madeleines au citron

 


Madeleines are little French cakes, baked in scalloped shell-shape baking moulds. These buttery cakes with the crisp crust on the outside and a tender, moist crumb in the center go perfect for a brunch or with an afternoon tea. The batter can be made in advance, up to two days – preferably they should be eaten straight away, fresh from the oven, but they will still be good for up to a day later.


madl01

Makes 48 Madeleines (sized 5 cm diameter, nonstick Madeleine moulds)

  • 200 g butter
  • 60 ml milk
  • 1 teaspoon honey
  • 3 eggs, room temperature
  • 130 g sugar
  • zest of two unwaxed lemons
  • 200 g flour
  • 10 g baking powder

Melt the butter, add the milk and the honey and let the mixture cool to room temperature.

Mix together the sugar and the lemon zest, add the eggs and beat until pale and frothy.

Sift the flour and the baking powder for two times and sift it once again into the egg mixture.

Gently add the cool butter to the egg mixture.

Cover the batter with plastic wrap and leave to rest in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours or overnight.

Preheat the oven to 190°C.

Put about a teaspoon of batter into each Madeleine shell, filling them 3/4 full.

Bake the Madeleines for about 10 – 12 minutes in the middle of the oven, until the turn slightly golden brown on the edges.

Transfer the pan from the oven and remove the Madeleines by rapping the pan against the counter; the Madeleines should drop out.

Allow the Madeleines to cool a little bit on a wire rack.

Happy baking!

madl03b

 

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bakeaffairs

Bridget's Bakery Blog

45 thoughts on “madeleines au citron”

  1. I was looking for a recipe for these earlier and like magic you popped into my wordpress discover. I can’t wait to try out your recipe.

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    1. Hello and I’m so sorry for my late response. I use the unwaxed lemons because when I compare waxed and unwaxed lemons the taste of fresh zest is slightly bittered by the presence of wax and I think it is really hard to grate waxed lemons. Warmly, Bridget

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    1. No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory – this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me it was me. … Whence did it come? What did it mean? How could I seize and apprehend it? … And suddenly the memory revealed itself. The taste was that of the little piece of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (because on those mornings I did not go out before mass), when I went to say good morning to her in her bedroom, my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of tea or tisane. The sight of the little madeleine had recalled nothing to my mind before I tasted it. And all from my cup of tea.

      —Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time

      Liked by 1 person

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