I don't know for sure when it all started. Perhaps on that early morning of an endless Paris summer when I pushed the door to the empty patisserie and walked down the stairs of what would become a home of some kind. A home where aprons are tightly knotted and tea towels never far from your fingers. A home where "chaud!" (hot!) is the only spoken word and pastries get made all day. All night too.
After that first step, I knew I'd never look back. This was where I belonged. One patisserie after the other. One restaurant at a time, it would grow on me; it would make me grow up. As a girl, as a chef.
And yet, just like there is a hidden world behind puddles after a summer storm, there is also one behind the stainless-steel counters that we clean restlessly.
It's a world where the little stories matter.
It's about imperfections. It's about falling in love, and baking at two in the morning, or in the afternoon. Breaking up, and crying. Chocolate cake will happen. And flour in our hair too. Because that's what we do.
I grew up in France and no matter how cliched this may be, I learned how to bake with my grand-mère, her mother Mémé and my mother. We would talk about what we were going to make over a breakfast of baguette slices toasted until just so, butter from the neighbour and strawberry jam that my grandfather used to can every year around that time when bushes are more berries than leaves.
We rode our bicycles to the city centre, along a road – more of a path, really – where trees were paper-cut into the sky, clouds in the shape of waves and waves in the shape of clouds. With a basketful of fruits, we headed back home, where all the flour, sugar and eggs in the world would be waiting for us in the larder.
This was the one door in the kitchen that meant the most to me. I could spend mornings in there, looking at all the products, neatly aligned on shelves. There were pots and pans, cake tins too. And more canning jars than I could count.
I remember the tea towels. Mostly red and blue. White of course too, but only to dry the dishes. And I might have never admitted this to my grand-mère, but every year, as I packed my suitcase en route for the city, I would sneak one or two of them. It goes without saying that I still have them, 20 – or so – years later. Still as worn out, but nothing could ever match what they represent. Much more than just cloths, they're a reflection of my dreams.
But I digress. And really, that's sort of OK. Because, when we were in that kitchen, we sure digressed. And somehow, without us even noticing, we forgot the difference between baking and life.
Ever since, I've chosen to keep on forgetting.
Fanny Zanotti is head pastry chef at Chiltern Firehouse, 1 Chiltern Street, London W1U 7PA
Lemon and blueberry madeleines
Taking a tray of madeleines from the oven feels like pressing the shutter of a Polaroid camera. Boom, instant gratification.
The batter is made up to three days in advance, because it makes for plump little cakes with the fat domes we've allcome to love. And by the time you bake them, you've forgotten the effort you put into making the batter. Callingit effort is somewhat misleading, though. Eggs and sugar arewhisked together until fluffy. And flour is folded.
The only tricky step is incorporating the butter without deflating the batter. But I've come up with a little trick to make that stage easier after the commis-of-my-life tried to turn madeleines into pancakes: the butter is creamed with a tablespoon of sugar until very soft and light. It's then mixed with a part of the batter before getting folded back into the rest. Ever so gently.
Makes 24 madeleines
butter 80g, really soft
caster sugar 100g
eggs 2
lemons zest from 2
sea salt a pinch
plain (all-purpose) flour 100g
baking powder (baking soda) ½ tsp
blueberries a punnet
Cream the butter with a tablespoon of the sugar. Whisk the remaining sugar with the eggs, lemon zest and the pinch of salt in a separate bowl until light and fluffy.
Gently fold in the flour and baking powder until just combined.
Scoop out a third of the batter into the butter and mix vigorously. Transfer into the remaining batter and fold in very gently.
Scrape the batter into a plastic piping bag and chill for at least 3 hours (or up to 3 days).
Preheat the oven to 220C/gas mark7. Butter and flour a madeleine pan. Snip a small 8mm hole from the tip of the piping bag and pipe the batter three-quarters of the way up the prepared moulds. Stick two blueberries in each madeleine. Reduce the oven temperature to 180C/gas mark 4 and bake for 14minutes or until the edges are a deep golden brown and the domes are just beginning to brown.
Remove from the oven and leave to cool for a few minutes in the pan, then turn out on to a wire rack.
The secret to making plump madeleines is heat shock. I chill my batter for at least 3 hours (2 hours is OK-ish too, so go ahead, I'll close my eyes and pretend nothing ever happened) or up to 3 days. And I preheat my oven to 220C/gas mark 7 for a good 30 minutes before reducing to 180C/gas mark 4 to bake them.
Cherry clafoutis
I can't talk about this dish without an anything-but-subtle hint of delight in my voice. It is one of my favourite recipes ever, and comes from my grandmother.
An incredibly smooth batter enfolds pieces of slightly sour cherries. I usually make it in the first days of June when the cherries turn into bright-red jewels waiting to be picked.
It's a bit of a bore to pit them and in fact there is a great debate in France whether the cherries used inaclafoutisshould be pitted or not. ButIuse a small paring knife to pit them for easier eating. You could also use other fruits depending on the season. And if you want to know one of my best-kept secrets, finely sliced apples work like a charm in autumn.
I like to eat clafoutis at any time of the day, but it does make a lovely dessert when served with some sharp yoghurt ice-cream or a dollop of cremefraiche.
Serves 10
plain (all-purpose) flour 200g
caster sugar 120g
salt a pinch
eggs 3
butter 80g, melted
whole milk 400g
cherries 500g, pitted
Preheat the oven to 200C/gas mark 6 and generously butter a 30cm tart dish.
Combine the flour, sugar and salt in a large bowl. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. When the batter is smooth, mix in the melted butter. Then gradually add the milk, mixing well so no lumps form. Ifyou're not fully confident it is lump-free, strain the batter through a sieve.
Scatter the pitted cherries into the prepared dish and gently pour the batter over. Bake for 30 minutes or until golden and quite firm. It can be slightly wobbly in the centre but a skewer inserted in the middle of the clafoutis should come out clean.
Allow to cool and serve in thick wedges.
Bananasplit(ish) sundae
My super-decadent treat is to layer some Better-Than-Brownies Cookies (instructions below) in a tall glass with caramelised banana, vanilla ice-cream and an insane chocolate fudge sauce.
The perfect breakup cure.
Serves 2
bananas 2, skin on
vanilla ice-cream 4 scoops
Better-Than-Brownies Cookies 6
For the fudge sauce
double cream 200g
unsalted butter 50g
dark muscovado sugar 125g
cocoa powder 1 tsp
sea salt ¾ tsp
40% milk chocolate 75g
For the cookies, makes 12
dark chocolate 100g, chopped into chunks
butter 1 tbsp
plain (all-purpose) flour 90g
baking powder ¼ tsp
sea salt ¼ tsp
egg 1
light brown sugar 75g
For the cookies, preheat the oven to 170C/gas mark 3 and line a baking sheet with baking parchment.
Stir the chocolate and butter in a large heatproof bowl set over simmering water until melted. Set aside to cool down slightly while you get on with the rest.
Combine the flour, baking powder and salt in a bowl.
Beat the egg and sugar in a separate bowl for 5 minutes or until light and fluffy, then gently fold into the melted chocolate. Working quickly, tip the flour mixture in and mix well with a wooden spoon.
The dough will feel quite sticky and soft but you should be able to roll it with your hands into walnut-sized balls and arrange them on the prepared baking sheet.
Bake for 10 minutes. The cookies should still be soft and their tops will be cracked. Leave to cool on the baking sheet for a few minutes before transferring to a serving plate.
To make the sauce, preheat the oven to 180C/gas mark 4. Place the chocolate into a large bowl and bring the cream, butter, dark muscovado sugar, cocoa powder and salt to the boil in a small pan. Pour the cream mixture over the chocolate and stir well with a spatula until everything is fully combined. Set aside to cool down slightly at room temperature until ready to use.
While the sauce is cooling, make the black bananas. Arrange the bananas on a baking tray lined with foil and poke a few holes through the skin using a small knife. Bake in the preheated oven for 15 minutes or until black and juices come out from the holes. Allow to cool for a little while, taking care not to burn your fingers when you peel them.
In tall glasses, layer the vanilla ice-cream, baked banana and cookies. Top with a generous amount of milk chocolate fudge sauce.
Almost-instant chocolate fondant cake
When it is hard to find time to make a cake – and really, a birthday can't be without a cake – this fondant cake is here for you. It takes less than an hour from start to finish. In my notebook, I've called it "perfect chocolate cake". And it is; trust me. A crisp, almost brittle, crust and a rich and dark crumb. It's also pretty great for random days when chocolate is needed.
Serves 12
70% dark chocolate 100g, chopped into chunks
butter 120g, cubed
eggs 4
caster sugar 200g
plain (all-purpose) flour 60g
Preheat the oven to 170C/gas mark 3 and generously butter a 20cm cake tin.
Melt the chocolate and butter together in a pan over a low heat, stirring every now and then with a spatula.
Whisk the eggs and sugar in a heatproof bowl set over a pan of simmering water for a few minutes. The aim is to bring the mixture to slightly above room temperature.
Remove from the heat, pour the chocolate over the egg mixture and fold in with a spatula.
Sprinkle the flour in and gently incorporate it until just smooth.
Pour the batter into the prepared tin and bake for 20-25 minutes until just set in the centre. Allow to cool slightly. Cut into wedges and serve with ice-cream – big fat scoops – and as many candles as you can fit.
Ricotta and honey doughnuts
You can call them doughnuts or fritters, but to me, these will always be beignets (pronounced "bay-nee-yeah"). They are made from a simple pâte à choux with just a touch of honey and lots of ricotta. Thick yoghurt works like a charm too, if that's all you have in your fridge. All you need is a generous drizzle of honey and perhaps a small handful of pine nuts, toasted in a frying pan until just golden, and a fun breakfast made of sticky fingers will happen.
Makes 30-40 bite-size doughnuts
whole milk 125g
butter 50g
sea salt 1 tsp
plain (all-purpose) flour 75g
eggs 2
ricotta 100g
honey 1 tbsp
vegetable oil for deep-frying
runny honey to serve
pine nuts toasted, to serve (optional)
To make a choux paste, bring the milk, butter and salt to a rolling boil in a saucepan over a low heat – you want the butter to be fully melted before the milk boils. Take the pan off the heat and add the flour all in one go, mixing well until combined.
Return the pan to the heat and stir with a wooden spoon until a thin crust appears at the bottom of the pan. This shows that the dough is dry enough – it should not be sticky.
Transfer the paste to a large bowl and leave to cool for 2-3 minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, stirring well with the wooden spoon until the batter comes together. Whilst still warm, fold in the ricotta and honey. While still warm, fold in the ricotta and honey. Scrape the mixture into a piping bag fitted with a 20mm nozzle.
Heat the vegetable oil in a deep saucepan to 160C/gas mark 2/3.
Start piping the dough into the oil, snipping off 1cm pieces as you go with scissors. Cut 6 or 7 at a time and be careful not to burn yourself. Fry for about 6 minutes, flipping the balls halfway through, until they are deepbrown.
Use a slotted spoon to transfer the fried doughnuts to a plate lined with afew layers of kitchen paper and repeat with the remaining dough. Serve on a large plate and drizzle with plenty of runny honey. A scattering of toasted pine nuts on top makes awonderful addition.
Crème brûlée for one
There is not much to say about crème brûlée that hasn't already been said. It'screamy, it's delicious, it's understated. Even more so, in fact, when it's turned into a lonesome pleasure. One ramekin. One spoon. Onecrisp caramelised crust. I can't promise it will change your life. But Ican tell you for sure that it will make you feel better.
Serves 1
whipping cream 100g
vanilla pod seeds from ½
egg yolks 2
caster sugar 1 tbsp
demerara sugar extra, to caramelise
Preheat the oven to 150C/gas mark 2. Boil a kettle of water.
Bring the cream and vanilla seeds to the boil in a small pan over a medium heat. Whisk the egg yolks and caster sugartogether in a small bowl. Whenthe milk has boiled, slowly pour it over the egg mixture, whisking as you go. Scoop off any froth with a large spoon and pour the mixture into a small ramekin.
Place the ramekin in a deep baking tray and pour in hot water so it comes halfway up the sides of the ramekin. Bake for 40 minutes, or until set yet still very slightly wobbly in the centre.
Carefully lift the ramekin from the water-bath and leave to cool at room temperature for a few minutes. Chill for 2 hours or overnight. Sprinkle with a thin coating of demerara sugar and burn with a blow torch or place under a hot grill for a few minutes until the sugar turns into caramel.
Crack the caramel crust with a spoon and feel happy.
Spicy chocolate pots‑de‑crème
When the sky looks like it's been bruised and thunder roars, I love to make hot chocolate. Rich and warm with spices, it makes rainy days the best you could ever hope for. I also like to turn my favourite spicy hot chocolate recipe into lush pots-de-crème just by adding four egg yolks and baking for a few minutes in the oven.
Serves 4
whipping cream 240g
whole milk 100g
star anis 3
cardamom pods 2, crushed
hot chilli powder 1 tsp
ground cinnamon ¼ tsp
vanilla pod 1, with its seeds (scraped out)
egg yolks 4
caster sugar 20g
dark chocolate 90g, finely chopped
Preheat the oven to 150C/gas mark 2 and boil a kettle of water.
Pour the cream and milk into a saucepan, add the spices, scraped vanilla pod and its seeds and bring to the boil. When the cream mixture boils, remove from the heat, cover with a lid and leave to infuse for 15 minutes.
Whisk the egg yolks and sugar in a bowl. Strain the cream through a fine-mesh sieve on to the egg mixture, stirring as you do so. Add the chocolateand mix with a rubber spatula until melted.
Divide the mixture between 4 small ramekins arranged in a deep baking tray. Pour in enough hot water from the kettle so it reaches halfway up the sides of the ramekins. Bake for 25minutes until just set and still slightly wobbly in the centre.
Carefully lift the ramekins from the water bath and cool at room temperature for a few minutes before refrigerating. Chill for 2 hours, or overnight, before serving.
One-bowl tiramisu
This is my selfish little pleasure. One big fat bowl of mascarpone mousse with the occasional coffee-drenched biscuit. The mousse is rich and creamy with egg yolk and, of course, mascarpone.
It could not have born its name better. It means "pick me up", and this bowl will indeed pick you up. This recipe can easily bedoubled/ tripled/you name it for acrowd.
Serves 1
caster sugar 1 heaped tbsp
egg yolk 1
mascarpone 100g
sponge fingers 6-8
strong coffee a cup
70% dark chocolate for topping
Whisk the sugar and egg yolk with a handheld mixer for 3-4 minutes or until thick and doubled in size.
Add the mascarpone, a tablespoon at a time, beating well – for at least for a minute – after each addition. Chill in the fridge while you get on with the layering action.
Soak the biscuits in the strong coffeeand place three at the bottom of a bowl. Cover with half the mascarpone cream.
Top with more soaked biscuits and spread with more cream. Grate somedark chocolate on top and chill the tiramisu for an hour or two. Digin with the largest spoon you canfind.
Extracted from Paris Pastry Club by Fanny Zanotti (Hardie Grant, £20), published on 21 April. To order a copy for £15 with free UK p&p go to theguardian.com/bookshop or call 0330333 6846
