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Category Archives: Baking

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 183: Parisian Patisserie… Sweet Celebrations

29 Monday Jun 2015

Posted by duckykoren in Baking, Food, Paris, Stoney Creek, Weddings

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Bakery, Baking, Dessert, Foid, paris

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Three years ago, my good friend and coworker Mitch invited me to visit his new favorite bakery, Sweet Celebrations Patisserie located very close to where I work in Hamilton. He told me that it was owned by a Canadian woman who trained in Paris France.

Well, it didn’t take much arm-twisting to get me to agree to go.

About a month earlier he had brought in a copious assortment of macarons into work to share with his friends.

(Not to be confused with coconut macaroons.)

For those of you unfortunate souls who have never had the pleasure to try these tasty tidbits yet, WIKI describes macarons like this:

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A macaron (/ˌmɑːkəˈroʊn/ mah-kə-rohn; French pronunciation: ​[makaʁɔ̃] is a French sweet meringue-based confection made with egg white, icing sugar, granulated sugar, almond powder or ground almond, and food colouring. The macaron is commonly filled with ganache, buttercream or jam filling sandwiched between two biscuits (cookies). The name is derived from the Italian word macarone, maccarone or maccherone, the Italianmeringue.

The intricate confection is characterised by smooth, squared top, ruffled circumference (referred to as the “foot” or “pied”), and a flat base. It is mildly moist and easily melts in the mouth. Macarons can be found in a wide variety of flavors that range from the traditional (raspberry, chocolate) to the new (foie gras, matcha).

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Personally, I found that not only were they delicious but they came in an eclectic array of flavors. Mitch told me that the store owner, Charlene, challenges customers to bring in their ideas for new flavors to add to her macaron repertoire.

There were champagne macarons, basil macarons, beer and pistachio macarons. All were delicately flavored and incredibly delicious.

A few days later after we finished our work shift, Mitch and I made the journey several blocks down the road from work to visit Sweet Celebrations Patisserie in Stoney Creek Ontario.

The store owner Charlene, is a lovely young woman, bright and friendly. Her beautiful little goodie shop is a testament to her love for fine baking.

I found the store shelves filled with an incredible array of macarons as well as wedding cakes, muffins, cookies and many other treats.

After purchasing two cakes, half a dozen muffins, and a dozen macarons later, (all for less than forty dollars) I walked out of the store with my arms full.

My family was going to love me. I had just supplied them with desserts that would last them a week.

Indeed, it did not take long until the little bakery boxes were empty save for a few crumbs.

Now, fast forward if you will three years…

Two months ago when it came time to decide which bakery I would choose to make my daughter’s wedding cake, the answer was as obvious as the Eiffel Tower in Paris on a sparkling spring day.

This decision would prove to be no doubt, the easiest decision I would have to make for this particular wedding.

Only another two hundred or so more decisions left to go.

Like…

What flavour of wedding cake we would choose.

That in itself, is whole different story which I will leave for another day.

❤

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 160: Strudel School

31 Tuesday Mar 2015

Posted by duckykoren in Baking, Cooking, Recipes

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Apples, Baking, Baptist, Church, Cooking, Foodie, Mother, Oma, strudel

‘If you want to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.’

Carl Sagan

In German cuisine, there is no ‘pie’ as such. The closest you can get is torte. Strudel is very much like pie, as it contains both pastry and fruit filling.

Further, apple strudel is the centre of the universe when it comes to German cuisine.

So, in the spirit of the late, great Carl Sagan, allow me to present this homage to a childhood memory drenched in the popular German epicurean delight: Strudel.

Imagine if you will…

…a very young girl, with a Mother who works full time.

A working Mother was unusual in the German community that I grew up in. My Grandfather had been a pastor at a German Baptist church in Toronto, so I knew just about everyone in the congregation. I knew no other Mother who worked outside the home.

There were senior women from the church who would volunteer their time to visit young households and show the novice housewives how to prepare an apple strudel from scratch.

No doubt, the thought that there were German homes with children who never had fresh apple strudel must have been unthinkable to these women who donated their time, patience and baking expertise.

This is what I remember…

On the designated day, Oma Haas would show up at our home very early in the morning.

(Oma is the German word for Grandmother… She wasn’t my Grandmother however, Oma was used as a term of endearment and respect. She may have been my Grandfather’s cousin… *sigh* …but I digress)

The first order of of the day would be would begin with the peeling of apples.

It seemed as Mother and Oma Haas were peeling apples for hours. There must have been a whole bushel involved. All you could smell was apples. As soon as they were peeled the naked apples would be given a bath in a large bowl filled with lemon juice and water to help preserve freshness as it would be quite awhile before they made it into the oven.

There was still so much work to be done.

After the apples were peeled, bathed and dried, they were then finely sliced and chopped. There were mounds and mounds of apples. It was as if our home had been invaded by them.

The next thing I remember is the preparation of the dough. It took a lot of flour, elbow grease and kneading to make this dough perfect. Oma Haas would accept nothing less.

After it had been prepared a large clean white cloth was placed over the kitchen table. Next the dough was rolled out, and rolled and rolled. Meticulous fingers were used to prod and coax the dough until it covered the entire table and hung over the sides. Any rips or holes were carefully mended. At this point the dough was so thin that you could almost see through it. Then it was carefully brushed with butter so it wouldn’t dry out too quickly.

Even at my age, I was impressed at the precision Oma Haas displayed in her work. She knew exactly what to do and when to do it. Mother didn’t dare second guess her. She followed orders and did as she was told. There was little conversation as Mother and Oma Haas worked, as there was a whole lot of concentration going on.

The apples were then strewn across the table along with sugar, cinnamon and raisins. At this point, it looked like my Mother and Oma Haas were having lots of fun. However, I was strictly verboten from touching anything. Still, I snuck a piece of apple whenever I could.

Then came the most interesting part. One side of the white tablecloth was lifted high and manipulated in a waving motion so that the dough rolled up all by itself without being touched by hand. It made for a very long apple jelly roll.

When rolling was completed, the strudel was cut into pieces to fit into the baking pans. There was lots and lots of strudel to bake, so it could not go into the oven all at once.

I remember the final strudel came out of the oven late in the afternoon. Then it was time to clean the kitchen.

By the time it was all over, we had a fridge full of strudel. Oma Haas took some strudel to share with her family and other members of the church congregation.

Those were different times indeed. There was no canned apple filling, no phyllo dough, no store bought apple strudel.

Just determination, discipline, compassion for others and a commitment to preserve the old ways as long as possible…

…As well as the love for a good homemade apple strudel.

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 18: The Mouse That Scored

16 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Bakeries, Baking, CheeseCake, Food, Stories

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Audacious, Bakeries, Baking, Buns, Cheesecake, Food, Foodie, Fortunate, Good Fortune, Happiness, Happy, Lucky, Mouse, Pies, Rolls, Score, Stories, Warehouse

Imagine if you will, a warm and sunny day.

I was out and about in the car for the afternoon when I noticed the bakery tucked away in a remote little corner of town.

This bakery was precious to me as my husband worked there while we were dating.

He drove the delivery van.

At the end of his day the boss would give my boyfriend the go ahead to take home all the leftover pies and rolls to his Mother.

Now it was twenty years later.

It did not look like the same bakery from the street. Curious, I gave the rough exterior the benefit of the doubt. I parked my car and went inside.

Before my eyes adjusted to the lower level lighting I was disappointed that I had not been met by the scent of fresh baked rolls.

I then noticed that I was the only customer in the store. The only other person visible was a burly man leaning against a counter opposite from the cash register.

His arms were folded across his chest. His grim face told me that I was welcome to leave anytime.

This was not the atmosphere of a bakery.

This was a warehouse.

Boxes on the floor were crammed with strange paraphernalia that I knew weren’t cleaning supplies.

Everything was layered with dust.

About half a dozen rolls sat on a ledge behind him. I did not dare ask him how fresh they were.

A single sunbeam coming in from a side window accentuated the swirling dust particles suspended in the air. They were obviously refusing to settle until they had found a clean place to land.

The vats in the back of the store looked like they had been cooking something, but nothing that was for public sale.

Before turning around to leave my eyes landed on three cheesecakes contained inside a dirty glass counter located at the opposite end of the store. The cakes looked strangely out of place.

As I approached the cheesecakes, I noticed a hole in the bottom of the cheesecake to the far left. This hole was about the size of a quarter. I wondered if the shopkeeper had stuck his thumb in it to steal a taste.

I was immediately proven wrong.

In the blink of an eye, a small, brown mouse popped his head out of the hole that I had been studying. His eyes were bright and shiny. His fur looked exceedingly neat for just having been inside a cheese cake. The ends of his whiskers were heavy laden with cheesecake crumbs.

Needless to say, this mouse looked very happy as we continued to stare at each other.

Within fifteen seconds, I experienced emotions that went from shock, to revulsion, to disbelief, and then to amusement.

And as quickly as the mouse had appeared, he suddenly disappeared back inside the cheesecake.

He must have been right at the centre of the cake far from my view, because there was no trace left of him, no tail could be seen, no crumb laden whiskers.

For about two seconds, I considered telling Mr. Stoneface about the mouse. But without a word, I turned around and simply walked out of the store.

Certainly, this mouse, this incredibly lucky, audacious mouse would meet his demise all too soon. If not caught, he would indeed succumb to a fatal case of cheesecake poisoning.

I cannot think of a more wondrous and imaginative way for a mouse to succumb to the inevitable.

May we all be so fortunate.

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