The restaurant is situated inside a luxury condominium building, and is therefore contracted to provide breakfast to the residents. Some pastry chefs may see this obligation as a burden and will try to outsource their baked goods. I see it as an opportunity to get creative and to teach my cooks & externs a new skill they wouldn't necessarily learn in a restaurant environment; but my team is small and I don't often have a lot of time to dedicate to breakfast.
Enter: the quick danish. The dough is easily made in the Robot Coupe (similar to a rich pie dough, but yeasted), and we make small enough batches to roll by hand. Each time we make it, we try to play with different shapes and fillings. For this round, we whipped up some spicy sweet date butter using an excess of dates from an old winter dish. It was then spread on a sheet of dough and sprinkled with dried apricots. We rolled it, sliced it, proofed it, and baked it, and finished the tray with a little apricot glaze and a drizzle of icing. A quick danish doesn't go through the rigorous lamination process of the classic version so won't expand as much, but the finished product is still flaky, with a crisp bite and moist, tender interior.
Other variations have included a windowed strip with raspberry-ricotta filling, chocolate pinwheels and pear & almond swirly-cup-things.
I found myself caught between an Aussie and a Kiwi today when I served this dessert. Let me tell you, it can be a very uncomfortable place, indeed! Both claim their relative countries invented it, in honor of Russian ballerina, Anna Pavlova. Even my brief internet research debates its origins. All quarrels aside, the pavlova is a national dish in both countries and held dear to the hearts of its citizens.
I first tried a version of this dish a few years ago, while pastry sous chef at Gilt, and it really was a revelation. The magic of the pavlova lies hands down in the meringue. The balance of crispy outer shell to the soft, chewy interior, make a perfect vessel for ever so lightly sweetened cream. Fresh passion fruit seeds add fruity acidity and a pleasant pop rock-y crunch. Fresh strawberries gild the lily.
Part of my job is to work with purveyors. And part of the purveyor's job is to introduce me to new or interesting products they carry. One such instance happened a couple weeks ago, when I met Donna Domiano. She is the marketing director for
Fabbri, a family-owned Italian company that produces what seems like all things gelato, confectionary, and pastry. They are most well-known, however, for their Amarena cherries. I've had these cherries before from other companies, but when I sampled those of Fabbri, I was smitten. A single tiny cherry will fill your mouth with that oh-so-familiar (to Americans) flavor of cherry cola, but the sweetness is quickly tempered with a satisfying tartness. With the imminent arrival of the owners of Fabbri to NYC for the Restaurant Show, Donna asked if I would create a dessert for them using their prized cherries.
And so I did. I played off the idea of a black forest cake and made an ice cream sweetened with the Amarena syrup. Once churned, I piped the ice cream into fleximolds and plugged in a couple whole cherries for texture and extra cherry-ness. Topped off with a chocolate sacher sponge and dipped in almond scented meringue, it made for one tasty ice cream cake! A savory smearing of tarragon pesto complements and offsets the sweetness of the main component.
I think it was hit, because Nicola Fabbri himself asked for the recipe!
Although my culinary training was unwaveringly French, I believe my palate and style are distinctly American; and perhaps more specifically, "urban American". By this, I mean the food I make (and hence the food I like to eat), stems from many American classics, yet leans on the side of less sweet, with smaller portions and a heavier emphasis on salt and savory inclusions.
While pondering new menu items, the old-school cheesecake crossed my mind, as did a springtime carrot cake. This dish is a marriage of the two, with a super silky ricotta cremeux and shrub-like hunks of fine crumbed carrot cake. A salty walnut rubble and banyuls reduction balance texture, flavor, and acid. The carrot top fronds add a pleasantly fresh grassiness.. and they look pretty too.
The brash American expression, "go big, or go home", comes to mind when thinking of our spring collection of mignardises. Not so much big on size (in fact, they are bite sized), but we try to go big on presentation, personality and of course flavor. We only have one chocolate dessert on the menu, so we have compensated with an all out chocolate finale: milk chocolate & mint rocks, dark chocolate dipped honeycomb candy to dip in real honeycomb, and a pretzel & marshmallow speckled chocolate salami.
