Memory Monday:

Citrus-Scented Madeleines with Burnt Honey Cream

If there ever was a mindful thing to bake, it is madeleines. 

These are the little, scallop-shell-shaped cakes that famously brought back memories for French writer Marcel Proust. 

Tender, buttery, aromatic with citrus, the madeleines are as light as a passing thought. And then there's the fabulous caramelized honey cream to dip them in. Another piece of heaven!

Here's my in-process photo, below, from Bake Happy (Running Press, 2015)

There is something about the scent of butter and citrus together that does take you back, pleasantly, in time. 

Flavor, like scent, can do that.

Lemon is the delicious and aromatic core of my new novel The Memory of Lemon (Penguin Random House) which comes out on June 14, 2016. It's a sequel to The Cake Therapist and continues the story of Neely, the baker who can "read" people as flavors, discovering their secrets.

When I make madeleines, I’m back at La Varenne Ecole de Cuisine when it was in Paris, and Dehillerin, an Aladdin’s cave of culinary equipment, where I bought my madeleine pan. 

Madeleines can be tricky—you’ll need a madeleine pan—so set aside the time, follow the

directions, and give yourself up to the moment and the exacting method. 

I’ve found that lightly but thoroughly coating the madeleine molds with baking spray—definitely not French, but it works—is the easiest way to get the scallop shell-shaped cakes out of the molds after baking. Only fill the madeleine molds halfway full. 

Just figure the first batch is practice, and they don’t have to be perfect: just delicious.

The Burnt Honey Cream is also delicious spooned over fresh fruits and pound cake. Adapted from a recipe by Eryn Chesney.

Citrus and Browned Butter Madeleines with Burnt Honey Cream

Adapted from Bake Happy (Running Press, 2015) by Judith Fertig.

The scent and flavor of citrus and browned butter in the madeleines and the caramelized honey in the dipping sauce will transport yout to a happy place, just as Proust was in his early twentieth century novel In Search of Lost Time.

Makes 24 large or 40 small madeleines

Citrus and Browned Butter Madeleines:

1/2 cup (113 g) unsalted butter, plus more for the pan

3 large eggs, at room temperature

2/3 cup (150 g) granulated sugar

1 cup (125 g) unbleached all-purpose flour, plus more for the pan

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon lemon zest

1/2 teaspoon orange zest

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

Baking spray

Confectioners’ sugar for dusting

Burnt Honey Cream:

1/2 cup (170 g) clover, wildflower, or other amber honey

11/2 cups (375 ml) heavy whipping cream

1/8 teaspoon salt

For the Citrus and Browned Butter Madeleines, melt the butter in a small light-colored or stainless steel skillet, over medium-high heat until it turns a golden brown. The butter will foam, then the foam will subside; bigger, clear bubbles will form, and in about 1 to 2 minutes from that point, the butter will start to brown. Remove from the heat and let cool until just warm.

With an electric mixer, beat the eggs and sugar together until the mixture is thick and pale yellow. The mixture should ribbon from the beaters when you stop the mixer and lift the beaters up. With a spatula, fold in the flour, vanilla, citrus zests, and baking powder until smooth and well blended. Fold in the browned butter, including the browned bits, until well blended. Cover and chill the batter for at least 1 hour or up to overnight.

For the honey cream, place the honey in a saucepan over medium-high heat. Bring to a boil and cook until the honey has caramelized and reduced, about 4 minutes. Carefully whisk in the cream until well blended and continue to cook until the cream has reduced, and, thickened, and coats the back of a spoon. Stir in the salt. Set aside to cool.

When ready to bake, preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Lightly but thoroughly spray the inside of a madeleine pan; wipe out any extra baking spray foam with a paper towel, as this could interfere with the scallop shell design. Fill each cavity half full of batter. The batter will spread and fill each mold as it bakes.

Bake for 8 to 10 minutes or until the edges turn golden brown and the top feels springy to the touch. Turn the madeleines out of the pan onto wire racks, using a table knife to help dislodge if necessary. Dust the warm madeleines with confectioners’ sugar.

Dip them into the warm honey cream and remember every wonderful moment in your life.

The 10 Days of Pumpkin

Day Four:  Sweet Dumpling Tartlets with Maple Custard
If pumpkin is the flavor of coming home, what does that mean when you've lived all over, when your family is scattered?
Where, exactly, is home?
My mother just passed away, peacefully in her sleep, after a long illness. She and my dad had been married 66 years. My sister and I gravitate between crying and then laughing at stupid family stories. We know we were lucky to have her as long as we did. Even though we knew she was very frail, we still weren't quite ready to let her go. 
But she is going home to join loved ones who made that same journey long before. That's what I want to believe. 
The last time I wondered about the idea of home was when my son left for college and I was an empty-nester. The theme of home threads through a cookbook I was writing at the time, Prairie Home Breads. 

Now I think that home is in the flavor of something baked, something that can lift your spirits when you need that most. 
And as The Cake Therapist reminds me, 

spice is the flavor of grief because it's the flavor that lasts longest. As friends and family have shared their own losses, I am beginning to understand that there are some things you just don't ever get over. And it's okay if you don't.
Friends who have lost a parent tell me that even years later, some little thing will trigger a memory and the grief will be fresh all over again. I believe it.
I've always thought that food is another way to tell a story. Although I didn't want this particular story, this is the one I have right now, about comfort in a time of sorrow and finding new meaning in the world home.  
I'm putting my cookbook, Bake Happy, into practice and missing my mom.

Sweet Dumpling Tartlets with Maple Custard

Adapted from Bake Happy by Judith Fertig.

A tart shell is meant to be sturdy enough to encase a filling during baking, yet attractive on its own. But who says a tart shell has to be pastry?   If we like desserts that make their own sauces, then how about a vegetable that turns into a sweet tart, complete with its own shell? Sweet Dumpling squashes (in the pumpkin family), with their striped exterior and a sunset-colored interior, are too beautiful to chop into oblivion, so let them be the star of the show. Boiling down the maple syrup first helps intensify its flavor in the custard filling. 

Serve the squash “tartlets” on dark green or brown dessert plates for the best effect—or line your white plates with autumn-colored cocktail napkins first.

Makes 4 tartlets

1/2 cup (164 g) real maple syrup, preferably Grade B

4 rounded Sweet Dumpling squash, or acorn or other small winter squash

21/4 cups (550 ml) half-and-half

2 large egg yolks

1 large egg

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons gluten-free or other spice cookie crumbs, for garnish

In a small saucepan, bring the maple syrup to a boil over medium-high heat. Let the syrup cook until it reduces to 6 tablespoons, about 3 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and set it aside.

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Line a 9 x 13-inch (23 x 33-cm) baking dish with parchment paper. With a sturdy knife, remove the top section of each squash so the squash stands about 2 inches tall; discard the top sections. With a spoon, remove and discard the seeds and stringy pulp from the inside of each squash and discard. Place each cleaned squash shell in the prepared dish. Trim the bottoms, if necessary, so the squash sit evenly in the dish.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the half-and-half, egg yolks, egg, and salt together until well blended. Whisk in the reduced maple syrup.   

Divide the filling among the squash shells.

Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes or until the tops of the squash are tender when pierced with a paring knife. Remove the dish from the oven and dust each squash “tartlet” with cookie crumbs. 

Serve hot or at room temperature. Dig into each squash, getting some of the tender flesh and creamy custard in each bite.

And be comforted.