Les Madeleines
We are a family of cookie lovers. Strawberry thumbprints, apricot coconut haystacks, butterscotch blondies, marbled pinwheels, petit cheesecakes, chocolate espresso drops, chocolate chips. You name it. We love them all. Still, I was surprised when Piper requested a madeleine for our next Pastry Session. So precocious!
She’s always loved a good cookie.
Then I realized that thanks to Starbucks, the one American chain store I can’t resist, these spongy little cookies are as familiar as Cheez-Its to American kids. What mom in a hurry hasn’t ducked into Starbucks and nabbed a pack for the kids while waiting for her caffeine fix? As a bribe, they’re a steal at three for $2.89.
Luckily, I happen to have a quick, easy madeleine recipe. It comes from Pure Chocolate, the 2004 cookbook I worked on with Fran Bigelow, the founder of Seattle’s beloved chocolate shops. Yes, that’s the same Fran who had a moment when her perfectly salted caramels were chosen by President Obama as his favorite; the same Fran who single-handedly gave birth to the high-end premium candy bar category with her brilliant Coconut Gold Bar, a high-end homage to Mounds bars.
The book is on the right.
I admit I was a little nervous teaching this beloved cookie recipe. I had only made madeleines a couple of times, since my own style is a bit less exacting. But when Piper asks, Grandma delivers. I vaguely remembered that when we tested the recipe for the book, these madeleines were transcendent when eaten right out of the oven. The delectable chocolate pillows bore little resemblance to those cold, dry items sitting on coffee shop counters.
When I collaborated with Fran on the book, it was a bit of a yin-yang situation. She had spent long, hard years attending the California Culinary Academy and training with a French chef. By the time she decided to open her first shop, she was determined to apply only the highest standards to every aspect of her chocolate empire. Not exactly a Gene Wilder Willy Wonka type, she was more like Olivia Coleman in The Crown.
Is anyone supervising?
Temperamentally, we were night and day. I’m more of a spontaneous type when it comes to baked goods. The type who is self-taught and sometimes settles for less than perfect in the interests of having a life. Or, as Piper once said, “Grandma likes to break the rules.” How does she know?
Since I was hired to supply the warm, cozy stories that were to accompany Fran’s perfect recipes, we needed to spend time together, eating, drinking, and pretending to socialize. It usually took about four hours to warm her up and get the chat flowing. I, on the other hand, can bavarde with the best of them. As my husband often asks in wonderment, “Where do all the words come from?”
In hindsight, that may have been the reason we were matched up by a wiley literary agent in the first place. I could channel Fran’s bottled-up stories into warm words, while she could continue to express herself through melted chocolate. As long as I remained invisible, all went well. In fairness, my year spent eating chocolate did have some benefits. Generous overnight deliveries arrived at my doorstep weekly. Inside, lovingly packed, were cakes with exotic names like L’Orange and Pavé Josephine, sacks of chocolate-stuffed figs, delicate chocolate meringues, sablés, and wafers—all wrapped in crinkly tissue paper. Salted caramels were arriving by the bucketful to feed the addiction that fueled my writing towards the end. My children were delirious during this period.
Our differences boiled over when we were putting the finishing touches on the manuscript. I wrote Fran a warmer, more personal introduction than the one she evidently wanted. It contained all of her darling little stories, like the one about the 82-year-old French woman with whom she took cooking classes in San Francisco and the chef’s accordion-playing husband. I still smile, thinking about it.
But when she returned the intro to me with every word crossed out, including my name, which belonged on the cover, I had had enough. As I told my shrink at the time, if I’m miserable sucking on caramels all day long and writing about it, my food-writing career must be over. After I got my name back on the cover, I never looked back.
Piper brought no such baggage to our Sunday morning madeleine-making session. That week, I sent Joe a shopping list that included special equipment: a pastry bag with plain tips, and of course, a madeleine tin with shell-shaped little troughs to hold the batter. Piper was not intimidated at all by the idea of using a pastry bag for the first time. I, on the other hand, become anxious around any fancy tool or technique.
But Piper’s love for chocolate is pure. Watching her make madeleines on screen, I was impressed by how much her skills had improved since we started eight months ago. Her pastry-piping technique was perhaps better than mine. Just by watching and repeating, my little girl was now piping a batter with little to no help and making perfect madeleines. All while staying calm, collected, and keeping up her end of the conversation. Quelle jeune fille!
Postscript: In the next week’s debrief Piper told me “the second batch came out much better than the first.” An extra minute in the oven can make the difference between moist and dry, as bakers know. Pas grand chose. Just eat the first batch immediately and wash down with milk, coffee, or a Proustian cup of tea!
Recipe from Pure Chocolate by Fran Bigelow with Helene Siegel
The taste test
RECIPE
Chocolate Madeleines
1 ½ sticks unsalted butter
2 Tbsps butter for coating
6 ounces semisweet chocolate, finely chopped
3 large eggs
1/2 cup plus 2 Tbsps sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup cake flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 cup Dutch cocoa
Generously coat the madeleine pan with butter, even the non-stick variety.
Melt the butter and set aside to cool.
Melt the chocolate in the top of a double boiler. Set aside to cool.
In a mixer with balloon whisk, add the eggs and sugar. Whisk on high speed until thick and pale yellow, 3 to 5 minutes. Whisk in the vanilla.
Remove the bowl, and with a rubber spatula fold in melted chocolate.
In another bowl, sift together cake flour, baking powder, and cocoa. Gently fold into the chocolate mixture. Add cooled butter and fold until the batter is smooth and uniform. Cover and chill for 20 minutes.
Move the rack to the middle of the oven. Preheat oven to 425F.
Place chilled batter in a pastry bag fitted with a large tip, about 1/2 inch. If you don’t have a tip, just cut a slit in the bottom point of the bag.
Holding the bag vertically, and twisting the top to create pressure, pipe the batter into the molds until 3/4 full.
Proper piping, Paris shop window, September 2019.
Place in the oven and bake for 7 to 10 mins, until peaked in center and crisp on the edges. Immediately turn out of pans onto racks to cool. Store in sealed containers.
