Hey, That's My Brioche!

Whenever Emilia and I go to the library, which is a lot these days, we often walk across the street and go to The French Bakery before heading home.  We both love it in there.  It is small and cheery, and a great way to avoid eating lunch at home.  Emilia usually opts for a ham and cheese croissant and perrier, while her mama is usually content with the best cappuccino that $2.50 can buy.

Anyway, a month or so ago I broke down and decided to try one of their brioches.  It was so pretty to look at -- all golden and puffed up.  But right after we got to the table, Emilia decided that it looked quite yummy and nearly ate the whole thing.  And then she sat, laughing and laughing, as I told her, 'Hey!  That's my brioche!'  Every now and then she would proudly (or was it menacingly, I can't recall) chime in with, 'I ate it!  I ate mama's brioche!'

And so now, every time we go in to The French Bakery, Emilia thinks that mama should get a brioche for her to eat.  However, while the brioche that they sell is quite good -- pardon me while I toot my own horn here -- mine is better.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact that brioche is really best when eaten warm -- with a nice schmear of butter, and an even bigger schmear of homemade strawberry jam.

Brioche

This is without a doubt the best bread recipe I've ever encountered.  It is also the recipe that takes the longest to make.  Don't let that be off-putting though, because it is pretty easy. I know I've said it before, but any bread recipe that does not require me to knead for 3 days straight (or even 5 minutes), is a true winner.  In fact, all the work for this brioche is done in your KitchenAid mixer.  Other than that, most of the time involved is the phases of rising/proofing.  It is well worth the effort as it is surprisingly good.  And I don't mind telling you that I am always rather pleased with myself when I pull a loaf out of the oven.

Traditionally speaking, we are supposed to eat brioche like the French do — for breakfast (with a cup of coffee, plenty of cigarettes, and the perfect red lipstick, if you are really trying to be authentic).  As for me, I dream of a nice warm slice of brioche with a healthy smattering of butter and jam, and an enormous cup of tea.  Mmmmm. 

However, I am not the sort to wake up at 3 or 4 in the morning simply to get a nice breakfast on the table.  (Sorry, Michael.)  Instead, we do what Patricia Wells suggests, and we have it for dinner.  My favorite way to serve this brioche is with a roast chicken, a fresh green salad, and plenty of extra butter on the table.  Oh, and a nice crisp white wine also adds to the sheer loveliness of the table.

Wild Mushroom Risotto that is Dining Room Table Worthy

Last week our new dining room table and chairs arrived; a gorgeous Lorts farmhouse-style table and chairs that we ordered from a shop in North Carolina several months ago. Now before you start saying, 'Well, la-di-da!', let me tell you about our old table. It was a tiny, tiled affair that I 'borrowed' from my mom right after I graduated from high school and somehow never managed to return. It sat four people, rather uncomfortably, and two of the chairs were so rickety that you had to quite literally pound them back into place before anyone sat on them. That meant that whenever we would have people over for dinner, we would all essentially plop on the floor in the living room — there being nowhere else to go.

However, we have discovered that since Miss Milia came along, for the first time ever, we have people coming over to the house — and actually staying. This is all very strange for us. We are very much used to getting into the car and going to my sister's house for any kind of gathering. Because even though our table was always small (and, therefore, unaccommodating), our house is not much bigger.

So anyway, now we have a lovely (and rather la-di-da, I admit) table. It is perfect for our small little family and maybe two or three more. Any more than that will be back on the living room floor again, I'm afraid. And that's alright.

A few nights ago I decided to make a delicious mushroom risotto that actually warranted sitting at the new dining table. So after toiling away in the kitchen for goodness knows how long, dinner was ready. And what did we do? We sat on the floor in front of the telly (that's in the study), the way we always do when Dancing With the Blasted Stars is on, of course. (I know. I should be embarrassed to admit that we watch that show. However, Derek Hough's Futuristic Paso Doble was a work of art, if I do say so myself.)

As far as the risotto goes, it may be some of the best I've ever had. (Odd, considering the recipe came from a French cookbook.) Because many of the key ingredients cook separately (retaining both textures and flavors), it allows for the dish to maintain its flair. Also, it is beautiful to look at once you actually put it on your plate.

The risotto is simple enough to make, but it requires several separate steps; difficult to do when you are also trying to get your 20 month old down for bed. However, Emilia ate every bite for lunch the next day and even asked for more. And, to be perfectly honest, nothing warms my heart more than that. Incidentally, it is the perfect dish to make for company, which I fully intend to do next time anyone comes in town. And I would even go so far as to say that it should probably be enjoyed while sitting at a proper table.

The Feast Of St. Mary Magdalene

There is something that seems very fussy about madeleines. I'm not sure why this is exactly, because they are so easy to make. Maybe it has to do with the fact that they require a special pan. Or maybe it is their scallop shape that makes them seem so fancy. Whatever the reason, whenever I tell anyone that I've made madeleines, I'm guaranteed some sort of "La Di Da" response. And that's alright — because they are special.

Madeleines have always belonged to Marcel Proust, and it seems almost cliché to associate him with them now. But we cannot get away from it. In his Remembrances of Things Past (most recently translated as In Search of Lost Time) he claimed that simply dunking his madeleine into his tea (or was it coffee?) flooded him with memories of his childhood. Now, it should be stated that I have not actually read this collection of Proust's works. However, I do own two copies of Swann's Way and have always felt that it is a personal flaw — a mark against my character, if you will — that I have not read them. All in due time, I suppose. But really, I'd rather not talk about it.

As it turns out, madeleines have actually been around long before Proust and his torturously long novels. But their history, while a little on the murky side, is certainly French. It is assumed that madeleines originated in the south of France — Commercy, to be exact. But why that particular location is still a bit of a mystery. Most likely it had something to do with the fact that there was a convent in Commercy that was dedicated to St. Mary Magdalene. And most likely, baking (and selling) these little tea cakes at the convent helped financially. It is tradition in France that Mary Magdalene traveled there after the death and resurrection of Christ, converting all the people to Christianity along the way, and then retiring to a lovely hillside for the remainder of her life. But really, who knows?

At any rate, this is where our fussy little madeleines received their namesake — Madeleine being the French form of Magdalene. (Incidentally, Magdalene is also our daughter's middle name.)

Mary Magdalene is whom Christ first appeared to after His resurrection. And it was Mary Magdalene, along with Mary the Mother of Jesus and St. John, who was at the foot of the cross when Christ died — all others abandoning Him. And, like all of us, Mary Magdalene was a sinner. It is not clear what her sins were exactly — only that Christ cast out seven demons from her. It seems to be tradition that she was a prostitute, but there is absolutely no basis for this claim. (And in case you were wondering, the Catholic Church has no official stance on the matter.) What is clear, however, is that Mary Magdalene was a faithful disciple of Christ, and she knew him to be her saviour. And the fact that she was a sinner makes her relationship with God all the more beautiful.

I have used several recipes for madeleines over the years, but the one I always seem to reach for comes from The Paris Cookbook, by Patricia Wells. She uses the miniature pan — whereas I use both the miniature and the traditional, and they both work just fine. Remember to not use soap when washing the pans afterward. Just use hot water and a stiff brush. Otherwise you won't get a nicely seasoned pan.

2 large eggs
1/2 cup sugar
grated zest of 1 lemon
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/8 teaspoon fine sea salt
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled

Butter the madeleine tins and place them in the freezer.

Place the eggs and the sugar in the bowl of a heavy-duty mixer fitted with the whisk. Beat at high speed until thick and lemon-colored, 2-3 minutes. By hand, stir in the zest. Stir in the flour and sea salt. Stir in the butter. Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to 24 hours.

Preheat oven to 375°

Remove tins from freezer. Spoon the batter into the prepared molds, filling nearly to the top. Tap gently against a flat surface to evenly distribute the batter. Place in the center of the oven and bake until golden, 10-12 minutes. Remove to a rack to cool. Remove from tins as soon as they are cool. Best eaten immediately. They may, however, be stored for several days in an airtight container. (Recipe from The Paris Cookbook by Patricia Wells, Harper Collins Publishers, 2001.)