As we turn our clocks back, marking the passing of one season to the next, I can’t help but get a little excited thinking about the fruits that are slowly making their way into our shopping baskets and onto our tables. Fruits such as pears, quinces, and my favourite childhood snack, persimmons.

We loved them so much as kids that whenever persimmons were in season, my father would buy them (always the crunchy, non-astringent kind) by the tray or bagful, have them washed and cut into quarters and left in a dish for anyone to pick and nibble on. I used to marvel at the way some of the fruit had speckled flesh, which made them look as though they had been fed cinnamon while growing.

We occasionally had the dried version of the fruit as well. It was usually thinly sliced and added to sweet soups, but I never really liked its flavour or texture and tended to keep a wide berth of it.

Strangely, I’ve been enjoying eating raw persimmons for so long now that it hadn’t occurred to me until recently, to try cooking with them. A conversation with a friend led me to envision pot-roasting the fruit with brown sugar and perhaps a twist of lemon and vanilla, or peeling and poaching them in St. Germaine (an elderflower liqueur) or a spiced tea syrup. Once cooked, I plan to pair the fruit with little chestnut teacakes or perhaps my favourite gluten-free buckwheat cake.

In the meantime, the baking bug had me craving a generous slice of brioche, so I made a simple brioche ‘tart’, topped with slices of persimmon and yogurt custard.

For this tart, I used Michel Roux’s brioche recipe from his book, Pastry. I have not provided the recipe for it here. You may already have your favourite, or if not, there are many recipes out there to choose from, even this gluten-free one. If persimmons aren’t in season, try figs and pears instead, or a mixture of berries.

Persimmon, cinnamon and yogurt brioche tart :

500g brioche dough, proved overnight in fridge (for a thinner tart or a more balanced fruit to brioche ratio, use 250g brioche dough and adjust baking time accordingly)
Yogurt custard (recipe below)
6 -7 small ripe persimmons (or 4 large ones)

Grease a 28 cm fluted tart tin. Roll the brioche dough out to a rough circle that is large enough to fit the tin and line the tin with the dough. Lightly press the edges up against the sides of the tin. Cover with clingfilm and allow to prove until double.

Preheat the oven to 180’C.

Slice the persimmons as thinly as possible (you can peel them first, if that’s your preference) and arrange them, slightly overlapping on the dough. Pour the custard over the persimmon slices. Bake in the oven for 15 minutes, then reduce the temperature to 150’C and continue baking for an additional 25 – 30 minutes or until the brioche is golden brown.

Allow the tart to cool until just warm before serving. This tart is best eaten on the day it is made.

Yogurt custard :

120g European-style/Greek yogurt
60g caster sugar
4 egg yolks
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 tablespoon cornflour
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Whisk all the ingredients together just to combine.

Very recently, one of the members of our work team resigned from his position. He had not been working there very long but even so, I felt overcome with sadness when I heard the news. The kitchen environment is very much all about operating as a team – we celebrate successes and bear the burden of failures as a team. If a few cogs from the machine fail or go missing, then the system starts to break down quickly.

The way in which any kitchen operates, fascinates me even to this day. We get a lot of visitors asking to take a look inside this current kitchen and their interest is not surprising at all. As my work station is located in a corner of the room, I am sometimes able to stand back and observe the quiet ‘controlled chaos’ as it unfolds. Don’t laugh, but it occurs to me that this frenzied ‘show’ is almost a miniaturised version of Vegas. You travel down a long road to reach your destination, to be dazzled by the glitzy bright lights, the smells, the rush of heat, and noise filling your ears. Behind these lights, hide tight, sweaty, gritty faces hunched over benches. They work : to live, for love, with passion, for money, and the occasional bit of glory.

Even when the odds are stacked against them. Sixty covers in one hour? Never say die. They wear the sweat as a badge of pride; pores shut tight with salt, iced cordial and coffee.

Even when Elvis struts in, demanding something off-the-menu. They dance around, scrambling to pull something together. Because it’s Elvis. Because the show must go on.

So now a member of this cast has left. We put on our costumes, we joke, get angry, rush around, grumble at miscues. Then the curtain draws back and the show goes on.

(Amidst this crazy circus, we have managed to find a bit of a holiday. Look, I also made cake! Or rather, it’s a cross between tender cake and buttery shortbread. It’s actually quite wonderful on it’s own, but after being inspired by a recipe from The Big Sur Bakery cookbook, I decided to pair it with lemon verbena cream and some sweet blueberries. If you wish to serve it in a similar way, first warm some thickened cream with fresh lemon verbena leaves and a dash of honey, then strain and chill well before whipping it until it forms soft peaks. Top slices of cake with pillow-like dollops of cream and a generous handful of berries tossed through some icing sugar.)

Gâteau Breton :
(serves 10 – 12; I simplified the instructions a little, but essentially, the recipe is from Rose’s Heavenly Cakes by Rose Levy Beranbaum)

42g (1/2 cup) blanched sliced almonds
150g (3/4 cup) superfine sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
255g (2 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter
74g (from about 4 large eggs) egg yolks, at room temperature
15g (1 tablespoon) kirsch, dark rum, or water
1 1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
250g (2 cups plus 3 tablespoons) plain flour
1 whole egg, lightly beaten

Preheat the oven to 160’C.

Toast the almonds until golden, cool completely then place in a food processor and process the almonds with about 3/4 cup of the sugar until fairly fine but not powder fine.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted, mix the remaining sugar, salt and the butter on medium speed for about 1 minute until smooth and creamy. Beat in the yolks, 1 at a time, beating for about 20 seconds between each addition. Scrape down the sides of the bowl.

Add the almond mixture, kirsch, and vanilla and mix on low speed until the dry ingredients are moistened. Raise the speed to medium and beat for about 20 seconds, then add the flour in four parts, beating on the lowest speed for about 15 seconds and turning off the mixer between additions. Use a spatula to finish mixing in any flour that remains unincorporated.

Scrape the batter into a prepared fluted tart pan with removable bottom (9 1/2 inch by 1 3/8 inch; greased and lightly floured). With the beaten egg, brush the top of the cake well, using a little less than 1 tablespoon. Use the tines of a fork to make a crosshatch pattern on top. The fork lines help prevent the batter from puffing up unevenly.

Bake the cake for 35 – 45 minutes, or until a deep golden brown and the cake springs back when pressed lightly in the centre.

Let the cake cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes before attempting to unmold it and place it on a serving plate.

If there’s one thing this hot weather has going for it, it’s that you start to notice the garden suddenly springing to life. This is especially remarkable (and thrilling) as I’m not known for my gardening prowess. So far this season, our little balcony has supplied us with a selection of fresh herbs and a decent crop of tomatoes from two potted plants. I have been picking them only when required, to preserve their incredibly fresh and sweet taste from pot to plate. In fact, this crop has been so sweet that I decided I should also make a dessert out of them.

A batch of caramelised baby tomato and black olive tea cakes was the end result.

The inclusion of olives in these cakes stems from my renewed interest in the flavours of black olives and olive oil. Strangely enough, while I have often cooked with olive oil in the past, it’s only been recently that I’ve started to fully appreciate the beauty of a good quality extra virgin olive oil. The use of olives and olive oil in desserts aren’t a new thing either. I especially like black olives for their salty/briny flavour, which works well in tempering the sugar levels of a dish. Olives pair beautifully with citrus, pine nuts, tomatoes, strawberries, white chocolate, basil and fresh cheese.

This is exactly my kind of cake. Despite being slightly unusual, you could argue that it’s in keeping with classic flavours. Continuing with the Summer theme, I served the cakes with dollops of fresh thick yogurt but there’s no reason why these can’t also be served with ice-cream or whipped vanilla cream, especially if you tend towards the sweeter spectrum of things.

If the garden continues to prove fruitful, I certainly forsee more tomato-themed treats in the near future.