S. Worthen | Weblog

Yesterday's Chenonceau pumpkins reminded me of the bigger ones I photographed back in August at the Iowa State Fair. The winner of the fair's biggest pumpkin prize (the one on the right) weighed an impressive 1,323 pounds.

There was not a trick-or-treater to be seen on our street yesterday, but the candy shelves at the grocery store were cleaned out. I feel like I may have had this problem before: the grocery store expects me to be organized and buy candy a day or five in advance of Halloween. At some point earlier, it had put all the small, easily unitable candy on sale at half-price, and the shelves had been cleaned bare. So - all the candy gone, but no trick-or-treaters. Perhaps it's just the abbreviated days and pre-hibernation instincts which are driving local shoppers to stock up on half-price candy?

I don't need to eat any more cupcakes right now, thank you. I've had quite enough this evening and I didn't even have a whole one. Our group of ten people, sharing a table, plates, and knives at Iron Cupcake, split something like 25 cupcakes ten-ways each. We didn't even sample the whole range of cupcakes in competition. There were - I forget - 32? 42? kinds of cupcakes competing for the best Christmas-themed cupcake prize. A lot of cupcakes.

( On eating some cupcakes - with photos... )

The real thrill of the evening, however, was that hungry_pixel came second place in the overall competition. Her "Ode to Panettone" was one of the real standouts, the lovely, smooth chestnut cream dominating the delicate notes of candied citrus. Best of all, it's her first ribbon, the first prize that she has won herself - as opposed to the dozens - hundreds? - decorating her walls already, all brought home by her cats.

( Ode to Cupcake )

Afterward, all cupcaked out, double0hilly and I renewed ourselves with salad, wonderful, fresh, green salad, and meat, a refreshing antidote to a surfeit of cupcake.

Today is Saint Martin's Day, a day of a soldier's sacrifice, although a rather different one than those commemorated by Armistice Day. Martin was a Roman soldier from Hungary, who, pitying a roadside beggar near Amiens, cut his cloak into two pieces with his sword and gave the beggar one of them. Later, he realized in a vision that he had given his (half) cloak to Christ, and converted to Christianity.

Traditionally, in many parts of Europe, this is the beginning of winter. It's a feast day in preparation of a pre-Christmas fasting period, a day for celebrating the harvest, eating goose, and drinking wine.

The Venetian tradition is to buy and eat cookies in the shape of Saint Martin - San Martino. This is one. My parents brought it to me this past week as a seasonal gift. Can you make out the Roman soldier with helmet on horseback underneath all that frosting and candy?

Thank you for all your responses on the typical British cake to eat with tea. The answer is either a light fruit cake, a Victoria sponge, or a seed cake. It's unclear if one of these is really more typical than another, but those were the ones you collectively prefered.

What I noticed in your answers, however, is that there is no consensus on what a Victoria sponge should be flavored filled with. hungry_pixel presumed Victoria sponges would taste like vanilla. On the contrary, billyabbott prefers jam-filled ones. sam_t commented on cream, buttercream, and raspberry jam versions. ladymoonray didn't specify if she was thinking of a particular kind of them. sollersuk mentioned butter icing or jam, without specifying kinds.

So - what SHOULD a Victoria sponge be layered with? And are there any limits on the appropriate kind of jam to use with them, and still call it a Victoria sponge? Any kind of jam at all? Would you be as happy with apricot jam as with marmelade as with pineapple jam? Are you allowed to have more than one flavor filling, i.e. a layer of buttercream AND a layer of jam? Or must a Victoria sponge have a single layer of filling?

In late February, pennski proposed bringing a typical British cake to Eastercon to explore the hypothesis that British cakes, while dry, are redeemed by being consumed with tea. It seemed only fair that I bring a cake too, one representative of American cakes.

Thus it was that we, along with bookzombie, settled down with cups of tea (camomile in my case), improvised plates, and two cakes to investigate this pressing matter in the middle of Eastercon. Her madeira cake was dry, but flavored with lovely delicacy - and having it with a cup of hot tea made all the difference. The dryness really didn't bother me as much - but the tea was a necessity to compensate. They agreed that the apple cake I brought was much moister, suitable for consumption with drinks regardless of temperatures. It did not depend on a drink for completion.

Having proved we were both right about our respective cakes, pennski mentioned that friends of hers had been surprised that she was going to bring along a madeira cake. Surely semminel cake [sp?] simnel or seed cake would be more appropriate. Because there is never too much to know about cake, I turn to you: what do you consider the most typical British cake to eat with tea? Be specific.

(Also, relatedly, which is the best British cake to eat with tea?)

Inspired by rosamicula....

[Poll #1142482]

Location: 32-34 Shepherd Market. Mayfair, London. W1J 7QN.

I can't stop smiling. I feel so utterly happy with the world after four hours of loitering around the (fairly) new Dessert Bar opened by William Curley in Mayfair in November. Between leisurely dessert consumption, good company, idly waiting on a friend to figure out her plans and whether or not she was meeting us there, and the endless entertainment of watching and chatting with a patissier at work, the late afternoon proved an idyll of sweets.

rosamicula and I started by perching at chairs by the dessert bar's cooking area and ordering from the dessert menu (as opposed to the pastry menu or ordering truffles). The dessert menu items come with a pre-dessert, a little chocolate-mint soup, tasting of fresh mint without its texture, and crowned with chantilly cream and chocolate shavings. It was light and refreshing, a palate cleanser before the main course. My tarte au chocolat was filled with a moody dark chocolate, smooth and rather bitter, dusted with gold and accompanied with refreshing raspberries and the most delicate and un-bitter of green tea ice creams, fresh from Paco Jet treatment. rosamicula's mille feuille featured elegantly thin sheets of chocolate sandwiching chantilly cream and a sponge base; a lovely little salad of skinned wonderfully ripe orange segments with yuzu syrup; a ball of orange cream ice cream; and a fluffy seed-shaped topping of chocolate mousse.

Even though we had seen the desserts being made, it was still magical seeing all their multitude of parts and pieces come together into the presentation. It really was cooking as entertainment and continued to be as we loitered. While the pastry chef practiced for a professional competition next week, we chatted about mutual friends and events. Eventually, we had after dessert drinks, a bitter coffee for her, a smooth hot chocolate for me. And a while after that, we gave into temptation and had another course from the sales counter, an excitement of fruit in the form of a tart for me, accompanied by a fresh mint infusion, and a fluff of cream for her in the form of a Mont Blanc. They were small and light and refreshing.

It grew dark, and our third person wasn't coming anymore, so we slowly wrapped up our time there. A truffle, slow-melting, flavored with Japanese vinegar, gentle and appealing, made one last treat for the road. We wandered out in a daze of sugar and delight, certain we'll be back.

Location: 21, rue Bonaparte, 6th arr., Paris
Location: Burlington Arcade, Piccadilly, London
Other locations as well.

In Paris, the first time we stopped by Ladurée was for shopping. I bought chocolate croissants for breakfast the next day, two sample macarons, and dessert for dinner double0hilly's place that night. The desserts were good, the chocolate croissants exemplary, but the macarons blew me away.

( The 6e arr. tearoom... )

It was good enough that we went back again for lunch my last day there. I came back to England laden with croissants, caramel, and a box of sumptuous mini-macarons, all in vivid flavors. Those, and the innovative variants I brought back from Pierre Hermé inspired me to try Paul's macarons. Alas, those are pale reflections of the glory which were the ones I'd bought from the best purveyors in France.

Ladurée opened its first English branch in Harrods a year-or-so ago. It's a tea room with a menu very similar to its Parisian one. I haven't been yet, but heard the siren call of its second London branch which opened just a few weeks ago in the Burlington Arcade off of Piccadilly. Expecting a similar menu, I invited aca along to join me for lunch there.

( Lunch at the Burlington Arcade... )

I could resist the prospect of more mini-macarons, however, and, after negotiating the shop's cramped confines, came home with a dozen. Caramel, pistachio, chocolate, lemon, raspberry: I think they may be just as phenomenal here, if pricier. Each is a cloud of flavor, soft, light, and rich.

* The Ispahan was created by Pierre Hermé when he worked for Ladurée and before he branched out to found his own patisseries. It consists of a pair of rose-flavored macarons with fresh raspberries, lychee, and cream sandwiched between them. Pierre Hermé does a variety of other variants with the Ispahan flavor set. If you're ever in Paris, please bring me back a box of the Ispahan fruit jellies!
** Not to be confused with Italian brioche, i.e. jam-filled croissants.

madcatlady, inspired by the season and by a general appreciation for sweet things, hosted Pudmas this weekend, a evening of all desserts, all the time. Well - with crudités, crackers, cheese, sliced meat, and dips to leaven the saccharine.

• A tender rice pudding was leavened with clementine segments and spiced with cardamon and nutmeg, I think.


• A slice of firm chocolate rice crispy bar, topped with alcohol-soaked berries and topped with thick cream and grated chocolate had its sublime moments. The milk-chocolate flecked boozy berries with cream was superb. The rice crispy bar was overkill, a firm foundation on which the lighter elements rested. I had to carve out bites; fine on its own, but the rest was much better. (G)


• Treacle pudding filled the kitchen with dense caramely sweetness. The pudding itself was respectable, done right, but with nothing more to raise it above solid competence.


• Bananas Foster were all alcohol. The overwhelming brandy sauce was too much on its own, or even just with the bananas. A lavish dollop of mascarpone proved apt enough foil, but only in small sauce doses. (K)


• The chocolate-and-cream layer cake was a more subtle confection than its immediate competition, and so my taste buds couldn't do it justice.


• The mousse was richly chocolately. (D)


• Trifle, with its pleasant underpinning of yielding soft fruits, was far too liquid to hold together.


• Panettone bread pudding with brandy amaretto custard was excellent, the dried fruit leavening the custardy richness of the pudding. The brandy amaretto was handled with a light enough touch to complement the panettone's own flavors rather than overwhelming them.

I know I missed the first dessert of the evening, a vanilla soufflé, and the Eton mess promised for later in the evening. After my first game of Robo Rally - hilarious, fun, engaging, strategic, accidental - we left for the drive back down through starlight to the south.