These little unleavened rum cakes have been the bane of my pastry existence for years. So much so that the mere sight of my molds gives me a nervous tic and/or attack of Turret’s syndrome. “Aw, #@$%&*!!!”
It’s only been lately I’ve come up with a solution that may solve my exploding cannelé problem. Let’s hope so, otherwise it’s going to be a salty week on Joe Pastry, friends. You may need to cover your ears.