As I was diligently peeling a stampede of organic lemons to turn them into neat candied squares – a pretty lengthy task if you consider all the steps involved – the pungent scent brought down memories of a now long-gone day.

Rewind.

As Guillaume wakes up – or more accurately, as I push the snooze button of our alarm clock every two minutes, giving him a repeat-hug to gently get him to emerge from his dreamless sleep – I suddenly realise that today is my much-longed-for day-off.

After more minutes that I will dare to divulge, Guillaume slowly walks to the bathroom, and I can’t resist to fall back asleep with the soothing sound of falling waters tickling my ears.

It’s now almost eleven aye-emm, and after a quick bath – my very own luxury – I hop onto the bus towards High Street Kensington. Read: towards Whole Foods.

On my way back, white flakes begin to fill the skies. By the time I reach the door to our flat, the streets, trees, and sadly for my tendency not to resist to any slippery surface, the sidewalks are coated with thick snow.

It’s damn cold outside, and the heat I find at home feels unbearable.

Until I look through the window only to mentally record the image I see. A white cocoon surrounded my fog clouds.

It’s pretty much one of the most comforting sensation ever. As if I was contemplating my own daily world from above; except it’s now all-quiet, almost like a nature morte.

With such an astounding cosiness, a couple of things were bound to happen. A feel-happy movie, a trip to my very favourite blogs, a nap – taken from the warmth of my thick couette.

The last thing involved flour, baking powder, eggs, sugar, a good dose of lemon, butter, and cream. Also known as cake weekend, this loaf will keep – in the fridge, well-wrapped in cling film – for days.

Oh, and did I mention how easy it is to put together, how pretty it is to look at, and how down-to-the-last-crumb delicious it is to eat?

It is also a damn good reason to use my absolute pâtisserie tour-de-main [process] crush. The one trick you won’t be able to live without.
If you want a life lived in the shadows of neatly cracked cakes, please avoid eye contact with the following lines.

The secret is to pipe a line of butter on the top of your unbaked loaf. Simply cream a couple of tablespoons of butter, and using a piping bag – or as I do, a paper cornet (another playground love, which I should definitely make you discover laterish) – pipe a thin line across the length of the cake.

Bake and allow your eyes to sparkle.

But more than this, this promenade into the past allowed me to discover what pushes me to make a recipe in particular.
I think it says a lot about the pastry chef – not to mention the person – you are. The way you combine coincidences, accidents, facts into a delicious pâtisserie.

And I strongly hope my recipes come across just how people see me. Refreshing, sophisticated yet with an edge, and fun.
This means a lot to me since I have just realised that I am now ready to write a pastry book. It’s always been a dream, a long-term goal, and possibly the one thing – except for my passion – that got me into those not-so-hot pieds-de-poules pants.

Until today, I had never felt the need to write a cookbook. I kept telling myself I had to wait until I would master an actual knowledge on French pâtisserie, and also, until I had a good unexplored book material.

So when the idea came to me on my way to work, I was thrilled.

A book I would have loved to read a couple of years earlier, when I hadn’t yet entered a professional pastry kitchen. And actually, a book I would still love to read now.

It’s still the very beginning of the process, and even though I keep my fingers crossed to the point my joints hurt, the book will possibly never be printed. But I like to challenge myself.

So well, let’s forget about this all, and please go make a cup of your favourite tea – although I couldn’t recommend anything more than a delicate cup of green tea – to sip through the savouring of a thick slice of weekend lemon cake topped with a large spoonful of clementine confit and a dollop of crème fraiche.

Cake weekend au citron et confit de clémentines à la vanille
I feel like I’ve already talked way too much today, so I will now simply urge you to make this. Weekend or not.

Just make sure you fold the flour very delicately into the batter, not to loose any of the air (incorporated in the eggs right at the beginning by much whipping) that gives the loaf cake such a light texture.
Same goes for the fats (both cream and butter; that’s actually the difference between a cake and a weekend cake).

What I usually do is to incorporate vigorously a small amount of batter (around one cup) into the melted – yet not hot – fats, then pour this mixture back into the batter, folding very gently.

As for the confit, you simply need to briefly blanch the whole clémentines a couple of times, before cooling them in ice-cold water. This allows to 1) get rid of the skin’s bitterness, and 2) keep the bright orange colour.
Then proceed as detailed below!

You can certainly make it in advance as it will keep for 5 days in the frigde.

Sometimes seducing a guy is a very easy task: you think, you wink, you double blink – dans la poche [easy peasy].
And other times it just isn’t; no matter how hard a girl tries, nothing happens.Back in 1998, I remember this boy in my class whose hair definitely recalled Son Gohan’s (as a Super Saiyan – c’est evident).
It seemed he fancied anything but me; well he must have changed his mind.
Two years later, when I brought him a jar of some marmalade I had made I saw sparkles in his eyes.
I will never forget that day, the day he fell in love with me.
See! All it needs to win a guy’s heart is a jar of marmalade.

That day was now more than six years ago; though, whenever I try to play the lovely-and-adoring-girlfriend and bring breakfast to bed, I can get two different faces: either the as – grumpy – as – usual or the I – love – you marmalade – so – much.
You’ll guess the latter is only found when a fat pot of marmalade is sitting on the tray.
Hopefully I can never run out of it. Indeed I’m a very lucky girl and have a beautiful bitter orange tree in my garden, which gives dozens of oranges every other year.

Bitter oranges
The oranges from my garden are slightly smaller than regular oranges and thus are perfect for jam making as the pith isn’t too big.
If making marmalade, you must use organic non treated oranges.
Even though my oranges are 100% organic I wash them to get rid of bugs or earth/sand traces.

How does marmalade solidify? – Pip is the word
What I really like about this marmalade is that you don’t have to use any extra pectin as the pips provide enough of this gelling substance.
Pectin is a molecule made of different groupings of polysaccharides (complex sugars) and allows the formation of a gel.
There are two types of pectins: HM and LM which indicates the degree of etherification of the molecule. The higher the etherification, the faster the gel will set.Bitter orange’s pectin and more generally, citrus fruits’ pectin, is HM (High Methoxyl) and can only form a gel in presence of acid (orange) and sugar. What a lucky (and delicious) coincidence!

Here we enclose the pips in muslin bags and soak them in the orange/water mixture so they release their pectin.

Bitter orange marmalade

This is not really a recipe as the quantities of water and sugar are utterly dependent upon how many oranges you have.
What you have to remember is that you’ll need:
1,8kg of water for each kg of orange
1,3kg of caster sugar for each kg of the orange/water mixture
Then you all you have to do is follow the steps. Easy!

Note – the marmalade will look runny at first but will solidify when resting.
It’s quite unusual to let the jars sit, open until the jam is set, but it allows the gel to form evenly.

Note bis – I just love this marmalade spread on hot crusty bread!Note ter – Take in consideration the fact that this marmalade is made over three consecutive days.

From Christine Ferber’s Mes confitures (page 161)

Some weeks ago I decided to have a ‘jam-making’ weekend to celebrate my new cookbook from Christine Ferber.

I had heard lots of positive reviews about Mes confitures and couldn’t resist getting my hands at it.
Thus I randomly picked three recipes – all very vanilla-ish:
- confiture de châtaigne à la vanille [chesnut and vanilla jam]
- confiture de potimarron à la vanille [pumpkin and vanilla jam]
- confiture de tomate rouge à la vanille [tomato and vanilla jam]

Les châtaignes
I love chestnuts and their earthy smell.
They remind me of Christmas; especially of fairs where you would get piping hot chestnuts served in newspaper cones.
And while I’m on a confessional mood I should tell you that I am a severe crème de marron addict.
I can eat it straight from the pot – with a spoon.

Confiture de châtaigne à la vanille
I first thought it was supposed to be like a spread but after having read the recipe twice, I notice Christine doesn’t call for a food mill. She just say ‘crush any big bits with a wooden spoon’.
I find it quite original – chunky crème de marron.

Hence I was slightly disappointed when a lovely lady from Christine Ferber’s shop in Alsace told me it was a smooth jam.
I had had high expectations about a deconstructed crème de marron.

Anyway, it didn’t stop me from boiling the chestnuts and peeling them.
It actually took a lot of time and nerve to peel the chestnuts. I burnt my finger almost a billion times resulting in my poor thumbs being really sore and red!
Hopefully the nearly ready jam will ease my pain. Comfort food, they call it!

Indeed I wasn’t disappointed: the jam turned out as excellent as I expected it to be.
Sweet, but not overly so.
A perfect texture – smooth and grainy, but in a good way.
A delicious nutty taste you don’t get in bought-crème de marron (even the Faugier one).