pistachio blood orange tartlets

As soon as the month of March is in sight, I´m among those who will eagerly notice the slightest signs of spring: a green leaf here, a new blossom there, the sun rising a little earlier than last week, the choir of birds singing a little more enthusiastically in the morning. Actually, I wouldn´t mind skipping winter altogether, proceeding from golden October to bright spring days in the blink of an eye. I wouldn´t miss a thing. Or would I? Metereological adversities aside, admittedly there´s quite a few things I like about the cold season: say candles,  cookies, Christmas - and citrus. J´adore les agrumes! Oranges and blood oranges, tangerines and clementines, lemons,  limes & grapefruit - over the past months, the entire citrus clan subsequently moved into my kitchen, and helped me through the cold and grey: each sip and bite a little boost of sunshine. 

Now that today feels like spring for the first time,  the bowl that held piles of oranges and clementines will slowly empty over the next week or so. Next time I buy fruit, I´ll probably chose pears over tangerines, dump the blood oranges for the rhubarb, and the first strawberries are always a temptation on their own, one I can never resist to, even if  it will take tons of powdered sugar to bring out their real selves. The allure of the new will make me unfaithful, I know, my beloved oranges will end up being left behind - but before that happens, let´s celebrate together one more time. Let´s have tartlets. Orange, or blood orange and pistachio tartlets. Or lemon, or grapefruit, or tangerine. Anything goes with that scrumptious pistachio tart crust (actually, it´s all about the crust, but don´t tell!). It´s so simple and good. And then, let´s move on to spring!

Blood orange & pistachio tartlets (yields 6 tartlets):

pistachio tart crust:

175 g flour
50 g ground pistachios, from salted pistachios
60 g confectioner´s sugar
3 egg yolks
110 g unsalted butter
pinch of salt (only if using unsalted pistachios)
2-3 tbsp cold water

blood orange curd:
180 ml blood orange juice
juice from 1 lemon (25 ml)
2 eggs + 2 yolks
80 g butter
120 g sugar
blood orange zest if using untreated oranges

decoration:
handful of chopped pistachios
1-2 blood orange, quartered, then very finely sliced
confectioner´s sugar

Make the crust: In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment (or by hand), working at low to medium speed, mix all the ingredients except water until you obtain a fine crumble, 3-5 min. Then add water 1 tbsp at a time, until the dough comes together. At the end, there should be no more visible butter flakes. Shape a ball, wrap in cling film and refrigerate for 1 hour or longer.

For the curd, squeeze out enough blood oranges to obtain 180 ml juice, plus one lemon. If you have organic fruit, zest 3 of the oranges prior to juicing them. Combine all ingredients for the curd except eggs in a saucepan, set over moderate heat, and allow butter to melt. As soon as the butter has melted, add eggs and yolks, stirring constantly for 7-10 minutes, until the mixture thickens and coats the back of a spoon. Set aside to cool (continue to stir for 30 sec to 1 more minute once the heat is off to avoid curdling).

Preheat your oven to 180°C/350 °F. Grease 6 tartlets tins with butter and line them with the rolled out pastry. Make sure to work on a well floured surface, and using a well floured rolling pin etc as the dough is quite delicate.

Prick tartlets multiple times with a fork, cover each one with a circle of parchment and add some ovenproof weights.  Blind bake tartlets for a couple of minutes (about 7 min should do).

Remove parchment and weights, pour cooled curd into pastry shells. Bake for another 12-15 minutes approx. Leave to cool on a wire rack, unmould once cooled.

To serve, quarter 1 or 2 blood oranges and slice them very finely. On a parchment paper lined baking tray, dust orange slices with confectioner´s or brown sugar. Brown oranges under oven broiler under constant sight. Sprinkle tartlets with a few chopped pistachios and a couple of "burnt" orange slices.

Canelés au Cointreau

recipe: Canelés au cointreau

When the mimosas bloom, you know it´s almost spring - not here in Paris, but somewhere at least. Not too far away, in the South of France, there must have been milder days, allowing for the mimosa trees to explode with thousands upon thousands of little pompoms. If I had the time, I´d love to hop into my car and drive South, to Médoc perhaps, or even better to the Côte d´Azur, with nothing much but scissors in my bags. Aimlessly (I´m not a good scout), I´d cruise around and admire the bursts of yellow, dotting the grey landscape. Then I´d find the most overwhelming mimosa tree and cut a few branches, just for myself. No one could guess, I´d choose a really large one that wouldn´t look the slightest bit less pretty without my secret little theft. Bad consciously I´d head home. In my defense, I had nothing to say except perhaps that I so needed to see a ray of light on our mostly cloudy horizon. At home, I´d take out the largest vase I could find and honor my prey with admiring looks and fresh water every day.

But I´m not good at stealing, or doing things that aren´t really permitted. So I´ll pass by the fleuriste later in the afternoon and buy some mimosas to replace the ones on the mantelpiece, for they´ re starting to fade.

You always want what you don´t have. But dwelling on thoughts about the South of France lately called to mind one of my favorite confections: canelés from Bordeaux. The story behind these little cakes is somewhat mysterious, yet tightly entangled with region they originate from. As we´re talking Bordeaux, of course it all has to do with wine: Traditionally, vinification in Bordeaux would involve a step called collage that required egg whites to clarify the solids from the ripening wine. Left over yolks were too precious to be thrown away, so the château owners would give them to the local convents. Probably inspired by a then popular cake called canole, the sisters would invent canelés and flavor them with rum and vanilla bean - exotic ingredients at the time that arrived at the nearby port of Bordeaux. If you make canelés for the first time, you´ll see that the batter is very thin, like a crêpes batter, and has to sit for a while for a maximum of flavor. While I adore the traditional canelés, I prefer to substitute rum with Cointreau liqueur and add some orange zest - the result is at least as flavorful. Either way, the secret of a perfect canelé is the soft and custardy core, wrapped in a thick, dark (almost burnt) caramelized crust - molleux & croustillant, that´s how it´s got to be!

Canelés au Cointreau (makes 14-15):

500 ml milk
40 g butter
1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise & seeds scraped out
125 g sifted flour
200 g sugar
70 ml Cointreau (orange liqueur)
zest from 1 untreated orange

Bring milk with butter, sugar, vanilla pod and seeds to a soft boil. Remove from the heat, leave to cool for about 5 minutes, then take out vanilla pod.

Using a hand whisk, whisk in the sifted flour, avoiding lumps (If there are a few, never mind. If there are too many, simply pass mixture through a fine mashed sieve). Finally, add Cointreau and orange zest. By now the batter should be quite thin, like a crêpe or pancake batter.  Leave to cool completely, then refrigerate for 24-48 hours.

When ready to bake, preheat oven 200°C. Divide batter into canelé moulds, filling them to 3/4. Bake for 55-60 minutes.

A few notes:
1. Moulds: The classic canelés moulds are copper moulds. If you use them, you have to butter them very liberally, but in my experience not even that will prevent the canelés from sticking here and there,  so it can be difficult to unmould them. On the plus side, the canelés will brown somewhat more evenly. But as I am a huge fan of easy unmoulding, I use silicone moulds, I don´t grease them, and I´m very happy with the result.
2. Resting time: 24 hours or more is ideal to make the flavors come together. However, if you don´t want to wait that long, overnight, or even a few hours of resting, is fine, too.
3. When to eat? Canelés are best a few hours after baking. Once cooled, the crust is wonderfully crisp and caramelized, like a perfect crème brûlée topping, but all around. You will still find them great the next day, but the crust will soften. You can place them in the hot oven for 1 or 2 minutes to reheat them if you prefer them warm (but be careful not to burn them).

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