In my world, nothing matches the happiness of being in love. As a matter of fact, I love being in love. The goosebumps, the thrill, the excitement.

Nothing. Except, perhaps, the development process of a new pâtisserie. It starts with an idea, jotted down in a small notebook. Always the same black leather bound. Always the same felt tip pen.

And then, I get dirty. Taste. And adjust.

Most of the times, it’s far from perfect. But despite being the entremet girl that I am, I still feel that rush whenever I manage to come up with something that doesn’t look like a stack of sponge, mousse and intérieur.

I like to call it minimalism. When in fact, it’s just the result of my inability to decompose and arrange on a plate.

The latest victim was a lovely white chocolate and honey sponge with poached apricots and a quenelle of pistachio ice-cream. And trust me, it tasted pretty damn fine.

So I plan to share the recipe. And rant about how I wish I was better at making desserts look pretty. As soon as I will have caught up with my bed. I miss it. So.

To me, nothing feels as comforting as the perfumes that always filled my great grandmother’s house. That slight musky scent from the thin layer of dust, which used to cover the bibelots that sat on the wooden shelves. Those green, almost lemongrass-like, notes – most certainly la verveine [verbena herbal-tea] she had before going to bed every night after a perfectly cooked meal washed down with a glass of red wine and some squares of bitter chocolate.
We used to get on so well. Me, the 8 year-old and her, still glowing after 85 years of a forceful life. I miss her. And her fragrance; at least, the fragrance I think about whenever Mémé comes to my mind. A pungent aroma; a combination of caramel, floral honey and almonds. Les florentins.

I loved to spend the day with her. I would watch her knitting or stitching the beautiful table cloth she later offered to my mum. After lunch, she would start making some sweet treats for le goûter; whether it was some gauffres, crêpes or sablés. But, really, nothing could beat her florentins.
She always started by making a caramel with sugar and honey, then deglazing it with full-fat cream. She would toast some roughly chopped blanched almonds, add them to the golden-brown caramel, and pour this over a thin layer of pâte sablée. I can remember the countless times when I burnt myself by trying to pick some of the piping hot almond and caramel mixture with my fingers. Patience has never been one of my virtues; definitely never.

She’s gone for seven years now and yet I hadn’t found the courage to make her florentins. But well, sometimes life pushes you and before you realise it you’re doing something you never thought yourself capable of.
One day, still an intern at Pierre Hermé Paris, as I arrived to the laboratoire, I was told by Guilhem ‘aujourd’hui, on fait les florentins‘ [today, we'll make florentins]. This was my fate after all. So I made florentins. And tasted them. The happy memories brought by the first bite made my day. I wasn’t sad. It just felt natural. As if I had been rewarded for those seven years of patience during which I didn’t make or eat florentins. Trust me, those were tough years. Make them and wonder how I managed to resist for so long. Mémé je t’aime fort.

Les florentins de mon arrière grand-mère
Adapted from Mémé’s recipe and inspired from Pierre Hermé’s process.

My great grandmother’s florentins’ recipe is quite close to Pierre Hermé (I’m just she would have jumped from joy if she knew it). However, she didn’t use orange peels and obviously didn’t need a thermometer, which I certainly couldn’t do without. But then, she could make candied chestnuts – something I tried and screwed during the holidays.
She also used coarsely chopped almonds while I decided to go for sliced almonds, just because they look pretty.

Regarding the steps, none of them is difficult. You simply have to make sure to spread the caramel and almond mixture quickly enough so it doesn’t get all sticky. The key is to work fast on a hot pastry crust. If this sounds intimidating to you, you can toast the almonds slightly before incorporating them to the caramel so its temperature doesn’t drop too much.

Before I start I should warn you. When I’m sick, I love to complain. And well, as my body temperature has now reached 39.7°C, I guess I wouldn’t be wrong if I said I am indeed ill. For the third time in less than a month.
I’m really starting to wonder where the heck my lucky-start has gone.
Note: you, yes you know who you are, who have stolen *my* star. Please bring it back. Right now.

Does anyone care about the fact that I’m so sick I can’t move from my bed (only slightly exaggerating here)? Hmmm not really. I know you want sophisticated desserts. And eye-catching entremets. And sweet tarts. And fluffy cakes. And trust me, I want them too. But right now only soups and savoury comfort food seem to be right. Foodbeam might turn into soupbeam. How yummy is that?

Today, while the pain killers were slowly making their job – giving me a couple of hours of relied, I made what appeared to be the best for me. Something with honey. To soothe my sore throat, you know. Something with rosemary. Known, along with thyme, as being a natural anti-bacterial agent. Something with cheese. Just because I love cheese.
It was good. And I’m sure that if I could smell, I would have referred to it as great. I might have to taste it again later during the week, when I’ll finally be better (although, I’m so pessimist right now that I feel like it’s never going to end – never).

By chance, the cake – or loaf cake, in correct English – was a doodle to make. The egg whites are whipped. The egg yolks, honey, butter, rosemary and flour are mixed. The egg whites are folded in. The cheese is eaten and what remains is incorporated into the batter. The loaf is baked and left to cool. The loaf is good.

Cake au miel, romarin et gorgonzola
Adapted from Elle à table.

This loaf is moist and flavourful. Egg whites, baking powder and baking soda are used as leaveners. But its fluffiness mostly comes from the egg whites, so you should take care to whip them until they for firm peaks.
The recipe calls for gorgonzola, but I decided to use gorgonzola-mascarpone cheese since that’s what I had in my fridge. But to be honest, I do think it added pleasing creaminess without cutting too much on the flavour.
The honey isn’t too noticeable. Just enough to bring a great contrast with the saltiness of the cheese.
As you can see from the picture, my loaf quickly became dark on top. SO do not hesitate to cover it with foil after 30 minutes.

My dad makes the finest apple tart ever. I mean, he truly does.
The crust is thin and crisp. Although, he uses store-bough rolled shortcrust pastry, he gets it paper-thin by making good use of his favourite wooden rolling pin. The apples are soft, sweet and packed with flavour. In order to achieve such perfect results, he finely grates the apples and slightly drains them. Then, he coats them with melted organic honey and a touch of cinnamon. The fragrant apples are finally arranged into the tart crust and baked in a high oven until golden-brown.
Seriously, the best tart ever.

Today, however, I’m not going to talk about my dad’s tart. Nope. Not that it’s a secret or anything. I mean, I just gave you the recipe. So go along with it and lick the juices that are running on your fingers (I guess it’s time for me to admit that I eat most foods with my fingers, ooops).
So today, I’m going to share with you my new favourite apple tart recipe. It is certainly not nearly as classical as my father’s, but it’s damn yummy. Tarte aux pommes rapées, au miel et au poivre noir [black pepper, honey and apple tart].

If you thought the pictures from those posts were ugly, please welcome these ones with kindness. See, I do screw up with my camera. A lot. And hopefully, other bloggers do too, they just don’t show the said-pictures (please tell me I’m not 100% mistaken). I don’t have a proper excuse, but well, the weather was very cloudy today and my room was dark so I couldn’t get what I was looking for. Anyway, the tart is good. Spicy and sweet. I mean spicy-spicy and fairly sweet.

Tarte aux pommes rapées, au miel et au poivre noir

I must admit that this tart is somewhat original. This, mostly comes from the use of black pepper in the crust.
I make a simple pâte brisée [shortcrust pastry] to which I add caster sugar and freshly ground black pepper. I think the heat brought by the pepper nicely complements the sweetness of the apples and honey.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes, I do feel like I’m getting insane. Wait, I am insane.
I just signed up for NaBloPoMo. Yes, I know, I’m five-day late. And yes, I know – or more accurately – I don’t know how the heck I am going to post every single day for the next thirty days.

Although there are chances that I’m not insane already, check back around the 5th of December and then, you shall find a haggard-looking-and-incoherent-talking me.
I warned you.

My insanity might sound exciting to you but to be honest, I’m quite not looking forward to it. Coincidentally, I also happen to be clever (and modest) and found the remedy to my expected breakdown: diversion.

It occurs every year. Sometime, between September and November, I re-discover how wonderful tarts are. Indeed, most of my tart-baking takes place during autumn, when leaves are bright red and winds become icy.

I have to admit though, that I do like a summer tarte aux fruits rouges et à la crème pâtissière; but warm, hearty tarts always feel perfect yet special. And it shows: apple tart, pumpkin pie, nutella tart, fig and almond crostata and tarte au citron meringuée are favourites in my house.
What is that thing that makes tarts so appropriate for autumn days?
I think they are the ideal way to celebrate autumn harvest. A simple crust makes for the most humble look and emphasises the quality of the produce.

When I spotted that beautiful walnut and honey tart in Skye Gyngell’s A year in my kitchen, I immediately liked it – the materialisation of my dream tart. Simply the best way to enjoy the delicious organic honey and the fresh walnuts my grand-mother gave me.

Is anyone still thinking about how insane I am? See, I’m that good at diversion.

Delicious honey and walnut tart
Adapted from Skye Gyngell’s A year in my kitchen

This tart is downright delicious. It is sweet, but the slight bitterness of the walnuts nicely balances the creamy honey flavour.
The pastry is a doodle to work with. Just mix everything until it comes together, chill and roll. It doesn’t shrink during cooking and yields to a crisp flaky crust.
The filling, a combination of walnuts (I used fresh ones – better enjoy them now as the season is really short) and honey butterscotch sauce, is yummy.
I served it with a dollop of good AOC Isigny crème fraiche to bring tanginess and a creamy texture.
Now, that’s comfort for a cold autumn day.
This tart will keep well for 3 to 4 days. So you really have no reasons not to make it.