It’s certainly no exaggeration to say that, no matter how we looked forward to it, winter has swallowed us with its thick coat of snow.

One morning, the temperatures feel a little cold, but the golden leaves we’ve come to love still cover the pavement. And the next day, without a notice, they’re gone.

Or perhaps more accurately, they’re hidden.

It’s been snowing for the past twenty-four hours here in London. And I feel lucky I don’t have to leave the comfort of my home.

Sure, I thought about going for a walk, and possibly make a snowman with friends.

But to be honest, this reassuring sensation of cosiness is one of the things I love the most about winter.

It’s definitely the one season during which I want to indulge.

With baths so hot they almost burn my skin, bread eaten straight from the oven, afternoons spent on the sofa with a good friend, or a chocolate pot de crème eaten way past my bed-time.

Petits pots de crème au chocolat

This is the perfect recipe for long winter nights.
You can make it one day ahead, and in fact, it’s more than advised. This way, the custard has plenty of time to chill and set into a firm silky crème.

The recipe, originally for crème brulée, was suggested by Elliot for one of our set lunch dessert. That week, we caramelised the top and served it with a banana sorbet and a peanut diplomate cream.

It was lovely. Very lovely in fact. But those pots de crème are just as delicious, except in a simpler way.

There is something about early nights that feels like magic.

It can be the glimmer of cheap ikea candles that smell of vanilla. Or the warmth of a pair of chunky mittens.

Or perhaps for you, it’s the cosiness of the blanket you’re wrapped in, while reading a book to your favourite animal; mine currently being a Portuguese-speaking guinea pig called Joseph – which I would have never thought as plausible, the liking a guinea pig that is, not the whole language compatibility issue.

I love early nights because they ooze comfort, and at times, if I’m in the mood for baking, they ooze chocolate as well.

Tonight, the house is empty and quiet. I can hear the rain hit the roof and the heater roar.

The sunset happened just three short hours after I woke up, but it feels like the day has just begun.
In short, the perfect background for the slow-motion day I have been dreaming of.

With no plan, but an empty stomach, I put some music on, preferably something by girls in Hawaii. I light up our gas oven, and mix butter with muscovado sugar, add flour and a touch of baking powder. I chop some valrhona chocolate into chunks.
Getting my hands dirty, I form little pats, put them into a muffin pan and bake.

Yes, there is something magic about early nights. It can be anything you want; wherever and whenever, as long as it’s after the dusk.

For me, it was as easy as soaking a thick and chewy cookie into a cup of hot matcha latte. The photographing part was obviously slightly more difficult, but well, no apologies needed, it’s dark outside.

Chocolate chip cookies
I think I already have more recipes for chocolate chip cookies than needed. I went through different phases, each more successful than the previous one.

Rather evidently, you could use a little whole-wheat flour and I cannot recommend it enough. It gives the cookies a lovely earthy flavour that matches the chocolate and sea salt perfectly.

It seems we made brownies. Yes those brownies.

In between sleeping on the beach, sipping through Pastis glasses, finding a name for the small pâtisserie I will own – one day – in France, buying heaps of vintage things at a vide-grenier, and spending time with my favourite person in the world – namely, my sister.

And well, the brownies are as good as ever. So please, if you haven’t done so yet, run to your kitchen and make a batch.
And keep in mind you can switch caster sugar for demerara or light brown. As delicious, and perhaps even better.

Now, I’m rushing to pack my suitcase as I’m heading on the west side.

But stay still, I have two recipes with apple coming – as in terrine of baked apple, some crisp cinnamon crumble, and an apple and walnut strudel – and one with white chocolate.

Who said autumn is just around the corner? I do think it’s time to forgive the winter. Soon.

Those brownies saved me from the many damages of sleepless nights. You see, I’m that kind of people who wakes up in one go – 4am, 8 am, or 11am… it feels the same to me.
And once that I’m awake, it will take hours to find my sleep – not to mention, lovely dreams filled with acorns and pastries – back.

This hadn’t been a problem in my life so far.

But as Guillaume woke me up forty five minutes before our 7:36am alarm for the eleventh day in a row with half-closed eyes, a giant smile on his face, and only one word to be said: brownies (or more accurately: J’ai envie de brownies), it sort of became one.

A quick look into the prospects of such a situation rushed me to the kitchen.

And here I was, stirring a mixture of butter, cocoa and sugar over a bain-marie at 6:49am; into which I, later, mixed in eggs and flour.

Once my oven was doing what it’s best at, I sat on the counter and looked through the window while sipping a green tea latte.

Seconds later, the barely perceptible blue morning sky grew into a dark grey cloud, and drops of water started hitting the glass.

At that exact moment, it felt like le monde appartient à ceux qui se lèvent tôt [literally, the world belongs to those who rise early].

By 7:17am, the dark-brown appareil had turned into the fugdiest brownies I’ve ever made and filled our flat with a toasty chocolate scent.

And for the record, Guillaume even emerged from bed before the usual wake-up time just to have a couple of slices.

Brownies fondants au cacao
Adapted from Alice Medrich’s Bittersweet (thank you Deb).

When I had my first bite of those insanely fudgy brownies, I felt sorry I hadn’t made them back when I first spotted them on Smitten Kitchen.

At the time, I thought it would be nice to experiment but wasn’t sure the flavour would be au rendez-vous. But I was wrong. Not only the use of cocoa powder provides the brownies with an intense chocolate taste, but it also is the secret to their amazing texture (along with the high quantity of sugar that is).

A new favourite at home!

J’aime: fudge-like cocoa brownies, pretty fabrics, roast pumpkin soup with lots of chili pepper, blooming flowers, perfect macarons, finding the perfect shop for kitchen tools, bright pink rhubarb, sharing a cheap Chinese take-away with Guillaume, polaroid pictures, waking up early, and dark chocolate with maldon sea salt.

Le must: coming up with the most reliable recipe for macarons; after weeks of research. It feels like finding out you had had a treasure lying in your attic for ages.

I’m super happy because these cute little guys are so going to be part of the book I’m – deceptively slowly – trying to write (not this picture though, it was just a mere snapshot taken tonight, on the floor of our bedroom with a table cloth suspended in between two chairs to reduce the incoming light).

I will definitely share some more pictures later this week (or perhaps, more realistically, month) after I post the recipe for the most delicious brownies ever and the funny story that goes behind them.

To me, the last hours of a year are always filled with expectations, excitement, and dreams.

As a matter of fact, I have been dreaming a lot lately. Possibly because my 9am/11pm day life is quite very busy with mise en place, desserts à l’assiette, afternoon teas, foams, and many more exciting things.

Thus, at night I dream that:
1. I spend a weekly day off with my boyfriend.
2. my hair is not that messy.
3. I become a better pâtissière.
4. I see more daylight.
5. I take the time to capture moments through photographs.
6. our Christmas tree lasts forever.
7. I make beautiful pastries at home.
8. Polaroid film hits the shops again.
9. I have leopard leggings in every possible colour.
10. I take the time to write in my new Moleskine diary.

Oh, and while I’m at it, I should admit that I dream of a puppy dog quite often too. I can’t tell you how happy I would be if only one of those dreams would come true during 2010.

Bring it on!

As for today, I’m afraid it’s nothing near dreamy. But you have to remember that we basically have one wisk, a couple of baking sheets, and that-is-pretty-much-it in our tiny London kitchen.

I did my best to recreate the lovely banana cream pie I had in mind, and trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted to see the kitchen after two of those small tarts were made.

Pulling isomalt without a Silpat is hard. Smoothing whipped cream without a spatula is harder. Piping without a bag is the hardest.

At least, we had a good laugh and a satisfied tummy. Despite the evident lack of sophistication, this tart – or pie – is delicious.

The perfect end to our marathon Christmas lunch.

Banana cream pie with a chocolate mousse quenelle
My secret to this flavourful banana cream pie is to roast the banana in its own skin before mashing it very slightly, and spreading it at the bottom of a crisp tart shell.

Then comes the confiture de lait. You can either make your own by boiling some milk and sugar together to a thick consistency and golden colour, or boil an unopened can of sweetened condensed milk for hours, or even get the ready-made kind.
I must admit I went for a jar of dulce de leche found at Whole Foods since I didn’t really have the required motivation/energy to make it at home. Sometimes, the easy path feels the best.

Since confiture de lait is quite sweet, I prefer to use plain whipped cream to top my pie instead of chantilly.

And before I forget about it: HAPPY NEW YEAR. x

Strangely enough, the past couple of days have – unlike the thousands that came before – felt soothing.

Almost like a slow motion picture.

In fact, this has sort of become a common fact. Every day spent in Entrevaux – a small village surrounded by mountains, and where wearing a Peruvian hat makes it to the local news (well, gossips) for at least a fortnight – seems to last forever.

Definitely a good thing in my book. Especially since Guillaume and I booked our plane tickets to a new life.

On the 7th of November, we’ll be landing in London, scouting for the cutest little flat, and more importantly to the sweetest little jobs as pastry cooks. Any hints are more than welcome!

A one-way ticket. And a promise of busy days ahead. Come what may.

Somehow, the Concorde seemed fit for the occasion. Even though I suspect its name comes from the Parisian place de la Concorde, I can’t help but remember that express Paris to NYC flight.

New and exiting. Just how I feel right now.

Concorde
Adapted from Pierre Hermé.

This entremet might be: 1. from Pierre Hermé, and 2. pretty delicious, it’s nonetheless very easy to make. Picture a simple chocolate mousse sandwiched between crisp yet soft (due to the freezing) chocolate meringue disks.

Then comes the montage [assembling], which requires special care so you have a smooth entremet, reading for glazing. The secret lies in gently pressing down the disks of meringue into the mousse before piping some more mousse, just so that the mousse coats the edges of the disks and don’t form any air bubbles.

Apparently, I told you I was going to come back with something glamourous. Pardon me if I’m mistaken, but in my world, a light cake topped with a delicate mousse feels glamourous.

A fondant au chocolat just doesn’t. It’s plain. It’s dark. And it’s damn good.

So good in fact, I had to write about it right away. Just a couple of hours after I hade made it, as a matter of fact.
If this doesn’t convince you to rush to your kitchen and make this fondant, please do listen carefully.

I made a cake. Took pictures. And blogged about it. In less than twenty-four hours.

…

Since I’m now alone I could let my creativity craziness flow, and ramble about how wonderful it is to blog from a garden table, or how I wish I had the time to change foodbeam’s look, or how I should make a decent portfolio. Oh yes, I could.

But I won’t because I know it’s just going to be a matter of seconds before you realise you left for the kitchen without taking the time to write the recipe down.

Anyway, I think you might have caught something important here: I am a mess. There are so many things I want to do/make/write about, that I just don’t know where to start. So I thought the simpler the better.

I made this cake yesterday with my eight-year old cousin, Sindri, who’s the most adorable little boy ever to be seen. That how simple it gets.
Oh and in case I haven’t mentioned it enough. I am on holidays. In Fouras, my grandparents’ town. And I love it here, so well, I’ll possibly be writing a little more around here during the upcoming weeks.

Fondant au chocolat
adapted from Pascal Lac

As I mentioned above this is a simple recipe. As in many cases, simple does not means average. In fact, this cake is a French classic, and a staple in my house.
It only requires widely available ingredients: chocolate, butter, eggs, sugar and flour; and its confection only needs a dozen of minutes.

The chocolate and butter are melted together. I generally use a microwave (500W for approximately a minute or two) since it’s so convenient, but a water bath would be just as fine.
Then comes the most delicate step: the eggs and sugar are mixed in a heat-resistent bowl over direct heat just so they come back to room temperature. If you don’t feel to work over a flame or simply don’t have gas (electric stoves so remind me of my good old student kitchen), just bring a pan of water to the boil and place the eggs/sugar bowl over it (= water bath again). Mix until just tempered.Finally the two masses are united, and flour is sprinkled over.

If you’re going for the fancy (read individual sized cakes) bakes them at the same temperature, but only for 9 minutes.
In both cases, a knife inserted into the centre of the cake should come out slightly wet with batter, in opposite with the cake edges where the knife would come out clean.
Enough digressing, time for the recipe.

I realise I said the next pâtisserie Lac update would be about how I almost took part to a pastry challenge. To make one long story short, I had made an interesting entremet – hazelnut dacquoise, cream cheese mousse, pumpkin crème brulée, and roast-slash-confit pumpkin – in the aim to submit it to a panel of experienced pâtissiers. But, after a couple of month without hearing from the school, I was called and told I’d start the classes on the exact same week the challenge was hold; read, with less than twenty-four hours of notice.
Not the right time, but definitely the right entremet. That’s why I so intended to share it with you. Sadly, it got eaten quickly and I haven’t found the time to re-make it yet. Soon (as usual).

Short story turned rather longish, and as you might guess, things are pretty busy at the pâtisserie at this time of the year. With more than a thousand of bûches to make, trust me when I say I feel slightly tired; although damn happy would qualify as well.

This Christmas is nothing like I’ve ever had. And totally feels like a new experience, which – needless to say – gets me pretty excited. Imagine how electrifying it is to see Christmas under a new light. Like the new kid on the block. Well, yes, that’s right; I’m that new kid and really enjoy it.

Plus, I’ve finally revealed my true identity – aka, crazily random person who talks way too much (this, they already know about), and takes pictures of the food she makes and writes about it on the internet (the – no-longer – secret) – so I got to photograph every single of the bûches (eight of them, write-up coming as soon as I’ll have found my mental sanity) and a couple of other things. Including those pretty chocolate sapins [Christmas trees] the chocolatiers made.

I also have pictures of the chocolatiers themselves, but you don’t want to see that since they can’t help making funny faces in front of a camera (at least I now have a way to blackmail them if necessary!).

Hopefully, you won’t mind about how random this post is. I’ve barely slept for the past couple of days (hence the don’t-make-sense factor), but I so wanted to give you a glimpse of what actually happens at the pâtisserie these days. And, perhaps most importantly, I wanted to show you how gorgeous nuts, dried fruits and chocolate are when they combine their forces. Delicious too, but I think it’s barely necessary to mention this.

Anyway, I might take a nap now and come back later with a bûches de Noël manifesto.

Coming up next, she who felt like she lived in a forest made of golden plastic trees where the snow would be chocolate mousse (this was clearly written under the influence – of sleep-lack, bûches-making and evident randomness, the title might change or not).

I didn’t really intend to share this loaf cake with you this soon.

But as I was driving back from the pâtisserie, and rain drops started to hit my car window – in what I refer to as the most comforting sound ever – I knew I had to tell you how fabulous and perfect this chocolate cake is.

I made it a couple of weeks ago. On a Sunday, and by Monday it was all gone. Nigella, who once was my very own favourite person in the world before Pierre got in the way, totally re-gained my love and trust.

It might not be the prettiest cake, but just a single bite will make you forget the glossy entremets, and as a side-effect, your worries.

Believe me when I say I would happily sink my teeth into one of those dense yet melting slices. For tea. Every single day.

And maybe, if I did, then everything would look sweet and chocolate-coated; even though I must admit I’m currently so happy that it would take a lot to bring me down.

But well, if for whatever reason (and I know there are many), you’re feeling sad or tired or both, then please, take the time to make this super-easy cake. Hopefully, the sky will clear up, and the next minute, you’ll be your usual happy self.

Cake fondant ultra-chocolaté
Adapted from Nigella Lawson’s Feast.

As you’ll make the batter, you’ll definitely measure how good the cake is. Deeply fragrant, with a melt-in-your mouth texture.
Shall we all thank the cocoa powder. And melted chocolate. And cocoa syrup. And fine chocolate slivers.

However – and trust me, this is a not a problem – the recipe yields to two loafs. But they freeze beautifully, and they texture even benefits from they’re little Aspen-like vacations.