Absolutely Homemade Tarte Tatin

Finally, more success in making tarte tatin. Our pilgrimage back home to learn the art of French home cooking has not been in vain!!!

A few thoughts why I love home cooked food so much:
1. They do not always look dressed up like in restaurants, but they certainly look and smell yummy.
2. The pleasure starts even before the meal is served at the table -- especially the anticipation as the aromatic smells of whatever that's cooking on the stovetop or baking in the oven fills the kitchen and dining area.
3. They give you a warm fuzzy feeling, as they are cooked with love and joy.
4. They are usually (though not always) healthier.

Back to our lesson on tarte tatin. Being lazy, I did not take note of the recipe as the dessert was being made. In fact, I don't think Rémi's maman referred to any recipe at all, as this is probably as easy as frying an egg to her. As she was peeling and slicing the apples (that came from her garden), she was passing some to a greedy me, and baby Pablo. At the same time, she was also making a blueberry tart (as we couldn't agree on which to have for dessert since they are both nice, she decided to make both), so it wasn't a structured tarte tatin lesson per se.

Despite a lack of a precise recipe (which I never follow anyway), I managed to take down some notes and came up with some guidelines/tips/steps that contributed to our last night's tarte tatin success.

Steps to making tarte tatin

Dough:
Pate Brisee (salty tart dough)
You can also use premade filo pastry bought from the supermarket

To make the apple filling
5-6 apples (or enough to pack up tightly the base of the tart tin), peeled and sliced into thick pieces.
Butter (according to your fat conscious. I used about 25g or less but feel free to use more)
Sugar (50g + another 50g or less to sprinkle over the base of the tart tin)

Put apples, butter and sugar into a frying pan and simmer for 30 to 40 minutes, until the sugar has caramelised and the apples are cooked (do not overcook the apples though). Add a little water if necessary.

Grease the tart tin with more butter. Sprinkle the other half of the sugar over the base of the tart tin. Pour the caramelised apples into the tin. Pack tightly.

Cover the apples with the rolled up/flattened tart dough, with the edges tucked into.

Baked in preheated oven of 190 degrees for about 20-25 minutes, or until the dough is golden brown.

Invert and voilah! You have a nicely delicious apple upside down tart!

Our next plan is to replicate this success, and make a tarte tatin dish with blood! This is not a joke. Boudin noir aux pommes is another French classic dish of black pudding (blood sausage) with apples. And at a restaurant in Lyon during our trip, we had a wonderful boudin noir cooked in tarte tatin. What a delightful combination. Now we only have to find out how.

Enda's Pineapple Tarts

 

What's Chinese New Year without the yummy homemade golden pineapple tarts. That's exactly what I'm missing this year.

I'm not the pickiest when it comes to pineapple tarts, but they are best when homemade. Many expert homecooks have their own secret recipes and I don't think we can easily say who makes the best pineapple tarts. Everyone have their favourites, and I have many. Like the fresh from the oven ones I chanced upon in Melaka years ago, the ones made by the mom-in-law of my 7th aunt which my family enjoys gratefully yearly, and then, Enda makes them every year with smashing success. She seems to vary her recipe every year. And this being the first Chinese New Year when I'm not back home in Singapore, she suggested I make my own pineapple tarts to satisfy my craving, and gave me her new easy-to-make recipe.

I haven't had time to make it yet, but looking forward to trying it out sometime when I feel less lazy. Afterall, even if the dough and filling may be fast to prepare, it is still quite tedious to have to make each and every little pillow of pastry look perfect. Meanwhile, I'm recording the recipe below so that I don't lose it.

Enda's Homemade Pineapple Tarts

Pineapple filling:

1 big pineapple

about 200g sugar

1 cinnamon stick

Tart dough:

1kg plain flour

500g butter

8 egg yolks

 

1 egg yolk for glazing

 

Make the pineapple filling first. With 1big pineapple, blend until like juice then cook in pot. Add 200g sugar, and more to your taste if needed. Add one cinnamon stick and cook until the mixture is dry.

While the pineapple filling is cooking, prepare the tart dough. Using an electric mixer, mix butter, sugar and eggs yolk together until well mixed. After that use your hand to mix in the plain flour until the mixture resembles a tart dough.

To make the pastry, pinch some dough off and roll with your hands into a small ping pong ball shape. Flatten and spoon some pineapple filling, and close it up. Repeat until the dough or filling is used up.

Brush the top of the pastry with a beaten egg yolk (or milk). Bake in a preheated oven for ?? (she forgot to give me the oven temperature and time, so got to check with her again).

 

Second try at Kouign Amann

It's our second attempt and we're not getting better at it yet. But still a good try nonetheless.

Kouign Amann is a Brittany buttery caramelised cake. Think croissant laced with lots of sugar.

The hardest part of the cooking process is actually to look at the cake swimming in the pan of melted butter in the oven. We stared hard at it and asked ourselves if eating it is the right thing to do. The solution: follow the recipe and allow the cake to rest for 5 minutes after it's taken out from the oven. This gives the butter enough time to be soaked into the cake so that you see no evil.

And as if the butter and sugar is not enough to clog our arteries, we had a second dessert of crème brulée the same night.

For our second attempt at kougin amann, we still couldn't decide on what recipe to follow. So we used a combination of recipe proportion and instructions from:
1. Camille's cookbook;
2. David Lebowitz's blog which has a good pictorial breakdown of instruction,
3. Youtube by Atelia Chefs (he may be speaking French, but the clip is useful for seeing how you actually fold the dough into many layers)

Mixed Berry Crumble

Another berrily good dessert made by Rémi.

He found the recipe from the internet, and we found a new secret to a fabulous crumble: by replacing half the flour used in crumble with ground almond. It gives the crumble a new nutty, almony flavour and texture that is even harder to resist.

I don't have the exact recipe he used but try the ground almond. And unlike the apple crumble, it is best to refrigerate and chill the berry crumble before serving.

And just as I'm proud of his fantastic crumble, I'm equally proud of the new ice-cream scoop I just bought.

Simple berry delights

I love summer in Wellington. The weather still sucks, but at least there's more sunny days and it is marginally less cold.

The best part of summer is the berry season. Because of the crappy weather, we have been missing out on buying lots and lots of berries at the Sunday market. But we are still enjoying lots of berries from the supermarket.

They make perfect quick dessert. Like here, we have blackberries and strawberries in our natural plain yoghurt. Topped with vanilla sugar and some bit of cream.

Oeufs Au Lait, Creme Brulee's not-so-famous cousin

Good friend PY was wondering why I haven't been updating my blog as often. I'm still cooking on a near daily basis and enjoying plenty of good desserts every other day. But not every dish is worth documenting, I supposed. And then I have been busy writing other much more boring stuff.

Thought I'll introduce this perhaps lesser known French dessert. We all know crème brûlée. We all love crème brûlée. And we all like to order crème brûlée at our favourite French restaurant. I would imagine, as its lesser known cousin (or even twin brother), Oeufs Au Lait must feel extremely neglected.

Actually, crème brûlée has at least 2 not-so-famous cousins (or twin brothers, whichever you see it). The other being crème Catalane (Catalane is the region in Southwest France that borders Spain) and bears an even closer resemblance to crème brûlée. And it is widely served in restaurants in this region. It is as sinful as crème brûlée in terms of the number of egg yolks used, and has a more citrus taste than traditional vanilla flavoured crème brûlée. The difference lies in the cooking method. There is no baking in crème Catalane.

And don't ask me which of the creamy/eggy desserts is the most original or has been invented first. I'm sure the French haven't agreed on the answer yet.

As for Oeufs Au Lait, its name tells us what it is: eggs with milk. It tastes like a sweetened version of the Japanese steamed egg Chawamushi. And it may have less sugarly sins than crème brûlée.

So now we know French dessert is not all about crème brûlée even though it stills rank highly in my list of favourites.

And predictably, I like to refer to Camille's cookbook of French classic dishes to try out all these classic French desserts. Hmm...looking through the dessert pictures in this French cookbook, I suspect that besides crème Catalane and oeufs au lait, two other desserts -- blanc-manger au lait d'amandes and oeufs à la neige -- may also be possible distant cousins of our favourite crème brûlée.

Oeufs Au Lait
Makes two small ramekins (we did it on a day when we have only 1 egg left, feel free to increase the quantity proportionately)

130ml milk
1 egg
a few drops of vanilla essence
15g sugar (perhaps 1 teaspoon?)

Preheat oven at 150 degrees Celcius.

Add vanilla essence into the milk and boil. You may like to use vanilla beans instead. If using that, let the vanilla beans infuse for 5 minutes before removing the vanilla pod.

Whisk the egg(s) with sugar. Gradually add the hot milk while stirring. Pass the creamy egg mixture through a sieve into small ramekins.

Place the ramekins in a mould or tin and fill up with water to form a water bath. Bake in oven for about 30 minutes.

Serve cool. You may also make a caramelised sugar syrup and pour a thin layer to the oeufs au lait before serving.

Crumble of Pears and Dates

Hmmm....my food presentation skills are not doing justice to this tasty and easy to make crumble. Now it looks like some gluey fruits that has been messed around on a kid's plate.

Looks aside, it is a pretty light dessert after a heavy dinner, as the crumble pastry is just a sprinkle on the pear rather than a thick crust

The recipe is adapted from the Crumble cookbook by Martine Lizambard, published by Solar Editions. And it's so easy to adapt the portion size that I'm regurgitating the recipe based on memory.

Crumble of Pears and Dates
Serves two

2 pears (1 pear per person)
A few dried dates (Persian dates, not Chinese red dates, can be replaced with figs)
Some honey (about 1 tablespoon)
Roughly 1 spoon of butter (after adding my reduced quantity of butter, I regretted it as omitting the butter would make healthier dessert)

For the crumble:
30g flour (or 1 heap tablespoon)
15g cold butter
20g brown sugar (or about 1 tablespoon)
Sprinkle almond flakes or walnut pieces

Preheat oven at 200 degree Celcius.

Peel pear and quarter it. Put in a small pan with butter over low heat. Add honey. Cook for about 3-5 minutes.

Cut the dates into cubes. Mix into the pear mixture. Put everything into a baking tin.

Prepare the crumble by rubbing butter into the flour until all butter are evenly mixed into the flour. Add sugar and mix well.

Sprinkle the crumble over the pears. Sprinkle nuts over the crumble. Bake for about 20 minutes until the crumble is golden brown.

Nice and still easy Creme Brulee

It's been almost one year since I last attempted Crème Brûlée. Now I'm back with an improved version, even though I still use the same recipe. This is because I now have 2 not-so-secret weapons: real vanilla beans and blow torch. And each time I do it, I am reminded again of the simple steps in making this favourite French dessert.

We had bought vanilla pods with the remaining of our Tongan dollars at the airport when we were holidaying in the country. Despite my love for all things vanilla, I'm clueless as to how the real thing looks like and thankfully, youtube comes to my rescue to show me how to even open it!

As for the blow torch, we were actually shopping for electric toothbrush at Moore Wilson. Being rather put off by the hefty price tag of fancy electric toothbrushes, our attention were instead attracted by the colourful blow torch on display right next to the oral hygiene devices. Well, I guess anyone with a sweet tooth needs to work harder on keeping their pearly whites clean.

Anyway, to keep the long story short, we were happy to sacrifice our dental health in the name of holy good creme brulee.

Below is the recipe from Camille's French classic cookbook, slightly amended from my last post.

Crème Brûlée
makes 6 cups

1 whole egg
4 egg yolks
80g castor sugar
half vanilla pod or a few drops of vanilla essence
400ml liquid cream
brown sugar

If you're using vanilla beans, slit the pod lengthwise into two and scour the beans out from half the pod with the back of your knife. Check youtube if you're unsure. Add half the pod and the vanilla beans to the 400ml cream and heat over medium-low fire to infuse the vanilla flavour until the cream is just about to boil.

In case you're short of say 100ml cream (which we are always short of, as cream do not seem to come in 400ml packaging), top it up with milk. (Maybe that's my secret to making a lighter version of creme brulee...hmmm)

Set aside for 15 minutes. Preheat oven at 130 degree Celcius.

After that, pour over a sieve to remove the vanilla pod. Don't throw the vanilla pod away, dry it and keep it in a jar of sugar to make vanilla sugar.

Whisk the egg, egg yolks, castor sugar (if you're using vanilla essence, add it during this stage) together (just a manual balloon hand whisk will do), then add the cream in slowly until well blended.

Pour mixture over a sieve (to remove bubbles) into individual ramekins (coffee cups may work well). This quantity makes 6 cups.

Cook in preheated oven of 130C. The cups have to be placed in a tray of water to moderate actual heat going through and prevent the eggs from become omelettes.

Cooking time is about 40-45 minutes, but be sure the cream has gelled in the cups. What we do is shake our oven a little bit (or tilt the cups), and you'll also see the custard surface a little puffed up, indicating that the inside is cooked.

You also wouldn't want to overcook the custard. We cooked our perfect crème brûlée in 45 minutes in our fan-baked oven, but every oven is different, so some careful observation is necessary here. If still unsure, you may consider sacrificing one cup by piercing through the surface to check if it's cooked inside.

Put in fridge for 1 hour before serving. To serve, sprinkle generously brown sugar on top and grill in a very hot oven (say 200-250C for 5 minutes, watch carefully to avoid burning the top) for the surface to caramelise before serving, or better still, get a blow torch.

Camille has another suggestion which we have tried with half the batch of creme brulee with good results: leave the creme brulee to cool in the oven door open, and cool overnight. Then repeat the last step above.

Also, if you like to experiment with different flavours, just replace the vanilla beans with say lemon zest, coffee liqueur, almond essence....

Southeast Asian night 3 with tropical fruits

We had a fruity dinner of pineapple rice and papaya sago dessert. Serving the food in the hollowed out fruits is sure a fancy way to impress guests (in my case, my other half).

As for the recipe for making pineapple rice, I found that there are as many versions of it as there are for fried rice. So as usual, I cooked it according to the prevailing ingredients I had on hand, except for the precious pork floss specially imported from Singapore, and the pineapple, that was specially bought for the occasion.

I had referred to Baking Mum's recipe to help me begin and adjusted the ingredients and taste accordingly.

A close-up look at the papaya sago dessert. It definitely looks better than it tastes.

The original plan was to make mango sago dessert with some leftover sago from the sago gula melaka, but a last minute trip to the supermarket yielded no mangoes. So we switched quickly to plan B with papaya.

Then my plan B was also quite fluid. Finding no suitable recipes online that used both papaya and sago, I concocted my own. Scooped the flesh out of the whole papaya, pureed them, added milk to make some kind of milkshake, but then I didn't have enough milk, so it's somewhere between a milkshake and papaya puree consistency. Thankfully, the papaya was rather sweet, though we ended up adding some more sugar to it.

Southeast Asian night 2

Our Southeast Asian dinner night continued for the second day. Once I open a packet of coconut cream, I have to finish using it.

This time, no French dessert distraction. Just simply divine sago gula melaka. And we are very pleased to have come up with a more attractive way of serving up this Malay dessert. We have definitely made a giant improvement on the presentation part.

But we still ended up with making too much sago. 100g is too much even for 4 persons. Perhaps I should measure sago by tablespoons next time, and allocate at most 2 tablespoons per serving.

Main course comes in the form of Opor Ayam with Nasi Lemak, Enda's specialty which I misses every now and then.

And I have found tempeh here too, although at a much inflated price. It is a traditional Javanese food that binds fermented soybeans into a cake form and is very rich in protein. It is one of Enda's favourite snacks, and I used to snack on it with her when she's cooking dinner. Tempeh is very cheap in Singapore (and even cheaper in Indonesia), but here in New Zealand, it costs 6 times more, as it is found in organic grocery stores rather than Asian grocery shops.

Part 3 of my Southeast Asian night would be pineapple rice. The pineapple I bought last Sunday is still waiting to serve its gastronomical purpose.

Improvised blueberry charlotte

I have a little of all the key ingredients leftover from previous dessert experiments. They are not enough to make another cake or tart, but too precious to waste. So a blueberry charlotte is created out of no recipe. Which is the beauty of charlotte, since no cooking is involved. You just mix and match what you can find in your pantry or fridge and voilah! A satisfactory conclusion to a great dinner.

My improvised blueberry charlotte
Serves two

A handful of blueberries
2 tablespoon good quality berry jam (I used mixed berry jam)
100ml fresh cream
Sponge biscuits
1 spoon icing sugar (castor sugar will do too)
a few drops of vanilla essence

Remembering that these are mostly leftover ingredients, the quantity is not really precise and that important. Just use what you can find.

Mix the blueberries with jam over low fire for a few quick minutes, so that the jam softens and you kind of get a thick coulis. Leave to cool.

Whipped the cream with sugar and vanilla essence until it becomes creamy. To get perfect whipped cream, keep your mixing bowl and beater sticks in the freezer for 15 minutes before you start to whip it. And the cream is ready when it leaves a trail. Overwhipping it makes the cream becomes butter and buttermilk (which means it is not really wasted, just make it into butter for your breakfast).

Arrange the sponge biscuits together in the way you like in a dessert glass or bowl. Crush some small pieces to line the bottom of the glass. Spoon the whipped cream, followed by a spoon of the berry mixture. Put a few small pieces of biscuits, followed by another spoon of whipped cream. Topped with berry mixture.

If you like the sponge biscuits to be soft like cake, make a quick syrup out of jam and dip each biscuits briefly in the syrup before using them.

Leave in the fridge for about 4 hours before serving.

Not slacking on desserts

After one week of dessert deprivation in Tonga, followed by another week of after dinner yoghurt due to post holiday rest, we're back to our rigourous dessert régime.

Saturday's lunch dessert was rhubarb tart, with lots of butter going into the crust, and tablespoons of sugar dumped into the rhubarb. Dinner's dessert was some leftover Chinese sago layered cake with red bean paste filling, not quite a success but not to be wasted.



On Sunday night, Rémi made choux pastry for the first time (for the record, I've tried making choux pastry several times years ago with mixed results) while I busied myself with cooking assam fish for dinner. So we're having profiteroles for 3 consecutive meals and still counting.

Have we put on weight? Thankfully not. I'm still a comfortable distance from 50kg and Rémi is still way below 70kg. And no, we don't pump irons in gyms to maintain our waistline as well.

Despite having enjoyed more desserts than I ever had in Singapore, I seem to have an easier time keeping my weight constant. I think eating more homecooked meals really helps.

I do a fair bit of Chinese cooking at home every week, simply because it requires less research for me, less hassle and also healthier. Well, Chinese food in takeaways are very oily and often deep fried. But homecooked Chinese food is more about soups, steamed fish, stir fried meat or vegetables with plain rice.

And of course, portion control every meal, so that we can always have space left for dessert.

How about snacking? That's kept to minimum, and I'm now resolved to snack only on fruits. Mandarins make a fine snack by the way.

Caramelised Apples in Coffee Syrup

Apples are probably my favourite dessert ingredients because they are so easy and versatile, and as legend goes, helps keep the doctor away. Plus apples are easily available all year round.

Besides the elusive French apple tart and our specialty apple crumble, we also like to cooked diced apples with cinnamon over low fire. The warm soft apples with some raisins added goes extremely well vanilla ice-cream. It's not necessary to add sugar or butter when cooking the apples, as some recipes suggested.

I've been wanting to try this caramelised apples recipe I got in my Chocolate and Coffee Bible cookbook published by Hermes House. Although it was Rémi who made it in the end, I'm still satisfied and already looking forward to trying it again.

Caramelised Apples with Coffee Syrup
Proportion based on 2 apples, one apple per serving.

2 eating apples, peeled but left whole
Approx. 1 tablespoon unsalted butter, melted (don't have to be precise, just need enough butter to coat around the apples
Approx. 30g sugar
sprinkle of ground cinnamon
2 tablespoons strong brewed coffee

Preheat oven to 180 degrees Celsius. Cut a thin slice off the base of the apple to make them stable if necessary.

Using a pastry brush, coat each apple with the melted butter. Mix sugar and cinnamon in a shallow dish, and roll the apple in the dish to coat it all over with the sugar mixture.

Arrange the apples on a shallow baking dish that just fit, so that they can stand upright. Pour the coffee into the dish and sprinkle the remaining sugar mixture over the apples.

Bake for 40 minutes. In between, brush the coffee over the apples two or three times during the baking. During the last basting, pour out the juices into a small pan, but continue keeping the apples in the oven.

Boil the juices rapidly until it reduces to a thick syrup. Pour over the apples and bake for about 10 more minutes or until the apples are tender. Serve hot with a spoon of cream or ice-cream.

Super Sinful Kouign Amann

There are some foods where just by eating one serving will fulfill your monthly quota of calories intake. Duck confit is one of them. Kouign Amann is the dessert equivalent of duck confit, except that instead of the letting the duck drumstick swim in duck fat, you drown the cake dough in a sea of butter and sugar. Don't be deceived by the harmless looking crust of the picture I took.

Kouign-amann (pronounced ku-nya-marn) is a celtic specialty from Brittany. The name comes from the Breton words for cake ("kouign") and butter ("amann"). It's quite like bread (think croissant), made by folding bread dough several times so that you achieve a multilayer cake/bread. Like croissant, it is oily, as you have to spread 10 times more butter on it than on kaya toast (assuming you use 1 tablespoon butter for kaya toast). It is more sinful than croissant, in the sense that after pouring 10 big tablespoons of butter, you dump yet another 10 big tablespoons of sugar onto it.

The result is a bread-like crusty cake that has a deceptively light but oily layered texture, with crispy sugar that caramelise in between the layers.

Thankfully, we shared our sin with M (who decided to work doubly hard at the gym for the week after the dessert).

Rémi did everything, I just provided eye power. No recipe sharing here since I have no idea how he did it, except that he took the recipe proportions from Camille's cookbook, and followed the steps from the following video clip.

Apricot Clafoutis

Nothing new, but here's a variation of Clafoutis that I did last week.

I did the same thing twice, first with just half an apricot. There was too much crust and not enough fruits, so I tried by putting more than one apricot, all diced up, into each muffin round.

Making individual servings of clafoutis is useful for bringing them out on, say a picnic, no messiness with cutting the cake up.

I wish spring and summer to come soon. Right now, everyday fruits is always apples, pears, kiwis and oranges. I'm already looking forward to cherries, peaches, apricots and all kinds of berries.

What we've been up to + Pear and chocolate Cake

The spread of desserts here partly explain the absence from blogging. I've been cooking, eating, then more cooking and eating. Above picture courtesy of M, whom we had the pleasure of attending the party celebrating his engagement with LC.

Our contributions include the peachy Charlotte, the tangy Lemon Tart, and Camille's Fondant au Chocolat.

And here's a useful tip, for those who wants to make heart shaped cake like me, but couldn't find a heart shaped tin after visiting some 6 stores in the city.



Besides Camille's fondant, Rémi has also started the first experiment to find the right way to make a volcanic like French melted chocolate cake. Meaning when you use your dessertspoon to break the little warm cake, the chocolate just oozes out like hot lava.

The idea is to bake the chocolate cake for a short time in a hot oven, so that the inside doesn't cook completely and hence it's still moist. We hope to try a few variations of recipes Rémi found on French websites. By the way, the white patches on the cake is my lame attempt at dusting icing sugar on the cake, they are not the results of a mouldy cake.



And finally, the ugliest looking cake of this whole lot, because me and Rémi are too busy with savouring it while it's still piping hot from the oven and only bother to take photo after the second day.

The recipe comes from Christelle Le Ru. First time we made it for the Chinese New Year reunion dinner, it was sooooo good that despite having a 101% full stomach, I went on for a second and possibly third slice. Second time, we couldn't repeat the success but not too bad still. Third time, yum yum. So I've decided to post the recipe, for my bro who have tried the first yummy attempt. The precious highly recommended recipe book was from them afterall.

Pear and Chocolate Cake
Serves 5? I've halved the proportion and the cake last us 3 desserts for 2.

2 eggs
100g sugar
a few drops of vanilla essence
85g melted butter
135g flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
3 sweet pears
100g dark chocolate
sliced almonds

Preheat oven to 160 degrees Celsius. Grease a loaf tin.

Beat eggs, sugar and vanilla essenee together. Add the melted butter and mix until everything is well combined. Fold the flour and baking powder into the cake mixture.

Peel and cut the pears into slices or cubes. Break the chocolate into small pieces. Stir the pears and chocolate pieces into the cake mixture. Do not worry if you find that there seems to be more pear than cake. The juiciness of the pears gives a moist sweet texture to the cake.

Pour into the tin and scattered sliced almonds over the top. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes. The cake is especially nice when it's warm, with the chocolate partially melted inside.

Orange Duck and Orange Cake

At 18 degrees Celsius, I was told that my rented apartment's internal temperature before switching on heater is warm. It is afterall the standard temperature recommended by the World Health Organisation. The average indoor temperature of a Kiwi home in winter is 16 degrees Celsius. And according to my classmate in French class, she can even blow fog out of her breath in her lounge, if the curtains over the huge floor-to-ceiling windows are not drawn in time.

Despite being a developed country, it is universally acknowledged that Kiwi homes' insulation and heating are third world standards. I read that the country has the worst winter mortality rates in the developed world, and high pneumonia, asthma or whatever rates due to damp cold houses.

If you think that these cold hard truths will make them wake up and improve their home insulation, you're wrong. The standard Kiwi response is to ask complaining foreigners to "toughen up" or otherwise "go home". They sure are a tough species, when I see children wearing shorts and walking barefooted outside, while I am huddled up with scarf, gloves, 3-4 layers of warm clothes and a thick jacket.

Being of tropical breed, I definitely desire to have warmer house. Especially after staying one week in my brother's warm apartment in Sweden when it's minus five outside. So warm that you can walk around barefooted, wear tees and shorts indoor. Well, in my Kiwi home, I wear a jumper even in summer.

So cooking stews and baking will become a favourite winter pastime of mine to warm the house further. Just don't show me the electricity bill.

And yes, I finally found duck meat being sold in a gourmet supermarket. So I was determined to make a French duck dish. My original plan was to cook duck confit, but after discovering the horrendous amount of fats used (basically, you need enough fat to cover your meat), I opted to cook the more modestly oiled "Carnard à l'orange". Dessert came in the form of "Gateau à l'orange", an orange caked soaked in orange juice.

The duck recipe was adjusted from Camille's French classic cookbook. Cake recipe was recited by Rémi's mother from her memory.

Duck of Orange (Canard à l'orange)
Serves 6 (Serves 2)
Note: Original recipe used one whole duck, whereas I used only 2 drumsticks, enough for 2 persons. Quantity quoted in brackets are my very rough guestimations.

1 big duck about 2.5kg (2 duck drumsticks)
20g butter (1 spoonful, you decide how less sinful you want your dish to be)
1 carrot (1 small, more veg is always healthy)
1 onion (1 too, since onions has so many health benefits)
200ml white wine (about 80ml, I just poured randomly actually)
3 oranges (1 orange)
1 glass of chicken stock (less than half a glass)
salt and pepper

Slice onion and carrot thinly. In a casserole or pan, heat butter, add onion and carrot. Brown the duck on all sides. Add salt and pepper.

When the duck is well coloured on all sides, moisten with white wine. Cook for about 10 minutes and pour over the chicken stock. Cover and simmer for 1 hour.

Remove the zest of one orange (or half) coarsely. Blanch for 1 minute in boiling water (a step that I skipped conveniently). Squeeze the juice off the orange (or half) and cut the other 2 oranges (or the other half) into thin slices.

After one hour of simmering, pour orange juice, zest and slices into the casserole. Stir gently. Remove cover and turn up the heat to reduce the juice, caramelise the orange and duck skin.

My resulting duck drumstick was fat and juicy, and the orange slices so soft it's almost like marmalade.

Serve with rosemary roasted potato cubes, or salad.

Orange Cake (Gateau à l'orange)

The recipe was given from memory, so not very precise. I will try making it again another way for improvements.

4 eggs, yolks and whites separated
120g plain flour + 1 teaspoon baking powder
120g sugar
60g butter, melted
4 oranges, extract zest from 2 oranges, and juice from all 4

Preheat oven at 180 degrees Celsius. Prepare a cake tin, lined with greaseproof paper (I was too lazy to do that, and almost couldn't unmould my cake)

Beat egg yolks and sugar together. Add flour and melted butter and zests.

Beat egg whites until it becomes stiff and firm (make sure the eggs are at room temperature before beating). I find that after adding the flour, the mixture becomes rather dry. So a tip from Nigella, the celebrity chef who likes to fling her hair is to take a big spoon of the egg white meringue mixture, stir strongly into the flour batter to smoothen the texture. Then fold the rest of the stiff egg whites gently.

Pour the cake mixture into the prepared cake tin and bake for 25 minutes, or until golden brown and a skewer poked into the centre comes out clean.

Pour orange juice onto the cake, let it soak through. You may like to unmould the cake first.

Serve cold.

Crumble of Lemon Curd

The first dish that Rémi tried to impress me with was homemade lemon curd. Or rather, a 2-week old lemon curd on bread. Errr...well, I can say that I wasn't too impressed. Moreover, it was a tad too sour for me.

Well, if he had known or seen this Lemon Curd Crumble recipe, he would have scored more points then.

The recipe came from the Crumble cookbook by Martine Lizambard, published by Solar Editions. I had decided to made it as I had some leftover crumbles from making an apple crumble.

Sometimes, one dish lead to another. From the first apple crumble late last week, we went on to have a second one, and now the lemon curd crumble. But because of a mistake I made when mixing cream and eggs together, I was left with an extra portion of cream and eggs mixture. So I made a quiche out of that earlier today. This will leave me with extra tart dough, so the apple crumble misjudgment is going to end with a pear tart tonight.

Lemon Curd Crumble (Crumble de Citron)
Serves 4 (I've divided the quantity, wanting to make just 2 cups, but still having enough lemon curd for 4 small ramekins)

100ml lemon juice (from about 2 lemons)
70g sugar
2 teaspoon cornflour
2 eggs
100ml liquid cream
1 branch of lemon verbena (it's something new to me, I tried replacing this with mint leaves)
Butter for greasing the ramekins

Crumble
60g flour
35g butter
40g sugar

According to the recipe, you may replace cream with whole milk yoghurt or white cheese. But I stuck to the cream.

Beat the cold cream with a hand beater until it becomes creamy (do not overbeat until it becomes chantilly cream). Mix the eggs in.

Boil the lemon juice with sugar for 2-3 minutes until sugar dissolves. Remove from heat and add the verbena leaves. Cover and let the leaves infuse for a while. I had used 6 small mint leaves, but probably didn't use enough to make much of an impression. Anyway, discard the leaves and let the lemon syrup cool down.

Mix the lemon syrup with cornflour. Add the cream and egg mixture to it. Cook the mixture over low heat (or bain marie), stirring non-stop until it thickens. It took quite a while for the mixture to thicken (until it almost become like lemon curd), but do not be tempted to increase the heat, as you will end up with scramble eggs.

Preheat the oven to 160 degrees Celsius. Grease 4 ramekins and pour the lemon curd mixture into it.

Prepare the crumble. Using your fingertips, rub the cold butter into the flour until it resembles crumbles. Add sugar and mix well.

Bake the lemon mixture for 15 minutes, or more, until you see the surface browning and solidifying. Sprinkle the crumbles very gently on the surface and return to over for another 15-20 minutes, until the crumbles are golden brown.

Serve cold or just warm.

Walnut Tart and thoughts about getting dessert proportion right

I'm thought of being a wee bit philosophical today and get back to the roots of dessert.

A quick check on google shows many dictionaries defining dessert as the last course of a meal, normally a sweet dish.

Cuisine Net further explains that it came from the French word "desservir", meaning "to clear the table": "At a Medieval banquet, a table was laid with fantastic dishes, all of which were removed before the arrival of the last course. Dessert was originally quite light, and it was intended to clear the palate -- and the state of mind."

And so the French in Rémi says, we must always have dessert after every meal. Even if it's just a little cup of yoghurt.

What about the Chinese desserts? They are not just served at the end of meals, but also as snacks or with tea during the day.

Wikipedia's entry on Chinese desserts quite aptly classify them into biscuits, candies, rice-based snacks, jellies and soups. So some Chinese desserts are more suited for consumption as tea time snacks than as the last course of a meal.

But French or Chinese desserts, the Law of Diminishing Marginal Utility still applies. A light dessert gives a pleasurable conclusion to a hearty meal. Too much of it spoils the state of mind and stomach.

Take the picture of an apple tart on the right by Rémi. He had it on a trip to California a year ago and swore that it tasted horrible. Not a surprise, he didn't finish the overly humongous pastry. And you don't order an apple tart to eat mostly pastry crust.

Just like the Chinese mooncake, to those who complain that it taste horribly sweet, they must have tried to eat the whole biscuit when the right way to eating it is at most a quarter slice with a cup of Chinese tea.

And if you see a fruit tart with super thick crust or too much custard filling, beware. More likely, the chef is trying to get away with having less fruits with more crust.

The Walnut Tart below comes from Camille's classic French cookbook. I had wanted to make walnut tart for a long time since trying it at the Bordeaux Bakery in Wellington. I have adjusted the quantity slightly to make the tart more nutty. And as the tart is quite hearty, a small slice per serving gives a more satisfactory conclusion to a meal.

Walnut and Honey Tart (Tarte au Miel et aux Noix)


about 200g walnuts (more if necessary)
150ml liquid cream
50g butter
50g brown sugar
100g honey (try to use a strongly flavoured honey, such as bush honey, mountain honey or Corsican honey)

Sweet pastry dough (pâte sucrée or pâte sablée)
50g white sugar
1 egg
125g melted unsalted butter
270g flour

To make the dough, mix sugar, egg, butter together. Stir hard with a spoon and add flour. As the egg mixture thickens to a dough, use your hands to knead into a smooth dough. Chill for 15 minutes.

Preheat oven to 200C.

Press the pastry with your fingers over the base and sides of the greased tin. Poke all over with a fork.

Mix the butter with the sugar. It may be easier to allow the butter to soften sufficiently before you blend them together. Add the walnuts pieces. Follow by the honey and cream. Mix well. You may like to add more walnuts if you find filling too creamy. The idea is to cover the whole tart base with the nuts.

Spread walnut and honey filling on the tart. Recipe says bake for 40 minutes, but my nuts were burning after 20 minutes. So do watch out.

Serve when the tart has cooled.

The tart keeps well for a few days.

Steamed Buns and my guide to finding affordable cookbooks on Chinese cooking

Rémi the breadmaker has hijacked my bao project. He loves to eat Chinese steamed buns so much. So he couldn't resist not making them when he heard about my intention to do so.

I have two steamed bun recipes, but eventually chose the one from "Chinese Desserts 100" written by Winnie jie (I trust the Cantonese to be good dim sum makers). I bought it a bookstore in Hong Kong's airport while on transit. Rémi's Mandarin is certainly still as good as my Malay, so he will not be able to read the Chinese instructions. But fret not, like many of my Chinese cookbooks, the recipes are presented in both English and Chinese.

It's a paradox, but bilingual cookbooks that require the extra effort of translating recipes are actually cheaper than English ones. Even the Chinese version of cookbooks by celebrity chefs are much cheaper than the original English versions found in the same bookstore.

Anyway, I am not too interested in cookbooks by celebrity chefs nowadays but prefer more affordable ones by seemingly anonymous homecooks. To cater to the growing English market, more and more Chinese and Malaysian cookbooks are bilingual. It doesn't matter if you don't understand a single Chinese word. Just let yourself be guided by the accompanying deliciously shot food photos and be tolerant of the less than perfect English on the recipes. The recipes work!

So for $10-$20, you have a wider range of cookbooks on all kinds of Chinese, Malay/Indonesian and Peranakan cuisines to choose from than if you stick to purely English cookbooks.


Steamed bun (包)
Makes about 16 small or 10 medium buns

Basic bun dough:
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon yeast
2 teaspoon sugar
1 tablespoon lard or vegetable oil
5/8 cup fresh milk (warm)
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon oil for greasing

Filling:
we're less imaginative this time, being our first bun-making experiment, so we use ready-made red bean paste bought from the Asian grocery store. But Rémi is already dreaming of making nutella buns...I prefer traditional fillings, like lotus paste, minced pork, chicken, vegetables...will hope to try egg custard fillings on the recipe someday too.


To make the dough, put flour, yeast, sugar and lard into a bowl. Add warm milk and mix well. Pour onto a countertop and knead for about 5 minutes into a soft dough. If the dough is too dry, add more warm milk or water.

Grease a deep bowl, Put in dough and cover with a damp cloth and set aside to let it prove for about one and half hours, until it has doubled in size.

Beat the dough forcefully with the palm once to squeeze out the air, put it on the countertop and roll flat into a cross shape. Sprinkle baking powder on top and knead for a while. Set aside to ferment for about 30 minutes.

Divide the dough into 16 portions. Do so by rolling it into a sausage and cutting it into equal parts. Roll each portion into a ball, flatten and wrap in the filling. Line each bun with a small square of paper.

Steam for 10 minutes. To prevent water from dripping onto the buns and affecting its look, cover the buns loosely with baking paper. Serve hot.