Cake – Page 2 – Roodelia

Over the past few days, I have busied myself with revision for a theory exam that passed yesterday. I didn’t have time to write until now. That is a partial truth, because there is always time for pastries. To my horror, I am starting to sound like an addict, with an unhealthy obsession for sweets. Call it an occupational hazard being a culinary student, but the thought of not having enough pastries before my return irks me. In just over a month’s time, I would no longer run into a boulangerie or pâtisserie on every other street. Nonetheless, I still hold some hope for decent pastries back home, with all sincerity and faith.

Sometimes, the idea of decadence bugs me. Am I being a downright hedonist, self-indulgent in good food and turning a blind eye to the cruel realities of others? In all honesty, I am unprepared to answer this question here, and I don’t wish to go any further in this series on food. To keep it simple, I’d rather savor food than hoard personal effects. Paris may be the capital of fashion, the city of love, but I would have none of that. It is certainly not the only city where one can find good food, but it is one of the many places. Short as my stay may be, I have come to hold greater respect for food, not just necessarily the superfluous, but also the basic. I will leave my reflections nearer to the end of my stay, and now I’ll begin on that which has first captured your attention to this post.

As previously mentioned, I had gotten the Grand Cru from La Pâtisserie des Rêves. As a new learner of the language, trying to grasp French from everyday conversations and unstructured self-study (what’s worse – a lack of discipline), the name befuddles me. A direct translation gives “the great raw”. Perhaps a better interpretation would be “the great vintage/vineyard,” but that doesn’t really help in the context. Google searches tell me that this term is used primarily in the wine industry, to refer to a land with great potential for great wine. And a somewhat helpful definition from ChocoParis: Grand cru chocolate – Chocolate made with beans from a particular region. Mystery solved? Not quite. But a visit to the patisserie’s website (a well-designed and comprehensive one) explained it all. All the chocolate in this cake is from Samana and nowhere else. Well… that’s an anti-climax answer for all that Sherlock action, but I was rewarded with a wonderful video, which I have embedded at the end of this post.

While I cannot (at least not yet) translate what is explicated in the video by the chef himself, M. Philippe Conticini, here’s my own take on this petite dessert. I have above a (perhaps unprofessional) photo of its cross-section. Underneath the chocolate glaze lies the chocolate mousse, enveloping a chocolate ganache layer atop a chocolate biscuit cuillère (the same type of biscuit as in lady’s finger), with a chocolate coustillant sitting at the base. Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate. If you’ve watched the video first, impatient you, that’s probably the only thing you would understand if you don’t know French.

It would seem uninteresting and plain, in terms of taste, to have everything made with the same chocolate. It wasn’t. The catch was in the coustillant; it had a fair amount of fleur de sel incorporated. (FYI: “fleur de sel is a hand-harvested sea salt collected by workers who scrape only the top layer of salt before it sinks to the bottom of large salt pans” – wikipedia). That complex flair of saltiness worked out perfectly with the dark and intense Samana chocolate. With every mouthful comes the chocolate taste that chocolate lovers would die for, only to be succeeded by a refreshing kick of salt to the top of your palate. For sure, the use of salt instead of an acidic fruit as a contrast to chocolate isn’t new. But it has to be done right. In one other pastry I’ve tried, of which I wouldn’t name because it was a shame to a good reputation, the salt overwhelmed everything and it was immensely awful. The balance for the Grand Cru was done just right – the chocolate had ample time to work its magic before the salt comes in just in the end to make its presence known.

The rest of the layers didn’t just stand by and watch. They were skilfully textured; even with the same chocolate used throughout, it certainly doesn’t feel like having a bite from a chocolate tablet. The moist biscuit with the crumbly coustillant, and the dense ganache with the light mousse, all play their part to make a splendid ensemble, not forgetting the dark glaze that draws the curtain at the lips. The play of taste and texture… it was a performance deserving of an encore.

All that high-flown rhetoric aside, the Grand Cru is a well-made dessert and I would pay for another one. It might not be the best chocolate entremet I’ve tasted, but it has earned a place on my list of “pastries I would miss back home.” Take a minute to watch the video below, but be warned not to drool. Food is a universal language. And what I really admire is the humble pride and passion the chef holds for his creations.

From time to time, a simple dessert can hit the right spot. Some, like the Opéra, take laborious effort and time to piece together, while others only require a little more than mixing the ingredients together and baking in the oven. I may be over-simplifying, but it’s a matter of relativity. Yet, simplicity does not excuse one from demanding creativity and skill. In fact, sometimes, the simplest of things necessitates the greatest of ingenuity.

It is always difficult to choose something from a pâtisserie, especially when most pastry chefs are more than eager to display their culinary prowess with an eye-dazzling array of pastries that line their glass cabinets. My rule of thumb: when in a dilemma, choose something with raspberries. I’m more of a “fruit person” than a “chocolate person”, and the raspberry has just the right taste over any other berry on my palate. That said, this time round, I knew what I wanted from La Pâtisserie des Rêves along Rue du Bac – the Grand Cru, which will come in the next post.

The more elaborate pâtisseries were illustriously presented on a podium in the middle of the boutique. Each of them were encased in a glass jar-like capsule (not that I liked it though,) with a description printed in readable, large print. On the contrary, the viennoiseries and the rest were tucked at a corner, somewhat un-appetizingly Having made a decision beforehand, I briefly glanced over the other capsules, and ordered a Grand Cru at the counter to take away. The sales-lady smiled and walked into the kitchen to get my order, and that left me exploring the boutique’s less-attractive corners. I found this, the Cake Framboise et Thé Matcha, sitting on a plate at a corner. It didn’t come across as strikingly beautiful of course, but I was intrigued to find something that married two favorite flavors of mine. It’s a simple cake; it was relatively cheap and so I succumbed to temptation.

A few weeks ago, I had to bake a traditional Cake aux Fruits at school. Previously, I’ve heard that some people have experienced the problem of having the cut fruits sinking to the bottom of the batter. Instead of having the colorful gems evenly dispersed throughout the pound cake, the fruits cluster in the lower half, to much disappointment. A chef from the school says this from time to time, “there are no problems – only solutions.” The solution we were taught, was to pre-mix the macerated fruits with some flour, which helps to suspend them in the batter. It turned out well for us.

It’s a different story for raspberries, however. Left uncut, the way they are best enjoyed, the berries are too heavy, and they will sink. Are pound cakes and raspberries destined to be incompatible? Apparently the chef at La Pâtisserie des Rêves didn’t think so, and came up with a slightly ingenious answer – cover the barren top half with matcha. It might be an accident, but so be it. The photo can be deceiving; the matcha powder isn’t incorporated into the batter, it is only sprinkled on the cut surface. So there we have, a blissful marriage between two uncommon partners. I thought they complemented each other well. It was a partnership of the freshness of the berries and the subtle flavor of matcha. The juicy berries made up for the dry matcha powder, while the excess acidity was neutralized.

“Awesome!” I exclaimed (silently, of course).

On second thought, and perhaps after a few more bites, an underlying discord disturbed me. The unusual combination was ingenious, it had potential, but it lacked some sort of “synergy.” With partial knowledge of music, I would say, these two flavors belong to different family of chords. Played together, they sounded good but wait, something’s wrong, sort of. There was a “twang” in their harmony; it didn’t work out that well after all… But I wasn’t disappointed; it was a good match; it was delicious. The cake was moist, the sides weren’t burnt and rock-hard. Simple is good. The flavors were great too, I enjoyed it, but it’s not a perfect “happily-ever-after” ending. Hopefully, one day someone would bring together a perfect ensemble of raspberries and matcha. Till then, I’ll have them separately.

Roodelia

Tag: Cake

Grand Cru: A splendid ensemble.

Cake Framboise et Thé Matcha