Exasper-jam

Those of you who know about the strong feelings I have for my precious Kindle will appreciate that it was a momentous occasion when I broke down and bought my first dead tree book in ages and ages. Yes, Campers, I am now the proud owner of a shiny new copy of Christine Ferber's Mes Confitures, full of famously imaginative (and dare I say it? terribly French) recipes and food porn of the very highest caliber. Hankering after some Strawberry with Pinot Noir; Fig and Gewurtztraminer with Pine Nuts; or White Peaches with Saffron? This is the book for you. It's definitely not your grandmother's jam, unless your grandmother was a boo-teek preserver of unusual refinement and sensibility.

Mes Confitures is also the most maddening cookbook I have ever used and only its great expense has kept me from flinging it against the wall in frustration (which is French for 'frustration').

Take Praline Milk Jam, a kitchen escapade from two weekends ago, before lactose was so rudely taken off the menu. Seven hours of my life were devoted to this crazy project and I still have no idea whether or not it was successful. Oh sure, I have delectable, creamy, hazelnut-scented confiture that reminds me heart-tuggingly of chilly afternoons in Montmartre, where on the pavements they sell candied nuts from giant copper kettles. But is the ambrosia filling my jars what Madame intended? C'est un mystere, vraiment.

Everything about this recipe was problematic, starting with the ingredients list.

Four and half cups of whole milk? Check. 

Six cups of sugar? Shocking, but check.

Nine ounces of ground almonds? Check.

Nine ounces of praline powder? Excuse me!?

A helpful footnote suggests that I might get some at my local bakery. Well, since I do not live in La France, local bakeries are not only rather thin on the ground, but I would bet my last euro not one of these hypothetical establishments would offer praline powder for sale, or even know what it was for that matter.

When I came to think about it, I realized I didn't even know what it was.

So I improvised. I roasted 2 cups of hazelnuts at 350 deg until they were toasty and delicious.

I whipped up a quick caramel by dissolving one and one-half cups of sugar in a few tablespoons of water and then cooking it until it was brown and bubbly.

I dumped in the hazelnuts and spread them out on an oiled baking sheet to cool.

I weighed out nine ounces of the praline lumps and whizzed them in my food processor until they were crushed to smithereens. Was praline powder the result? You be the judge - but it seemed likely.

Praline powder, check.

Madame then told me to put my milk and sugar into a double boiler.

I was instructed to cook it slowly over 'moderate heat' (in a double boiler, is there any other kind?), stirring occasionally. I was assured that after just four hours (!) the milk jam would develop the texture of thick honey and take on a lovely caramel blond color. Well, it wasn't thick as honey, but in my opinion the requisite hue had been achieved.

Check. Ish.

I added the praline powder to the jam and cooked it for another hour. At this point, I was sure I had gone wrong and didn't bother to take a picture of the resulting gloop, which consisted of a layer of hazelnuts stubbornly floating on top of the caramelized milk. It refused to emulsify no matter how energetically I stirred it. I feared that my entire Saturday had been spent in vain, but pressed on uwilling, as always, to admit defeat.

After the hour was up, I added the ground almonds (actually, almond flour I found in the freezer, no doubt a remnant of previous macaron and frangipane fabrication).

Miraculously, the mixture came together into thick delightfulness. I poured it into my favorite round-bottomed saucier and brought it to a boil.

At this point, I was told to decant the jam into jars. How many? Who knows? When one is being Ferberized, one is left in the dark about these crucial details. I estimated that it would be about four 8 oz. jars' worth, got it wrong, and had to prepare two more at the last second.

Check. But it was painful.

The final product tasted utterly delicious: nutty, not to sweet, and exceedingly complex. I discovered that if it's kept in the fridge, it gets a bit stiff (should it be kept in the fridge? who can tell!) but zapped in the microwave for 10 seconds, stirred, and zapped again, it turns creamy and spreadable - like a very adult, extremely sophisticated chocolate-free Nutella with bits in. Madame offers no description or photo of the final result, so I am providing one below:

Check.

But is it Praline Milk Jam? I guess we'll never know.

Addendum. Since I had more than the nine ounces of hazelnut praline lumps required for powderization, we snacked on handfuls of the unCuisinarted leftovers during movie night whilst enjoying Eric Bana chew the scenery as an evil Romulan. Both the praline and the scenery were way, way better than popcorn.