Humming along

If you are Canadian and enjoy listening to Bach, then you know who Glenn Gould is. My first encounter with Glenn Gould was watching him on TV as a child and wondering why that strange man was so close to the piano keys and why he was humming so loudly as he played. As my musical education continued, I realized that Mr. Gould was so good he could do whatever he wanted, unlike me, who would never excel at playing Bach no matter how loud I hummed (I'm more of a Debussy person anyways).


Originally, Patricia asked me to combine Chris' two major likes, Glenn Gould and NFL football into a birthday cake which caused me to scratch my head repeatedly in artistic bewilderment for several weeks. Luckily, his Minnesota Vikings were defeated and that allowed me to concentrate solely on Mr. Gould. Using books as the main structural elements of cake allowed for easy construction which gave me more time to focus on the decorative elements which showcased the piano virtuoso and his most famous recording, the Goldberg Variations. The cake flavours were identical to their wedding cake, vanilla cake, lemon curd, and white chocolate lemon mousseline.

Two thin sheets of gumpaste were dried out for a week, one flat and the other curved like an overturned page. Using my calligraphy tools and edible colouring mixed with vodka as ink, the first 16 bars of the Aria from the Goldberg Variations were carefully inscribed. The last two bars were a little squishy but otherwise, the sheet music was quite beautiful to look at. Glenn Gould's portrait was reproduced from an original work by artist Drew Hewitt using a brush and edible colour marker.


Personally, I love working with dried gumpaste as a medium because it allows me to finish major components ahead of time with very little assembly needed on the day of delivery. Plus, these elements can be easily removed before cutting and serving the cake, which means it never has to be eaten and potentially, it could be kept intact for years. Undoubtedly, buying an edible ink printing system would be the less labourious choice, but what would be the fun in that?!

Diversion: Alinea Restaurant, Chicago

Masked by a non-descript boxy gray building exterior, Alinea Restaurant should be re-named Alinea Interactive Dining Theatre. As guests, we were audience to a 3 ½ hour culinary show featuring the most innovative and orchestrated progressive American cuisine, courtesy of Chef/Owner Grant Achatz. From the moment we entered the dark glowing hallway and startled ourselves at the Star Trek-like automatic sliding door, we quickly realized that tonight’s twenty-three course “Tour” would be unique.


There were few pleasantries, no ambient music, and no menu provided. The minimalist décor was muted. This lack of sensory stimuli caused greater anticipation for things to come and I soon distracted myself by voyeuristically watching the action at neighbouring tables. The wait staff was polite but somewhat robotic in their delivery, rambling off course descriptions with much speed and little enthusiasm. More impressive was their high degree of attentiveness, as every crumb or watermark was removed from the tabletop within 2 minutes of its appearance.

The food, its presentation, and frequently, its consumption, provided the entertainment for the evening. A duo of crab, one served hot as crispy soft shell crab paired with English peas, duck confit, and Asian five-spice notes and the other served cold as a verrine with identical flavours plus a dried ginger concoction and tiny orange pate de fruit cubes, was bold, complex, and delicious. The most satisfying course for my palate was the pigeonneau à la Saint-Clair, a throwback to Escoffier, mainly because of the unfussy traditional flavours of squab, onion, and mushroom (the latter two ingredients being definite components of my “last meal”), a stark contrast to the 22 other hypermodern intricate courses. My choice for most intriguing bite was the green almond encased in a juniper gelée dotted on each corner with salt, sugar, lime zest, and citric acid.


Inventive and interactive presentation of the food using odd serving pieces called “the squid” or “the eye” made the act of eating novel and fun. A pin skewered through a hot potato ball, cubes of cheese and butter had to be pulled through a wax bowl before dropping into cold potato soup and slurped up. A clear tube filled with a hibiscus, vanilla, and bubble gum flavoured something was sucked out. Harnessing scents to complement a dish was successfully executed by using smoldering cinnamon sticks and pillows of lavender air that deflated by the weight of the plate. The dining experience was sensory and oddly playful despite being set in a room which was the exact opposite, a touch serious and monotone; however, I suspect that this was intentional in order to accentuate the food itself.

By the 10th course, I was becoming fatigued and by the 16th course, my belly was pleading for mercy. Because of our late 8:30pm seating, that lavender pillow was looking mighty tempting by the time it appeared at almost midnight. Nonetheless, we persevered and ate every last flossy, foamy, dehydrated, spherical, transparent bite. Unfortunately, after diligently photographing every course, I was delirious with gastronomic overload combined with sleep deprivation and forgot to photograph the final dish! In retrospect, the shorter “Tasting” experience would have been equally outstanding but if you do insist on this extreme dining marathon, then get an earlier reservation than we did. Ultimately, Alinea did not disappoint. The food and eating experience exceeded my expectations, overshadowing any subjective lack of ambience. I will safely tuck my souvenir copy of the May 31, 2009 “Tour” menu into my Alinea cook book and fondly reminisce about this once in a lifetime dining adventure for years to come.

Tasty hiatus: Part 3

I love lemons. Others may love chocolate or more exotic choices, but my heart belongs to the bright acidic flavour and smell of lemons. Call me boring or call me unadventurous, but I will take lemon curd over chocolate mousse any day of the week. Our visit to Sorrento and the Amalfi Coast was instant immersion into the land of lemons. Small lemons, big lemons, smooth lemons, bumpy lemons, and lemons as big as my head called limoncedro were sold in every town and citrus trees grew everywhere. To my understanding, limoncedro are used mainly for candied peel whereas regular limone are typical multi-purpose lemons, used for juice and zest as well as in the production of limoncello, a lemon liqueur which is the Sorrentine Peninsula's most famous product.

Oddly, I did not purchase any limoncello while in Sorrento for fear of breakage in transit and instead, was determined to make my own upon return having seen the simple process on the Food Network years ago. Certain recipes use vodka (40 to 50% alcohol) while others prefer up to 95% alcohol for maximal extraction of lemon oil. My liver and I opted for vodka instead of pure ethanol and as fate would have it, I received two free little bottles of EFFEN vodka (say it out loud, yes, it is pure marketing genius) in a gift bag from a certain awards ceremony I recently attended.

By simply combining vodka and lemon zest (no pith please) and waiting for a week, a beautiful golden hue was lent to the vodka and the aroma was intoxicating. After removing the zest, simple syrup was added and my limoncello was done. Had I steeped the zest even longer than a week, the lemon flavour could have been even more intense but I wanted to use my liqueur right away.


After four months of gathering dust, the cookbook Indulge: 100 Perfect Desserts by Claire Clark from The French Laundry, was given the attention it deserved. This cookbook is well-organized; the ingredients are presented by weight thankfully and the methods are descriptive and detailed, appropriate for serious amateurs and pastry professionals alike. I found a use for my limoncello in the "adult lemon trifle" recipe, an opportunity to use up some leftover lemon curd and yellow cake which was hibernating in the freezer.


The lemon curd was sandwiched between thin layers of yellow cake, which was then cubed and drenched in my homemade limoncello. Lemon posset was poured over the soaked cubes and topped with homemade amaretti crumbs and whipped cream. I had never heard of possets previously but this silky mix of lemon juice, sugar, and hot cream is so easy to make that it is almost embarassing. Having about 200 millilitres of limoncello left, we will have opportunities to reminisce about the lemons of the Amalfi Coast in the weeks to come.

Good fortune

My childhood memories of Chinese New Year mainly involve things other than food. Dressing up to perform Chinese folk dancing, bringing plum blossoms to my grandparents in Chinatown, and receiving a shiny quarter in a lai-see are a few examples. Although food is a very central part of Chinese culture, I never developed a palate for the sweet traditional delicacies abundant during Chinese New Year celebrations. Nothing in that round lacquer box ever tasted good to me and no matter how hard I tried, I could never crack open those darned melon seeds. Instead, I headed straight for my savoury favourites, pan-fried lo baak gou (turnip cake) and any dumpling in sight.


I found a recipe for chocolate fortune cookies in Pichet Ong's cookbook which is basically just a simple tuile batter with added cocoa powder. Tuiles are very thin flat cookies, made from stenciling batter onto a baking sheet, which are baked and then quickly shaped while hot immediately out of the oven. Because I do not yet possess asbestos fingers like some fellow bakers out there, my fortune cookie shaping success rate was below 50% initially. Fortunately, a pair of latex gloves and perserverance helped produce 20 cookies which passed quality control.


Eric brought home some lovely Ataulfo mangos which prompted me to make an old favourite, mango pudding. Who can resist the creamy silken golden goodness? Not me. Instead of evaporated milk, my recipe from pastry school uses sour cream and heavy cream which gives it added richness. And isn't Chinese New Year all about richness, prosperity, and luck? Wishing you all good health and good fortune in the Year of the Rat...Gung Hay Fat Choy!

Those darned tarts

I have never been very fond of Chinese desserts. Growing up, I would always prefer the ubiquitous orange wedges instead of red bean soup or sweet tapioca pudding at the end of a large Chinese dinner. My mild sweet tooth explains why I avoid treats like lotus seed paste filled mooncake which is traditionally eaten during yesterday's Mid-Autumn festival.


Instead, a new cookbook by Pichet Ong, The Sweet Spot: Asian-Inspired Desserts, was introduced to me recently and in lieu of mooncake, I decided to try the passionfruit dahn tart recipe. Dahn tarts (or "those darned tarts" according to Eric) are traditional egg custard tarts commonly found in any Chinese bakery or dim sum restaurant, typically made with a puff pastry shell. Using fresh passionfruit in a dahn tart is a modern twist which can add both flavour and texture due to the edible seeds.


Having never seen or used fresh passionfruit before, the grayish mucinous pulp and insect-like seeds were somewhat repulsive to me initally; however, the floral aroma and pleasing crunch soon softened my negative reaction. I did modify the recipe by using leftover half & half instead of milk and leftover pâte sucrée instead of puff pastry due to frugality and laziness.


The soft custard centres were delicately flavoured with passionfruit and contrasted well with the buttery light tart shell. Perhaps next time, I would use less seeds because to me, a dahn tart needs its characteristic smooth glistening golden yellow surface. All I am missing now is the dim sum experience that precedes every good dahn tart.

Getting over humps

Madeleines are hard to resist. These shell-shaped cakey cookies are best enjoyed with a cup of tea, as Marcel Proust did, and if possible, in Paris. The next best thing is baking them yourself and trying not to eat them all before your husband comes home. Although traditionalists may cringe, I used my silicone molds with no complaints. My only disappointment was that I could not achieve the distinctive hump which protrudes from the non-shell madeleine underside. In my post-baking research, I discovered that Alain Ducasse bakes his madeleines first at 410 degrees Fahrenheit until the edges have risen but the centre remains sunken, at which time the oven is shut off as the hump forms over 2-3 minutes. The oven is then reset to 375 degrees Fahrenheit until the madeleines are done. Let the experimentation begin.

Meanwhile, September is frighteningly close and will mark one year since I officially entered the pastry domain. Over the past year, I have learned the meaning of wanting to go to work in the morning and loving what I do. It was always this elusive feeling which I never understood but intensely craved. I have also slowly learned not to be defined by my work, which was a trap I fell into many years ago. Although I still have mild intermittent angst surrounding my decision to leave ophthalmology (especially when my medical and pastry worlds collide), there is no question that I am a more well-adjusted person today than I have ever been.

Bearing gifts or children

For anyone counting, this is the fourth photo of macarons that I have posted on my blog since its inception seven months ago, a reflection of how enormously I love them. The key difference between these and previous macarons, however, is that these little beauties are homemade by yours truly. This recipe is from Alain Ducasse's Grand Livre de Cuisine: Desserts & Pastries and despite not having a convection oven at home, they turned out exquisitely. One of my last assignments at the Pan Pacific was to make macarons and because of my surprising success in producing macarons beyond everyone's expectations, I was requested to make almost 700 for several functions.

These macarons are filled with a chocolate-passionfruit ganache, customized for my friend Ramona who just gave birth to a healthy baby boy on Friday. It is my theory that the passionfruit bubble tea which she consumed earlier provoked the subsequent labour and delivery. Combined with the undeniable fact that she is one of the biggest chocoholics who I know, these macarons are a perfect sweet treat for her.

Edible souvenirs: financiers

I have a new favourite cookie, the financier. According to Dorie Greenspan, author of Paris Sweets: Great Desserts from the City's Best Pastry Shops, these rich almond cookies were created for 19th century Parisian stock brokers and baked to resemble bars of gold. They are so flavourful because of beurre noisette, sweet butter that is cooked until essentially burnt, deep brown and nutty. You can see those lovely dark flecks baked into the cookie.

Unlike my past shopping habits which would have focussed on shoes, and perhaps sweaters, my souvenir purchases from France consisted entirely of cookbooks, pastry supplies and a few culinary ingredients. In the neighbourhood around Les Halles, a concentration of food equipment and supply stores exists and undoubtedly, I could have spent a small fortune there. Because luggage space was at a premium, my purchases were limited to items which I knew were either hard to find or much cheaper than in Canada, such as silicone molds for financiers, madeleines, and cannelés.

My practicum is going well despite my usual anxieties regarding new surroundings. The most challenging aspect has been trying to fit in to an all-male crew which is an eclectic mix of strong personalities. Even though the girls were vastly outnumbered during my Ophthalmology residency, the gender difference in the pastry kitchen has been more pronounced and from what I have heard and read, my experience is not unique within the food industry. Luckily, with a relaxed attitude and some self-deprecating humour, I am starting to feel more grounded. I have even received a new nickname "Dr. Chocolate", a combination of my old and new professions.

Not your Safeway Black Forest Cake

Growing up, Eric always had a Black Forest Cake from Safeway as his birthday cake and still has great fondness for this traditional dessert. Flipping through Alain Ducasse's Grand Livre de Cuisine: Desserts & Pastries (which was a Christmas present from Eric), I found his Forêt Noire version and decided to create a similar version, using chocolate biscuit and dark chocolate mousse recipes from my own collection. The entremet would have appeared more "finished" if I had a chocolate sprayer and fresh cherries; however, my chocolate decorations (to represent an abstract forest) did suffice.


Starting from the bottom, the layers are: chocolate biscuit, cherry compote, dark chocolate mousse, 2nd chocolate biscuit, kirsch cream, more dark chocolate mousse, 3rd chocolate biscuit, more dark chocolate mousse. Both the compote and kirsch cream layers were assembled as frozen inserts. Even though cherry and chocolate are not usually my taste, it made a lovely entremet which we enjoyed with kir royale. No offense to Safeway, but this version was definitely more palatable!

Un livre marveilleux

Eric and I are planning a trip to France at the end of March and I have been reading a fabulous book by Peter Mayle. For those who love France and food, this is a must-read. We plan to spend much of our time in Provence and Paris in search of fine food, delicious pastries, and unparalleled chocolate. Although we went to Paris for our honeymoon back in January 2004, the rainy cold weather was not ideal to explore as much as we had wanted. Now, with my new appreciation for pastry, I plan to visit as many patisseries and chocolateries as I can, including Pierre Herme, Michel Cluizel, and Patrick Roger. We might even stop in Montelimar...the birthplace of nougat. If anybody knows of other must-visit patisseries and chocolateries, let me know!