Lemon Mille Feuille

Lemons are immensely versatile. They smell divine, refreshing and lovely, and they taste just as good, tartness included. You can make invisible ink out of lemon juice. You can grate the zest and use it to accent various foods. You can give a lemony, fresh kick to a myriad of dishes. You can find your cuts with it. It is a flavour most people can accept, if not love. It isn’t hard to see why. What makes it even better is its pairing ability. The ability to blend in yet stand out at the same time. The ability to accentuate, yet not overpower. A perfect choice if you’re looking for something that’s bold, but not overly so.

I decided to try something different. Something sweet. A dessert. Simple enough, but still impressive. One that uses puff pastry, because I’d made a fresh batch then. Mille Feuille fits the bill. Delicate with the layers of temperamental pastry, and the gentle, creamy flavours, stacked to fancy perfection. A sturdy dessert in its own right. This pastry consists of thin puff pastry layers alternating with cream- the topping can vary with the recipe. Here I’ve decided to make a lemon flavoured one, with pastry cream and lemon curd.

You’ll need to make three separate things for this: puff pastry, lemon curd, and pastry cream. Here’s my puff pastry recipe. This is the lemon curd recipe I used. And here is the recipe for the pastry cream. Make the fillings beforehand, so you can leave them to chill and set in the fridge.

It’s time to assemble.

Start by baking a sheet of puff pastry. Roll out a block as thin as you can, into a shape that fits your baking sheet. It should be rectangular rather than square. Here is where I made a mistake. I forgot to prick holes all over the dough, so mine expanded like crazy in the oven, pushing off the baking pan I placed on top to weigh it down. The dough didn’t know its inner strength. Like so:

Just don’t be like me. After poking the holes, cover the dough with parchment paper, then place a pan or sheet on top. Bake in a preheated oven at 200˚C for 20 minutes, give or take five minutes. It should be crisp and golden brown.

Note: that was slightly underbaked. It was too pale and almost doughy in the centre. But notice how puffed up it is?

Cut out equally sized rectangles. It’s okay if you don’t get them exact, you’ll have a chance to even it out later. But this will make it easier. Once again, the pastry here is still underbaked. I later placed it in the oven for a few more minutes. Note that this is the way I did it, baking it whole, then cutting after it’s baked. You don’t have to do it like this. You can cut the dough beforehand.

The layering can begin.

Since the pastry cream was thicker than the lemon curd, I began with that.

Take some of the cream…

And slather it on! There’s no need to skimp here.

I may or may not have licked some excess cream. Don’t worry, I wash my hands. Those little vanilla bean specks are so enticing.

Spoon the lemon curd over. Another note: my lemon curd was runnier that it should’ve been. Once again, don’t be like me and save yourself. Or soon your fillings will be weeping and so will you. I speak from experience. Also, a little word of warning, sometimes metallic utensils will give your curd a metallic tinge. Try to avoid that.

You might be wondering why I’m writing a tutorial if I keep making mistakes. It’s so that 1) you can learn from my mistakes, 2) I need to post these pictures, 3) you can follow in my footsteps of despair. That’s entirely optional, however.

Once you’ve put a sufficient amount of lemon curd, cover the fillings with another piece of pastry.

Why do you weep, child?

Luckily it doesn’t have sleeves to wipe its snot off on.

Begin the layering again. A layer of cream, then curd. Same as before.

Like so. Try to ignore the ooze.

Then place another piece of pastry on top, once you’re done with that.

Here is where it gets messy. And brutal. Let me offer some stark and honest kitchen insight here. This is where you trim the edges off the pastry, so that it’s all level and even and pretty. Not that it isn’t pretty now. But, you know, it could be a teeny bit more refined… without the, uh, slimon curd. I tried to thwart its efforts of escape. It was a bit like trying to staple water to a wall. So the pastry cried and leaked pus-like rivulets, and I’m sorry, that has to be one of the most unappetizing sentences ever. Despite its Houdini-esque skills, I still managed to cut around the edges. Fingers plunging into the cream. With my hand half coated in the sticky fillings, with flakes of shattered pastry tethered to the goop, like the glued on macaroni on a kindergartener’s art project. And oh, the debris surrounding it all. What a nightmare. That’s all that needs to be said. But despite the odds against me, I survived.

That was not without fits of frustration. I’m glad I persevered, though. Yet it needed a finishing touch. Something simple, but beautiful enough. One sheet of kitchen towel paper. Cut into strips. Arranged diagonally across the top, lined up as best as my mediocre skills would allow. A little icing sugar, a little determination, and a few shakes later, I had my final design. Whew. I have to say the end result wasn’t bad.

Okay, I admit, it turned out better than I anticipated.

Can you see the layers?

Flaky, distinct layers. Mmm.

The verdict? Success. My family enjoyed it. So did my teacher. Where to begin with the taste… The sweetness was perfectly balanced, with the richness of the cream, and the slight tartness of the lemon curd. Not majorly sweet, but sweet enough. Combine the smoothness of the cream and curd with the crisp, buttery pastry layers, and you’ve got something luscious. This isn’t the kind of recipe you’d gorge on or indulge heartily in. This is the kind of elegant, delicate treat that you’d have with a cup of tea, or as the sweet ending to a special lunch. It is rather time-consuming. And maybe a hassle to make. Is it worth it? That’s up to you to decide.

Personally, I’d save this for special occasions.

I’ll never forget that mess.

Puff Pastry

This is the recipe that sent me into a panic. Perhaps that isn’t the right way to put it. It isn’t the recipe itself- it’s my own disorganization. You see, I scribble down my recipes on loose notebook pages, and then I lose them. I never learn. Fortunately enough, puff pastry only takes four ingredients to make. It’s simple enough. And easy to remember. In terms of the combination of ingredients. Although the method can get complicated. Or is complicated, depending on your definition of that.

It is time-consuming. It is rather fussy. It does take some care. You can run down to the nearest supermarket, and you can pick up a package of frozen puff pastry, and that’s perfectly fine. But the store-bought stuff pales in comparison to the homemade version. It isn’t as buttery. It doesn’t have the same richness. It’s missing a soul. You don’t get the same satisfaction that you’ll get after you make your own puff pastry. Covered in little flakes, licking the crumbs from your lips, you’ll stare down at the crisp, golden pastry in your hand and think: “I made that.” The feeling may be akin to a mother holding her child for the first time. Although she doesn’t eat her child, of course. Or else that would bring a whole new meaning to ‘bun in the oven’.

Without further ado, here is the recipe, complete with my maybe longer than needed tutorial.

---

PUFF PASTRY

200g flour + extra for rolling

50g butter, diced

1/2 tsp salt

100g cold water

150g butter, for rolling in

---

METHOD

1. With all the flour in a bowl, add in the salt, and mix thoroughly. Sprinkle in the butter cubes. Cut them into the flour until the butter is reduced to pea sized lumps.
2. Slowly drizzle in the cold water, Mix the water in gently. As a note, you might need a little more or less than the amount called for. Stop adding water when the mixture is somewhat crumbly but will hold together when you squeeze it.
3. Turn the dough out onto a surface of your choice. Knead it a little, only enough to shape it into a disc. Do not overwork the dough. Wrap it in clingfilm and pop it into the fridge.
4. Get the remaining butter. The butter should be fairly malleable. If it is not, mash and work the butter until it is. Keep it as cold as possible, though. Place it on a sheet of parchment. Place another sheet on top. Roll out the butter until it’s a square, but make sure it’s even in texture and isn’t too thin or thick. A thickness of about 1/4cm is fine. Put it in the fridge.
5. After half an hour, take out both the butter and the dough. Flour your work surface. No need to skimp here. Roll out the dough into a long rectangle, about double the length of the butter square. Get it as straight and even as you can. Place the butter square in the middle. Then fold one side of the dough over. It should cover half the square. Fold the other side over. Both dough sides should meet in the middle, and the butter square should be adequately covered. Press to seal all the seams.
6. Roll out the dough along the middle seam. Use firm but gentle strokes. Roll it until it’s a long rectangle, about the same size as before, but a little larger. Fold it book fold style. This means taking one (short) side of the dough and folding it over, placing it down in the middle, then taking the other end and folding it over, placing it in the middle as well, so the two ends meet. Then fold the dough in half, along the seam. So you should have four layers. Brush off any excess flour. Wrap up the dough and leave it in the fridge for at least half an hour.
7. That’s one turn completed. You need to do 5 turns total. Which means 4 more turns. You can squeeze in about 2 turns each session, in between chill times. But if the dough resists too much, or gets warm, chill it.
8. After completing all 5 turns, cut the dough in half, then wrap it up and store in the fridge for when you need it. Remember to chill before using- don’t use it straight away.

---

Confusing? Don’t worry. You know I have *some* pictures prepared. Sit down, get cozy, because you’re in for one heck of an instructional photo ride.

“Instructional” my butt.

Feed the imaginary chickens in the house. Do chickens eat flour? I’m pretty sure they don’t. Channel your inner Cinderella.

I somehow don’t have any photos of the dough mixing stage. Which is fine. I hope. You all are smart people and I’m not going to underestimate you.

This is after the dough has chilled for a while. It’s time to roll it out.

You know what would be awesome? If I could’ve gotten that butter square in the centre. Clearly my aim is off. Even more off than the butter.

That’s how it should look like, once the butter is encased in the dough.

See that seam? Roll with it. Time to demonstrate the book fold.

Brush off any excess flour as you go. Flour can make the end result streaky, and you don’t want that.

That’s the beautiful book fold!

Four layers.

Caress the dough with a lover’s touch. Like the touch of a child being asked to pick up garbage which is not their own.

That’s the first turn complete.

Repeat!

The folding process is called laminating. So this is a laminated dough.

This dough is not a vampire.

Can you see all those layers?

Go on and do whatever you want with it! Use this in any recipe that calls for puff pastry. Oh, and you can freeze this. In case of a pastry emergency.

More butter is better, right?

If you want a suggestion for what to make with this, here’s one.