Dreams are tough. High maintenance.

You see after a short five-day week of work, my pile of laundry threatens to swallow my bedroom, the hair pompom I not-so carefully tie has become a knot that now has a life on its own refusing to cooperate; my bed gets shared with a Polaroid camera, the latest Nigel Slater book and more empty water bottles than I dare to admit.

And then, in the midst of this apparent chaos, I realise that what surrounds me does not match how peaceful I feel.

I’m making this for something.

Something that – to my eyes – means everything. And that spoonful of perfectly cooked apples might have something to do with all of this.

In fact, it has everything to do with all this.

Just like a comment from a customer who loved his pumpkin crème brulée served with crème fraîche ice-cream and cinnamon streusel. Just like this idea for a new dessert that made it to one of my dreams, only to be written down on a notebook the following morning and made into a set-lunch dish the next day.

Our lives are tough. We try to solve issues. We deal with people who don’t belong there.

We take it, sometimes with ease, other times with tears or anger.

But all this side doesn’t matter – it affects me, it might even upset me – because deep-inside I know how incredibly lucky I am. No words could describe this feeling.

On the other hand, a bite of this apple terrine would.

Terrine de pommes caramelisées et streusel à la cannelle

More than a recipe, this should be read as a reminder that apples with sugar and butter taste fantastic. Especially during this season.

With a hint of cinnamon and the creaminess brought by either a dollop of thick double cream or a scoop of ice-cream, it makes for the perfect comforting dessert. The kind of them that should be eaten on a couch – preferably by a window.

Here, I served it with riz-au-lait [rice pudding] ice-cream. Because, let’s be honest, nothing can beat its glorious autumn-ness.

But basically, whether you’re planning on making ice-cream or not, just keep in mind: finely sliced apples layered with butter and sugar, baked until soft and almost caramelised. A tatin without a shell. In the end, it’s all that matters. Just like the dreams you have.

I believe in traditions. Mostly, when the air starts to get crisp and the sunsets early.

We have breakfast for dinner. We take pictures out of the doors. We continue knitting a scarf, which was first started a couple of years ago. We roast pumpkins. We have hot chocolate on the patio, cosily wrapped in a blanket. We read written words.

And we make apple strudel.

I believe in traditions that will make our hearts warmer when the temperatures go down.
They surround us with comfort and love.

And this is why I love autumn and winter so much. However, it’s been slightly harder for me this year to find my way through golden leaves and acorns on the pavement.

But as a reminder of why things have to be as such, Anna-Sarah came over and we made a delicious apple, cinnamon and walnut strudel.

Just like we did the year before.

And quite instantly, the whole process of peeling apples, sprinkling them over the stretched dough followed by generous handfuls of cinnamon and walnuts tamed my fear of cold nights.

This time, the cake that so gloriously calls for frosty winds and an amber-brown cup of tea was ready just before the sun went down. And made the perfect end to an otherwise delicious dinner.

A couple of days later, I travelled from one home to another. Landing in London was tougher than I expected. If autumn was just on its way back in France, here things were somewhat different.

And by different, I really mean one thing: rain.

So I decided to make it happen. Armed with a thick wool-scarf and some mitten, I made a pact with myself.

A pact that smelled like grass after a misty day.
A pact that smelled like a piping-hot latte by the Serpentine.

Apple, cinnamon and walnut strudel
Adapted from Claire Clark’s Indulge.

I remember the first time we made this recipe. A perfect day for baking, with rain, wind and even a power-cut.
A year later, it has become our love letter to autumn.

And honestly, who could blame us? Warm and deeply-flavoured, this cake makes for the most comforting thing to eat, let alone to make.
The process involves a lot of dough-stretching, which should not scare you as Claire’s dough is a delight to work with. We always do this in a four-hand style, but I’m pretty confident you could pull this off with just a pair.

That night, we served it with a slightly salty caramel sauce. This one. And it worked perfectly as the filling is not too sweet .

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.

Do you remember that time when cream pies were being thrown at foodbeam? Well, this would be so very appropriate. Again.

The thing is that, aside from the long overdue bûches de Noël manifesto and the launch of la moustache, I’ve made a promise to Tony. A promise about something very exciting.

A taste of Mediterranean. Seven months, seven countries, seven co-hosts, seven prizes. January is all about France. And being the damn-busy-blogger-which-never-actually-posts French girl that I am, Tony asked me to join the team.
We both agreed that tarts would be a pretty sweet theme. Traditional yet versatile. And the very essence of French pâtisserie.

So no cream pies for today; hopefully you’ll like the tarte bourdaloue just as much.

As with many of the pastries I make at home, this tart has its own story. You see, I had to make it. To get ready for my first exam as a pâtisserie apprentie. Yes, you read right. A pastry exam. How terrific does that sound to you?
I must admit, I felt that way too.

A French classic. Crisp and sweet pâte sucrée, rich crème d’amandes, and delicate poached pears. I’m not certain about it, but from memory, I’d say it was named after the street on which it was first created. La rue Bourdaloue.
And, take my words for granted, this tart alone make me wish I had made a little détour by that street.

The recipe, which was handed me down by the school, is too easy to follow to be true. A dream. The pâte sucrée – made of flour, butter, sugar and eggs – gives a sweet shortbread-like dough. Effortless yet one of the best pâtes sucrées I’ve ever made. It’s a treat to work with, making the whole rolling and draping process a matter of seconds. And promise, it won’t shrink in the oven!
The crème d’amandes is a creamy (pleonasm alert!) tart filling made of butter and ground almonds, with a hint of vanilla, and a little flour to bind it all.
The poached pears bring some nice texture, and since they’re not poached in syrup but in water (with many split vanilla beans) they tend to cut the sweetness.

Hopefully, this will have gotten you inspired and you’ll come up with a pretty pretty version of what you perceive as the ultimate French tart. But mostly, have fun and create. And you might end up winning a fifty-dollar gift certificate.

As a side-note, I shall tell you the exam went really well. And yes, I’ll share the actual recipe for this tart soon, but well I’m in London right now with no access to my favourite recipe binder.

Coming up next (for good), she who felt like she lived in a forest made of golden plastic trees where the snow would be chocolate mousse.

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.

There must be something wrong about me people. I mean, something really wrong. I wouldn’t be lying if I said that I love to spend days making the finest entremets. That’s not a problem though. However, what’s concerning is the fact that I also find pleasure in combining a couple of ingredients to produce flavourful dishes.
Looks like a bipolar syndrome to me. Yes, it’s that bad.

I mean, I can certainly understand why, when you put a lot of efforts into a dish it turns out great. What I can’t figure out is how one or two ingredients, when nicely arranged, can yield to eye-catching and mouth-watering results. Totally magic. And addictive. And convenient. Especially when you have to make one recipe a day, because you’re slightly insane, remember?

At first, it got me excited. Alors ça peut être facile et bon?
Now, it’s another story. It seems I just can’t help it. Whenever I spot a simple recipe that sounds nice, I have to make it.

When I received my copy of Vogue E + T, which happens to be my favourite magazine by the way (you can so totally renew my subscription for the sake of pâtisserie, if you wish to), and saw that gorgeous apple, vanilla and goat’s cheese crostata on the cover, I knew I would make it.
A little sugar and butter, some good apples, a hint of vanilla and some goat’s cheese. Can it get simpler than that?

As usual, the result was beyond my expectations. Not so good for the bipolar syndrome I’m trying to get rid of though. But who cares, honestly? Just get yourself a nice plate, a spoon and a slice of that beautiful crostata, and trust me, you won’t care at all.

Short note: yeah, this is totally your birthday cake. Thanks for being there for me, and happy birthday. I *heart* you.

Apple, vanilla and goat’s cheese crostata
Adapted from Vogue Entertaining and Travel.

Yes, it’s a tart. Again. But well – how can I say it without sounding bossy – you have to make it.
A thin layer of puff pastry (wish I had had the time to make my own) is covered with apples and creamy goat cheese.
The apples, which are rapidly cooked in a mix of butter, sugar, and vanilla, with a hint of vinegar, are soft and sweet but still retain their shapes.
The goat’s cheese adds a wonderful richness to the tart, along with a pleasing saltiness that perfectly balances the sweetness of the apples.