A New Pair of Choux[s]: Part One

My friend Toad has just returned from Paris, where she enjoyed a fine dinner at Taillevent, as one does (although rather less often than might be wished for in this sadly imperfect world). Upon first hearing of her adventure, I scurried to my iPad for a look at the restaurant's online menu and a round of my favorite game, What Would I Eat? Admittedly, this diversion isn't as fun as it used to be, given that I can't eat much of anything on menus anymore. When Toad further described the perfection of the chef's gougeres, offered up as titillating amuses bouche, I felt a stinging nostalgia for the gluten-filled days of yesteryear.

I allowed myself a short wallow in self-pity before pulling it together and launching my next project. I may not be getting to the City of Lights any time soon, but I figured I could put together a reasonable gluten-free choux pastry recipe. Since this decision coincided with a gala dinner I had planned for the evening, I decided to adjust my thinking and make profiteroles instead of gougeres. Gluten-free amuses are a dime a dozen, after all, but desserts good enough for company have proved something of a challenge in recent weeks.

I used as a basis for my experiments the same pate a choux recipe I have employed for years, the one in Delia Smith's Complete Cookery Course (1982 edition, now yellow with age and falling apart). Delia has always maintained that the use of 'strong' (or high-gluten) flour is necessary for a pleasingly crispy result. I have never questioned her wisdom and thus feared the worst for my current enterprise. Crispiness is key after all, especially if one wants to introduce a slightly damp filling or topping to the finished boules. I set to work with little hope for success.

For my first batch, I did a straight substitution of g/f all-purpose baking flour (the proprietary blend from my favorite New Jersey nut shop) for the strong flour required by the recipe, although I reduced the amount slightly given my experiences with pasta and madeleines. When I first shot the twice-sifted flour into my bubbling butter and water mixture, I was dismayed by the oozy, lumpy goo that resulted - and noted that it took quite a long time to get all the flour incorporated into the liquid, due to the former's poor absorptive qualities. I rolled the compound around in the warm pan for a bit with my wooden spoon, and was relieved to find that it did bind up a bit - even though quite a few lumps remained. I fearlessly pressed on. Beating the eggs into the mixture proved too much of a strain for my wooden spoon, so I retrieved my electric mixer from its hiding place and turned it to its most energetic setting. By adding the eggs in minuscule amounts, and beating like mad all the while, I was able to produce a sticky, smooth, glossy dough that looked a lot like uncooked choux paste. Not the same rich golden color, of course, but serviceable nonetheless.

I glopped the mixture into my pastry bag and squeezed out little mounds that I judged would be a good size for my purposes. It was cheering to see that they held their shape nicely on the baking sheet. I slid the potential profiteroles into the oven, not really knowing what outcome to expect. Imagine my stunned surprise when, upon peeking into the oven fifteen minutes later, I found equally-surprised little choux puffs blinking back at me!

I let them brown a little longer, then pulled them from the hot box to cool on a wire rack. I poked the mandatory holes in their sides to let out steam and eagerly ate one as soon as it was cool enough. Delicious! I called the Kid Squid for a second opinion, which was sufficiently positive for me to deem the experiment a qualified success. 

Although the profiteroles were virtually indistinguishable from the many thousands I have made over the years, I was forced to admit they were a little softer than Delia might consider ideal. I remembered reading somewhere that rice flour can add a nice snap to baked goods of just about any variety, so I made a second batch substituting rice flour for half the all-purpose g/f flour. The resulting dough was smoother than the previous batch, but slightly less shape-holding. I began again, upping the amount of g/f flour until I judged I had a pipe-able  mixture.

When these profiteroles came out of the oven, they had a much more regular aspect than those made without rice flour, although they lacked the same degree of rustic charm. This aesthetic consideration was banished from my mind, however, when I broke one open and perceived its slight crunch and subtle crispiness. Perfection after only three attempts! 

Taillevent's got nuthin' on me.

The cooked puffs: the eleven irregular
rice-free boules are in the foreground

Next up: the final pate a choux recipe and a catalog of its various thrilling uses