[Matcha green tea marble brioches]

brioche matcha loaf

With no rational reason except that those brioches looked terribly good, I decided to venture into the realm of feuilletage.

Once again. Although, this time, my kitchen did not come with a rolling pin.

I could have bought one on my recent visit to Pages. I almost did in fact. But eventually got out from the shop carrying many cercles [rings], a couple of knives, a sugar thermometer, and some ramekins.

brioche rising

Quite providentially, my kitchen did come with too many empty wine bottles to admit it; let’s be honest, I had five of them sitting on the counter.

In my defence, I must tell you they have been there for weeks, not just since the last waste removal day, which was – let me think – this morning.

brioche matcha

Armed with the one bottle that seemed fit for the occasion – read perfectly cylindrical, label removed – I went straight for the recipe. And then realised the folding instructions were in Japanese.

Now, why my kitchen did not come with full wine bottles? At that point, I could have used a glass.

Instead, I started doodling, only to realise my panic attack was pointless. A simple tour double.
Just like for puff pastry.

brioche-tour-double

I made the dough. Left it to rise. Made the matcha filling. Chilled it. Then, I started rolling and folding, and rolling and folding.

Somehow, my dreamlike vision of the use of wine bottles as rolling pins vanished when the filling started leaking and the dough stuck to the bottle.

brioche log

My counter ended up green, so did my fingers.

But that’s okay.

First, because I like green. And second, because I see no problem whatsoever in licking green fingers when they taste like matcha.

brioche matcha bite

One lesson I have learnt from this experience: get yourself a decent rolling pin girl.

If unlike me – and probably not unlike every person around the world – you own a rolling pin, then I urge you to make these brioches. With green tea, or if you’re feeling a little more subversive, with cocoa powder.

brioche loaf tin

Brioches marbrées au thé matcha
Adapted from Les carnets d’une connasse parisienne.

Don’t be scared with all the rolling pin action here. These brioches are very easy to make, and a teart to eat.

Soft and fragrant.

When it comes to yeasted dough’s, my favourite kneading technique – which I learnt at school – is quite close from this one. I wish I could make a video to show you, but for now, the explanations of Richard Bertinet will have to do.
I don’t do it the exact same way, but the throwing and folding are similar. Trust me, this kneading technique is a keeper.

If you’re going to use cocoa powder instead of matcha, go for 20g of powder. And then proceed as follow.

Brioches marbrées au thé matcha

makes 12 small brioches, or 6 small and a loaf bread.

for the brioche dough
300g strong flour
60g cater sugar
one tsp dehydrated yeast
125g whole milk
one egg
50g butter, diced and at room temperature

In a large bowl, combine all the ingredients except for the butter and mix until it forms a rough dough.
On an unfloured surface, start kneading the dough incorporating the butter as you do so until it forms a smooth ball; around 8 minutes.
Place the dough back into the bowl – covered with a cloth – and leave in a warm place for 2 hours or until double in size.

for the matcha filling
80g milk
one egg white
50g caster sugar
20g flour
20g matcha green tea
10g butter

Bring the milk to the boil. While it’s heating, mix the white and sugar in a bowl until combined. Mix in the flour and matcha green tea, and beat until homogeneous.
When the milk is boiling, pour it over the matcha mixture, whisking as you do so. Transfer back into the pan, and cook on medium heat until thick. Mix in the butter.
Spread it on a baking tray lined with cling film, around 20x15cm. Chill.

for the shaping

Remove any air from the brioche dough by gently patting it down, then roll it into a 30x20cm rectangle. Place the matcha filling in the middle, then fold the dough over it, sealing the extremities together. Roll into a longer rectangle, then make a tour double. Repeat the folding one more time, then roll the dough back into a 30x20cm.
Roll the dough onto itself to form a log. Trim the ends, then using a sharp knife, slice into 3cm-thick segments.
Butter 12 5.5cm-wide rings, and place the slices into them, cut side up. Or if you’re making a loaf, arrange six slices into a loaf tin, and the remaining slices into rings.
Cover loosely with cling film, and allow to rise for 30 to 45 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 180°C, and bake for 15 to 20 minutes.