recipe: gluten-free madeleines

Studying food culture in France, it was impossible to avoid Proust.  In fact, I had already encountered his famous "madeleine de Combray" (link to story in english, french) in high school - and recall struggling with his run-on, pensive sentences. But as I grew older, and more interested in the history of culinary criticism, I began to appreciate Proust's summary of the essential relationship between food and memory:

"...when nothing subsists of an old past, after the death of people, after the destruction of things, alone, frailer but more enduring, more immaterial, more persistent, more faithful, smell and taste still remain for a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, upon the ruins of all the rest, bearing without giving way, on their almost impalpable droplet, the immense edifice of memory".

I also learned that pondering while dipping a madeleine in a tasse du thé (cup of tea) was an excellent habit to acquire.

I've since made quite a few batches of madeleines, and have yet to find a recipe I swear by.  So this time, I adapted a recipe myself - inspired by a Parisian amie who is boldly going gluten-free in the bread-centric capital.

See the original recipe posting at HonestCooking.com.

recipe: friselle (italian pepper biscuits)

Growing up, friselle were the edibles of family lore and legend.  My father once came to pick up my mother for a date and discovered my uncle in a trance at the table, gnawing on these crunchy biscuits, as a pile of "sawdust" grew beneath his chin.  My mother, herself, would keep a secret stash of these friselle "bracelets" in the cupboard, and as my sister grew older, she too developed an addiction for these savory treats.  Yet despite the growing friselle fanbase, no one in my family ever attempted to make these seemingly simple biscuits - that is, except my great aunt.

My great aunt - who worked for one of the most renown Italian pastry shops in the Northeast - is famous for her inability to accurately relay a recipe.  From struffoli to pignoli, her hand-me-down, anecdotal instructions have never ceased to thwart my mother's most dedicated attempts at recreating traditional family dishes.  I thus decided that the only way to save these favorite recipes would be to observe my great aunt in action - noting what she did, rather than what she said.

I learned to make friselle during the first of these heirloom cooking lessons, and they have since become my signature housewarming gift.  Deemed "addictive" by their enthusiastic recipients, a few friends have gone so far as to throw parties just so I will re-stock their stash.

Old-Fashioned Italian Friselle

Ingredients:

• 4 cups flour (unbleached all-purpose is best, but you can use 50% wholegrain flour as well)
• 1.5 tbsp black pepper
• 1 tsp salt
• 4 tsp baking powder
• 1 cup olive oil
• 1 cup cold water

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Combine dry ingredients.
3. Whisk together oil and water and add to dry ingredients. (Tip: Measure 1 cup of oil in a liquid measuring cup, then add cold water until it reaches the 2 cup line.  You can whisk them together in the measuring cup itself).
4. Use a spatula to gently fold the liquid into the dry ingredients.  (When everything is properly mixed, you should have fluffy dough that is still moist but does not stick to your hands.)

5. Roll a handful of dough into an inch-thick log (don’t overwork the dough, be gentle!).  Then, cut into half-inch slices.
6. Line-up cut biscuits on a greased baking sheet (I use olive oil to grease mine.  They can be lined up very close together as they do not expand much).
7. Bake for about an hour, rotating trays after 30 minutes.  (When complete, the biscuits will be hard but still light in color – though they may be toasty brown on the tray-side).

Note : Friselle can be made in all shapes and sizes, but I prefer this bite-sized version for gift giving.

recipe revisited: French Toast

There are a number of “French” foods that don’t come from France.  French fries, for example, actually hail from Belgium.  But in the case of French toast, France will gladly take the credit, though they call it pain perdu (literally, “lost bread”). Growing up in America, a leftover bread never seemed to be an issue.  To be honest, we mostly ate sliced whole-grain toast, or ciabatta rolls on special occasions.  So it wasn’t until I moved to the land of the boulangerie and started hosting weekly Sunday dinners that I found myself with an abundance of stale bread.

Now I like American “French” toast – butter, sugar, cinnamon, syrup – but I’m more of a savory than a sweet person.  So when my French foodie friends told me they serve up their pain perdu with cheese, herbs, tomatoes and other dinner-time leftovers, I started experimenting with different ingredients and cooking styles.

Though I’ve been known to throw bread in a casserole and bake it slow with all sorts of different toppings, the easiest (and perhaps most delicious) pain perdu recipe I’ve developed involves crusty, hearty (ideally sourdough) bread, leftover herbs and tangy cheese (like chevre or feta).

I recently revisited this classic when I found myself with some leftover sourdough boule from the Silver Moon Bakery in NYC.

Ingredients:

-stale bread, ideally sourdough or a hearty (with more inside than crust)

-2 eggs (for 1-2 people, add more depending on the number of diners)

-a splash of milk

-herbs (I prefer sage or thyme)

-1/4 cup tangy, soft cheese per person (sheep or goat’s cheese is best)

-salt/pepper

-butter

Instructions:

1.   Cut stale bread into ½ - 1 inch slices.

2.   Crack eggs into a bowl, add a splash of milk, cheese, salt & pepper to taste.

3.   Heat butter in a skillet until it turns nutty-brown.

4.   While butter is heating, beat egg/cheese mixture until relatively smooth.

5.   Dip bread slices into egg wash, let soak for a few seconds on each side.

6.   Once pan is hot and butter nutty-brown, start adding egg-washed slices of bread to the pan. (If you have extra egg-wash, you can just pour it into the pan with the bread.  As you move the bread around/flip it, it will absorb more of the egg).

7.   Rip or sprinkle herbs over the bread.

8.   Flip toast and press down with spatula, ensuring that it browns on both sides. (If your bread is sliced thick, you can cover your pan, to ensure the egg cooks through properly).

9.  Once the bread is golden-brown on each side, serve to your eager guests (or yourself!).