Danish Pastry: Envelopes, Twists, Balloons, and Triangles

And now for something a little more challenging: Danish pastry.

Danish pastries are said to be of the best in the world, and I think we’ve all had approximations of them at one time or another. I recognize their shapes, but I always ate them without realizing what they were. I’m learning things retrospectively (oh, so that’s what that was… and it’s a thing, with its own name!) as I bake my way through this challenge. Ah, just one of the minor benefits of the project.

(Pictured: four twists, three triangles, and one envelope. If you can’t tell which is which… you have a counting problem :P)

The dough required the use of active dry yeast. I think yeast always frightens people; it seems like serious business. Like this is real baking. I was oh-so-worried that those little mico-organisms wouldn’t do their job. After all, you can’t see them. Will they work? Will they not work? And how can you tell? (The worries were unfounded; the dough rose beautifully – by any standard.)

A whole bar (rather small, though) of French butter, pounded thin, is placed in the middle of the dough. French butter is supposedly more buttery (= higher fat content) than other butters. Only the best for the best of pastries!

 All nicely wrapped up and headed for the fridge.

 Outta the fridge and rolled out long.

And folded into thirds. This process, including refrigeration, is repeated three times. That is how you get the gorgeous butter layering in the pastry!

The filling included store-bought passion-pomme jam, the last of my apricot jam, and remonce (sweet almondy paste).

[Not pictured]

There comes a time during my baking operations, especially when I’m trying out a new branch of pastry for the first time, when I question what I’m doing – and why. You can’t really tell from the finished product how semi-disastrous they were in the middle; things go poorly, everything’s hectic and helter-skelter, and I’m tired and just want to crawl back into bed.

The moment with the Danishes was when the envelopes and triangles opened up during the proofing process. Uhg! I’d worked so hard, but it seemed like I was going to end up with little sprawling pizzas instead of dainty pastries! And I couldn’t let that happen. So I cut up some toothpicks, stuck them on the corners of the pastry squares, and tied them together with string. A very make-shift remedy, I know. And they looked unpleasant, like a pimpled teenager with braces. But it worked! The pastries came out shaped, more or less, like they were supposed to. Then I just removed the toothpicks, et voila! Another save!

I think this obsession very well may be a sickness.

Envelopes and triangles, straight outta the oven. They were sooo good! Like, “where have you been all my life?”good. They were crispy on the outside with a light spongy, buttery layering on the inside, accentuated by the subtle sweetness of the remonce and gooey filling. Worthy of their renown! They were so good, and seemed so harmless, I just kept eating… My friend and I ate five –– each. In the aftermath of sugar and butter overdose, we both sorta regretted not restraining ourselves.

 The balloons came out as buns. Teehee. Those couldn’t be saved.

There were only two left over, and as I munched on them the next morning, I realized why my baked goodies are oftentimes so much better than the store-bought variety. Because, less than 24 hours later, they tasted just as stale and flat as any thoughtlessly mass-produced (near-non-)food. And even some of the stuff at bakeries are probably a day or two old… Freshness is paramount when it comes to food. Especially baked goods. And especially-especially pastry. I don’t think I’ll ever eat from a box again!