The Sweet Life in Paris: Delicious Adventures in the World's Most Glorious - and Perplexing - City (24 page)

One day Monsieur Thomas lifted the rope tagged
RESERVE: Accès limité au personnel
, and we slipped underneath and headed to the backroom,
where they keep their special ingredients hidden away for extra-discerning Parisian chefs and bakers. The wooden shelves were as neat as a pin and well organized, everything in easy reach. I made a mental note that when I got home I was going to completely reorganize my shelves of ingredients, too. (Which I haven’t done yet but I swear I’m getting around to.)

We poked around and he showed me things like burlap bags of heavenly smelling roasted cocoa beans, which I like to nibble on just as is, carefully laid-out boxes of delicate candied violets, and a few others things he told me he’d prefer that I not talk about. We chef types are entitled to keep a few secrets to ourselves,
non?

But what really thrilled me was when he asked me if I’d like to visit
la cave
downstairs, motioning to a staircase that led into dense darkness. It was somewhere he told me outsiders never get to see. Wanting to see it all, of course I said,
“Mais oui!”

When we reached the bottom of a series of time-worn stone steps, he switched on a light and I gazed upward, reeling backward at the sight of magnificent stone arches and tunnel-like passageways leading off in various directions. “Wow!” was the first word out of my mouth and about all I could say for the next few minutes over and over again, like the village idiot. An idiot in awe. “Wow … wow … wow …”

As we walked around in near darkness, I was half expecting to trip over a few skeletons, like the ones resting in peace over in
les catacombes.
I ran my hands over the massive stonework, which he said were ancient fortification walls from when Paris was thirty feet or so lower than it is today. As with other ancient cities, buildings had simply been constructed one on top of the other over time, but who knew the little shop where I foraged around for chocolate, dried fruits, honey, and almonds sat atop such history?

Sadly, there wasn’t much down there in terms of baking goods. Monsieur Thomas told me since it was so damp, he couldn’t keep anything edible there. We walked around for a few minutes and I kept running my hands over the walls, which felt cool and damp, until I was satisfied that I’d really seen it all.

Now that I’ve seen everything they’ve got, from top to bottom, I can confirm that G. Detou certainly lives up to its name and has everything I could ever want. My fantasy is to move in permanently and spend the rest of eternity sampling French chocolate and candies there, until my time has come. If I did, I wonder what people would think a few hundred years from now, when they came across a skeleton in the basement clutching an empty burlap sack and a small plastic bucket of glucose. But should I get a proper burial down there, I suggest my tombstone read, “He Got Everything.”

MADELEINES AU CITRON
LEMON-GLAZED MADELEINES
MAKES 24 INDIVIDUAL CAKES

In spite of what Proust implied, I don’t think the original little cakes had much of a hump, but merely a gentle curve. Somewhere along the line, a bit of baking powder was added, and
voilà
—a phenomenon was born. If you’re one of those people who must have a large hump, note that I’ve included baking powder in my recipe. While purists may insist it isn’t traditional, one could also make the argument that it’s also not traditional for bakers to purchase eggs or buy flour—traditionally, people used to raise chickens and grow their own wheat. At some point, a lazy baker broke down and bought his eggs and flour from someone else, and ruined the entire system of traditional baking. Since it’s already been ruined, you can comfortably add baking powder.

I bought my madeleine molds, the nonstick ones, at MORA. You still need to butter them, though, making sure you hit every little nook and crevice. I also found that it’s best to place nonstick pans on an upper oven rack so both sides bake evenly, since their darker metal attracts heat to the bottom.

If you’re one of those people who end up selling those pans at your next
garage sale, I invite you to enjoy your madeleines in Paris instead. The most perfect ones I’ve found are at Blé Sucré, an excellent little bakery overlooking a gorgeous square in the twelfth arrondissement. Fabrice Le Bourdat turns out the loveliest, most delicious madeleines I’ve ever tasted, which prompted me to come up with my own version. To ensure each little cake is just as moist as his, I swathe each with a puckery lemon glaze.

1. To make the madeleines, brush the indentations of a madeleine mold with melted butter. Dust with flour, tap off any excess, and place in the freezer.
   

2. In the bowl of a standing electric mixer, whip the eggs, granulated sugar, and salt for 5 minutes, until frothy and thickened.
   

3. Spoon the flour and baking powder into a sifter or mesh strainer and use a spatula to fold in the flour as you sift it over the batter. (Rest the bowl on a damp towel to help steady it.)
   

4. Add the lemon zest to the cooled butter, then dribble the butter into
   the batter, a few spoonfuls at a time, while simultaneously folding to incorporate it. Fold just until all the butter is incorporated.
   

5. Cover the bowl and refrigerate for at least 1 hour. (Batter can be chilled for up to 12 hours.)
   

6. To bake the madeleines, preheat the oven to 425°F (210°C).
   

7. Using two teaspoons, plop an amount of batter in the center of each indentation that you think will expand to the top of the mold once the heat of the oven spreads it out. (You’ll have to eyeball it, but it’s not brain surgery, so don’t worry if you’re not exact.) Leave the dough in a mound; do not spread it.
   

8. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes or until the cakes feel springy and just set. While the cakes are baking, make a glaze in a small mixing bowl by stirring the powdered sugar, lemon juice, and 2 tablespoons water until smooth.
   

9. Remove the madeleines from the oven and tilt them out onto a cooling rack. The moment they’re cool enough to handle, dip the cakes in the glaze, turning them over to make sure both sides are coated. Scrape off any excess with a dull knife. After dipping, set each one back on the rack, scalloped side up, letting the cakes cool until the glaze has firmed up.
   

STORAGE:
Glazed madeleines are best left uncovered and are at their peak eaten the day they’re made (which is not too difficult). They can be kept in an airtight container for up to three days after baking, if necessary. I don’t recommend freezing them since the glaze will melt, but the unglazed cakes can be frozen in freezer bags for up to one month.

VARIATIONS:
For orange-glazed madeleines
, substitute orange zest for the lemon zest, and for the glaze, use 3 tablespoons freshly squeezed orange juice in place of the lemon juice and water.

For green tea madeleines
, sift 2 ½ teaspoons of green tea powder (matcha) with the flour. Omit the lemon zest and add a few swipes of orange zest instead.

For chocolate chip madeleines
, omit the lemon zest and stir 2 to 3 tablespoons cocoa nibs or chocolate minichips into the batter. Omit the glaze.

NOTE:
If you have only one madeleine mold (you obviously didn’t buy it at E. Dehillerin, where the guys would have talked you into buying two), bake one batch of cakes first. After you tip them out, wipe the mold well with a dishtowel, then rebutter. Freeze the mold for five minutes, then bake the remaining batter.

GUIMAUVE CHOCOLAT COCO
CHOCOLATE-COCONUT MARSHMALLOWS
MAKES 36 MARSHMALLOWS

In France, you’ll find marshmallows sold in long ropelike strands, not just in pastry shops, but in some pharmacies as well. The extract of the mallow plant is considered a remedy for respiratory disorders; the idea behind the long strands of marshmallows, or
guimauves
, is that the pharmacist will snip off a piece so you can “take your medicine.” If this seems odd to you, think about those sweetened vitamins, candied cough syrups, and chocolate-flavored laxatives. For my money, I’ll take marshmallows over any of them. (Although I do like that orange-flavored children’s aspirin quite a bit.)

On the rue Rambuteau, a street that cuts through the Marais, is Pain de Sucre. It’s not a drugstore, but arguably the best pastry shop in the quarter. In the window rest several glass apothecary jars filled with marshmallows of various flavors: angelica, olive oil, lemon verbena, chicory, rose, and saffron, all crafted by chef Didier Mathray. I haven’t tried them all—yet. But my favorites, so far, are the pillowy-soft chocolate ones tossed in shredded coconut.

I’m not entirely convinced that marshmallows are the cure for what ails you. But I don’t want to take any risks with my health, so I make sure they’re part of my weekly regimen—just in case.

1. Pour 6 tablespoons (95 ml) water in a small bowl and sprinkle the gelatin over the top.
   

2. In a small, heavy-duty saucepan fitted with a candy thermometer, combine the sugar, corn syrup, and 1/3 cup (80 ml) cold water and set over moderate heat.
   

3. While the syrup is cooking, put the egg whites in the bowl of a standing electric mixer with the whip attachment in place.
   

4. When the sugar syrup reaches about 225°F (108°C), begin whipping the whites slowly with the salt.
   

5. As the temperature of the syrup climbs, beat the whites on medium-high speed until they’re fluffy and begin to hold their shape.
   

6. When the syrup reaches 250°F (122°C), remove from heat and scrape in the gelatin. Stir until it’s completely dissolved, then whisk in the cocoa.
   

7. Increase the mixer speed to high and pour the syrup into the egg whites in a slow but steady stream. Avoid pouring the syrup on the whip or it will fling and cling to the sides rather than go into the meringue.
   

8. While the syrup is whipping, spread half of the coconut evenly over the bottom of an 8-inch (20-cm) square pan, leaving no bare spots.
   

9. Stop the mixer briefly and scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl, then add the vanilla and continue to whip the marshmallow mixture until it’s thickened and the side of the mixer bowl no longer feels warm. The mixture will still be a bit runny, like chocolate pudding, but will firm up as it sits.
   

10. Pour the mixture into the prepared pan and smooth the top as best you can. Sprinkle the remaining coconut over the top. Let cool at least 4 hours or overnight, uncovered.
    

11. To unmold, run a knife around the edge of the pan and turn the marshmallow square out onto a large cutting board or baking sheet. Use scissors or a pizza cutter to cut it into 36 squares. Toss the marshmallows with the excess coconut that fell off when you unmolded the large square, dredging the sides to coat them completely. Shake each marshmallow to remove excess coconut, then arrange on a serving plate.
    

STORAGE:
The marshmallows can be stored in a container for up to five days at room temperature.