That from reader Trish, and it’s an interesting question. I’m not up on the finer points of cow metabolism, however I do know that cows that are grazed on open pastures tend to give milk that makes soft butter. Something about what happens when polyunsaturated fats are processed into milk inside the cow…I’m hazy on […]
READ ONThe operative word here in the Midwest has been rain. Storm clouds have frustrated my attempts at photography and moistened our basement, but if that’s all they do to us we’ll be lucky. The mighty Ohio is starting to creep inland. Flood wall closures are being shut and dams are being eyed suspiciously as the wet stuff keeps falling in sheets. Our neighborhood here in Louisville is called the Highlands, and as I explain to my young daughters, it’s because it sits on high lands. That means we’ll only be inconvenienced by the storms. But right now there are a lot of families who are are discovering what nature can do despite the best efforts of civil engineers. Say a prayer for them over the course of your busy day if you can.
READ ONYes: firm. The best butters for making laminated pastry are firm for reasons that should be clear at this point: because they won’t melt into the dough as quickly or easily (during rolling and/or in the oven). And that means a flakier, higher-rising finished product. Certainly, firmness is a factor of temperature. However it’s also […]
READ ONOUTSTANDING question, reader Sarah. I thank you for it because it’s something every baker and/or shopper wonders. Just what makes this $18.99 per pound Beurre d’Échiré so much better than my local grocery’s generic $4.99 per pound butter? Is it that much better spread over toast?
As I mentioned below, I’m a big believer in quality butter, but I don’t like to get too nuts because you never know when something like last week’s Napoleon fiasco is going to happen to you. Nine or ten bucks a pound is about as high as I go. That to me is the price point at which you really notice a difference in a laminated dough. Much beyond that, you’re talking about points of distinction in flavor and aroma that are mostly lost on me.
READ ONWhenever I post about making laminated dough I invariably get a few questions about Pierre Hermé’s mythical pâte feuilletée inversée (“inverse” puff pastry). I’ve blogged about this before, but let me just go on record once again as saying that while I admire Pierre Hermé greatly, I think the whole inverse puff pastry thing is a bunch of hooey. Inverse pastry is nothing more than an exaggeration of the tip that I outlined in the below, dressed up with an unnecessary process twist and presented as if it were the pastry equivalent of the moon landing. Bunkum, I say — and I reject it. Use a conventional laminated dough recipe, apply flour liberally to your butter pat and you’ll produce a dough that is both flakier and better performing (though admittedly lacking the caché).
READ ONFirst let me say it’s good to back. Second let me say I have great sympathy for all of you who wrote in this week to protest that home-made laminated dough is too hard to make. So as my third thing let me say this: it’s time you manned up and went for it.
Homemade pastry-making isn’t a terribly difficult process to begin with, and it’s made significantly easier if you employ the critical tip of adding flour to your butter pat before you start to roll. That’s a step that even some of the best pastry books miss. And it’s an omission that I believe is responsible for the majority of laminated pastry failures. What does the added flour do? Quite simply it helps keep the butter more plastic while at the same time inhibiting melting. The result is a more forgiving dough that the novice pastry roller can take a bit more time with.
READ ONIt’s business trip time for your humble (ehem) host. I’ll return Thursday, when I’ll try those pesky Napoleons again. Grr…
READ ONNaples, evidently, though no one is really sure. It was Antonin Carême who is said to have made that claim, but al we know for sure is that he said it was “ancient.” Whether that’s true or he was only trying to impress his dinner guests is a mystery. What’s true about the Napoleon is that its function was mainly decorative in Carême’s time, a finishing touch applied to the far end of the heaping tables that were characteristic of aristocratic dining. When did people start to appreciate them for what they are? Who knows? But its a testament to their deliciousness that they weren’t simply abandoned with all the rest of the fancy claptrap of the era. Oh, and if they weren’t called “Napoleons” then, what were they called? Mille-fueilles is the answer, essentially “thousand leaves” pastries.
READ ONJust because a component fails in one application doesn’t mean it isn’t good for another. This preparation is too thin and creamy for use in a layered pastry, but would be excellent as a filling for éclairs, in Paris-Brest or in any number of other applications where its eggy silkiness would be an asset. It’s made from whole milk, so it’s a bit lighter than a standard pastry cream (often made with half heavy cream), and even though it has the same amount of sugar it doesn’t taste as sweet. To make it you’ll need:
the seeds of 1 vanilla bean
32 ounces (1 quart) whole milk
8 ounces sugar (1 cup plus one tablespoon)
12 egg yolks
2 ounces (1/4 cup) cornstarch
All of you who’ve been after me to put up more of my missteps and mistakes — I’ve traditionally demurred as a thorough log would require at least one, if not several more, blogs — today is your day. Yesterday’s Napoleon fiasco is worth noting if only as an illustration of the ways in which […]
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