Sometimes, it all gets down the simplest things. A few words exchanged with a new friend, an idea that as has been kept asleep for too long, a birthday cake assembled and eaten.

And suddenly, it makes sense.

I have decided to launch my own business. Possibly a small pastry stall. Possibly at Borough Market. Possibly selling some fine French patisseries and English favourites with a twist.

Possibly.

But I can make it happen. With some endless research and business plan writing, delicious recipe development, adorable moments, and perhaps, if you feel like it, with your support.

As a matter of fact, I am now accepting donations that will go straight into the opening of la pomme d’amour. There is a small cupcake on the side bar right here which allow you to give me as little or as much coins as you wish. In return, I promise you thousands chocolate kisses and tons of sugar, flour, and eggs to be used.

Now I just can’t wait for this to happen. I’ve already started working on the carte and it’s looking sweet. The classics will include my hands-down favourites. Tarts, loaf cakes, sables, viennoiseries, meringues and many many more.

To finish this, just three words: peach melba tart.

It sounds perfect. It tastes even better!

And since we’re on the subject, I thought I would share some dessert ideas that have been haunting me lately (I can’t be trusted around a punnet of strawberries, but who can – in all honesty?).

One one them even made it to the menu: sour cherry clafoutis with almond sorbet and cherry-stone jelly.

As a child, I thought my dad was the coolest person to hang out with. And since he was – and still is – a work at home dad, I did get to spend a lot of time with him.

He would take me to his tennis tournaments, for tea at Rohr, to some fishing parties, or on the chantier [building site] he was working on.

And in between all of these, we would unconditionally stop at a café or a bistrot where he would get me a lait fraise [strawberry milk].

A couple of days ago, as I landed on the French soil again after a night made of blur and tears, he greeted me with a roadtrip to St Tropez and a somewhat obvious – and quite providential to tell the truth – halt at a bar.

This time, lait fraise wasn’t ordered, but a glass of white wine felt like the perfect fit.

And just being there, sitting in the sun on a less-comfortable-to-admit-it designer chair, sipping through some golden drink-me potion, and maybe more importantly, spending time with the right people, everything fell into place.

Sometimes, it does take longer than you’d think to find out that what you’re loosing might just have been what you – in fact – needed.

But it also takes some time to discover what opportunities the loss will bring.

And after a much essential grief state, it’s now the right moment to move on. Preferably under the sun, with a bottle or two of wine and the right people.

A slice of vanilla cheesecake served with the very first strawberries might also help.

Cheesecake à la vanille at aux fraises

Containing no flour, this cheesecake is all you would dream about. Thick, rich and creamy, it’s the closest I could get to the New York cheesecake I’ve never had.

I baked it in a classical 18 cm cake pan with a removable base lined with foil so the water from the bain-marie wouldn’t get in.
I chose to bake it at 140°C because my oven is fan-assisted and thus, feels really stronger than any other oven I’ve had in the past.

Whatever your oven is, just make sure you never bake it over 170°C.

As for the time, I would say around one hour, but make sure you check it every now and then after 45 minutes. It is baked when the centre is still a bit wobbly. Don’t worry it will set as it cools down.

I like to use whole-wheat digestive biscuits for the base as it gives a nice earthy contrast.

Sometimes, things can’t wait. Not for a week, a day, an hour, a second, or even a minute. Things like… SNOW.

In fact, ever since I spotted the first snowflakes almost five hours ago, I’ve seemed to have a canon 400D glued to my right hand.

And damn, this is a useful new organ, acting as an extension of my eyes. I think beauty surgeon should consider reconversion as camera-stickers in the most serious way.

Silly stories apart, snowflakes make the prettiest things to photograph. So much that I actually jumped onto the bed to reach my laptop and tell you about this. Then, I second-thought, and realised that as lovely they might be, they are not considered pâtisserie.

Oh yes, I could have written a recipe for snow granita, which in my humble opinion taste best with a dash of lemon juice and some vodka (this is off records, right), but it didn’t quite fall in what I consider shareable.

Those petits gâteaux aux cranberries I made a couple of days ago do.

Well, let me check. Delicious: yes. Seasonal: yes. Moist: yes. Flavourful: yes. Pretty: not so much, but you have to realise we don’t even own a muffin pan yet, so they’re a little free-form.

Quite evidently, things couldn’t be as smooth. I could certainly post the recipe, but a picture? By night?

Trust me, at this point I was more than desperate; not to mention exhausted from a never-ending sore-throat and looong hours of work at the Capital Hotel (yes, I know, this is – another – new thing in my life: two star restaurant!).
And then, I grabbed a binder, a cookbook, and a pastry chef jacket, and created this lightbox.

Please, close your eyes, unless you haven’t had a chance to get your advised dose of daily laughing; because, well, I’m sure THIS will make you giggle to the point when your cheek hurt and you start crying.

Now take a deep breath, notice how sore your ribs are after this unexpected whoop, take a piece of paper and a pen, and write that recipe down for instant Christmasness.

Petits gâteaux aux cranberries
There is something comforting about those small cakes. It might be the wonderful smell that fills the house, setting everyone into a Christmas mood; or maybe it’s their light texture.

If – unlike me – you use a muffin pan, your cake will rose higher and might require a couple extra minutes of baking. Just insert a knife into the centre of the cakes and as soon as it comes out clean, it means they’re ready.
Simply make sure you don’t overbake them, in which case they would turn out slightly dry instead of theire usual moistness.

You should also make sure your milk and egg aren’t too cold when you add them so the butter doesn’t set when you mix them in. If it does, don’t worry, the cakes will be lovely, just perhaps a tad smaller.

Whenever I’m stuck in a kitchen, where all I have on hands are a couple of Pyrex bowls, a hand-held mixer, and an oven; well, I must admit I feel a bit lost.

Now, this might be a common statement, but I haven’t spent much time in a home kitchen – let alone made pastries in a home kitchen – for the past eleven months.

It’s not that I don’t like pâtisserie anymore.

In fact, I’ve never been so smitten with it as I am right now. It’s just that I get to have my daily fix every day, at the pâtisserie Lac.

But when – the much needed – holidays came I, all of sudden, started to make things. Over and over. At home, or to be more accurate, at my grand-parents’ house.

Read: I cut out the bottoms of metal cans to make cercles. I used baking paper instead of rhodoid. I whipped cream with a hand-held mixer. And I probably did many more unusual – at least for the pâtissière I’ve become – things I couldn’t even describe.

By the end of the week, I had a nice collection of homemade pastries: a fondant au chocolat, strawberry meringues, a tiramisu, fruit focaccias, and a raspberry charlotte.

Charlottes are one of those desserts I will never get tired of.

Think of it. Their endless customisation make them the most versatile entremets you could dream of.

The one I made during my off-time certainly don’t look perfect. Store-bought biscuits cuillère, and visible mousse. There, I’ve said enough.

FAIL.

In fact, a proper berry charlotte should: 1. use homemade biscuits, and 2. have plenty of fruits piled on top.

A little like the charlotte below that I made a couple of weeks ago, on the same day my camera decided to fall in love with error 99, and thus, let me down.

Hence the nasty pictures. Oh, I did cry on that day.

And then, I escaped to Fouras.

With its many flowers, endless bike promenades and a garden office (more appropriately, a table, a chair and a huge umbrella, right at the end of the garden = the only place I could access the internet from).

There, the neighbour was sweet enough to let my sister and I pick raspberries from the bushes she grows.

As soon as I graced ny lips with one of those plump berries, I felt like I had never tasted a real raspberry before.

Juicy. Sweet. Flavoursome.

And made a charlotte aux framboises with them. 

So simple it hurts. So good it hurts too. I have to confess that it’s sometimes nice to feel hurt, doesn’t it?

Charlotte aux framboises et au fromage blanc
This is a slightly more elaborate version of the charlotte that is part of one of my earliest food memories. I love to make this during summer while plenty of berries are available, but it also make a good winter dessert. Think pears.

If fromage blanc isn’t available where you live, just use plain live yoghurt instead.

I’m – almost, if you don’t count the past two weeks that seemed to be lived on a post-holiday cloud – just back from Corsica.

The few days I spent there definitely set my mood for summer with a light sundrenched breeze.
Picture many thrilling aventures involving: a guy, a girl, delicious charcuterie and tasty fromage, exciting wine that tastes like spicy candied chestnuts, lots of sandcastles, and ice-cold showers.

And did I mention mosquito bites? Plenty of them? No, right. End of the story.

But since summer has now officially come, I have no reason to keep daydreaming. I could just quit that little cloud, and realise how happy I actually am down there.

I guess the diving did it all!

This week off my daily patisserie routine also made me understand how important making pastries is to me.

Priceless.; although I must admit that building sandcastles remains a close runner-up on my top-ten-things-to-do list.

Isn’t all this pink-and-green pretty pretty? Icecream-licious is the word, or maybe it’s all about fromage blanc mousse, berries compotée and almond dacquois.

Rêve d’été
This is a classic. Perfect for a hot sunday dessert or as a nice way to enjoy your favourite iced tea at four o’clock (THE French un-missable goûter).

For the decor, I decided to colour some nappage (a mixture of syrup and pectin, with resemble a light jelly) and spread it onto the frozen entremet using a spatula. I guess I’ll have to make a little 101 about how to creature such a marbling.

Since I started my apprentissage at Nice best pâtisserie (and no, I’m not saying this just because it’s the place I’m spending the best year of my entire life at), I’ve been talking a lot about Pascal and the chef and the cool people I get to work with.

Quite coincidentally, one of them seems to be my Brazilian counterpart. Amanda. She’s perhaps just as silly as me, and certainly, just as crazy in love with life and pâtisserie.

And just like me she’s a food tasting and photography fanatic. A perfect match.

A couple of weeks ago we decided to venture off from our Nice headquarters, and headed to Cannes. More specifically, to Jean-Luc Pelé’s Atelier.

Located on the tiny rue Meynadier, a parallel of the famous Croisette and its not so pretty marches [steps], it makes an adorable chic-black boutique. And although I must admit I chose not to work there after I met Pascal and the huuuuuge laboratoire, I have to confess that the Atelier it is indeed adorable, and probably more importantly, a good pâtisserie.

You know me. I took tons of pictures, tasted a couple triple of entremets, and a good dozen of macarons. So I figured it would be more appropriate to write about the place in episodes.

Tambours. [Drumrolls].

Let me introduce l’Atelier. And the pâtisseries that you can find there. Simple. No tasting involved here (don’t worry, the entremets will follow; and so will the macarons (delicious by the way)).

As you enter the black-walled shop, you’ll probably like the panoramic view of the chocolaterie just as much as I did. But keep an eye on the pâtisseries because they’re pretty pretty, and definitely worth more than just an over-look.

Sure I did not taste them all, but it occurred to me you might like a little food sexiness around here.

La verrine exotique
Did I ever mentioned how addicted I am to food served in glasses? And when it’s pink, and has berries in it, and litchi. Verrine exotique, I’m all yours.

Les éclairs au chocolat
The éclairs – pâte à choux [choux pastry] filled with a bittersweet chocolate crème pâtissière [pastry cream] – clearly weren’t as lovely with their hazardous icing.

Le sablé breton aux framboises
This is something I quite liked. First, the square sablé got me. Then, the neatly arranged raspberries.

La mousse au chocolat
Rather straightforward. In every way.

Le macara
I’m not so addicted to the glaçage marbré. Or the chocolate and raspberry combination. Overdone.

Le millefeuilles
Another of my crushes. No old-fashionned icing. Sweet crème pâtissière that looks like a pearl necklace. Need I say more?

La verrine fleur de sel
A beautiful verrine in in my opinion. Layers of milk chocolate, caramel, and saltiness can do you no harm, trust me. Although, I must recognise I still do not get the chocolate tribal figurine. Any hints?

La tarte aux fruits rouges
Again. Berries. Square tart. A match made in heaven. This is definitely something I’ll think about for my own pâtisserie. My doodled-over Moleskine proves it.

La crème brûlée au chocolat
And something cute to end up with. A chocolate crème brûlée. And it’s over-the-top bitten miniature chocolate bar.

See you soon for the tasting! On the menu: verrine exotique, tarte aux fruits rouges and verrine fleur de sel.

Now, I know it’s not spring – let alone summer – yet, and the fact that some of my friends went skiing today should clearly prove me wrong, but something great is coming up. The air, the light. Everything just feels pretty pretty.

I’m busy. With life. With being happy.

My afternoons are lazily spent at the beach or in the mountains, sunbathing and dreaming about new entremets to make. A lovely dinner follows, after which I go to bed. Early. A few hours later, I wake up only to find my dreams have come true. Eight hours of pâtisserie. And I still feel excited and thrilled, just like I did on the very first day.

The nice sunny days that look upon us are definitely having an effect at the pâtisserie as well. Everyday, more and more refreshing pastries find their way out of the laboratoire. Fraisiers, macarons, entremets and… tartes.

Many beautiful fruit tarts. I love them. And I’m super*happy to be the one who gets to make them.

Amongst my favourites you’ll find the superb tarte aux framboises [raspberry tart] and the tarte tutti frutti [mixed fruits tart].
Both are a delight to make. I just love to arrange to fruits on top of a fluffly crème légère (vanilla crème pâtissière, lightened with whipped cream, sooo soft and fragrant), and see the colourful patterns become real.

The tarte aux framboises

The first time I made this, I almost cried from despair. My tart was anything but sweet. My chef even asked if the icing-sugar-dusted raspberries were rotten because they definitely looked a lot like it.

The crust was ok. But then, how could it not be?
The crème légère tasted delicious. Just as it does every morning.
But the raspberries! It might seem easy to arrange them into an neat pile, almost effortless; but trust me, it is not. Luckily, I think I got it right on my second try.

Now, I should really show you the tartes framboises individuelles (one serving tarts), which look so damn cute it hurts. Soon. Soon.

The tarte tutti frutti

Here again, things are a little more complicated than they might come out. This tart should look good from every angle. Three hundred and sixty degrees of them.

And, in order to achieve this, I strongly think there is only one thing you can do. Proceed with a method. First the strawberries, then the apricots, then the kiwis and the pineapple. And finally, the raspberries. Easy peasy, right?

This is it for now. The palmier [palm tree] that sits in front of my bedroom is calling my name. As for the rest of the week, well… working, sunbathing and a baguette bake-off with my sweetest friend Amanda!

So far my apprentissage at Pâtisserie Lac has been the most life-altering experience I’ve ever had. This time, I’m not doing this just for school. I’m actually working days after days to become a pâtissier. Something I’ve been dreaming about for years – literally – but am now living.

And as you would expect, living a dream is… well, dreamy.

Pascal, which I now call patron, is one of the most passionate and talented pâtissier I was ever given the chance to work with. He imagines outstanding flavor and texture combinations, and uses the best ingredients available. And despite his overloaded schedule, he does put an apron on every morning to get all the entremets, tarts and petits-fours ready for the daily shop-refill: the livraison.
Passionate, talented and caring.
And it shows: the pâtisserie Lac probably is the best pâtisserie around the Côte.

They say you can’t judge a book from its cover; I say, on the other hand, you can judge a pâtisserie from its laboratoire – the hidden part of the iceberg: the place where all the luscious pastries are made.

Here, things couldn’t be any closer to perfect. In order to have plenty of room, Pascal decided to move the laboratoire from the usual shop-backside to the north-east suburbs of Nice. Sure, this means I get to host a daily forty-minute off-key singing driving party in my car – consider yourself lucky not to be invited! But it also means I get to work on my very own marbre. Picture two metres of stainless steel, just for me.

But trust me, I make a full use of those two metres. Especially from 5.50 to 7, at which point the refrigerated car hops to town to deliver the pastries.

Because you see, during this period of time, my role – and mission – is to produce the fraisiers (something you should be acquainted with if you’ve read my previous post). Le fraisier is a gâteau composed of two layers of syrup-drenched génoise, encasing a fluffly vanilla crème mousseline, and plenty of fresh and juicy strawberries.

Believe me, making eight fraisiers does take time. More time than I’m actually given. And there is a joke amongst the boys – who are so very adorable, by the way – and the Chef – whom, despite his actual name Stéphane, we all call Chef! – saying that we’ll never finish our shift on time (read, before one pm) if I make the fraisiers.

Quite luckily I got faster and better. My génoises now turn out perfect every time I get them out from the oven. My crème mousseline is glossy and feathery. And I love the draw the arabesques with my chocolate cornet on top of the pâte d’amandes disks.

Coming up next, she who almost enrolled in a pâtisserie rally.

Aside from my daily – and so very exciting – job that feels like holidays, except for the 3am wake up, I’ve had to make many cakes and entremets this month.

Basically, I didn’t spend a minute not making patisserie; well, bar the sleeping, and the driving – although, they both make pretty good times for inspirational brainstorming (just watch out for that tree and those damn tight bends).

So far four entremets have been made and eaten until the last crumb. Two chocolatey ones, and much to my happiness, two berryliciousnesses.
Local berries in October totally are one of the reasons why I’m thrilled to be back on the Côte. Picture juicy – and organic – raspberries and strawberries; and trust me when I tell you how hard it is to resist munching on them.

Anyway, on the 11th, one of the people I love the most turned 15. Can’t believe my girl, my little sister, is all grown up. She’s the coolest person to hang out with, and we always end up doing silly dancing and singing; and perhaps more importantly, speaking French with a Canadian accent.

Aïda asked for a fraisier. A génoise, drenched in light syrup. A fragrant crème mousseline, flavoured with vanilla seeds. A handful of berries.
However, the farmer I bought the fruits from didn’t have enough strawberries to make a fraisier. But he certainly had plenty of tiny raspberries.

‘Bon je ferai un framboisier alors. Ca te va?’, I asked her with my guilty smile on.
‘Pfff, josé [pronounced the Spanish way; that's how we call each others, weird, I know], bien sûr’, she replied.

In the end, the framboisier might not be as pretty as a regular fraisier, my sister – and family – loved it; which, quite obviously was worth an earth-load of strawberries.

Bon anniversaire mon petit gnome. xxx

Framboisier
Compared to most entremets, this one can’t be frozen and is definitely best on the day it is made. However, it’s very easy to save time by making the different components separately.

I started by making the génoise, which does not suffer from a little stay on the freezer. You can also make both the syrup and pâte d’amandes well in advance.

On the day before, the crème pâtissière is made and chilled, so that on the actual day, you only have to:
1) slice the génoise in two disks, drench them with syrup
2) combine the crème pâtissière with butter to make the mousseline
3) assemble to different parts and top with a pâte d’amandes disk

Apparently, it’s been a month since I last told you about this beautiful blueberry focaccia. A month. And no, I’m not going to ramble on how time flies; I’ve done that too much in the past already. Not that I don’t like to complain – you know I do; but well, I’m just too tired and unhappy.

Or at least I was too tired and unhappy until it all happened.

You see, those past few weeks of unusual silence had a reason. I’m physically exhausted, and an emotional wreck. I barely sleep. I don’t eat how I should. I can’t find comfort anywhere or in anyone. I’m restless, always on the lookout for new experiences to share, new sensations to explore, new, new new.

Every morning I wake up after a couple of hours of sleep only to remember what a long day I’ll find on my path. Daily internship. Writing my thesis. Then going back home. Let the fun begin. I create. Or less fancily – and perhaps more appropriately – I make things.

The creative process is part of me. I don’t care about the end result. What matters to me is how you get it. Beautiful.

This is terrific. Exciting. And totally fulfilling. But also very shattering. Especially when I haven’t had the chance to have a few days off since last Christmas. When I know I’ll have to wake up at 3:30am every morning for a year. No break.

And I still don’t know what I want to do next.

Or more exactly, I know what I want, but also feel like it’s never going to happen (St Martin’s school of design, I shall tell you goodbye before we even met).

I’m scared.

What do I want to be? Product developer. Certainly. Pastry chef. Possibly. Making my dream come true: being the owner of a pastry shop meets bakery meets book store meets cooking school. Hopefully.

So many doubts. And only one thing to be certain about: this focaccia is out of this world. Go and make it before it’s too late and blueberries disappear for another long year full of expectations, worries and excitement.

Blueberry focaccia
Adapted from Dan Lepard.

When I was younger, I remember my dad talking about how his grand father would make him olive oil bread topped with freshly cut apricot halves and baked until the flavours blend beautifully.
And well, since I had some blueberries to use (OK, I needed an excuse for not eating that whole tub); I thought I should give it a try.

The base recipe is just from Dan, as you may have guessed. So good it makes for the most perfect brunch or snack.

You could also replace the oil with softened butter if you feel like the olive flavour might be overpowering (I loved it, but it’s all a matter of taste).