individual tarte tatin

*This is another queued post, 3 more days till I’m out of exam hell*
So I was pondering the idea of setting up a separate blog with the same content but in another language, and logged into my blogger account for the first time in 2 years. I could not believe what I found.

Now, I knew I’d had a few failed attempts at blogging before, but 130 posts!? That is absolutely insane. What, were my fingers typing in my sleep or was I sucked into a time vortex and got transported into an alternate universe? I tried reading a few entries but as expected, it was much too cringe-worthy and whiny that I just… can’t. And to think it was only 2 1/2 years ago – thank goodness for the memory blank because I have zero plans to return to that phase of my teenage years.
I remember when blogging was so cool and popular in early highschool where people would actually bring a journal to school and write down the day’s proceedings and later transcribe it onto their Bebo or Myspace. Naturally I did the same, with no one to talk to – I was in homestay a lot of the time – I put the complainer in me on display so everyone would know how depressed I was.
In any case, I’m hesitant about the second blog thing for many reasons, the main ones being the time and effort to translate manually, and people who know me in real life happening upon it. Sounds silly, but I’m still uneasy about anyone other than strangers reading my pathetic but private and honest ramblings.

Back to the food. Not all desserts are created equal, but many of them by happy accident. In one variation of the origin story of the tarte Tatin (the one that I prefer), the cook overcooked the butter and sugar for what was meant to be a traditional apple pie. The genius she was, instead of saying ‘oh #&$*!’ and dumping the entire dish in the trash, she tried to rescue it by covering it with pastry – and a classic is born. Maybe one day I’ll set a rice pudding on fire or something and make a name for myself. You never know.

Apples. Caramel. Pastry. That’s all there is to this incredibly simple but extremely delectable dessert. I used Pink Lady which retained their shape beautifully without losing texture. There is some debate on the subject of which pastry to use: pastry god Pierre Hermé among some others top their tarts with pâte sucrée; while Raymond Blanc & co. are in the puff camp. I suppose the main reason for using shortcrust instead of puff is that it’s more resistant to being soaked by the caramel. But I’d feel sorry for myself if I didn’t use puff, and since these are individual servings, they’d be finished before the caramel had a chance to soggy up the pastry anyway.

Individual tarte tatin (makes 4, 10cm in diameter)

For the pastry:
1/4 batch of puff pastry or 1 store-bought sheet

For the caramelised apples:
2 large baking apples
squeeze of lemon juice (adjust according to tartness of apples)
100g sugar
1 tbsp butter
pinch of salt
optional flavourings – vanilla bean, cinnamon etc. to taste

If the pastry is frozen, take it out to thaw. Preheat the oven to 200C/390F and place a baking tray large enough to fit all 4 dishes in the middle of the oven, this helps insulate the bottom of the dishes and prevent the apples from overcooking.

Peel, core and slice the apples about 1.5cm thick. Toss in some lemon juice and set aside.

Start the caramel, for which I used the dry method. In a heavy pot/pan, sprinkle the sugar in an even layer and put it on medium heat. Leave undisturbed until the edges start to liquefy, at which point take a heat-proof spoon or spatula and move the melted sugar into the unmelted centre. Stir every once in a while until all the crystals disappear and the caramel takes on a deep amber colour. Take off the heat so it doesn’t burn, and add the butter, swirl the pan to combine. Carefully transfer the apples to the caramel and put it back on low heat. Add the flavourings now if so desired. Stir the apples to coat evenly with caramel and cook for about 5 minutes, just so they too take on the golden colour and are just a little tender.

At this point the pastry should be thawed out, so use the ramekins (or other ovenproof dishes) to cut around the bottom to produce 4 pieces slightly larger than the circumference. Generously coat the bottom and sides of the dishes with softened butter. Lay the apple slices on the bottom of the dishes evenly, attempting to fill the gaps. If there is leftover caramel, drizzle it over the apples. Take the pastry and lay it on top of the apples, tucking the excess into the dish. Prick the top a few times to make steam vents, and place the dishes on the preheated tray in the oven.

Bake for ~20 minutes or until the pastry is golden brown, you may also see the caramel bubbling around the sides. Carefully remove from the oven and leave them for 5 minutes to slightly set the caramel. With a knife, run around the the inner circumference of the ramekins to release the pastry and apples. Place a plate on top of the dish, and very carefully and swiftly invert the dish. You may want to to gloves as the ramekins are likely to still be piping hot.

Serve immediately. Amazing on its own or with a dollap of crème fraîche or scoop of ice cream.

ginger + molasses flapjacks

Sugar
Sugar
Sugar, butter
Sugar, butter, flour
Sugar, butter, flour
Sugar, butter, flour
… the echoing voices of Sara Bareilles sung in my head as I was trying to rack my brains for the merest shadows of answers during last night’s exam #3. Pretty sure my subconscious was telling me that I was suffering from a severe condition known as Baking Deficiency. Okay, I was also pretty hungry but it really has been uncomfortably long since I’ve held a whisk.
By the way, scheduling an exam between 5:45-8pm is just inhumane.

Sadly, at the time of this entry I have not indulged in my fondest hobby since last time. The flapjacks were made – and consumed – more than a month ago, way back when I started the blog. It’s been like watching a baby grow – a surprisingly steep learning curve where I’m constantly swapping tones (my first post already seems hilarious how pretentious and serious it is), blog themes, names, colours. In less than 2 months, I’ve already learned so much just by doing less of the things that make myself cringe and more of the things I particularly admire about other blogs.

So please excuse the decline in photo quality yet again. When holidays start in one week’s time I’ll have nothing better to do than to cook all day (and read and catch up on approx. 598237948 missed episodes). I’m planning to do a few series during the infinitely long holidays. Perhaps one on childhood favourites, in honour of my impending mid-life crisis; a beginner series in honour of my failing years when I first started baking; and a retrospective or two on the past year of uni.
Back to the flapjacks. Credits to the UK bloggers for introducing these into my repertoire. I wasn’t exactly sure about what texture I should be going for, but it became evident that they were basically muesli bars as I began mixing, so crunchy and chewy it was. They’re not dissimilar to Anzac biscuits, which I love, with a hint of fresh ginger. It hardly takes 20 minutes to put them together, great for when you need a boost in energy, or just, craving a spicy treat.

Ginger + molasses flapjacks (6″ square pan)

150g unsalted butter
75g molasses
75g white granulated sugar
1/2 tsp fresh grated/powdered ginger
pinch of salt
225g rolled oats Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Line a 6″ square pan or equivalent with foil or baking paper. In a pan bring everything but the oats to a simmer, stirring once in a while. Take it off the heat and mix in the oats. Tip mixture into the tin and compact into the base by pressing firmly. Bake for ~20 minutes until the edges turn golden and crispy. Let cool down a bit before slicing when the centre is no longer soft.

brown butter banana bread

I could present this without comment. And I really should, as nothing I write will ever live up to, and is bound to only undermine the perfect simplicity that is this banana bread.

But you know I’m still going to harp on and proclaim my love for the humble yet majestic banana bread. It was the first baking effort I truly nailed, way back when I was first attracted to baking. 5-6 years ago (I really thought it’d be longer than that) my mum bought me a ‘Baking for Beginners’ cookbook, one of those all-encompassing, baking for dummies instruction manuals. I no longer reach for it as my appetite has expanded beyond the basics, but it’ll always have that special place on my bookshelf. The banana bread recipe was the first of many recipes I tried from that book, and as amateurish as I was then, it satisfied me that it was so simple yet always produced a consistent result – clean, simple, fragrant banana bread.

wrong choice of bowl size.

Flash forward to now, it’s still the most requested bake as we always have bananas around. Dad simply cannot survive one day without eating one – he calls it his nerve-calming food. Sometimes it almost seems boring and ‘not enough of a challenge’ when someone mentions I should make banana bread again, but as I venture out every time to find yet another new recipe (because you can never try too many) the excitement is reignited.

As alluded to in the brown butter pear loaf post, I’m in an affair with brown butter as it adds such depth of flavour and fragrance to anything it touches. It is no exception in this recipe – it simply surpasses bread made with regular butter or oil by leaps and bounds. That said, I have no problem whatsoever with healthier versions made with oil, whole wheat flour and natural sugars (which I’m sure I’ll post about one day); but sometimes none other than the full-on, unadulterated, ultimate version will do, you know?

What makes this my absolute favourite? It’s due to the fact that every single component just comes together in a harmonious way, some of which include:

• the banana flavour: everyone knows that you have to use ripe bananas in baking. Honestly, you can get away with a little less ripeness with adjustments in sugar, but nothing will come close to a disgustingly-black, ripe-to-the-max banana in terms of fruity sweetness. Nowadays I like to store overripe bananas in the freezer – which turn coal-black – then roasting them in the oven or microwaving them if I’m in a pinch before use. Concentrated. Banana. Puree.
• the fat: brown butter, duh. It’s almost like banana fosters cake with the toffee-like character it lends.
• the sugar: as I use the absolute ripest bananas possible, this bread is just the right sweetness with less than 1/2 cup of added sugar. Experiment with different sugars, too. I used raw sugar and molasses this time but brown sugar would be wonderful as well.
• the dairy: many recipes call for milk or buttermilk. As we don’t tend to keep the latter around, I use a combination of cream/milk and Greek yogurt. The acidity and the baking soda help with rising as well as the self-raising flour.
• mix-ins? This obviously comes down to personal preference. I’m not one to shy away from adding dried fruit, nuts, chocolate chips etc. to my batter. However this time I went for a pure batter with almond and coconut topping.
• spices? Many a times have I sprinkled in a little cinnamon into my batter, even a chai-inspired mix of spices. It does add certain warmth in the same vein as comfort food. I find they go more hand-in-hand with oil-based recipes though, as they tend to overwhelm the buttery flavour. That said, I pretty much add earl grey to everything and anything.

With that rant out of the way, here’s my favourite (for now, the experimenting never ends) recipe for the purest and softest banana bread a.k.a. BBBB. It’s perfect for breakfast with tea, even a sneaky during-class snack.

The glorious BBBB (makes one large 9″ loaf)
100g unsalted butter, browned and cooled
2 eggs
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 tbsp molasses (omit if using brown sugar)
125g sugar
30g milk/cream + 30g full-fat plain yogurt / 60g buttermilk
3 medium ripe-to-death bananas or ~300g peeled, mashed
250g self-raising flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
pinch of salt
Optional:
1/4-1/2 tsp spices e.g. nutmeg, cinnamon, loose leaf tea
up to 1/2 cup mix-ins
Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Prepare a loaf tin by buttering and flouring the sides, and lining the bottom.
Whisk together the eggs, sugar, molasses and sugar until thoroughly mixed. Add in dairy and the mashed bananas and mix till combined. Add browned butter and stir to homogenise.
Sift the remaining dry ingredients together and fold into wet mixture. Pour batter into prepared tin and sprinkle on topping if so desired. Don’t pre-toast your nuts if you’re putting them on top as they’ll toast further in the oven. Bake for approx. 35 mins or until the top springs back when lightly pressed.
Best served warm.

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Couldn’t work out a subtle way to include this disclaimer, but the new blog logo/graphic is very much inspired by Tom Hovey’s work for the GBBO. I used it as a reference and drew it myself, then – wait for it – coloured in in Paint. Paint. That is the extent of my artistic skills. Actually moderately pleased with it if I ignore that the blue strokes are obscuring the black lines.
*First exam is done! Super knackered, more from the heat than actual energy depletion. Slightly less awful photo quality this time as I got up early to make this in time for breakfast as opposed to staying up late.

rough puff pastry

Sorry in advance about the quality and quantity of the photos (or lack thereof) in this post and blog in general. In my defense, I was trying to do this in the middle of the night and am trying to save up for a decent camera.
Right then, the rough puff. It’s the less famous and glamorous brother to proper puff pastry that’s actually quite close to the real thing. There are less layers (243 instead of 729) and they come out less defined, but for the amount of time it saves, it puffs up beautifully and is great for almost everything you could use puff pastry for. It’s probably just the odd Mille-Feuille and a few others where you’d want maximum flakiness that it’s worth going through the time-consuming process. But if you haven’t got 3 hours, rough puff is every bit as buttery and versatile as its ‘official’ counterpart.
(Okay, it still takes a long time, but it eliminates the fear of butter poking through the pastry and it being too soft etc. If at any point the dough feels soft, not cold, or shrinking back I can just throw it in the fridge.)
It’s different to a laminated dough of a ‘real’ puff pastry in that instead of folding a block of butter (beurrage) into the dough proper (détrempe), you mix the butter straight into the flour and proceed with the folding. In other words, instead of thinning a single sheet of butter and folding it over itself time after time, you’re taking chunks of butter and thinning them while folding.
It starts with 4 simple ingredients: flour, butter, salt and water.

Rough puff pastry (makes enough for 4 tarts)
250g pastry flour (or plain/all-purpose, some even use bread flour to develop gluten)
250g cold but malleable unsalted butter
1/2 tsp fine salt
~100g ice cold water
With a pastry blender, fork or the tips of your fingers, rub in small chunks of the butter into the flour until starting to incorporate. You don’t want to go all the way to sandy breadcrumb-like texture, you want visible chunks of butter remaining

apple & blueberry jalousies

This is the stuff of dreams. Well, my dreams anyway, when I do dream about pleasant things like food and not running around naked and being unaware of it. The thought of apple pies has been latched onto me ever since my mum and sister brought back more apples than we could consume from the farmers’ market. I began reminiscing about, no, lusting after the best apple pies one could wish for. Not from McD, not even homemade, but the famous pie shop in North Yatala just off the motorway.

Made too much mascarpone filling so the apple jalousie got some too

It’s become a tradition of ours to stop at the pie shop on every journey home from the Gold Coast. Inside the little and always crowded shop, there’s a picture depicting something like a WW2 soldier thinking about Yatala’s pies. It’s become a household joke that when something tastes so good, not even war could distract you from it.

Unfortunately, I’m still very much neck-deep in SWOTVAC hell where I simply can’t afford to take time out of study to do normal things. To maintain my sanity, I’ve been trying to wrap up the day’s study at about 10:30pm then indulge myself in recreational activities, like baking and reading crack fanfiction.

Baking in the dead of the night is nothing new for me. It requires the near-ninja skill of keeping noise to an absolute minimum, which means no mixers, no clanging of metal against metal etc. The use of portable LED book lights is also necessary in an otherwise dark kitchen (not recommended as I had to taste jar to jar to find sugar). Naturally that greatly reduces the number of recipes one is able to carry out, but it does have the advantage of coolness in the atmosphere, perfect when one is working with butter.

Yatala’s apple pies have the signature mound of whipped cream with a pastry lid on top. But while I was searching for ways to prevent the excess juices from the apples from seeping into the pastry, I came across jalousies, and my mind was set. The name of the dessert translates to jealousy in French, and while I try to reserve judgement about things I make, I think the result would’ve inspired jealousy in the 7-year-old me who was very much in a relationship with blueberry danishes, and the blueberry version of this is very close to that.
I’ll do a separate post on the pastry, which is a quick rough puff. Despite the name, it’s really quite similar to the straight laminated puff pastry but is much faster and less technique sensitive.
The BA article talks about how poaching the juicier fruits (apples, pears) helps enhance flavour, draw the moisture out and avoid the pastry being done before the fruit is tender. The results were as promised – the bottom pastry was buttery and flaky, untouched by moisture and the poached apples had an intense fruity flavour without being mushy.
I poached the apples in apple juice instead of alcohol to accommodate for the major consumer of my goods, but feel free to use wine or apple cider instead. Experimenting with different fruits, savoury fillings and nuts would be fun as well

Apple & blueberry jalousies (makes 2 10x20cm jalousies)
(inspired by Ba Bar’s Jalousie)
For the puff pastry:
1/2 recipe of rough puff pastry
For the poached apples:
2 medium cooking apples
250g apple juice
20g sugar~10 pieces of citrus peel (optional)
1 cinnamon stick (optional)
1/2 vanilla pod, cut lengthwise (optional)
For the blueberry filling:
80g mascarpone
zest & juice of 1/2 lemon
1/4 tsp vanilla
1tsp icing sugar
1tsp flour
100g blueberries (fresh or defrosted)
To poach the apples, peel, core and cut into quarters. Further cut each quarter into thirds so you end up with 24 slices in all. In a pot, put in everything but the apples and heat until the sugar’s dissolved. Add the apples and cook on medium heat until tender but not mushy, about 10-15 minutes. Drain and leave to cool. If you wish, you could reduce the liquid to a syrup and use in other desserts.
For the mascarpone filling, whisk together the mascarpone, lemon zest and juice, vanilla and icing sugar until combined, then mix in the flour.
Preheat the oven to 205C/400F. Roll and cut the (defrosted) puff pastry into 4 equal rectangles approx. 3mm thick, I cut mine 10x20cm. Place two of the rectangles on a lined baking sheet at least 2cm apart.
For the apple jalousie, arrange the poached slices closely and 1cm away from the edges. A sprinkle of chopped walnuts here would be nice. For the blueberry jalousie, spread the mascarpone filling evenly and 1cm away from the edges then place a layer of blueberries on top. Sprinkle blueberries with some demerara sugar if you like.
Egg wash the 1cm margin all around the 2 base rectangles, and gently place the other 2 top pieces on top of the fruit. Press the top and bottom pastry together and make some cuts in the top pastry for aesthetic (I don’t have a lattice roller so fugly slats will have to do) and functional (to let out the steam) reasons. Egg wash the top too, being careful not to let it drip down the sides as it may stick the layers together and hinder maximum puffage.
Bake in 205C/400F hot oven until the pastry has started to rise, about 10 minutes in. Reduce the temperature down to 190C/375F until golden on top, about 20 more minutes. Check that the bottom is crispy, not soggy. If the bottom is still soft, move the tray to the bottom of the oven and let cook in residual heat.
Best served hot with dollop of cream/crème fraîche/ice cream.