Brioches and Croissants 

By Marie-Christine Perry

For the French, brioches and croissants are bought in the morning, warm from the oven, from your local boulangerie. You simply would not think of trying to make them at home, for all the time and trouble. So there will be no recipe this month, but you should find everything you need on the kingarthurbaking.com website.

My brother Olivier, a few years my junior, was the self-designated purveyor of our family’s morning baguettes and croissants and, on Sundays, the nine brioches on our breakfast table. Since most mornings he was the bakery’s first customer, the baker’s wife always gave him a treat, pain au chocolat or pain aux raisins, which kept him getting up early. 

Brioches, croissants or baguettes were all served with sweet butter and an assortment of jams and jellies, redolent of summer fruit cooking slowly in the large copper cauldron in my grandmother’s country kitchen: plum, apricot, strawberry, raspberry, fig…Dipped into our bowls of cafe au lait, each bite was more delicious than the last.

I had no trouble in this country finding good croissants, whether in my San Francisco neighborhood, in Berkeley, the West Village or Brooklyn, but brioches were more elusive. After buying our house in Norfolk, it became more difficult, although the croissants at the Arethusa Cafe in Bantam are worthy of a detour, as the Michelin guide is wont to say. But I am not one to drive half an hour for a croissant with my morning coffee, so I often make do with Costco croissants, which I freeze immediately in separate bags to have when the memory of my childhood breakfasts becomes unbearable. Sliced and toasted they are not really half bad.

I have never been tempted to bake my own though, so imagine my surprise one morning when I hear someone at the kitchen door and find there a gentleman holding a basket covered with a tea towel. He asks for me by name, and we introduce ourselves. Standing before me is the Rev. Savage Frieze. He has been told I am Norfolk’s authority in the way of croissants, and he has come for a judging. Rev. Savage has taken up boulangerie viennoise and would like to know what I honestly think of the croissant nestled in his basket. I am intrigued and happy to oblige. 

The croissant has the look of a very solid specimen, with golden crust and lovely layers. The smell of yeast is perceptible, and I savor the first bite under the watchful eyes of the novice baker. Another bite follows, and I have to compliment the boulanger. My only critique is very personal, as I do prefer a croissant bien cuit, and this one could have benefitted from another few minutes in the oven. Judgment rendered, Frieze and I take a tour of my culinary library. He departs, very happy, only to reappear weeks later, basket in hand, at the farmer’s market where I am demonstrating for Cook the Market. 

There is another croissant for me to critique, and this time, as the tea towel is whisked off, it reveals a croissant with the perfect hue of burnished gold. The croissant is bien cuit, really perfect, and gets an A+. The baker is immensely happy. I envy his excitement but have no compulsion to emulate him. He has shared that this achievement was the fruit of months of experimenting, and I have only admiration for his pursuit of perfection. 

As for brioche, that story will be for another time, but I did recently take a successful brioche class at Husky Meadows Seed and Spoon, and I think it may not be the only time I make it.

En attendant, bon appétit and do try Arethusa croissants, since you cannot try the Rev. Frieze’s perfect ones.