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| My homemade Cronut hell: three days for three greasy lumps | |
| (about 1 hour later) | |
| The majestic Cronut. Hottest portmanteau on the block. Half croissant, half doughnut, all conquering. Chef Dominique Ansel’s creation is a pastry phenomenon. New Yorkers still queue for blocks around his trendy bakery to get their hands on one, a decadent revision of Soviet-era citizens lining up for bread. | The majestic Cronut. Hottest portmanteau on the block. Half croissant, half doughnut, all conquering. Chef Dominique Ansel’s creation is a pastry phenomenon. New Yorkers still queue for blocks around his trendy bakery to get their hands on one, a decadent revision of Soviet-era citizens lining up for bread. |
| When Ansel’s official recipe for Cronuts appeared online earlier this week, an excerpt from his new book, The Secret Recipes, it sparked a predictable frenzy. The dense text (difficulty level: “Extreme”) outlines a process more laborious than getting a Russian visa: a production line of flavoured sugars, cream ganaches, glazes, and a form of dough origami that goes on for three days. Could any snack possibly be worth the investment of time and effort? | When Ansel’s official recipe for Cronuts appeared online earlier this week, an excerpt from his new book, The Secret Recipes, it sparked a predictable frenzy. The dense text (difficulty level: “Extreme”) outlines a process more laborious than getting a Russian visa: a production line of flavoured sugars, cream ganaches, glazes, and a form of dough origami that goes on for three days. Could any snack possibly be worth the investment of time and effort? |
| No, obviously not. | No, obviously not. |
| Still, I spent three days making some, and here’s how that went. | Still, I spent three days making some, and here’s how that went. |
| Day one | Day one |
| I spend the afternoon emptying my local supermarket of eggs, butter and cream, like a panic-buying dairy fanatic. The ingredients list also contains some more puzzling elements. “Vanilla bean (preferably Tahitian)”. Well naturally. “Wilton #230 Bismarck metal tip”, which sounds like a Prussian frigate. “Kosher salt”? I reckon I can get by. | I spend the afternoon emptying my local supermarket of eggs, butter and cream, like a panic-buying dairy fanatic. The ingredients list also contains some more puzzling elements. “Vanilla bean (preferably Tahitian)”. Well naturally. “Wilton #230 Bismarck metal tip”, which sounds like a Prussian frigate. “Kosher salt”? I reckon I can get by. |
| At home I make a massive dough of egg whites, butter and cream. I’m told to proof it somewhere warm and humid, so it can rise. I put it in the bathroom with the shower on. In a few hours it will have doubled in size, and I’ll need to put my fist in it, to expel the carbon dioxide. It feels like I’m building a living being. A weird dough baby. | At home I make a massive dough of egg whites, butter and cream. I’m told to proof it somewhere warm and humid, so it can rise. I put it in the bathroom with the shower on. In a few hours it will have doubled in size, and I’ll need to put my fist in it, to expel the carbon dioxide. It feels like I’m building a living being. A weird dough baby. |
| At 2am my alarm goes off. “What are you doing?” my girlfriend hisses at me. The answer: “Punching down a dough baby,” does not make her happy. | At 2am my alarm goes off. “What are you doing?” my girlfriend hisses at me. The answer: “Punching down a dough baby,” does not make her happy. |
| Day two | Day two |
| Did you know a cup is not a cup? It’s an American word for 250g. I’ve just been chucking ingredients into a mug and consequently my dough baby is a third of the size she should be. This is all a bit Jeremy Kyle. | Did you know a cup is not a cup? It’s an American word for 250g. I’ve just been chucking ingredients into a mug and consequently my dough baby is a third of the size she should be. This is all a bit Jeremy Kyle. |
| My day is spent “laminating”, squashing an entire packet of butter into a 7in square, sealing that inside a dough envelope and folding the whole thing up, as if I’m about to airmail someone a heart attack. This goes on for about six hours. | My day is spent “laminating”, squashing an entire packet of butter into a 7in square, sealing that inside a dough envelope and folding the whole thing up, as if I’m about to airmail someone a heart attack. This goes on for about six hours. |
| I boil up cream and white chocolate, to make ganache. I own one tiny pan, which instantly boils over, seeping cream into every crevice of my hob and oven. | I boil up cream and white chocolate, to make ganache. I own one tiny pan, which instantly boils over, seeping cream into every crevice of my hob and oven. |
| On the plus side, I reckon I’ve lost about two thirds of the ganache, which proportionally puts me back on track. | On the plus side, I reckon I’ve lost about two thirds of the ganache, which proportionally puts me back on track. |
| Day three | Day three |
| The big one. It’s all go today, as in “all going badly wrong”. | The big one. It’s all go today, as in “all going badly wrong”. |
| I roll out my baby. She bubbles and farts, butter spots popping up like subcutaneous acne. I don’t have concentric ring cutters to make classic “doughnut shapes”, so improvise with a soup lid and tube of Berocca. I won’t lie; some of the shapes this creates are an abomination unto God. | I roll out my baby. She bubbles and farts, butter spots popping up like subcutaneous acne. I don’t have concentric ring cutters to make classic “doughnut shapes”, so improvise with a soup lid and tube of Berocca. I won’t lie; some of the shapes this creates are an abomination unto God. |
| More toilet proofing. I scrape vanilla into sugar to make “vanilla sugar”, which looks not so much elegantly speckled, as weevil-infested. I boil grapeseed oil to 350F (175C), and sling in the least-misshapen doughnut shapes. Oil spills over the sides of the pan, oozing into every crevice of the hob including the gas rings, which subsequently won’t light. | |
| I roll the resulting lumps in weevil, then inject them with ganache, using a piping bag of very cheap muslin. Cream bleeds through the sides, coating my arms, the floor and everything in my flat. I’m finished! | I roll the resulting lumps in weevil, then inject them with ganache, using a piping bag of very cheap muslin. Cream bleeds through the sides, coating my arms, the floor and everything in my flat. I’m finished! |
| I try one. A doughnut exterior housing golden pastry rungs of pure croissant. It’s alchemy. I’ve turned a potato into a pomegranate. Yes, it tastes acrid, and feels like biting into a nappy. Yes, my kitchen is impregnated at a cellular level with rotting cream. Three and a half greasy pucks that taste like failure have cost me three days, £30 and one relationship. | I try one. A doughnut exterior housing golden pastry rungs of pure croissant. It’s alchemy. I’ve turned a potato into a pomegranate. Yes, it tastes acrid, and feels like biting into a nappy. Yes, my kitchen is impregnated at a cellular level with rotting cream. Three and a half greasy pucks that taste like failure have cost me three days, £30 and one relationship. |
| But DIY Cronuts aren’t made to be eaten; they’re made to be Instagrammed, where everything tastes the same. These babies are the gold standard of bragging rights. I’ve conquered Mount Cro. I’m Cro-Magnon man! Cro-ella de Skill of 101 Dough-motions!! | But DIY Cronuts aren’t made to be eaten; they’re made to be Instagrammed, where everything tastes the same. These babies are the gold standard of bragging rights. I’ve conquered Mount Cro. I’m Cro-Magnon man! Cro-ella de Skill of 101 Dough-motions!! |
| I nearly throw up, feeling very pleased with myself. | I nearly throw up, feeling very pleased with myself. |