by Noelle Love
2 cups heavy cream
For the sauce
3 tablespoons granulated sugar, processed until superfine
1 ½ tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 ½ tablespoons pear brandy (eau-de-vie de poire) or pear liqueur
Directions
Set your oven’s temperature to 400 degrees F. Prepare a 9” springform pan by greasing a 9” circle of parchment paper with butter and placing in the bottom of the pan; set aside.
In a mixing bowl, combine the egg yolks and sugar with a whisk. Add the flour, beating until smooth. Then mix in the vanilla and almond extract; set aside. In a separate bowl whisk the egg whites until they hold stiff peaks and then fold into the egg yolk mixture. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 30 minutes or until the top turns golden brown. Allow the cake to cool.
Prepare the filling by combining the raspberries, sugar, and water in a medium-size saucepan. Heat over medium heat until it simmers, dissolving the sugar and breaking the berries – this should take about 10 minutes. Strain the mixture over a bowl and save the puree. Place 2 cups of the puree back in the saucepan and return to low heat. The remaining puree should be saved for the sauce. Add the gelatin/water mixture to the pan and stir for 2 minutes or until dissolved. Take the saucepan off the heat and stir in the brandy; allow it to cool.
In a large bowl whip the cream until it holds soft peaks and then fold in the cooled filling.
Remove the cake from the pan and take off the parchment. Use a sharp serrated knife to slice the cake into 2 even layers. Place the bottom layer back into the springform pan and attach the ring. Spread the filling on top and then top with the second layer, the brown side facing up. Cover the cake with plastic wrap and refrigerate until ready to serve, no more than 24 hours.
Before serving prepare the sauce by stirring together the reserved puree, sugar, lemon juice, and brandy. Continue stirring until all of the sugar has dissolved. Serve the cake sliced on top of a thin layer of sauce.
6
Tali woke up to the smell of wet sidewalks the next morning. The rain last night had revitalized the city and her ambition. Although she considered herself an artist who baked for a living most days, today Tali decided to embrace her baking spirit. She owed it to Margot and Zenna to really try, considering that it was their bakery that presently allowed her to paint the landscapes she really loved, not forced any longer to throw monochromatic paint blindly, splattering and spluttering all over her tiny bed, in order to appeal to the new art crowd – young people with just enough money to spend but not nearly enough to afford true art. Now with her paycheck from the bakery, she painted slowly and painted for herself. She glanced at her easel, sunlight just peeking in through her small window, and admired her unfinished work of the pool at the Jardin des Tuileries.
Tali was the first to arrive at the bakery that morning, which wasn’t unusual. But today she was especially happy to have some time to herself in the kitchen. She wanted to make something special, something to tell her friends how happy she was to be one of the three “French Hens”, as they were known, at The Two Macarons. Thumbing through the now tattered pages of her French baking cookbook she brought from Swansea she came across just the thing. Complex in nature, impressive on display, and delicious to the palette, a batch of Milles de Crepes cakes was going to receive Tali’s undivided attention for the next several hours.
But in typical French fashion, a simple, undistracted morning can never be left alone. The door chimed and Tali, being the only soul in the bakery this morning, was forced to leave the safety of her quiet kitchen and venture out to see who Paris had brought her this morning.
Two middle-aged men in designer navy blue suits were standing in the middle of the oak floor in the corner of the bakery, looking out the window at something just beyond the Eiffel Tower. One of the men had rusty brown hair slicked to the side, most likely, she guessed, in hopes of covering a bald spot. He held an unlit cigarette between his middle and index finger, waving it up and down as he spoke to his friend. The other man, whose suit had small gray pinstripes, was wearing sunglasses, which gave Tali the impression that he too was hiding something. Despite their bad first impression, Tali looked in their direction, giving them the signal that she was there are ready to help. They must be tourists, Tali thought giving them an excuse for their odd behavior, so she put on her best smile, hoping to create impression that they were very welcome in her adopted city.
Noticing a woman behind the counter expecting an order, the men approached Tali, the one reluctantly removing his dark sunglasses. His eyes were small and beady, accentuated by his red complexion. “What can I get for you two today?” she asked. “How long have you been in business?” the cigarette asked. Thrown by being asked a question herself, Tali stammered before answering, “I guess almost two years.”
“And how many employees work here?”
“Three.”
The men laughed and looked at each other, seemingly relieved. “And how many customers come through here each day?”
“I don’t know,” Tali said, getting annoyed that they weren’t ordering anything. “I’m usually in the back so I don’t know.”
“How much money did the bakery make last year?”
“I really don’t have a clue.”
Seeing that the main competition was a tiny shop run by three women, the one who they were talking to gorgeous but clearly incompetent, the mysterious men prepared to leave.
As they approached the door Tali felt it was her duty to ask them another question, especially considering how many they had just fired at her. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you need to know how much money we made last year?” If Tali weren’t so pretty the men wouldn’t have turned around at all. They would have walked out the door and around the corner to their parked Dacia Duster. They would have driven through the city and towards a behemoth of a building owned by their boss, France’s richest man, Delroy Tasse, who would be delighted to hear the news about Paris’s favorite little bakery, The Two Macarons.
But instead, Tali’s pout got the best of the cigarette and he turned around. “Mon amour, if you need a job in a few months, just call me.” He wrote his number down on a purple bakery bag and slid it across the counter in Tali’s direction. He winked, Tali blinked, and the men disappeared.
Mille Crepes
Serves 16
Ingredients
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled + additional for the pan
4 large brown eggs, fresh
1 cup bread flour
1 cup whole milk
¼ cup pure maple syrup, grade B
¼ teaspoon sea salt
For the cream
1 ½ cups whole milk
3 large brown eggs, fresh
½ cup pure maple syrup, grade B
¼ cup cornstarch
1 ½ tablespoons Scotch whiskey
½ cup whipping cream
¾ tablespoon confectioner’s sugar
To top
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
Special tools
A kitchen torch
Directions
In a blender emulsify the melted butter and eggs. Pour in the flour, milk, maple syrup and salt and continue blending until they are smooth. Allow the batter to cool overnight in the refrigerator or 6 to 8 hours.
Set the oven’s surface temperature to medium low heat and heat a 9” heavy bottomed, non-stick pan until it is hot. Coat the pan with a layer of butter, wiping out the excess with a paper towel so that there are not any pools. Carefully measure out two tablespoons of the refrigerated batter and place in the center of the hot pan. Working quickly, swirl the batter until it spreads to the size of the pan. If the crepe batter will not spread out to the sides, your pan is too hot. If this happens, remove the pan from the heat for several seconds before adding the batter and placing back on the oven top.
You will know your crepe is ready to flip when the top
of it does not look wet. Use a spatula to lift the corner and then, using your fingers to help, flip the crepe being careful not to burn yourself on the hot pan. Cook the crepe for 20 seconds on the second side, just long enough to be sure that it is cooked thorough. Place the cooked crepe on a plate (you will stack them one on top of another as you finish).
Continue making the remaining crepes as detailed above. Don’t re-butter the pan unless the crepes begin to stick when flipped. After all of the crepes have been made, keep them stacked on top of each other, but allow them to cool while you make the cream for the filling.
Combine the milk, eggs, syrup, and cornstarch in a blender and process until smooth. Using a heavy bottomed pot, pour the blended mixture in and heat over medium low (160 degrees F if using a candy thermometer). Stir the mixture constantly until it thickens. As soon as it thickens, take the filling off the heat and add the Scotch, stirring until well combined. Allow the filling to cool.
In a bowl beat the whipping cream with an electric mixer until fluffy. Add the confectioner’s sugar in batches, beating until peaks form. Once you begin to see peaks holding be sure to stop or the fat will begin to separate out of the cream. Use a spatula to fold this into the cooled filling.
To assemble the cake, place a crepe (be sure not to use your best one as this will be the top) on a cake plate. Spread a layer of the filling (about as thick as the crepe itself) on top. Continue stacking the layers and filling until all of the crepes have been used – don’t worry if all of the filling is used; trying to used all of the filling might result in a cake that is extremely difficult to cut.
After finishing assembling the cake place it in the refrigerator overnight (or at least 4 hours). This is important because the filling will add moisture to the crepe layers.
Before serving the cake, sprinkle the top with the granulated sugar and use a kitchen torch to brulee it. Be sure to brulee the sugar quickly since taking too long will start to melt the filling in between the layers. Slice and enjoy immediately.
7
Margot and Zenna arrived at the bakery shortly after Tali’s brief message appeared on their phones. “Men opening bakery… seem like jerks… do you know what’s going on? I’m making Mille Crepes…” Their quicker than usual response let Tali know that they appreciated her baking, which made her happy, despite the disconcerting occurrence that happened just a half hour ago.
“Tali slice the cake. I have some news,” Margot said as she swished by in her black pleated skirt and red strappy stilettos. Zenna followed Tali into the small office in the back, making eye contact with Margot who was leaning against the filing cabinet, her face was serious but content, reassuring Zenna that whatever the news was it couldn’t be worse than the news she would have to break soon – that she had slept with Aubin and was the worst friend ever. Zenna was still plotting her revenge against the asshole. She wanted to have things taken care of before Margot found out, but she knew if she didn’t act soon she would break. It would be wrong to keep such a huge secret from her friend, especially considering that Margot told her everything, every detail of her sex life, every naughty dream, every secret fantasy, and she loved that. Her friend’s honesty was the attribute Zenna admired most, something she knew she could use more of in her own life. She knew the truth would be a crushing blow, but as long as Aubin was alive there was the chance that Margot could find out from someone else. The thought of that made Zenna so nervous that she had to sit down.
“Do you know who those men were?” Tali asked. “Yep,” Margot answered between bites. “What did they want?” Margot, who had heard the news the night before from her good friend Jacques, smiled reassuringly. “They work for Delroy Tasse. He’s opening a bakery just on the other side of the tower. He thinks he can steal all of our business.” Zenna knew the name Tasse, everyone in France did; the family owned every popular business in the tourist zones; foreigners loved him and locals loathed him, although their money would say otherwise. Delroy was the heir to a fashion house, but his only passion was money. He sold his father’s company for a hefty sum, invested the earnings in the shady underworld of gambling and prostitution, and then spent a very small portion of it putting local businesses out on the streets, hoping to earn the acceptance of the new generation, selling cheap products that he made, bought, procured, or stole for an even cheaper cost.
“Well, can’t he?” Tali said nervously, knowing that The Two Macarons going out of business would mean her returning to painting for other people or, even worse, having to move back to Wales and settle for the fisherman her aunt had been trying to set her up with for nearly a decade.
Margot laughed, “Fuck no!” Zenna raised her fork in solidarity. “We have lines of people out our door every day. They’re not just going to desert us for cheap food made by a bastard billionaire across the street. We have nothing to worry about,” said Margot. “And besides,” Zenna added, “if customers ever tried to cheat on us we could just put Tali out front. Ten Euros for a kiss and we’ll butter your bread, buns – anything you want!” They all laughed. “My God we’d be rich!” Tali blushed, but considered it a good sign that her friends were joking about the matter.
“Well I’m glad it’s nothing to worry about,” Tali said as she got to work making her popular Breton Butter Cake. Zenna kidding about buttering bread made Tali crave an indulgent dessert, and nothing could ease a mind better than butter. Zenna put on her apron and began her work assisting Tali, helping where she could, but keeping a close eye on Margot, who, Zenna thought, was still at risk for a total breakdown any minute.
Margot wasn’t going to lose it just yet, but she was definitely on the verge. Her hands seemed busy up front arranging the display cases for the day, but her mind was definitely not anywhere in the vicinity. The conversation she had with the other French hens seemed to go just fine, but Margot was in need of a pep talk herself. A week ago she would have been completely convinced at every confident word coming out of her mouth, but after having Aubin destroy everything that once made sense, she was unsure of everything. If Aubin could leave her so abruptly and without any remorse, couldn’t her customers? Couldn’t her friends?
Basile walked in, leaning on his cane and carrying a large book, his entertainment for the day, his kind voice shaking Margot from her worries. She brought him a piece of Tali’s butter cake; the old man’s smile lying to her saying everything was going to be just fine.
Kouign Amann
Serves 10
*Basile recommends it eaten for breakfast with coffee and a nice view
Ingredients
1 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon almond extract
6 large egg yolks
2 ¾ cups flour
¼ teaspoon salt
1 large egg, broken with fork
Directions
Prepare a 9” tart pan by greasing the bottom and sides with extra butter; set aside.
In a mixing bowl, combine the butter and sugar, creaming until fluffy. Add the almond extract and then the egg yolks one at a time, mixing after each is added. Continue mixing as you add the flour and salt, being sure to only mix until just combined.
Pour the batter into the prepared tart pan and smooth with a spatula. Refrigerate the batter in the pan for 15 to 20 minutes. Meanwhile, set your oven’s temperature to 350 degrees F.
Use a pastry brush to brush the top of the refrigerated batter with the broken egg. Use a small knife to draw a cross in the center of the batter and then brush again. Place the cake in the preheated oven and bake for 50 to 55 minutes or until the sides of the cake begin to pull away from the pan. Remove the cake from the pan once you are able to handle it and allow it to cool until just warm on a wire rack. Slice and serve the cake with fresh jam or coffee.
8
Three Months Ago – Despite everyone in Paris who was under the age of twenty-five’s complete and utter determination to achieve the mythical endl
ess summer once and for all, the leaves began to change. The crisp autumn air broke the spell of summer romance and women directed their attention away from men and towards the promise of this season’s perfect boots and scarves, even if it was only for a brief moment in time. The golden leaves placed a sepia film over the city’s landscape, matching the color of the sunrays that bounced off the Eiffel Tower and into the eyes of the just-arriving-to-work Margot.
Margot turned the key to unlock the door to The Two Macarons, relishing the fact that she had for once beaten Tali to the bakery. Although, Margot knew, more than likely Tali would arrive in seconds, having the upstairs vantage point of seeing everyone who approached the bakery and the conscience of someone who was accustomed to hard work. Margot took a moment to herself admiring the successful business she had built and, for a split second, almost thanked Aubin for giving her the chance to know what it feels like to be independent. And then, remembering the bouncy blonde that destroyed her chance at marriage, she came to her senses, reveling in the orgasmic memories of last night courtesy of a very strong, very cute pompier; whose hose knew how to ignite a fire almost as well as it knew how to put one out.
“Good morning,” Tali said, heading straight back to the kitchen, knowing that today, like everyday, would be busy. Only today, she thought noticing the crisp air, would require something different. In the summer customers look for sweet, in both their desserts and women, but in the fall people look to both for safety, safety from the cold and safety in a relationship, having been reminded once again of the unpleasantness of summer flings coming to an end. And Tali knew that nothing was more safe and cozy than her beloved French Pumpkin Pie.
