, right?



Right. Good does not even begin to cover it.

The pear grapefruit cake was thick with almond paste—one of my favorite flavors—which was cut by the bright juicy slices of grapefruit. Citrus and savory: a winning pair.

The opera cake was a beautiful blend of chocolate and praline in several forms: mousse, glaze, fondant and a crispy, airy wafer. So many flavors and textures emerged, so rich and dreamy…


I’m such a chocolate devotee, it’s rare that another dessert trumps the chocolate option, but the raspberry pistachio cake did just that. More almond paste, more shortbread, but made better by the delicious combination of fresh, fruity raspberries and nutty pistachio.


I’m lucky I had a little help with these heavenly numbers. Next time, I fear, I may be on my own.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

A local legend

Denise Acabo. The name doesn’t mean much to 99.9% of the world’s population, but those who do know it are fanatical about the woman, her Parisian chocolate parlor and her devotion to France’s best chocolatiers and candy makers.



With a daily uniform of long blonde braids, a tartan plaid skirt, and the sexy-schoolmarmish blend of bifocals and Chanel No 5 that only a middle-aged Frenchwoman can pull off, Acabo is a cult character here in Paris. But for more important reasons than her signature look, or even her choco-knowledge. It’s her irresistible charm and infectious enthusiasm that reels them in.



Everyone who walks through the doors of her SoPi (South of Pigalle) boutique is treated like the most important person in the world. She grabs you by the arm and gushes about her products: that they’re the best of the best and that she’s the exclusive carrier in the city. She’ll tell you how the cab drivers come in and clean her out of Le Roux caramels and that Japanese tourists fax her magazine articles in which she’s appeared. She talks a mile a minute and is as much an entertainer and theatrice as a chocolate connoisseur. She could prattle on about pralines for hours—and she will if you’re not careful. I looked at my watch when she paused for a breath and was shocked to see 30 minutes had passed. It’s a shame I could understand only a fraction of what she was saying.

But, importantly, what I did understand is that, outside of Lyon, she is the sole carrier of Bernachon chocolates.



This famed chocolatier, Maurice, and his son, Jean-Jacques, operate a bean-to-bar factory that churns out dozens of flavors of delicate bonbons and hunky tablettes. So how do you choose between so many amazing flavors—espresso, orange, hazelnut, rum raisin—when you’re in that enviable position? For me it was simple: I let Denise do it.




And thank goodness. When I unwrapped my Pâte d’Amande Pistache at home, I was suddenly inhaling vats of fresh chocolate in a factory. Delicious without even taking a bite. Between the richness of the 62% cacao and the sweet grittiness of Sicilian pistachio paste, I thought I had ascended to chocolate heaven. It’s one of the most brilliant things I’ve ever eaten.

She was equally pointed and strong-willed with my bonbon selection. After careful consideration, I had selected six from the case, but she shot two of them down. She wanted to make sure I had the best of the best so I wound up with a selection from all over the country (Gevrey-Chambertin, Bourges, Lorraine) from masters including Henri Le Roux (salted caramel), Bernard Dufoux (balsamic vinegar truffle) and more from Bernachon (a praline noisette).





There were so many exquisite sweets that I didn’t get (this time), including the Breton caramels. But I was happy to see she also carries Jacques Genin’s caramels—more proof that Acabo only carries the best of the best.

30 rue Pierre Fontaine
9eme

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Encore, Jacques Genin

I must return to Jacques Genin soon, very soon.

When I go back, should it be for a caramel eclair?



Or the sublime chocolates?

Friday, May 01, 2009

More, more, more!

There can never be enough chocolate in the world. Nor too many cupcakes.

Chocolate Bar is now open (again) in the West Village.

Billy’s Bakery is sending its banana cake goodness downtown to Tribeca.

And stay tuned for even more truffles with Roni-Sue’s expansion in the Essex Street Market next month.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Mixing bowl: Gustaf Mabrouk

Swedish pastry chef Gustaf Mabrouk gets mad props for being tapped to helm the new Chocolate Bar in the Willage (not to be confused with the East Village branch that came and went all-too-quickly) and bringing some international style to the game. But some of his Mixing Bowl answers are rather revealing. No snacking at the movies? But why else do you go sit in the dark for two hours??

Growing up, my favorite sweet was:
Licorice shoestrings

My favorite sweet now is:
Peanut M&M’s

My personal Chocolate Bar favorite:
The Espice truffle, made with cinnamon, dry ginger, cloves and almonds.

What I love about the West Village is:
That Chocolate Bar is BACK! Good coffee, great service and excellent chocolate...

Truffles or pralines:

Truffles

White, milk or dark:
Can’t discriminate.

Caramel, ganache or cream:
Ganache

The perfect pairing:
Pigs in blanket and Heinz ketchup.

I'd love to create a flavor for:
There are so many people I would love to create flavors for, but if I were to pick one it would be Antoni Gaudi. What an artist! Classic and daring at the same time...way ahead of his time. I would love to pick his brain.

Kitchen essentials:
Hands

Style essentials:
Style is so personal...No essentials.

Chocolatiers I admire:
More pastry chefs: Oriol Balaguer, Frederic Bau, Ramon Morato, Stefan Johnson-Petersen.

I'm most inspired when:
I can sit down after a long day and think back on the creations I made that make people happy; that the effort and love put into the decadent treats will pay off!

How much is too much?
Never enough.

Favorite movie snack:
I don’t snack in the movies.

Guilty pleasure:
Domino’s pizza and Cool Ranch Doritos.

Other favorites:

Everything that Curtis Mayfield recorded—I love funk…any cookbook over 400 pages!! And I love Stockholm, admire Barcelona and respect New York.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Oh la la Ladurée

The story goes like this: in the late 19th century, when Paris was being perfected by Baron Haussmann, and café culture was for the first time in full swing, Jeanne Souchard, Louis Ernest Ladurée’s wife, decided that ladies needed a little something more for their social outings. She had the idea of mixing the styles of her husband’s elegant pastry shop with that of a classic Parisian café, thus transforming Ladurée and giving birth to one of the first salons de thé in the city.

Later, in the early 20th century, M. Ladurée’s second cousin, Pierre Desfontaines, had another brilliant idea—this one edible: Join two macaron shells with a delicious ganache filling. Voila, the macaron was born, the family’s second groundbreaking contribution.

Today’s Ladurée—with three proper salons de thé in Paris as well as other locations in posh cities such as London, Tokyo and Monaco—is best known for these sweet and sublime treats. Indeed, walking around the Paris, you’ll notice locals and tourists alike toting the pastel green shopping bags with pride and anticipation. If you’ve never sampled one, book your ticket to Paris tout de suite.

Macarons are little, round cakes made primarily of ground almonds, egg whites and sugar that manage this pitch-perfect balance of slightly crispy on the outside and soft and cakey in the middle. At Ladurée, they come in flavors that are dreamt up in a “laboratory”: lily of the valley, black currant, violet, licorice… and of course there are the classics like chocolate, vanilla and raspberry.

Once the macarons are baked and filled with creamy ganache, they’re set aside for a day or two. This allows them to achieve that sublime balance of texture and flavor.

With that whole build-up, it’s crazy that I wouldn’t sample a plate of macarons after enjoying a beautiful lunch at the Champs-Elysée location and rhapsodize here about the flavors. But, you see, I haven’t even touched on Ladurée’s pastries and cakes yet. For as wonderful as the macarons are, the desserts are really something to be savored.

Take, for example, the Religieuse Griotte Amande.



The Religieuse is an exquisite puff pastry dessert that comes in several varieties: violet, raspberry-rose and cherry. We got the cherry. Paired with heavenly whipped blanc manger and tart morello cherries, it was, in a word, sublime. Fruity and creamy, light yet decadent, it was a masterful example of how elegant a puff pastry can be.



The Savarin Chantilly was no less impressive. Made with Baba pastry and soaked through and through with dark rum, it was a potent little number, softened by beautiful Chantilly cream.



And then there was the Saint-Honoré.



Another house specialty, this one is made with two different kinds of pastry, two different kinds of cream, and, with their newest version, two different flavors: pistachio and strawberry.

Imagine the lightest confectioner’s custard and Chantilly cream, flavored with pistachio, paired with a fresh strawberry stew and enclosed in light, flakey puff pastry. It was heaven. Another deeply moving experience with each forkful.



So, I will certainly return to Ladurée and report on the macarons. But when you sample three desserts such as these, even sweets of historic importance demand just a little less attention.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Angelina, Angelina

In New York, the debate over who has the best hot chocolate is almost as fierce and divided as that of the best chocolate chip cookie. (Is it Jacques Torres or City Bakery? Neither?—MarieBelle, you say?)

In Paris, the best can usually be summed up in one word: Angelina.

This 1st arrondisement salon de thé is indeed a tourist trap. But it is well worth dealing with the fanny-packers—not for the Mont Blonc, a dome of sweet chestnut flavored meringue and cream, and definitely not for the service, which makes you feel they’d rather be home, filing their nails. But simply for a pitcher of le chocolat Africain, the house’s specialty hot chocolate.


Smooth and velvety, it’s thick enough to coat your tongue, but not so thick that it sticks to your teeth (an important line not to be crossed). It’s rich and chocolaty, and served warm, not hot—another distinction that’s important to me. I don’t like my hot chocolate to be scalding.



Served in china, with a side of pure whipped cream, it’s the perfect way to warm up on a rainy spring day. And a decadent way to get your day’s chocolate quota.


226 rue de Rivoli
1eme

Sunday, April 19, 2009

All croissants are not created equal

In Paris, you can wave your scarf in any direction and brush the croissant-filled window of a boulangerie. Of course this doesn’t mean that those croissants are worthy of your attention. It can be a tough job, searching for a perfect croissant.

My checklist: Buttery, flakey, soft and squishy. Ideally, a titch warm from the oven. And on the small side, rather than oversized—the better to break off into chewy little pieces that leave you both happy and wishing for more.

I had read about La Flute Gana in Travel + Leisure and, after Googling “best croissant Paris” and seeing this 20th arrondisement boulangerie come up on numerous sites and blogs, I added it to my must-eat list. I take it as a good sign when street warriors rhapsodize about a neighborhood spot.



I knew the bakery would have an awesome assortment of breads—the founder, Bernard Ganachaud, is legendary for his baguettes. Indeed, “flute” is another word for baguette and “Gana” is the founder’s abbreviated last name. While Ganachaud is retired, his bakeries (a second one just opened in February) are still run by his daughters.



The bread certainly looked and smelled beautiful—god, how I love that warm, yeasty smell inside a good Parisian boulangerie—but I was there for a one thing only: a croissant. After standing in line and feeling more than a little anxious about seeing so many gorgeous pastries and not being able to sample all of them, I made my modest purchase and escaped outside.



I knew before even taking it out of the bag that it was going to be buttery—it was weeping through the paper. The size was perfect. And when I bit into it, it was that heavenly combination of light, spongy and flakey. And, yes, buttery. If I had to criticize, it was just a little overdone. I should add to my checklist that I prefer my croissants just a wee bit undercooked. Nevertheless, it was demolished in about six bites.

226 Rue des Pyrenees
20eme