APPLE CINNAMON COFFEE CAKE TWIST

SEASONAL TURBULENCE

There are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion 

That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble 

Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret 

Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together. 

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

A turbulent week. Emotions rampant; head down, fingers scurrying across the keyboard. A very short blog post is called for. In between home improvement… well, home finishing… projects, taking extra time to snuggle Marty as the end nears and working on my various projects. Bits and pieces. My life, my emotions spread thin, bumping up and down, a commotion of sensations. My words come out in short gasps, my movements fluttering from one thought to the next as I gather them up and jot them down, painting words in black and white. Time is fleeting, rushing past like my nine-year-old self on a bike whizzing home, wind whipping my thick mess of hair out of my eyes for the first time all day, hurry hurry. Or time slows down to a trickle, as thick as molasses, as slow as my son preparing to execute any chore we have requested of him… one sock, first shoe, check text messages, tie shoe, stare off into space and dream for a while, second sock….

Apartment renovations continue in fits and bursts and our hallway is nearly finished. Ceiling lights purchased for the kitchen and even as boxes and now-empty suitcases gather round us like so many faithful, adoring disciples, we may soon be able to drag the truck-sized toolchests (in the plural), the various painting supplies, ladders and the rest of the home improvement paraphernalia up to the attic and give ourselves just that much more floor space. I slowly, painstakingly send out change-of-address notices as I slowly, carefully order my work here at the computer. The desolate rain bursts into glorious sunshine, winter leaving icy fingerprints on the windowpanes.

My projects old and new clutter my worktop and my life, I finalize stories and tap joyfully on the send button, waiting for the satisfying whoosh of email sent; writing mojo back in full swing. New ideas fill my head and take shape as I discuss the creation of this event or the writing of that piece with friends and mentors, pushing myself forward on a surge of activity and enterprise. I connect with those around me, hoping for newfound involvement in my city of Nantes. The bright clear days find me wandering through town, seeing hitherto unnoticed artwork, graffiti scrawled across unlikely spaces, new buildings perched above my line of vision in unexpected material, impulsive colors, in stunning juxtaposition to the graceful, elegant old beauties in fading cream and black, the architecture one expects in this place. My camera captures images, which cry out to be transformed into words.

And Marty. No words to describe the sadness in our hearts, the heaviness crawling through our home as we watch him, sadness and discomfort replacing mirth and curiosity in his eyes.

And I bake. A flurry of flour, a dusting of salt, a sprinkling of yeast; hands, fingers sinking into dense, soft dough, pushing, pulling, worries and frustrations released in the gentle, rhythmic movement, replaced with a utopian calm. My mind wanders to words, sentences, tales amid the fragrance of vanilla and sweet apples, redolent with the exotic nip of cinnamon, against the tang, the heady earthiness of the yeast. Warm from the oven, drizzled with sugary icing, the crunch of almonds and we sit together en tête-à-tête in the bright kitchen drinking coffee and eating sweet bread. No words are needed.

An apple-filled yeast coffee cake, this Apple Cinnamon Twist is added to November’s Twelve Loaves line up of fabulous recipes. Twelve Loaves is a baking-from-scratch event created by Lora of Cake Duchess, Barb of Creative Culinary and myself to inspire our fellow food bloggers to bake. November’s challenge was all about our favourite Autumn Fruits: Apples & Pears. I saw this fabulous twisted loaf on Kate’s blog Food Babbles and couldn’t resist! I made some slight changes to her recipe including changing her pears for apples and the results were incredible. The dough is fast and easy to put together, more time is spent waiting than fiddling with fussy ingredients – time spent writing or painting or hugging a Boston Terrier. Once filled, the dough is cut and twisted like for my Pesto Parmesan Russian Rosa Loaf, a joy to make once one gets the hang of it. Topped with a marvellous cinnamon glaze, this was one of the best sweet yeast coffee cakes I’ve made yet and worth making over and over again.

I am sharing this with Susan of Wild Yeast for her weekly Yeastspotting!
 

APPLE CINNAMON COFFEE CAKE TWIST
Adapted from a recipe on Food Babbles which was adapted from a King Arthur Flour recipe

For the dough:
3 ½ cups (450-460 g) flour, stirred up and lightly spooned into measuring cup and levelled
3 Tbs (50 g) sugar
1 ½ tsp (6 g) active dry yeast
1 ¼ tsp salt
3 Tbs (45 g) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
1 tsp vanilla or orange extract
1 large egg, at room temperature
1 cup (250 ml) milk (I used half whole, half lowfat), warmed to tepid/skin temperature

For the filling:
½ cup (100 g) sugar (I used less)
3 Tbs flour
1 tsp ground cinnamon
3 medium apples, peeled and grated
1 Tbs lemon juice

For the glaze:
1 cup confectioner’s/powdered sugar
1 tsp vanilla or ½ tsp orange extract, optional
3 Tbs heavy cream or whole milk
1/2 tsp cinnamon

Prepare the dough:

Place all of the dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl and stir or whisk to blend. Add the soft butter, the warm milk, the room temperature egg and the vanilla and stir until blended, all the dry ingredients are moistened and a shaggy dough forms. Cover the bowl with a clean kitchen towel and allow to rest for 30 minutes.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and knead for 10 minutes, dusting with flour if needed. Any large chunks of butter left should be incorporated and the dough should be soft, elastic and light without being too sticky.

Place the dough in a clean, oiled bowl and turn the dough to make sure it is oiled all over. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and the clean kitchen towel and let rise for 1 ½ to 2 hours, until the dough is doubled in size.

Make the filling:

Peel and grate the apples (I used the large holes of my grater), discarding the core. Toss the grated apples with the lemon juice.

Whisk together the sugar, flour and cinnamon in a medium mixing bowl to blend. Add the grated apples to the dry mixture and stir to blend well, making sure all of the dry ingredients are melted into the apples leaving no clumps. Cover and set aside.

Assemble the Twist:

Line a large baking sheet, long and wide enough to hold two long loaves, with parchment or oven-safe paper.

Gently deflate the risen dough by scraping it out of the mixing bowl and onto a lightly floured surface. Using a large, sharp knife, divide the dough into two equal pieces, returning one temporarily to the bowl.

Roll half of the dough into an approximately 10 x 12-inch rectangle with the long side perpendicular to your body. Spread half of the apple filling evenly all over the dough rectangle, leaving a ½-inch edge empty on three sides – one long, two short – and 1-inch filling free across the top edge. Starting at the long end nearest your body, roll the dough up around the filling into a jellyroll or log and seal the edges. Gently roll back and forth to even out the thickness of the log.

Using a very long, sharp knife – a butcher’s knife works best – slice the log lengthwise in half. Gently lift each half onto the parchment-lined baking sheet and place them side by side, cut side up (the many layers of the “open cut” will be up). Keeping the filling side up and starting from the center, twist and twine the two lengths together as tightly as possible with squishing the dough and filling. Pinch the ends to seal and tuck underneath.

Repeat with the second half of the dough.

Cover the loaves loosely with plastic wrap and a clean kitchen towel and allow to rise for 1 to 2 hours. The loaves should be pretty much doubled in size.

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C).

Bake the loaves for 30 – 40 minutes or until risen and golden brown. If the loaves seem to be browning too quickly, just cover lightly with foil. The finished bread should sound hollow when tapped.

Remove from the oven to a cooling rack and allow to cool for 1 hour before making and drizzling the cinnamon glaze.

Prepare the Cinnamon Glaze:
 
Measure then sift the confectioner’s sugar into a small mixing bowl with the cinnamon. Add the cream or milk, the extract if using, and, stir with a fork or small whisk until well blended, smooth and creamy. The glaze should be smooth and just liquid enough to ribbon off of a spoon to drizzle all over the bread but not so liquid that it runs together and off the bread.

Slice and enjoy!

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CHOCOLATE CHESTNUT FONDANT

CHESTNUTS ROASTING

Come, woo me, woo me; 

for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent. 

- William Shakespeare

I love the holidays. Halloween comes and goes swathed in orange and black, tiny fondant jack-o’-lanterns and chocolate skeletons dancing across supermarket shelves and shop windows. Thanksgiving arrives sharp on its heels in a burst of cooking energy; a cornucopia of seasonal fruits and vegetables just making their reluctant appearance on market stalls give themselves up to casseroles, cakes and side dishes; table tops strewn with crisp fall leaves in burnished gold and sepia and red the color of the evening sky where tiny Pilgrims stand in wooden severity. Then swoosh we are swept away in a Winter Wonderland of sparkle and brightness, swags of tiny colored lights and the twinkle of stars against inky black; the crinkle of shiny paper and the romance of plump bows lure and entice, flames dance in windows amid festive songs and Champagne cheer.

It is funny that I should love this season so much when we don’t really celebrate the holidays. Halloween inspires impatient sneers and stirs up violent discussions of a cross-cultural takeover; Thanksgiving is simply forgotten, faded into hazy dreams of one single long-ago celebration. Christmas is seen by some to be a bewildering cross between a burden of familial expectations, consumer madness, religious indifference muddied with doubts and the joy of gift giving, while Hanukkah… yes Hanukkah in the warm glow of candlelight, the vibrant sizzle of latkes and the gentle hum and rhythm of filial and brotherly love, we are each swept away with enthusiasm. The spirit pervades and carries us along for five, maybe six of the eight days of festivities until someone voices skepticism, begins wondering aloud at the insanity of giving so many gifts so many nights in a row and the other three feel the holiday teetering on the precipice, the fragility of mood and sensibility looming, hoping that qualms and dubiousness will whither away in the utter beauty of one more candle’s blaze.

But happily we rush into Christmas and New Year’s Eve when the Champagne flows and the food is abundant, even if just for the two or the four of us. The ambiance returns, albeit quietly, to mirth and good cheer. Outright bellyaches and grousing fade into nuanced grumblings as we debate the degree of hoopla and revelry; we analyze how our year went, trade barbs and opinions on how everyone behaved, making our own list in much the way Santa does, judging degrees of naughtiness and whether this one or that deserves a gift or two. Strolling hand in hand through the glittering city, my every “Oooh! Pretty!” is met with icy silence, every “Ahhh! Look! I love that!” is matched with a sharp “No!” Each “Beautiful! Can we?” is parodied with a “But you’re Jewish!” Our budget is deliberated, desires contested, activities negotiated and we somehow, each and every year, meet in the middle, arrive at a compromise on shopping, decoration and meal. And enjoy ourselves heartily.

Now please don’t get me wrong and think that I am accusing anyone of being a Grinch. No snarling “I must stop this whole thing!" nor a Scrooge-like “Bah, Humbug!” in sight, but simply a low simmering discontent, enough to keep the over-planning at bay. But I will be fair. I will admit that if we were surrounded by family and friends, if holidays meant ringing doorbells and crowded rooms, if a dozen or so smiling faces gathered around our laden table, forks dancing happily above plates, the tinkle of busy cutlery and the clicking of wine glasses in toast after merry toast, well, maybe some of us would be singing a different tune.

Yet I love the holidays; the spirit invades, the jingle of bells excites, the tinny notes of piped-in carols thrills as I bounce down the city streets singing along with old, forgotten tunes and praying for snow. Although there is no Thanksgiving celebration, no holiday meal per se, I adore the sweet fresh smell of pumpkin, the weight and heft of knobbly sweet potatoes, the earthy mystery, the hideous beauty of mushrooms, from creamy white to delicate fawn to elegant woodsy browns lined up in wooden crates, gnarly or smooth, deep chocolate-colored figs nestled snugly side by side, together expressing autumn’s amusement and vibrancy, inviting us to laugh and shop and cook. Whole rabbits and geese still bedecked in feathers and pelt, pyramids of chestnuts and garlands of greenery have the power to woo and I am left breathless, excited, lighthearted and completely, irrevocably in the mood.

One Thanksgiving past springs to mind now every year as the weather turns damper and chillier, afternoons quickly fall dark and the scent of pie fills the air, a Brooklyn Thanksgiving, a true feast in that old fourth-floor walkup. Michael and I cooked and baked for two straight days in joy and glee, a perfect dance: he turned my homemade cornbread into delectable stuffing; my Challah was placed proudly next to his whole wheat bread, both labors of love; pumpkin and sweet potato pies and chocolate cake, sweet potatoes and green beans and bottles of wine and we shared our very own Thanksgiving now tucked away into the brightest corner of my memories, that special secret garden reserved solely for my brother.

The others, those of my childhood have long been lost, scattered forever like the thousand million tiny petals of fuzz blown off of the head of a dandelion with a poof, snatched up and carried off by the wind. And never has one single Thanksgiving meal been served to my family in Europe and to tell the truth, it is never really missed. All alone, surrounded by no family or friends, we make our own celebrations, prepare festive meals just how and when we like. But I never hesitate to search out special recipes for seasonal treats, pumpkin and sweet potato pies, apple cakes and stollen, gingerbread macarons and the like. All autumn and winter long.

A fondant to some is that sugary sweet icing rolled out and delicately layered over wedding cakes or cookies. To the French, a fondant is an ethereal cake-like delicacy, meltingly smooth on the tongue, its immediate burst of richness fading away leaving a delicate essence, a flavor that lingers. This Fondant au Chocolat et Marrons, Chocolate and Chestnut Fondant, inspired by an image, a recipe seen in a cookbook, is less cake than truffle, so dense yet surprisingly delicate. A deep chocolate flavor with a hint of chestnut, the fondant is just perfect as it is, better than any gooey, decadent brownie could ever hope to be. Yet with that very first mouthful I knew that I had to make this again adding a couple of tablespoons of Cointreau, Grand Marnier or even rum for a sensational complex new layer of flavor and the kick of alcohol. And I’ll make it a third time using all salted butter for that glorious salty zing I love with chocolate. Astonishingly simple to make, four easy ingredients, this Chocolate Chestnut Fondant makes for one dramatic, spectacular holiday dessert.

CHOCOLATE CHESTNUT FONDANT 
Adapted from Albums Larousse Nutella, lait concentré, crème de marrons… by Corinne Jausserand

7 oz (200 g) dark chocolate – I used half bittersweet Lindt Doux 70% + half swemisweet Nestlé Dessert
 11 Tbs (160 g) butter – I used half unsalted + half salted butter
3 large eggs
17.6 oz (500 g) Crème de Marron (sweetened chestnut cream)
1 gently rounded Tbs flour

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Butter the bottom and sides of an 8 or 9-inch baking dish.

Break the chocolate into smallish chunks and place in a heatproof or Pyrex bowl with the butter. Melt in the microwave on high for about 1 ½ minutes. Remove from the oven and stir until the chocolate is completely melted and the mixture blended and smooth. Return to the microwave for quick zaps if need be. (I always remove melting chocolate and butter from the heat, whether microwave or bain-marie, before one or the other (or both) are completely melted in order to avoid burning the chocolate or overheating…. The heat of that already melted will help melt the remaining chunks while beginning the cooling down process.)

Allow the butter and chocolate to cool to room temperature or at least tepid.

Place the eggs in a medium to large mixing bowl and whisk or beat well until blended. Whisk in the chestnut cream. Gradually pour in the butter/chocolate while continuing to whisk, being careful not to splatter. Whisk in the flour.

Pour into the buttered baking dish and bake for about 30 minutes, depending upon the size and shape of your baking dish as well as your oven. The fondant should be puffed, set in the center and cracking a bit. The surface will look matt, almost like the surface of brownies.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool to room temperature before serving. This is a very rich dessert and is best served in thin slices. And those who wish will be free to request seconds!

For a truly elegant dessert, serve the Chocolate Chestnut Fondant with a crème anglaise of unsweetened or very lightly sweetened whipped cream.

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VOYAGE À NANTES, A GASTRONOMIC DISCOVERY

LES TABLES DE NANTES 2013

Le Créateur, en obligeant l’homme à manger pour vivre, 

l’y invite par appétit et l’en récompense par le plaisir. **

– Brillat-Savarin 

My husband and I keep having the same debate. I argue that Nantes, our adopted city, does not have a local cuisine as much as she has a choice selection of fabulous local ingredients, these ingredients the basis for a wide variety of pure, clean, simple dishes that are created to highlight the quality and freshness of sea scallops, sardines, tomatoes, carrots, lamb’s lettuce, among others, these ingredients the basis for Nantes’ quiet but assertive renown as a gastronomic city. My husband, passionate and knowledgeable about food and an even better cook than I, disagrees, arguing for Nantes’ stunningly simple and elegant cuisine bourgeoise, a cuisine born from the wealth and modest sophistication of her former ruling class, nobles and merchants alike, as much as a consequence of the fine and exquisite products of this port city.

But other than such traditional recipes as the gâteau nantais, la fouace nantaise, caramel au beurre salé or the beurre blanc nantais, there are surely no truly emblematic dishes. Nantes, as I have before written, sits comfortably between water and land, the ocean and the river, a terroir lush and fertile within kissing distance of Brittany, the Vendée and the Loire in which a diversity of delicacies such as eel and oysters and tender green asparagus, not to mention the fleur de sel de Guerande, offer a fresh palette of flavors and textures, endless possibilities for creativity and imagination. Add to that an amazing selection of local wines, from Muscadet and Gros Plant to the neighboring wines of Anjou and Saumur, we are never short of a glorious meal.

The closeness of Nantes to Brittany and regions washed by both the Atlantic and the Loire River has influenced her own cuisine for centuries, yet while dining on crêpes and cider, moules marinières, Kouign Amann and Far Breton, she has been able to retain her individuality in no uncertain terms, creating her own unique identity. The importance of Nantes as a great port city, for centuries the crossroads between Europe, Africa, the Americas, the West Indies and all that lay between, meant the influence of the spices, sugar, fruits and liqueur brought to her shores on boats great and small, adding an exotic twist, a light kick of rum, the scent of vanilla, the bite of pepper, the hint of almonds and lemon to her cuisine, making all who cooked here curious and adventurous. Light and ethereal, no heavy sauces or overpowering buttery concoctions to drown out and hide the delicate, subtle character of the raw ingredients, the food, the dishes we eat every day need no extravagant elaboration, no flashy, complicated enhancement. Nantes’ culinary identity is based on the simple yet intriguing combination of local, seasonal ingredients and very little more. Give us a platter of freshly steamed and raw seafood, lightly grilled sardines with a glass of Muscadet and we are happy.

One reason husband and I love living in Nantes and in the Pays de la Loire is that creativity and diversity we find in our local eating places. Yes, there are crêperies galore, our favorite kabob (Le Couche Tard) and pizza (Pinocchio) joints (not to forget my favorite artisan chocolatier/pâtissier Vincent Guerlais), the choice of restaurants, bistros and brasseries is ever growing. Just the abundance and quality of those natural ingredients, the network of local producers, draws so many talented chefs to the region, to our city. We, of course, have our fetish restaurants such as Les Bouteilles or our latest discoveries and newest passions, La Raffinerie (chef Nicolas Bourget) and Song Saveur & Sens (chef Nhung Phung) not to forget the magnificent La Mare aux Oiseaux (Michelin starred chef Éric Guérin) an hour outside of the city. But the number of excellent restaurants and extraordinary chefs in Nantes means that we can pursue a culinary adventure, embark on a gastronomic voyage of discovery as often as we step out the door.

The discovery of a new dish confers more happiness on humanity

than the discovery of a new star.

- Brillat-Savarin

Which is why I was thrilled to be invited by Nantes Tourisme and Voyage à Nantes to their party launching the second Restaurant Guide les Tables de Nantes 2013. The guide offers a selection of 97 restaurants in Nantes and surrounding suburbs, 31 more than last year’s guide, as well as a selection of wine bars. The committee representing Nantes Tourisme and Voyage à Nantes, in partnership with Nantes Métropole and Vins de Loire, set out to promote the quality and diversity of the city’s establishments by selecting and highlighting those restaurants and chefs who use – with respect - fresh, local ingredients with a special mention of those who also feature and serve regional wines. Service and ambiance in conjunction with the creativity and savoir-faire in the kitchen and on the plate each play an important role in creating an all-around sensory dining experience, a pleasurable culinary voyage and thus qualifying for the guide.

But the soirée and the guide held a special bonus for those of us who love a perfect gastronomic experience… who love to eat: Les Coups de Coeur, the Jury’s Favorites… the special mention of 3 restaurants who are not so much “the best” but rather special discoveries that are not only worth the visit but worth following. The 3 restaurants designated, the 3 young chefs selected not only highlight the best of Nantes’ produce and ingredients, but raise them to something extraordinary, offering the diner a sensational gustatory and sensory experience while keeping in the spirit of la cuisine nantaise. This years’ Coups de Coeur were

 Les Chants d'Avril (Chef Christophe François) *

Lulu Rouget (Chef Ludovic Pouzelgues) *

L'U.Ni (Chef Nicolas Guiet) *

And lucky were we to be offered a taste of each of these 3 young chefs’ creations while we chatted the rest of the evening away. With glasses of Muscadet, bien sur.

I sit and flip through my own copy of this lovely little booklet and see many names I recognize and a few that I don’t. Voyage à Nantes, The Journey to Nantes, was created to promote ”the rich cultural and culinary panorama” that is Nantes. Through projects, happenings and events, the visitor is accompanied and guided through this wonderful city on a “cultural trail”, offering each and every perspective of the city and her heritage, to share the beauty, art and complexity of our modest, diverse city in a clear, concise way. Les Tables de Nantes does the same for food, accompanying the visitor – and the local – on a gastronomic, gustatory trail of discovery and delight. We may be a rather small city, but don’t be fooled! Nantes is most definitely a gastronomic destination as is so evident in the pages of Les Tables de Nantes!

Please visit the websites for:

Le Voyage à Nantes

Les Tables de Nantes

La Folle Journée

Les Machines de l’Ile

Nantes Tourisme

Vins de Loire

A special thank you to Florence of Nantes Tourisme and Marie-Laure of Voyage à Nantes for the invitation… and for finally including me in the family of local food bloggers/journalists! 

* Photos of the 3 chefs are courtesy of Les Tables de Nantes and Voyage à Nantes! Merci!

** The Creator, who made man such that he must eat to live, invites him to eat by means of appetite, and rewards him with pleasure.
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FAR BRETON AUX GRIOTTES – CHERRY FAR

it seems that we are a long way removed from the discreet combinations of flavors, 

thought out at length, that were once the basis of French gourmandise. . . 

- Colette, Prisons et paradis, 1933 

Hand in hand, bundled up against the wild wind, we picked our way along the old stonewall above a narrow stretch of beach somewhere between Ploudalmézeau and Plouguemeau. Quaint picture-postcard fishing villages dot the coastline, those low stonewalls the only protection against the wild waves of tempests. This single day was sunny and bright although sweaters and coats were necessary even for a spring day up in this spectacular, wind whipped, chilly part of the country. Our faces often turned towards the warmth of the sun, we watched brave Bretons frolic in the frigid water, fishermen tying and untying rope, dogs romp in the mud and old locals and tourists alike wander the tiny cobbled streets. We poked through pretty little shops displaying bowls for cider, plates for crêpes and picture postcards as we breathed in the fresh, bracing air and built up an appetite.

We have always adored visiting Brest, visiting Brittany since the first time husband and I drove out to the very tip of France the day after our marriage, a poor-man’s honeymoon but one filled with friends, food, laughter and romance. Extravagant, awe-inspiring landscapes, Bretons have come to live within the rules set by Mother Nature, coexisting with the elements rather than trying to tame them. Mornings at waterfront markets or afternoons meeting the boats at port to buy fresh seafood, in between tiptoeing through ancient Celtic monumental stone piles, we have travelled from one end of Brittany to the other from the pre-historic to the modern, from the islands off the coast to art and music festivals in the city. From sweet, ethereal crêpes swimming in salty butter and crunchy with sugar to savory galettes stuffed with Andouille and sweet apples or thick slabs of gooey goat cheese, from local gariguette strawberries from Plougastel to tiny black bigorneaux snails, their dense, slick black bodies pulled out of the shells with straight pins and plump crabs eaten with bare hands, dipped in butter or homemade mayonnaise all washed down with bottles of cider, the food of Brittany is worth the trip itself.

Happily we live at what was once – and again attains to be – the southern tip and proud capital of Brittany and the fresh ingredients we find on our market are still pungent of the sea, and the food we eat out is Brittany at its best, albeit with a local twist. We had eaten the famous Prat ar coum oysters in our own tiny corner of Brittany and when invited by friends to spend a short vacation in Brest husband knew he had to track these treasures at their source, eat them straight out of the water. Some men offer their women diamonds or rubies, others bundles of roses or boxes of chocolates. Mine offers me oysters and lobster. We found their vivier – the warehouse, cement floors, men and women decked out in rubber boots, rubber aprons and rubber gloves stomping through puddles from tank to huge tank, scooping out live beasts, crabs, lobsters, clams galore and bagging them for clients, or shoving them in the floor-to-ceiling cookers so one could then head home with freshly-steamed seafood, yes we found the warehouse where chefs and fishmongers, locals and tourists alike stand elbow to elbow waiting patiently, ogling the living treasures as in some museum, pointing out the one wanted. Heaven! And nestled behind the vivier, hidden away from all but the most devoted, the most curious, was a tiny restaurant.

And that night we returned and dined on oysters and fresh lobster with glasses of crisp white wine. And as we were finishing, sated and content, we spied a woman through the fading light of late evening slowly heading towards the restaurant from a house off in the distance, its light-infused windows bright and cheery. And she was carrying a large baking tray fresh from the oven, if the tea towels with which she was gripping the pan were any clue. And as she got closer, as she stepped through the door of the diningroom we saw that she was carrying in dessert baked in her own home at the end of the lane. A Far Breton. What else? The only dessert on the menu. And thick, creamy slabs, warm and tender, of that Far were served to each diner dusted simply with powdered sugar and husband and I went home that night, arm in arm, happy.

 Far aux Griottes

Far aux Pruneaux

Far Breton, one of Brittany’s secret gems, a delicious local specialty, is a dense, oven-baked, custard-like flan only creamier, lighter than the one most of us are familiar with, and it is usually and traditionally studded with sweet prunes macerated in rum. The batter is very much like crêpe batter but with just a tad of flour. All one needs to make a perfect Far is the best quality eggs, butter, salted of course, sugar, flour and whole milk along with fruit, whether prunes, apricots, apples or other, although my son adamantly prefers his plain with no fruit at all. My recipe comes from my friend Isabelle, a true Bretonne, a Frenchwoman born and bred. Yet as she, like my own husband and every French friend I have, cooks and bakes au pif, literally by the nose, by instinct, with no recipe at hand, I had to fiddle and play with what she wrote down for me, try it again and again until I had reached perfection. Until my husband, a smile playing on his lips, sighed, “now THAT is a Far!”

You might also want to try:

 Isabelle’s wonderful Orange Cake

A traditional Apple Flognarde

Lemon Raspberry Flan




FAR BRETON AUX GRIOTTES
This is an ideal recipe for winter or when cherries are not in season (or are too pricey) when you still crave this sweetest of fruits. I always have a jar or two of sour cherries – griottes – in my pantry for when the cherry craving hits. If you want to make the traditional Far Breton aux Pruneaux with dried prunes and rum, follow the link here).

1 cup drained jarred pitted cherries
3 large eggs
½ tsp vanilla, optional
4 Tbs (60 g) sugar
4 gently rounded (not heaping) Tbs (70 g) flour
Pinch salt (add 2 pinches salt if using unsalted butter for the dish)
2 cups (450 ml, just under ½ litre) whole milk
1 Tbs (15 g) salted butter for the baking dish

Prepare the batter about 2 hours ahead of baking.

Drain the jarred cherries reserving the liquid/juice for another use.

Break the 3 eggs into a medium-sized mixing bowl and whisk until very well blended. Whisk in the vanilla if using and the sugar. Gradually and carefully add in the flour and salt combined, whisking in a few tablespoons at a time and blending until you obtain a smooth, lump-free paste after each addition. Once all of the flour/salt is blended in and the batter is very smooth, creamy and thick, stir in about a third of the milk to loosen the batter. Stir or whisk in the milk in an additional 2 or 3 additions, being careful not to splatter!

Cover the bowl of batter with a plate and set aside at room temperature to rest for at least 2 hours.

Preheat the oven to 425°F (220°C).

Put the butter in a glass/Pyrex or terra cotta baking dish measuring approximately 12 x 8 x 1 ½ – inches (30 x 21 x 3 cm) – my second Far was baked in an 8-inch (21-cm) square baking dish – and place in the hot oven until the butter melts. Carefully remove the baking dish from the oven and swirl as to spread the butter around the dish. Brush to evenly coat both the bottom and the sides of the dish. Spread the drained cherries evenly over the bottom of the baking dish. Whisk the batter to blend then pour the batter over the fruit.

Place the baking dish in the oven and immediately lower the oven temperature to 375°F (190°C) and bake the Far Breton until just firm, puffed and golden around the edges and bottom, about 30 minutes.

The Far Breton is best eaten warm, dusted with powdered sugar. Once it cools to room temperature or is chilled in the refrigerator, it firms up further and has a slightly denser consistency like that of a good flan, yet still remains creamier than a classic flan.

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HEAVENLY CHOCOLATE CINNAMON BUNDT CAKE

BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING… 

A renovation. A move. An election. I have been wrapped up in all of the nerve-wracking, nail-biting excitement, bogged down with so much frustrating, passionate activity. It has taken me away, dragged me body and soul from my work, my writing, even my cooking and baking. Lunches were more often than not sandwiches bought at the corner bakery washed down with cans of cola; dinners were more often than not pizza or kabobs. Evenings found us blottis, slumped on the sofa, cocooned deeply in layers of blankets and pillows, too exhausted both physically and mentally to do anything other than zone out in front of a movie. Nothing outside of those three activities got done in any way, shape or form. Now, I tell you one thing, I could always drag this on and on as we are still surrounded by cartons and suitcases, there are still walls to be finished and lighting fixtures to be hung. I could use this as an excuse, the excuse of the lazy, to procrastinate further, to put off until tomorrow what I should do today. But as much as I truly think that I needed that break, needed to step away for a few weeks from the expectations and deadlines, I am actually anxious to get back to work.

Focus is necessary. A clean kitchen and an orderly workspace are crucial. The head must be perfectly clear of worry, the body free from stress, the marriage in perfect working order, the children…well at their age nothing is guaranteed. A place for everything, as the old saying goes, and everything in its place. We need to create a Zen environment, Feng Shui for the soul. Bottles of wine lined up on the countertop, grumps kept at arm’s length and if all goes well I might just get a little writing done.

Although toolboxes still clutter the entryway and odds and ends litter the floors, our kitchen is in good working order, the oven a dream, the stovetop burning and spluttering away non-stop as our pleasure in cooking is renewed. Husband and I have taken turns preparing homey, warming, comforting meals while the other sits perched on a stool on the other side of the island, chattering, typing or just keeping company. Sausages with lentils, a traditional Potée Limousin, chicken and mushrooms even cheese fondue and the scents and warmth pervade our new apartment turning a house into a home. Marty slips and slides across the new parquet flooring, hoping, waiting for some tasty tidbit to flip up and plop onto the floor.

I have now also set up shop in the kitchen, my laptop no longer teetering atop a pile of cookbooks and magazines on the edge of a small stand in front of our dusty, crumb-spewing toaster nor sitting on the rickety, rocking table collecting flour and sugar in between the keys, getting butter smeared across the screen and losing internet if I close the door for privacy. I can now keep one eye on the cake in the oven, jump up and give a stir to whatever is simmering on the fire and keep typing, keep writing, keep chatting to my heart’s content. And, yes, I can now get back to my regularly scheduled program…

But just wait a minute there…. Not the regular regularly scheduled programming! You see, with the new home and the new workspace and the new outlook, I have decided to embrace my lovely city of Nantes and begin a journey of discovery… my own and yours. I recently attended a soirée dedicated to Le Guide Les Tables de Nantes and connected with Nantes Tourisme and Voyages à Nantes, organizations devoted to everything cultural and gastronomic about my city so I will be sharing more with you. I have also been schlepping around… oh no, sorry, strolling the streets of Nantes armed with an iphone and seeing the world through other eyes, noting the beautiful, the comic, the historic, excited at the multitude of layers and cultures surrounding me, in hidden view for all the world to see if only the world would stop and look. And these I will continue to share with you.

And Ilva, Jeanne, Meeta and I are now well ensconced in the organization of our next From Plate to Page workshop. How does Dublin, Ireland in the lovely month of May sound to you? We are tightening up the program, readying our famous post-it note challenges and have even dusted off our old website and shined it all up spiffy new…. And to kick it all off, we are offering all of our readers a very creative challenge with the chance to win one of our Somerset Plate to Page goodie bags…just read all about it here!

And in between, I have been baking. After my comforting Apple Almond Bundt Cake I craved something rich and chocolate. I returned to a favorite recipe, the Heavenly Chocolate Cupcakes, and turned it into a Bundt cake. Although, I will admit here, that the most-distinctive Bundt bumps stuck to the non-stick pan when turning it out, yet the cake came out perfect despite this gentle glitch! As I wrote in the Cupcake post:

I decided to delve into Abigail Serves, the community cookbook put together, under the watchful and formidable eye of my mother’s aunt, Great Aunt Mae in 1956. Abigail Serves is the collected recipes of The United Order of True Sisters of Albany, New York. Perusing the yellowed, faded pages of this self-published cookbook, I couldn’t help myself when I came across Heavenly Chocolate Cake; with such a name, who could resist? Before the days when adding a box of pudding mix to cake batter was all the rage, this recipe is based upon this very idea to create a dense, moist cake. A chocolate pudding-like cream or custard is prepared with sugar, milk, cocoa powder and an egg then added to the cake batter to create a luxuriously thick and creamy mixture. Once baked, the cake is a deep, dark chocolate, the sweetness perfectly balanced, the texture extra moist without being overly gooey and dense. Light, fluffy yet moist and tender, full-flavored, the chocolate kissed by the barest hint of espresso as I decided to replace some of the water in the batter with prepared coffee. Add to that chocolate’s best friend, cinnamon, and pour it all into a Bundt pan and you have the ideal cake. No frosting needed, although lightly sweetened whipped cream never hurt anyone.

I love Bundt cakes and want to share this with Lora and Anuradha for their #BundtAMonth challenge Spicy November! Go to either of their blogs on the posts that I have linked to and see all this months fabulous entries!

And looking for even more fantastic Bundt cake recipes? How about

Grand Marnier Bundt with Chocolate Ganache Glaze

 Chestnut Fondant Bundlets

Chocolate Chip Yeast Kuchen Bundt

Glazed Lemon Bundt

Apple Almond Bundt

Chocolate One-Bowl Emergency Bundlets







HEAVENLY CHOCOLATE CINNAMON BUNDT CAKE

For the chocolate cream:

¾ cup (150 g) sugar
¾ cup (75 g) unsweetened cocoa powder
¾ cup (185 ml) milk
1 large egg

For the batter:

2/3 cup (150 g) unsalted butter
1 ¼ cups (250 g) sugar
3 large eggs
2 ¼ cup (260 g) sifted flour (sifted BEFORE measuring, not measured then sifted)
1 tsp salt
½ tsp baking powder
1 tsp ground cinnamon
2/3 cup (165 ml) cold water (replace half or all of the water with prepared coffee)
1 tsp vanilla
1 ¾ tsp baking soda
¼ cup (62 ml) warm water

Prepare the Chocolate Custard:

Whisk the sugar, cocoa powder, milk and egg together in a medium saucepan until thick, creamy and very smooth. Place the saucepan over low heat and very gently bring to a low boil. Whisking constantly, continue to cook for 2 to 3 minutes longer until it becomes a thick sauce or custard. (Once the mixture is heated, the sauce thins and then re-thickens as it cooks.) Remove from the heat, set aside and allow to cool. As I use Le Creuset, which continue to heat even after the pan is removed from the flame, I immediately scraped the custard into a heatproof Pyrex bowl to cool.

Prepare the cake:

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Generously butter one classic Bundt pan or a smaller 8 ½- or 9-inch in diameter (22-cm) and about 3 ½-inch high (9-cm) fluted pan.

In a large mixing bowl, cream the butter and sugar until blended and light. Beat in the eggs one at a time just until blended. Beat or stir in the chocolate custard in a few additions, blending thoroughly. Stir the sifted flour, baking powder, salt and cinnamon together; beat the flour mixture into the batter in three additions alternating with the cold water in two, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients. Add the vanilla.

Dissolve the baking soda in the warm water then stir quickly into the cake batter until very well blended. Pour into the prepared Bundt pan and bake in the preheated oven for 40 minutes to 1 hour, depending upon both your oven and the size of the Bundt pan being used until risen, the cake is set and a tester inserted in the center comes out dry.

Allow to cool on a rack for at least 10 or 15 minutes before running a sharp knife around the cake or loosening and turning out onto the rack to cool completely.

Take a bigger bite ...