Bonne année 2008!

In France, the holiday decorations stay up until the end of January. While Denis commented a bit snidely that it's so people feel as if they're getting their money's worth out of them, I think it's because the holidays aren't really over until January is too. After all, two very important holiday traditions continue right up to the end of the month. The first is the galette des rois. Neither cookie, cake, nor tart, this confection--we'll translate it as the "cake of the kings"--is offered by nearly all French bakeries throughout the month of January. It marks Epiphany, now officially January 6, when the three kings visited the Christ child.

Like many Christian customs, this one has its roots in pagan practices. It began during Roman times, when people gave cakes to their friends during Saturnalia, a week-long winter solstice celebration ostensibly dedicated to the god Saturn. Then, in Ancien Régime France, the cake-giving season coincided with tax day. As one had to give a cake to one's lord, or king, the ritual offering became known as the galette des rois.

Today, the galette exists in two forms. Traditionally, in the northern, butter-based part of France, it consists of a layer of frangipane cream sandwiched between two layers of puff pastry (photo below right). In Provence, the galette is a ring-shaped, sweet, orange-scented brioche studded with the candied fruits which are the pride of the region. But in today's France, both forms can be found all over the country. The galette is always sold with a paper crown.

Imagine if in the United States, for an entire month, cakes were sold containing small porcelain talismans about an inch high. Broken teeth! Foreign ingested objects! Intestinal blockage! Most of all, lawsuits! Yet, in France, that is exactly what happens--the sale of such cakes, that is, not the mishaps and lawsuits. For whatever their form, all galettes des rois share one characteristic: they contain a fève. Tradition has it that when the galette is cut into portions, the youngest family member gets under the table and taps the legs of the person to receive the next portion. This way, no one can cheat in this all-important game: finding out who is King for the day. That honor belongs to the person who discovers the fève in his portion of galette, who then wears the paper crown for the rest of the evening.

In its plainest form, the fève was just that--a dry fava bean hidden in the cake. This custom is conflated with the folk tale of Peau d'Ane (Donkey Skin), the most popular version of which was written by Charles Perrault in 1694 and included in Tales from Mother Goose in 1697. The princess Peau d'Ane left her ring in the batter of cake destined for a prince. And so, legend has it, the custome of the fève was born. Today, the fève may be plastic or porcelain and take myriad forms. Many people collect them, and you can see a collection of over 10,000 different ones at the Museum of Blain.

For our 2008 galette, I went to my favorite Paris patissier, the justly reknowned Pierre Hermé in the rue Bonaparte. He makes not only the basic frangipane galette, but two variations. Ispahan is a takeoff on his prize-winning Ispahan macaron. It has not only rose-scented almond cream, but also litchis and raspberry. Unfortunately, this one was not available when I was there. The other is 'Carrément Chocolat', a chocolate version that didn't interest me as I find the chocolate overwhelms the almond flavor. The Pierre Hermé experience begins with this incredibly chic paper bag, in pale pink and white, with delicate cutouts. Denis will carry his documents around in this bag for months, and undoubtedly dream of Hermé confections each time he carries it.

The Hermé galette comes with a stylish lacy violet crown (see main photo at head of article). It contains one of 5 different white porcelain fèves in the form of a Pierrot (clown) gourmand. Each little clown hides his face behind a different good luck symbol. Ours was a heart. And, as always, Denis had the fève in his portion. I'm not sure if this was due to the fact that he had more portions or to the absence of a child under the table. Personally, I think I would have looked great in that lacy purple crown.

The Hermé galette also comes with a mode d'emploi--a sort of owner's manual taped to its box. Among other galette trivia, it suggests that you accompany your galette with one of the following dessert wines: a Corsican Muscat, a semi-dry Champagne, a Barsac, a Sauternes, or a Sainte-Croix-de-Mont. That's really leaving nothing to chance.

Last night, we demolished our Hermé galette. Today, I'm making a Provençal galette from scratch, and if it's a success, I'll post the recipe in Dans la Cuisine. (Photo of the unbaked version at left.) Truth to tell, I prefer the yeasty Provençal galette, fragrant with orange blossom water and studded with chewy candied fruits, to the Parisian puff pastry version.






But wait! There's more to the French New Year than pastry. It's a January social ritual that the first time this month that you run into friends and acquaintances, you wish them Happy New Year, Best Wishes, Good Health, Lots of Good Things (Bonne Année, Meilleurs Voeux, Bonne Santé, Plein de Bonne Choses). To forget to do so would be a terrible faux pas. If the person is a friend, the wishes are joined to an especially enthusiastic double kiss (you know, the each-cheek greeting kiss), as demonstrated here by Denis and his brother. I actually prefer this custom even to the galettes. It's a way of saluting the importance of human ties at the beginning of a new year, a setting-straight of priorities that makes everyone feel cheerful going into 2008. Happy New Year!






P.S. The Provençal galette (pompe des rois) was a great success! It rose properly, in spite of its overload of eggs and butter, baked beautiful, and tasted delicious, in spite of the fact that I left out the fève. I even got through the tricky part of pushing the candied fruit decorations into the partly baked crust without the entire thing collapsing like a flat tire. See photo below!

Share