Hello and welcome! You might be better reading this in the app as there are loads of pictures in today’s piece, and it may appear truncated. Today I’m sharing my brand new recipe for late-summer pudding for you to make in time for the Bank Holiday weekend: a miraculously simple French-ish take on bread and butter pudding made with golden almond croissants and juicy, jammy roasted apricots.
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I’m just back from a dog walk, and the uniquely earthy, electrical smell of rain on warm tarmac was mingling with the scent of someone’s jasmine, and it was heady and nostalgic and most welcome. I’m a bit shaky today, which has less to do with the excellent martinis I drank at Updown last night, and more to do with the fact that today is my daughter’s last EVER day at nursery, and things feel whirly. And when I’m feeling shaky, I know just what to do. I walk to the sea with my dog, breathe it in, come home, make coffee and start writing.
It’s been a hot minute, my friends, and I’ve missed you this August. But I must say, amidst having my hands full with little people, I’ve been gathering plenty of inspiration over the past few weeks which I know is going to feed in here, starting with this wonderful new recipe for roasted apricot and almond croissant pudding.
We had a really lovely time in France at our favourite lakeside, tree-filled campsite on the Atlantic coast, where we were incredibly lucky with the weather, and I cooked up so many good things in the cosy cabin kitchen. We used the fish market a lot, and there was much heatwave sea bass, and pan fried sardines, and bulbous tomatoes with everything. There was hard and soft cheese, endless baguettes and buttery, flaky croissants every morning for breakfast with cherry jam, melon and very strong coffee.
And there was a profusion of stone fruit. We feasted on white peaches, apricots and greengages from the local farmer’s market, which no doubt inspired this French-accented, late summer take on ‘B&BP’, as my dad used to call it. It was his birthday this month, he would have been 81, and I think he would most certainly approve of this recipe: this one’s for you, Pete!
I hope you’ve all been having wonderful summers, and I wonder how everyone is feeling in the run up to September and the seasonal shift that feels like it’s already creeping up on us. Have you seen the moon this week? Quite incredible! Though possibly also one of the reasons we’re not sleeping so well?? I find the end of August a bit melancholy-inducing, if I’m totally honest. There’s a waning feeling to it that marks the end of foot loose weeks and the promise of long, adventurous days stretching ahead. But what’s to be done, other than run with open arms towards the autumn and throw ourselves, even somewhat reluctantly, into the return to routine, or in our case, the beginning of a whole new one in the form of my daughter starting school. Eeek.
In the spirit of embracing change, is it too soon to be looking at trench coats? I really have fallen rather in love with this oversized black one from Arket which feels like the chic, versatile transition coat I’ve needed all my life.
And also this contrast collar, Damson Madder number from Liberty, which has a real nautical feeling to it and would be so ideal for coastal walks this autumn, no?
And this short, box swing trench from Boden (currently on sale) is super sharp.
Speaking of coastal walks, here on the Kent coast, the wild fennel flowers have gone to fragrant, sunshine yellow seed; already we have an abundance of elderberries dangling from their trees, and my grass has been the colour of scorched hay for weeks now. But, after a slow start, I’ve had a glut of cosmos and it’s been a real highlight to keep snipping them from the frondy jungle in front of the kitchen window and put them in little stem jars down the dining table. Just so pretty.
We were all so sad about Dolly. My kids have both absolutely adored the “Have you heard of Dolly Parton” flip flap book: one of the most requested reads first thing in the morning when we blearily pad downstairs at 5.30am. Her death has got me thinking about legacy, and kindness, and grit, and why we all loved her so much, which I feel had as much to do with her immense talent as her unwavering sense of who she was, and her eagerness to laugh at herself but never at others. I loved this meme that was doing the rounds. Must be more Dolly.
And now, to apricots! It’s rare that I meet an apricot that can’t be improved by a stint in a hot oven. I often find them slightly mealy and underwhelming raw, but roast them until soft, juicy and nicely concentrated and they become something else entirely: their flavour, sweetness and fragrance intensified by the heat, their tartness amped up and their texture glossy and jammy. They’re plentiful at the time of writing in our local green grocer, and probably yours, too.
Sometimes the best recipes happen by happy accident, such was the case with this one. I had some almond croissants leftover from a brunch playdate I hosted for my daughter, apricots in the fruit bowl and friends coming over for a barbecue. I’d long had the idea of a croissant version of a bread and butter pudding in my mind’s eye as something to try, and when the idea of marrying together the apricots and almond croissants struck (a no-brainer really, almonds and apricots are best mates), it felt like the perfect solution for a quick and delicious dessert. Sort of the flavours of an almond and frangipane tart, but with about an eighth of the faff.
And that really is the beauty of this dessert, because there is actually remarkably little to do. The hard work has already been done by whoever made the croissant dough, and those buttery, almondy, frangipane-laden layers are locked and loaded and just begging to be joined by the juicy, acidic fruit. Once you’ve roasted the apricots and torn up the croissants, it’s just a case of whipping up the simple custard and baking, but what emerges from the oven not only makes your kitchen smell sublime, it feels, looks and tastes beautifully abundant and special.
Thankfully, the hunch was right, and it actually turned out to be even more delicious than I’d imagined, thanks to the flaking layers of buttery croissant dough which crisped up at the edges; the melting frangipane in the middle of said croissants; and the wobbly, custardy centre punctuated by pockets of sweet, shapr fruit that cut through all that cream.
