From St. Barths to St. Honore

What can I say? It’s an untraditional lent.

Good thing it’s not my Christianity that’s being assessed these days. But in all fairness this experience is based upon indulgence and emersion so the thought of giving up sweets, sugar, or alcohol while in the thick of culinary school seems frankly counterproductive. I assure you that there are no brownie points for abstinence around here.

In fact the French have an saying “Faites le beurre” which serves the same idiomatic purpose as the English saying “bring home the bacon,”



but is literally translated: “make or bring the butter.” I bet that I bring home enough butter these days to feed the entire block, so thank goodness my husband’s doing his job as the breadwinner.

And in an effort to provide the moral foundation for our family, as any proper French wife apparently should, I give you a bit of Christian culinary history behind this devilishly delicious dessert.



The Gateau St Honore was created in France and named in honor of Saint Honore, the patron saint of pastry chefs and all bakers. In the 7th Century, St Honore was the Bishop of Amien, a cathedral whose impressive height and stature is recognized round the world. So I find it wonderful that we top this cake with a whimsical spun sugar tower.



I like to think we are honoring the beauty of our Saint’s beautiful contribution to history and culture.



A St Honore Cake is composed of a puff pastry base, with pate a choux ring that lifts up the 11 profiterole cream puffs that top the cake.



The center of the cake as well as each cream puff is filled with Cream Diplomat, a pastry cream based filling that gives a wonderful hit of Grand Marnier flavor to each bite. The Crème Diplomat is then piped across the cake using, appropriately, the St Honore piping nozzle.



The 11 profiterole puffs (meant to honor the 11 true apostles, excluding Judas) are secured with caramelized sugar and toped with roasted almonds. But the real show stopping element in this glorious gateau is clearly the spun sugar nest that carries crystalized violets high above the pastry base.



This cake is a beautiful ode to the sparkling brilliance of spring- I can almost hear the birds chirping with approval at the sight of this sugary shell.

It makes wonder whether the chicken, the egg, or the cake came first….

Disclaimer: do not leave by open window


Darcy Jones

Sojourn with the Swans of Chantilly

It was an evening of eclairs that began with a creme chantilly cocktail, and ended with a flock of swans in my foyer.

I realize that I just painted a picture for you that sounds something like the movie The Hangover so let me start again.

Three words: Pate a Choux, or Choux-Pastry. The name derives from the pastry's baked appearance: when cooked the pastry surface resembles the head of a cabbage (or at least some ancient french chef believed so). Regardless, choux-pastry is one of the cornerstones of French Patisserie, and can weigh about a stone when filled with coffee Creme Patissiere and covered with chocolate fondant.



Choux Pastry is an incredibly satisfying thing to make if you are a baker, for it doubles in volume in a warm oven in under 30 minutes. Considering the near 48hrs it takes to make brioche, this is remarkably swift and satiating. Once cooked, Choux Pastry can also be successfully frozen and defrosted to then be filled and served. Hence the array of fresh eclairs, Paris brests, religieuses, and salambos found in any pastry shop each day.

It was quite seamless in the kitchen tonight. I wouldn't quite say 'ballerina stage' (the term used to describe the beauty of an organized and skilled chef who works about the kitchen as though his every move were part of a choreographed dance), but some of us have definitely found a rhythm.

I have made some personal progress in the patisserie. Today my eclairs (pictured above) won Best In Show, or in class at least, and my family of swans received a resounding honorable mention.


Family Cygnes

So sailing home at half past 10, glowing with the success of my good grade, and delighting in the prospect of a late dinner of prize-winning dessert, I missed the door step and proceeded to set my swans free to fly all the way across the front hall floor.

"Those babies can really move across the sky..."
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As for them? At least you knew them at their best... As for me? Seems I need to work on my footwork in and out of the kitchen.



In Memoriam

Darcy Jones