[A small rabbit is hidden in the garden - Groseillier]

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Let me tell you something that happened almost fifteen years ago.
At this time my favourite comptine had to be:
Un petit lapin s’est cache dans le jardin
Cherchez moi
Coucou coucou
Je suis caché sous un chou

Lissant sa moustache
Le chasseur passe et repasse
Mais il ne voit rien du tout
Le lapin mange le chou

I used to sing it all day long. And when I say all day long, I really mean it.
As you can imagine, this had the worst effect on my parents. Sure they would praise my singing talents for the first few turns, but after an hour of un petit lapin, they would undeniably get slightly irritated.
However, as nice parents they wouldn’t stop my creativity by sending me to my room with the interdiction d’ouvrir la bouche [literally: open the mouth; meaning talking/singing].
No, they wouldn’t do that. Instead they would nicely escort me to the garden and tell me to sing as loud as I could.
I usually did that for a couple of minutes and then, exhausted by so much ingenuity ;), I’d go play with the dog.

One Sunday morning, you know the very special one: the one you’ve been waiting for all year long – Easter; anyway, this Sunday morning I woke up unusually early.
I was too excited to sleep.
I obviously ran into my parents’ room, wanting to wake them up. But nobody was there.
I started shouting. Maman, Papa…
After an instant, my mum answered back: Fanny, on est dans le jardin [Fanny we're in the garden].
It took me less than a second to join them.
I was all bouncy, just by the thought of chocolate eggs and bunnies. I couldn’t understand why we were staying there so still while tons of chocolate treats were waiting for us – sages comme des images – in the garden.
But then, when my dad hand me a little furry ball it all made sense. It was a rabbit. Yes, an actual rabbit – no chocolate involved.
Voila ton petit lapin Fanny.
Fais attention à ce qu’il ne se cache pas dans le jardin!
[Here is your little rabbit. You should make sure he won't hide in the garden].

You should have seen my face – the real meaning of happiness.
Happy Easter everyone!

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That Easter we didn’t eat any chocolate, my mum made a delicious entremet au fruits rouge [berry entremet] instead.
And so I did this year.

Groseillier
This entremet – composed of a light génoise, a redcurrant compote, a vanilla chiboust and an Italian meringue -, has been named after the tree that gives redcurrants.
Indeed, in French, a redcurrant is a groseille.

This is very light and fragrant. I love the way the berry compote balances the sweeteness of the meringue.
Perfect for any occasion, plus it adds a new dessert to your Easter recipe collection – a great change from the traditionnal fraisier pascal (after fraise – strawberry) that comes after every Easter lunch in France.

Althought the recipe is kept secret, it won’t be difficult for you to combine your favourite recipes for a genoise, a redcurrant compote, a vanilla chiboust and an Italian meringue to get a luscious groseillier!

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Posted by fanny who loves berries, entremets, spring, words