First Attempt at a Christmas Bûche

At least it tasted nice!

I've eaten many Bûches de Noël. The revered buttercream sort, the not-so-typical frozen log sort, and all those in between. I've bought them fully adorned and ready to serve, and I've also been known to play God and add a final dusting of powdered sugar snow and a few plastic figurines to the sweet scene. But I had never made one myself, until this year.


The Bûche de Noël, or Yuletide log, is a French Christmas dessert where a soft, thin sponge cake is spread with a whipped filling then rolled, and topped with festive seasonal decorations. The tradition of the Bûche was born in homage to the celebration of the Winter Solstice. Each year, a tree would be cut down and its logs used throughout the entire preparation of the Christmas Even midnight dinner. Eventually practicality won over, and the symbolic Yule log was promoted from the fireplace to our dessert plates.

In France, dessert Bûches usually follow this template: white genoise covered with currant jelly, layered with thick buttercream, coated with chocolate frosting after being rolled, and scored with a fork to resemble bark. Emboldened patissiers may use some chestnuts or praline, but ultimately the sanctity of the bûche, as with any French dessert, is protected. After considering such heavy culinary heritage, but rather untroubled by it, my sister and I began sifting through various recipes. To be honest, neither one of us has the sweet tooth or the ambition to tackle the Yuletide magnificence mentioned earlier. We wanted our dessert to be relatively unfussy and boast lots of chocolate. I finally found this recipe, which wooed me with its "moderately easy" label and no-nonsense appearance. It looks like a log, and incorporates chocolate in both the cake batter and the frosting. I decided that adding a bit of espresso to the ganache would be my own personal touch.

The biggest obstacle to our Christmas dessert rested in the proven fact that neither my sister nor I are particularly painstaking in our cooking habits. I don't have self-rising flour, I used the wrong sized baking pan and I didn't let the chocolate ganache cool long enough... So maybe our bûche did not shine with all the Yuletide glory of bûches past. But it tasted delicious (undercooked dough is one of the happiest accidents I can think of) and chocolate icing is known to cover up just about anything. And I'm eager to try a second attempt next year.

From My Mother's Kitchen: An Endive Soup.

The Goods.

"We have a crate of endives keeping cool in the garage. What should I do with them?"
"Braise them!"
"No, I did that just last weekend. I'll make a soup."
"Uuuuuh, what?"
"Mais si! And I'll add dried cèpes."
"... Do what you want."

So she made endive soup. And I was a complete non-believer. But I have no qualms about admitting defeat to the culinary rebel/creative inspiration that is my mother. The soup was delicious. The endive shined simply in the bitter aftertaste it left, while the dried mushrooms were hearty and woodsy and perfect for a Fall soup. Adding a sprinkling of blue cheese and sour cream at the end also helped round the dish out for the less vegetable-inclined amongst us.

The recipe mirrors exactly what goes on during my mother's cooking adventures, meaning there is very little recipe to speak of. This is good inspiration for me, because although I don't feel the need to abide by every required ounce and teaspoon, I tend to avoid most digression until I have made the dish a few times and determined what I like most about as it as well as what I would like to tweak.

So here it is: sauté some leeks and garlic, add chopped endives and potatoes, cook down a bit, then add the rehydrated mushrooms with their tasty water, as well as some more water. Simmer, then make smooth with the help of an immersion blender. Season to taste: we added more salt, some cayenne pepper, ground nutmeg

Here's to no-recipe recipes!