The Adventures Of Mousse And Girl
They were a shadow organization on the fringes of my consciousness. I’d be reading about a magnificent pastry, something unbelievably professional looking, only to come to terms with the realization that it was created by a mere mortal, a foodblogger like myself. But not just any food blogger.
A Daring Baker.
After noticing the logo on one blog, I started seeing them everywhere. As if coordinated by invisible means, posts would appear every month across the blogosphere, chronicling different approaches to the same recipe. Who were these people? I saw the result of a group cooking event but couldn’t find the announcement anywhere. Where were they getting their recipes? How did they organize, communicate, mastermind? I began looking for muted post horns.
Finally, I stumbled across the Daring Bakers blogroll, which outlines their mission statement. It also reveals that to join, all I had to do was email the founders, Lis and Ivonne. I confess, I was a little disappointed. I thought I’d have to find a payphone, wait until it rang at exactly ten thirty-nine to receive further instructions, and eventually end up getting the back of my knee branded as part of my indoctrination. This way turned out to be a lot less painful though, and I was able to join just in time for August’s challenge!
This month’s challenge, hosted by Veron and Patricia, is the milk chocolate and caramel tart from Eric Kayser’s Sweet and Savory Tarts. Chocolate hazelnut shortbread holds a layer of caramel topped with chocolate mousse and decorated with caramel shards.
This was the first pastry I’ve made that involves creaming the butter and mixing the flour in well. As you might guess, unlike a flaky, light pie crust, the shortbread has a dense, crumbly, almost sandy texture. Using my hands, I pressed it into a fluted tart pan with a removable bottom. I had read that the pastry tended to rise a lot in the oven, so I pricked my shell thoroughly and weighted it with sunflower seeds. It held its shape well and stayed fairly flat, although the scraps I cut out and baked alongside did as well. I was a bit underwhelmed by the pastry on its own. The cinnamon overtones with which other bakers took issue didn’t bother me, but it wasn’t very chocolatey either. It didn’t actually taste like much of anything, and I was skeptical.
The next step was making the caramel. I’ve had trouble with caramel in the past, so I was delighted when an alternative to the “dry method” was given. Veron’s suggestion of adding water and a bit of corn syrup to the sugar, stirring it before it came to a boil, and letting it cook until golden worked like a charm. I was nervous about adding the cream, but even that went smoothly. I chose to use crème fraîche, which I recommend because of the subtle tang it gave the caramel. It melted away into the caramel, which stiffened before dissolving again. After stirring in the egg and flour mixture, I poured it into my shell and baked away. Twenty five minutes later, the caramel set enough to keep from sloshing around when I pulled it out of the oven.
Apparently the fates had saved the misery for the third component, the chocolate mousse. This mousse was structured as melted milk chocolate folded into unsweetened whipped cream. It sounded simple enough, so I set my Kitchenaid to beating my cream as I melted my chocolate in the microwave. I’ve done that enough times that I didn’t think anything of it, but I made the mistake of melting all eight ounces together. My chocolate overheated and clumped into grainy clusters of evil.
I immediately ran to the interweb and acted on its advice. I switched bowls, mixed in my unmelted chocolate to cool it, and painstakingly pushed it through a strainer. Much time later, I melted it down again, slowly and carefully, and stirred in a bit of goose fat* to smooth it out. It looked like chocolate again, and I eagerly whipped it into my cream, only to see it deflate. Demoralized, I pouted and gave up.
Lucky for me, Drew didn’t. I vented to him, telling him I’d just start again in the morning and that he eat the chocolate cream if he so desired, but he put it in the refrigerator instead. When it was thoroughly chilled, we watched with childlike glee as it fluffed up into a glorious mountain of chocolate mousse. I spread it over my tart with my shiny new offset spatula and studded it with caramel pieces, which were a snap after that ordeal.
When the moment of truth came, it surprised me. I had expected it to be overly sweet, but the mildness of the crust and the tanginess of the caramel tempered the sugar rush. The chocolate and caramel married so well that they were nearly indistinguishable from each other, the gooey smokiness of the caramel melting into the buttery lightness of the mousse. The caramel fragments, which were just annoying to cut around in the beginning, eventually dissolved until thin enough for a pleasant crunch in the forkful of tart. Each slice was rich enough to satisfy the sweet tooth, but light and addictive enough that said sweet tooth demanded more.
*A couple people have expressed curiosity about my use of goose fat. The usual recommendation is shortening, but I was out and have found that the goose fat I still have in the fridge from two Christmases ago has a similar consistency and makes a good substitution.
