(D)evolution of a Dessert

Process has always fascinated me. Sometimes I find the method for preparing a dish more interesting than finally eating it. The final taste is still of utmost importance, but I also enjoy the preparation. (As the advertisement says: “Getting there is half the fun!”)

When I visited Chef Frédéric Médigue at the Château d’Amondans (Amondans, France) last June, he demonstrated his unique variation of the soft-centered chocolate cake now popular in the United States. His petit gâteau moëlleux chocolat pistache, crème fouettée à l’orgeat is a soft-centered chocolate cake served on an orgeat-flavored chantilly (soft whipped) cream with a light sprinkling of chopped pistachios. When the cake was served there was a clue that the center would be different because the top of the cake displayed a light green circle of baked dough. When opened with a spoon, a warm, unctuous, green liquid flowed out of the center. The taste was interesting, but I doubted if I would bother to recreate this particular dessert when I returned home.

Actually, the green liquid was no surprise. I had spent the previous hour watching Chef Médigue prepare the dish — a preparation that was involved and time consuming. Although I did not believe I would recreate the process, I did take a few notes. In particular, the central ingredient, pâte à pistache, fascinated me. I had little hope of finding this pistachio paste in the United States. I noted that according to the ingredients listed on the label, this pâte consisted of half ground pistachios, half sugar, a small amount of oil, and green food coloring. A small amount of the paste had been mixed with melted white chocolate, butter, eggs, flour, and baking powder. The mixture was piped into slug-shaped pieces and placed in the freezer. The mixture was pale green in color.

The cake batter was prepared similar to the pistachio paste pieces, except there was no pistachio paste in it and dark chocolate replaced the white. For baking, metal rings were lined with parchment paper and placed on a baking sheet. The batter was piped into the rings and a pistachio “slug” was inserted vertically into the batter. The cake was baked. Finally, the rings and paper were removed before serving.

I knew by the time I finished the last bit of cream from my plate that I probably would face the “Petit Gâteau Challenge” — whether I wanted to or not. There was something drawing me to this recipe. I knew from the start that I would need to find pistachio paste before I could begin. I also knew I would need to find a close approximation of the metal rings used for baking the cake.

After leaving Amondans I had one day in Paris for shopping. Chef Médigue’s package of pistachio paste weighed in at half a kilo, but I only needed 6 grams for the recipe. Maybe I could find a smaller size? After going to five stores and not finding it in any size, I concluded that this may not be a particularly common ingredient in France! When I returned to California I tried a number of baking suppliers and received the same shrug of the shoulders from the shopkeepers that I had received in Paris. Next I tried a couple of ethnic food stores, but pistachio paste doesn’t seem to be a part of Turkish, Indian, or Mexican cuisine. I even tried a few health food stores that sold all sorts of nut pastes, but none from pistachios.

Remembering that nut pastes are essentially just ground nuts, I bought a bag of roasted, shelled pistachios, set up a small food processor, and proceeded to create some pistachio paste. I ground 2 ounces of pistachios to a powder, added 2 ounces of sugar, and continued to grind the mixture until a dry paste formed. After transferring this mixture to a small bowl, I added a tablespoon of vegetable oil and continued to mix. Low and behold, I had a pretty close imitation of pistachio paste. Unfortunately, instead of the intense green color of the French original, mine was a brownish-ochre color. One more trip to the baking supply store yielded some commercial quality, “mint” green food coloring gel. After adding a very small knife-point of gel to the paste, mine was now intensely green like the original.

The metal rings were not a size I’ve seen in restaurant supply stores. Luckily, a friend who does metal work as a profession was kind enough to make a set of stainless steel rings to match those I saw in France. I was now ready to make the Petit Gâteau.

Attempt #1: For the first try, I just wanted to make enough for two people. The original recipe was supposed to make six small cakes. It would be possible to divide the cake portion of the recipe, but the inserts would be a problem to divide since one of the ingredients called for was half an egg. So I decided to make extra inserts and deal with the excess later.

I measured out all the ingredients. I was careful to just melt the white chocolate and add the soft butter over very low heat in the double boiler off the burner so the mixture wouldn’t separate. When all was melted and smooth, I added a little of the mixture to the pistachio paste to extend it before mixing it all together. This mixture, since it was warm, was gradually whisked into the beaten half egg. Finally, the flour and baking powder were added and the batter mixed just until everything was combined. The batter was placed in a piping bag and six slug-shaped pieces were piped onto parchment paper. By the time the last one was piped out, I knew I had a problem. Instead of staying cylindrical in shape, they were settling into flat ribbons — the batter was too warm. I placed this batch in the freezer. Then I emptied the piping bag into a bowl and placed the bowl in the refrigerator. When well chilled and stiff, I divided this batter into portions and rolled them with my hands into slug shapes.

After dinner I measured out the ingredients for the main batter, preheated the oven to 410 °F, and prepared the baking rings. I had divided the ingredient quantities by two figuring that I would make three portions since it would be hard to divide the original two eggs called for by three. I prepared the batter according to the recipe without a hitch. I spooned the warm batter into the rings — there was only enough for two rings after all — inserted a slug vertically in the center of the batter, and placed the baking sheet in the oven for 9 minutes. When I removed the cakes from the oven, all looked well. I chilled my finger tips with some ice, removed the hot metal rings and parchment paper, and placed the cakes on individual serving plates. My wife and I sat down to try my efforts. The taste was there, but the green of the insert against the brown of the cake had a less than appetizing appearance. The verdict was to try again, but the green had to go.

Attempt #2: The next night it was time to try again. This time I left out the pistachio paste and added the 3 grams of sugar from it to the egg. I prepared the inserts by melting the white chocolate as before, adding the butter, combining this mixture with the beaten egg and sugar, adding the flour and baking powder, and finally mixing. I leveled the batter in the bowl and placed it in the refrigerator to chill. Instead of light green, the color was now a dull but light yellow. When the batter was chilled, I shaped it into four balls as Chef Médigue had called for in his original written recipe. I placed these in the freezer to harden fully until needed.

After dinner I proceeded as before except the balls were pressed just halfway in the cake batter. Everything went smoothly until we opened the cakes with a spoon. The inside was too yellow. Also, it was time to try the sauce — the flavor needed something to round it out. The verdict was to try again.

Attempt #3: Two days later I invited two of our neighbors over to try the dessert. Instead of using whole egg for the inserts, I used an equivalent amount of egg white. The sauce calls for flavoring the heavy cream with 2 tablespoons of sirop d’orgeat — an almond-flavored syrup apparently not available in the United States. I substituted 1 teaspoon of almond extract. For the chopped pistachios I substituted a couple of pieces of sliced almonds.

While spooning the batter into the rings, I seemed to drip more outside the forms than inside. If I wasn’t careful, I’d bump into the parchment paper with the spoon and dislodge it from the sides of the rings. I made quite a mess. (It’s tough working with an audience and no net!) While the cakes were in the oven, I lightly whipped the cream and almond extract, spread it on the serving plates, and sprinkled the almonds around the edge. The cakes looked as before when I removed them from the oven, but as I removed the parchment paper, each of the cakes collapsed and started to spread. I quickly moved them onto the serving plates, made the appropriate excuses and apologies, and served the results. The sauce tied the flavors together well, but the almond flavor was a bit too strong. The verdict was to try again.

Attempt #4: A couple of nights later, two different neighbors were coming for dinner so it was time to try again. This time I didn’t freeze the inserts on the theory that it was better to start with them at plus 40 degrees instead of minus 10 so they didn’t have to warm that extra 50 degrees in 9 minutes. I placed the batter in a piping bag, as Chef Médigue had done in Amondans, and piped the batter into the rings. Then I inserted the refrigerated white chocolate centers halfway into the batter. Also, the almond extract was reduced to 1/2 teaspoon. Instead of unmolding the cakes on the baking sheet, I transferred each cake in its ring to a spatula. I then removed each ring and paper there just before each cake was placed on its serving plate. They still collapsed! The verdict was to try again.

Attempt #5: A week later, the friend who made the rings was coming to dinner with his wife — I had to make the cakes for them. This time I made the inserts into slug shapes again. I also extended the cooking time to 10 minutes. As I confidently unmolded the first cake it collapsed. The same with the second and the third, but the fourth held its shape — barely. We concluded that maybe the cakes need to rest for a couple of minutes. The verdict was to try again.

Why did the first two attempts hold their shape, but the last three did not? In the first two attempts, after I tempered the egg–sugar mixture with the melted chocolate and butter, everything was returned to the top of the double boiler for addition of the dry ingredients. In the last three, the flour was added to the same bowl as the egg–sugar mixture. Result — the batter in the later attempts was cooler when I put it in the oven.

Attempt #6: A week later, my wife’s sister and her husband came for dessert. I had to get this recipe right before I lost my taste for chocolate. The preparation was now becoming routine. The inserts were now ball-shaped again. The baking time was set to 10 minutes and the cakes were allowed to rest for 2 minutes. Success! All four cakes held — two cracked a bit, but none collapsed to one side.

I think the petits gâteaux moëlleux à la Château d’Amondans — the name is changed to reflect the change in ingredients — are ready for prime time!

©1999, 2014 Peter Hertzmann. All rights reserved.