Dear Boy, I've finally made Black Sesame Tartlets.

Dear boy,

I am writing this to you, for myself. I've liked you for a while now, but I think it's about time we talked.

I remember the first time I saw you - you were kind even then - giving me little bits of food when I was so scared and nervous. I remember the second time I saw you - you smiled at me and asked me if I was alright, like we had known each other for ages. You guided me and taught me so much ever since that day. I will never forget that.

You never got angry at me. Even when the chefs were screaming and yelling, you were always calm. You were such a positive person too, I hope it rubbed off on me a little. You showed me, kindly, the better way to do things, and gently pointed me in the right direction when I went offtrack. I will always be grateful for that - kindness is vastly underrated.

You always knew when I was sad or mad - there were days when I got nagged at so often, I would be smarting from the comments and pissed off at the world and while it probably wasn't hard to notice the fact that I had smoke coming out from my ears, you always knew what to say. Then there were some days when I was just pensive and quiet - you knew something was wrong even before I knew it myself. Thank you for noticing - and for getting me ice cream on days like those. 

Remember when I was heartbroken ? Thank you for trying to cheer me up. Thank you for asking me over to dinner - I didn't even like fish but then you had caught the fish yourself and you were so eager - the fish was delicious, by the way. I will remember how we all went dancing that night - the first of many nights I would go dancing with everyone else and you. I couldn't dance to save my life but I learned from you that it was alright, as long as you were happy, who's to say that the way you dance is wrong ?

Thank you for all the times you cooked some pasta for me. You knew I loved pasta (with cream sauces) so thank you for overfeeding me and the others to the point where all we could do was sit and complain about our overstuffed bellies. Thank you for bringing me out to the best Italian restaurants and buying me the best pizza. Thank you for showing me where to get the best arancini - I must admit I returned to that shop a few more times for those risotto balls (and the ridiculously good-looking Italian men). Thank you for all the times you dragged me out for gelato even though I was on a diet and it was raining. I now blame you for my worsening addiction to Italian food, cuisine and language. It was bad before I met you, now it's just impossible.

I am grateful for all the days you stayed by my side, when you held my hand and brought me to beautiful places. Thank you for asking about family and friends, thank you for always being so thoughtful and thank you for remembering the little details about me from what I loved to eat and what little stories I told you before. Thank you also, for sending me off to the airport when I finished my internship. I would never admit it to you, but I cried all the way to Turkey.

And lastly, thank you for making my last week in Switzerland a the best one I ever had. You welcomed me with open arms and a big heart - you told me I looked beautiful even after I got a tan and put on 5 pounds, you said I was too thin before. You brought me out for the best food and you gave me so many Italian cookies. You know I loved those little pistachio ones. You came to see me when you could - you spent time with me and maybe even cared about me for a while. You came to see me too, before I left, and wished me a safe journey. You filled up my heart with so much hope and joy - 

- and then you broke it. I guess I knew it was coming, I guess I knew it wasn't love to you, at least, if you did love me, I knew it wasn't even close to enough. Whatever it was, thank you for taking such good care of me. I hope we stay friends because you really are a good one. I'm not mad at you for letting me go, I'm thankful you chose to tell me. I'm sad, yes, it hurt for so much longer than I thought it would. I guess I must have liked you a lot more than I thought.

But dear boy, it's time to leave. It's taken awhile, but I've stopped dreaming of your face. I've stopped hearing your voice, stopped seeing your eyes every time my own were closed, stopped pining and wishing for things that I know won't happen. It's time for me to move on, and wish you good luck. Thank you again for everything... But I am going to let you go now. I hope one day we do meet again, and I hope when that happens, I can finally see you, smile, and say hello, and it won't hurt anymore.

In the meantime, I will keep my end of the promise. I'll fight for the best jobs, make friends with the best people, bake the best sweets, eat the best food and leave my heart wide open. You're right, life is too short to hold on to grudges. And remember when I told you about black sesame and desserts ? You found it hard to believe me then. Look, maybe you'll believe me now.

With love, from Viyern.

Tart shell recipe can be found here. Pinch off small pieces of the dough and press into the bottoms and up the sides of mini tart tins - I used ones that were 1 inch in diameter. Dock the shells and bake for 20 minutes, until golden brown. You can also make a regular 9 inch tart, in which case you have to adjust the baking times accordingly.

For the filling:
(Makes enough to fill eleven 1 inch tartlets and three 2 inch ramekins. Double the recipe for a regular 9 inch tart.)

2 egg yolks
3 1/2 tbsp sugar
1/2 tbsp cornstarch
A pinch of salt
1 cup whole milk
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 tbsp black sesame paste

1. Preheat the oven to 160C and half a kettle of boiled water at hand. Place a rack in the middle of the oven.
2. In a bowl, beat the yolks with the sugar, cornstarch and salt until light coloured and thickened.
3. In a saucepan over medium heat, scald the milk with the sesame paste, whisking till well combined.
4. Pour half the milk mixture into the yolk mixture, whisking all the while, to temper the yolks. Pour the entire mixture back into the saucepan and cook over low heat, stirring with a spatula until thickened slightly and coats the back of a spoon.
5. Remove from heat and strain into a measuring jug. Stir in the vanilla. Pour warm filling mixture into the cooled tart shells, filling them almost to the brim. Pour the excess filling into ramekins.
6. Place the tart shells and ramekins on a baking sheet and place the sheet in the oven, on the middle rack. Pour the hot boiled water into another baking tray and place this below the sheet with the tartlets. This will replicate a water bath but you don't have the risk of water spilling into the tartlets.
7. Bake the tartlets for 15 minutes and the ramekins for 20 minutes, until the centre jiggles only slightly when shaken. Remove from the oven and leave to cool completely before removing from the tins and serving. Store refrigerated.

Coffee Rolls and Learning to Walk Again.

Do you like cinnamon rolls ?

My mom does. My dad doesn't due to an aversion to anything cinnamon. My sister does. Me, I use them merely as a vehicle for frosting and sugar. So how does one make rolls, cinnamon or not, to appease the mob ?

Model them after everyone's favourite drink of course: Coffee.

Yes, I am perfectly aware that everyone wants their coffee done differently. Straight up black. Cold brewed. With milk. With foamed milk. With art. With condensed milk (the best). With nonfat milk, less sugar but hazelnut syrup and cream and some cinnamon over the top.

Let me get this straight. I really couldn't find the want in me to bake after coming back from Bodrum. It was hard to look at the oven or stove and not hear the chef's voice or seeing his expression in my head. I did not want to make cakes or cookies or brownies. To be honest, all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and watch French movies and practice speaking Italian while eating Nutella from the jar with a spoon. I was tired and sad and missing my friends in Switzerland. Then something changed. My girlfriends came to drag me out of the house. I made - albeit very slowly - a batch of brownies for another friend. I had a piece of brownie - the centre - the very best part. My sister handed me some little gifts she had gotten for me while I was away.

Slowly, I began to open my eyes. Slowly, I began to walk again.

Then one day, I asked my dad: hey, what do you think if I made cinnamon rolls, but instead of cinnamon, I put coffee instead ?

Dad, being the coffee addict that he was, responded with an enthusiastic WHYNOTILOVEITALREADY.

Okay, dad. Coffee rolls it is.

So I dragged my butt off the couch, gathered some ingredients, and began to feel my way through the baking process that was once so dear to me. It was easier, I found, to bake for someone else. My dad, who sat with me and wrote me long emails (yes, emails. He doesn't want anything to do with social media.) when I was crying my eyes out in Turkey. My dad, who chattered away when he drove me anywhere and everywhere, when he was so silent before. My dad, who fixed random items in my room to make it so easy for me to do virtually anything (charge my phone and use my laptop and ipad at the same time ? Sure !). My dad, who let me use his credit card to pay for two month's worth of gym membership in a country I was no longer in because I had issues with the cancellation.

Making some coffee rolls for him seemed so trivial after that.

So how did these turn out ?

I made a batch of 17 - I didn't cut them neatly enough and ended up with a lesser amount than I should have. After 24 hours - 6 of which we spent sleeping - There are now just 4 buns left. My dad hoovered them up. My sister happily nibbled through a few. Even my mom, who loves coffee but not in baked goods, ate a fair share.

Moi ? Je préfère l'espresso. Ou quand je veux me récompenser, un latte au thé vert. Chaud, s'il vous plaît. Avec du gâteau, pas de pain. Mais ça, je doit te dit, est tres bon.

I am so sorry for the many pictures to come, but these rolls were so ridiculously photogenic that I just had to post 294012489 pictures of them. Okay, six.

For the buns:
(Adapted from Lisa Yockelson's Baking Style)
3 tsp instant yeast
5 tbsp granulated sugar
4 cups all purpose flour
3/4 tsp salt
1/4 cups warm water
2/3 cups plus 3 tbsp milk
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp coffee extract
2 large eggs
105g butter, softened, cubed

1. In the bowl of a standing mixer, combine the yeast, sugar, flour and salt. Attach the dough hook and mix on low speed to combine the dry ingredients.
2. Add the water, milk, extracts and eggs, mix until the dough is moistened. Add the cubes of butter and knead the dough on medium speed until it is smooth and supple and no chunks of butter remain, about 10 minutes.
3. Remove the dough from the mixture and place in an oiled bowl. Cover with a damp cloth and leave to rise for 1 hour and 45 minutes to 2 hours, until doubled in bulk. Make the filling in the meantime.

For the filling:
1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/4 cups dark brown sugar
5 tsp instant coffee (not coffee grounds !)
100g butter, softened

1. In a bowl, whisk together the sugars and the instant coffee. Have the softened butter and a soft pastry brush at hand.
2. Once the dough has risen, tip it out onto a floured surface and gently press into a square to knock out the air. Using a floured rolling pin, roll the dough into a rectangle roughly 10 by 15 inches wide.
3. Brush the butter all over the surface of the dough, leaving a 1/2 inch border all around the sides. Sprinkle the sugar-coffee mixture all over the surface of the dough, pressing it down slightly so it sticks to the butter.
4. Roll the dough from the longer side into a jelly roll, making sure it is as tight as possible without tearing the dough. Seal the seams by pinching the dough together. Pull the roll lengthwise to lengthen it to about 20 inches. Cut into 20 evenly sized slices using a sharp knife. Leave the slices to stand while you prepare the pan.
5. Generously butter a 9 by 13 inch pan and a 9 by 9 inch pan. Arrange 12 slices on the larger pan, cut side up and 8 slices on the smaller pan, cut side up as well. Cover the pans with plastic wrap and leave to rise for 1 hour in a warm place.
6. Preheat the oven to 180C. Bake the buns for 25 minutes, rotating the trays halfway through the baking time to make sure they brown evenly. The fully baked buns should smell of coffee and be nice and brown on top.
7. Remove from the oven and let stand while you make the frosting.

For the frosting:
3 tbsp cream cheese
5 tbsp icing sugar
1/4 cup strong coffee, cold

1. Beat the cream cheese and icing sugar till smooth. Add the coffee and beat until it resembles a glaze consistency, adding more coffee or icing sugar as needed to adjust the thickness.
2. Using a fork, drizzle the frosting over the buns (or just dollop it on as you like, but in that case I would recommend that you double the frosting..) and serve immediately to anyone who appreciates their cup of joe in bun forms.