THE SWEETNESS OF THE SEASON
Why, why, WHY are Thanksgiving and Christmas so close together? Don't we all need, like, six months of therapy before facing our families again? Or at least six weeks for the drugs to take effect? Seriously, that was some piss-poor planning, pilgrims!
But there is one upside to having the holidays smashed together like bitter siblings forced to share a sleeper sofa: a seamless transition from Thanksgiving leftovers to Christmas cookies. Oh, I'm still wishing my relatives would move to Mongolia, but now I'm planning all the different kinds of sweets I'll send them when they go.
In my family, we have a list of traditional cookies that we make every year, using treasured family recipes. Virtually all of these cookies are wretchedly inedible, but we make them anyway. For example,
pfeffernusse
: a German spice cookie that tastes like the dusty scrapings from the bottom of your spice carousel.
Springerle
: Made with
my great-grandmother's carved rolling pin, the result is a square of hardtack strongly flavored with anise. Spritz cookies, which are actually quite good when made with butter (because they're butter cookies), become indescribably horrible when made with margarine in an ill-conceived concession to some uncle's cholesterol problem.
But there is one Christmas sweet we do that actually looks and tastes good, probably because it's a huge pain in the ass and takes two days to make. The
bûche de Noël
is a French cake made in the shape of a Yule log. For me, the Yule log brings back pleasant memories of visiting the national Christmas tree on the Mall in Washington, DC, where I grew up. When I was in middle school, a Supreme Court ruling suddenly meant they were allowed to put up a nativity scene-a live nativity scene with real reindeer. (The stench of poop and official state religion aside, live reindeer are cool!) Not far from there was the Yule log. I know I was smaller then, but it really seemed like they burned whole sequoias in that fire pit. I mean, the logs were enormous! The fire was so bright you could barely look straight at it, and the heat almost melted the polyester fur on my vinyl boots. Good times.
MAKE YOUR OWN…
So anyway, the
bûche de Noël
is the edible version of the Yule log, grossly oversized, garishly decorated and very dangerous to your health. At its most basic, the
bûche
is a sponge cake slathered with frosting, rolled up into a log shape and covered with more frosting, which is raked with a fork to look like bark. But really, there's no point in going to all that trouble just to make a basic
bûche
, so I usually go all out. I make a fancy
génoise
(the French version of a sponge cake), which I nearly ruin trying to get it out of the sheet pan (yes, you need a sheet pan or a jelly roll pan). Buttercream is the only filling worthy of this cake, and I like to flavor mine with sweetened chestnut purée (so hard to find here that I bring it back from France in bulk). Then I slather a rich, dark chocolate
ganache
over the exterior of the log. Once the
ganache
has set, I cut off one end and stick it on the side of the log to look like a side branch, with the cut side exposing the layers of cake and buttercream, which, after enough hard cider, do look just like tree rings. Then I apply way too many deformed little meringue mushrooms that I made the day before and allowed to dry overnight. With a little dusting of cocoa on the mushrooms and a dusting of powdered sugar on the log, it's ready! And I'm ready for a nap.
If you're ambitious and desperate for one good holiday ritual, I encourage you to try making your own
bûche de Noël
. It's tedious, but it does give you an excuse to clear the kitchen for hours at a time. "Out, out, out! Can't you see I'm working on the
bûche
!"
…OR BUY ONE!
If, on the other hand, you're well adjusted but short on time and in need of something to bring to or serve at a holiday get-together, you can buy a
bûche
.
Chocolate Maven
(821 W. San Mateo Road #C, 984-1980) is now accepting orders for their version, which is made with a chocolate sponge cake rolled with vanilla buttercream. Coated with dark chocolate
ganache
, it's decorated with meringue mushrooms and marzipan leaves (those are tricky!). The Maven's cakes come in two sizes: The $29 cake serves five to eight people and the $45 cake serves eight to 16. Order 48 hours in advance.
At
Café Paris
(31 Burro Alley, 986-9162), the
bûche
is filled with your choice of chocolate mousse, mocha buttercream or praline buttercream and comes in three sizes, from $34 to $44.
Le Zodiac Café
(311 Old Santa Fe Trail, 984-8500) will custom-make a
bûche
with your choice of flavors, including chocolate, chestnut and hazelnut. The smallest cake, which is the most popular size, serves eight and costs $35.
Both
Cloud Cliff Bakery
(1805 Second St., 983-6254) and the
French Pastry Shop
(100 E. San Francisco St., 983-6697) also make this special cake, but when I called they hadn't settled on the details yet, so call and ask.
Tell me where to eat! I need your input. Send all of your tips, gripes and raves to
.
