MY ATTEMPT AT "LITTLE PUFFY THINGS"

There’s a running gag in NEVER RESIST TEMPTATION about what the hero, who knows as much about baking as the average alpha male who isn’t a celebrity chef, calls “little puffy things.” My heroine, who knows all about baking and is half French at that, calls them profiteroles and I describe her making them.

I checked the recipe in Antonin Carême’s cookbook and then turned to Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking. The technique had not changed in almost two hundred years. Since Julia is a lot more comprehensible, not to say precise when it came to measurements, I decided to go with Julia.

OK. Preheat the oven to 425. Check. Make sure I have the ingredients: flour, butter, eggs, salt, water. Check. A little sugar if the puffs are sweet. But there’s nothing there about mechanical help. All the stirring and beating is done with a wooden spoon and I am a big fan of the Kitchenaid and Cuisinart.

So I decide to take a peek at what The Joy of Cooking has to say on the subject. This is my usual method with recipes: find at least two, then if I’m missing an ingredient or don’t like one of the techniques I can mix and match.

They are some differences. Joy uses a touch more butter. I add two tablespoons. And substitutes whole milk for half the water. I don’t have whole milk, only skim. Julia wins that round. I’m ready to go.

The first part is easy, basically making a thick béchamel. Then you incorporate 4 eggs. I put the sauce into the bowl of my Kitchenaid (thank you Joy) and beat in the eggs without exercising the muscles of my upper arm. I come up with a thick, slightly shiny yellow paste.
Oh no! I don’t have a pastry bag. But Julia says I can dollop the stuff out with a teaspoon. My puffs won’t be beautifully round and uniform but that’s normal for me. (My cookies are all different sizes and half of them run into each other. They taste fine.) I use a teaspoon and make little mounds on the cookie sheets.

Then Julia says I should brush the puffs with beaten egg. Joy omits this step so I go with Joy. They look good and I am ready to bake.
Panic ensures when I discover that my mentors part company at this stage. Julia bakes for 20 minutes at 425, then 10-15 minutes at 325, Joy for 15 at 400 then for a further 20-25 at 350. Since my oven is already at 425 I go with Julia but I’m worried about that extra butter. Also, I realize I forgot the salt. Will that cause some important chemical reaction not to happen? This is why I hate baking. Also, why 10-15 minutes? How do I know which one? I set my kitchen timer for twelve-and-a-half minutes and hope for the best.
You know? They look good. Some of them are a bit spiky (like those puffy fish) but definitely puffy. They also taste like cardboard (lack of salt?) but let’s face it, they are really only a  vehicle for whipped cream.

Fast forward to dinner time. By now I have help and counsel in the form of Kathy, Bob and Sophia. Bob whips the cream and I stuff the puffs.

And now I am on my own because, I have to admit, I made up the next part of the recipe, the dipping in caramel.* The sugar syrup proves a little recalcitrant but finally it’s a lovely golden brown. In the book Jacobin dips the puffs in the sugar, but she’s a trained chef and I’m not. I already burned my arm getting the pastries out of the oven and I’m not interested in a trip to the emergency room when I haven’t even eaten dinner. So I spoon the caramel over the puffs and hope for the best.

The reviews are in and I have a hit on my hands. The four of us demolish the whole plateful, leaving just one for Kathy and Bob’s dog Rachel. The only drawback is a solid sheet of caramel on the bottom of the plate. Rachel laps that up and goes into a prolonged sugar high for the rest of the evening.

*Historical note. Chocolate was not a major ingredient in desserts in the early nineteenth century so I eschewed the chocolate sauce that is usually served with profiteroles today. Gâteau St. Honoré (named for the patron saint of pastry cooks) is a French patisserie classic featuring cream puffs dipped in caramel or enclosed in a cage of spun sugar so I went with that, even though it isn’t a Carême recipe.