Madeleines

The recipe book has evidently gotten to Josh. I know this because last night he actually rebelled against having another side dish tried out for dinner and insisted on getting take out. This is unprecedented.

But I'm not a moron, so I consented to sushi (which was a whole 'nother festival in and of itself), and went to the ever present plan B - cookie or dessert item. Doing a quick skim of the recipes left and the ingredients in the house, I realized it was time to bite the bullet and make the Madeleines recipe.

This is a recipe I have been dreading ever since I started this project. This is because I recall trying to make it once before and it not going very well. I am sure I chose it because it looks quite easy, and I was probably pretty excited to break out the specialty Madeleine mold trays that were likely given to me in cooperation with this recipe. I don't remember the details of the experience - it was more like one of those things that goes so spectacularly wrong that your brain just refuses to process the whole scene correctly and you're left with a sort of blurry, piecemeal impression of explosive clusterfuckedness. Basically, I just remember it being something like midnight, and me being completely insanely frustrated as the smoke alarm blared and Madeleine goo decorated my entire kitchen wondering how I could have fucked up so badly. And also Josh probably hiding under the bed.

But the time came. I could not turn away. And at least this time I knew to have greatly reduced expectations--which helped immensely. And by reduced expectations I mean I fully expected disaster and I started off cracking open a beer to try to offset any ire that might arise.

The recipe for Madelines comes from the Valliers, Josh's parents' friends who also gave us the recipe for Corn Corn Corn Casserole. Unlike the recipe for Corn Corn Corn Casserole, however, this one seems to have several fundamental problems with it. I'm pretty sure this is for one of two reasons:

A. Jane Vallier is a closet crack addict and was higher than Tom Arnold at a cocaine factory when she wrote it down.
B. Jane Vallier secretly hates me and was trying quietly, ingeniously to drive me completely insane.

Or both. It could be both of those reasons.

The thing about the recipe is it seems easy enough. Mix a lot of cake/cookie type things together in the mixing bowl then dump into the molds. Voila, Madeleines. But here's where her ingeniousness (or drug addiction) kicks in. Her instructions distinctly say that the recipe makes 12 Madelines. If you follow her instructions, here is how much batter you have left over after filling 12 Madeline molds:

What?

Luckily, Jane Vallier gave me 2 sheets of Madeline molds, which means I can make 24 Madeleines. Here is how much batter you have left after filling 24 Madeleine molds - and eating so much batter that you can't eat any more:

Um....Jane?

And mind you, that is after filling those molds too full. You see, it seems I made it through my entire life, all the way up until last night before anyone ever told me that as a general rule of thumb you are only supposed to fill molds (muffin tins, cookie molds, what have you) half way full (this piece of wisdom acquired from Josh's mom as I bedgrudgingly explained to her that her friend was trying to psychically torture me from 2000 miles away). Perhaps, had I known this, then I would have been able to resist the urge to completely overfill the molds with heaping lumps of batter. Or perhaps not, because with so much batter and the claim that this made only 12 Madeleines, somehow this math just wasn't working out.

As a result, the Madeleines came out of the oven looking like this:

Uh oh.

This is not correct. The Madeleines are not supposed to grow into each other and attach into one giant sheet of Madeleineness. Rather, you should be looking at the smooth and distinctly detached bottoms of individual little cookies that pop out to reveal a lovely scallop-shaped front.

It is at this point that I start to recall the trauma of the kitchen that fateful night in Hollywood when I first tried this recipe. Fortunately, now I felt vindicated instead of surprised. I mean, I've cooked enough at this point to know I'm not a complete moron. Partial, sure. But I draw the line at complete.

I decide it is best for all involved to go eat my sushi and let the Mangled-leines cool so that at least they'll pop out easily. No such luck. When I come back up they seem to have cooled in some sort of death grip on the Madeleine sheets. First, I scrape around the outer edges with a steak knife then try to knock them out. No dice. Then I scrape around each individual Madeleine mold with said steak knife then try to knock them out. Still nothing. Eventually I wind up prying each one out with my fingernails while cake bits go everywhere, much to the dog's delight, and trying to contain my mounting fury.

Then I cut around the lump of cakey cookieness to try to make them resemble Madeleines, and attempt to cover their mangled look by making some of the orange glaze Jane mentioned, the directions for which I'm pretty sure are ALSO screwed up.

Josh said they tasted great, and I think at this point I may know what's wrong with the recipe, but I don't care. I've tried twice, they've beaten me twice. Josh can make them the next time. I'm done.

Screw you, bastard ass cookies

Jane Vallier's Mind-Game Madeleines

2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
5 eggs
1 cup butter
1/4 tsp baking powder
1 pinch salt
1 tsp vanilla or lemon flavoring (option A)

Work the eggs in with the sugar, and the flour, then the melted butter, salt and baking powder, vanilla or lemon. Think to self, 'Huh, this is easy. What went so wrong last time?'

Grease the Madeleine molds with butter, fill them with the pastry, bake in moderate oven (350) 20-25 minutes. Post-game translation into real directions: 1. Fill them HALF FULL with the pastry. 2. Bake possibly hotter. 3. For AT LEAST 25 minutes.

When cool, remove from pans. Post-game: Possibly do not wait for them to cool that long to prevent sticking.

They can be presented plain or half dipped in melted chocolate or orange glaze (2 Tbsp sugar, 2 Tbsp [half drunk bottle of] orange juice [left out on bed stand] and a little corn starch [no moths! score!] to thicken. Cook to desired consistency).

Post-game commentary on the glaze: !!!!!
Sigh.

1. As that is enough glaze for about 2 Madeleines, that must be the proportion on which you make the glaze, but you should adjust it up depending on how many you make.
2. 'A little corn starch?' I HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH CORN STARCH TO USE! I woun'd up using a ton. Or, like a tablespoon. Or less. I have no idea. I just kept dumping it in until the glaze stopped looking quite so much like orange juice and at least a little thicker.
3. What the hell am I supposed to put the glaze in so that I can dip half the cookie into it? I used a ramekin and barely could get the tip in. That sounds dirty. Maybe you should brush it on instead?
4. Beware of glaze. It is HOT. It will stick to two of your fingers and melt your skin, so that you have burns on 3 of your fingers now. It will then stick to the cooling rack so tightly that it virtually glues the Madeleines to it. And the counter. And the ramekin. And your mouth when you eat it. You must have screwed it up somehow. But it does taste good, so there's that.

Makes 12. We usually double the recipe because they go fast. They are somewhere between cake and cookie.

Post-game: Jane Vallier likes to torment me. I made 24, which I overfilled, and had tons of batter left over. I would say this recipe in its current form makes more like 36-48 traditionally sized Madeleines, if the little individually wrapped Starbucks ones are anything to go by. They amaze me with their correctness.