Decorating Christmas Cake With Fruit And Nuts

DON PENNY/STUDIO D

"When I told the Italian cooks I'd been working with at El Bulli that I was going to Brescia to learn to make panettone from the world's greatest master, they laughed," says Bay Area pastry chef Roy Shvartzapel. "They said it would never happen." But Shvartzapel is not easily discouraged. He made no calls, wrote no letters. He simply strapped on a backpack and boarded the train.

"I got off at Brescia and walked the two and a half miles to Pasticceria Veneto. And it was closed!" The young cook stood staring at the locked door. He had no money and nowhere to go. "What am I doing here?" he asked himself.

Blame it on the great French pastry master Pierre Hermé. "When I graduated from the Culinary Institute of America," Shvartzapel says, "I was determined to go to Paris and work for him." In the pastry world Hermé is a game-changer; his boutiques are dark, each confection displayed beneath its own lighting as if it were a jewel. Indeed, Hermé treats his creations like couture, presenting new designs each season.

Buy NowPistachio Cherry Panettone, $50

"Working there was extraordinary," Shvartzapel says, "but what most fascinated me was the anxiety that pervaded the kitchen every time they produced panettone."

The Hermé panettone bore no resemblance to the clumsy, dry, sweet bread with which Shvartzapel was familiar. This was a miracle of lightness, air, and sugar baked into a yeasty froth and frozen in time. "What I discovered is that great panettone is very difficult to make. It defies every rule of baking. Hermé learned from the greatest master of the form, Iginio Massari, and I knew I had to go there too."

So there he was, banging on the bakery door in Brescia. To his surprise it opened, and the master himself said, in his limited English, "Come at four tomorrow morning and you will make panettone with me."

"Does he realize I am merely a penniless apprentice?" Shvartzapel wondered. "I began to worry that there had been a misunderstanding. I asked if he could suggest a hostel. The next thing I know I've been dropped off at a posh hotel." Embarrassed, Shvartzapel tried to explain to the desk clerk that the hotel was far above his touch. "No problem," the man replied. "Mr. Massari has paid for your room."

Clearly Massari had seen something in the young cook, and early the next morning he began to reveal his secrets. "It is not about ingredients. It's all about technique," Shvartzapel says. "I took lots of notes."

Massari's faith was not misplaced: Shvartzapel returned to America determined to launch a panettone revolution. For three years, while working at the two-Michelin-star restaurant Cyrus in Healdsburg, California, Shvartzapel experimented with flour, fruit, and yeast. "There were lots of failures," he admits.

I wish I had some trick. But all I have is my obsessive nature and a maniacal discipline.

If great panettone depended on ingredients, it would be easy. But it is all about the way daily conditions change fermentation, about touch, about craftsmanship. "I wish I had some trick," Shvartzapel says. "But all I have is my obsessive nature and a maniacal discipline."

When it was time to reveal his creation, Healdsburg's organic grocery, Shelton's, allowed him to set up a table. But the owner held out little hope. "Nobody is going to buy bread with some fruit for $40," he declared. To the grocer's surprise the confections sold so quickly that Shvartzapel had to limit the number customers were allowed to purchase.

Indeed, eating the panettone is almost psychedelic in its intensity. Buttery without being rich, it is feather-light, each gossamer layer seeming to evaporate in your mouth until you're left with nothing but the crackling crunch on the top. Once I toasted a slice and the air filled with an aroma so enticing the neighbors came knocking on my door.

It seems a shame to save something so delicious for Christmas, but if Shvartzapel has his way, that will change. Creating an entire palette of offbeat flavors, he's intent on turning panettone into a year round treat.(Famed pastry chef Nancy Silverton is partial to the banana version; I prefer the chocolate.)

Buy Now Chocolate Panettone, $50

How have the masters responded to what Shvartzapel has wrought? "I sent some to Pierre Hermé," he says, "and he was really complimentary."

And Massari?

Shvartzapel hesitates. "I have a level of nervousness about sending it to Mr. Massari. I think it's pretty true to his, but I keep waiting for that perfect batch."

This story appears in the December 2017/January 2018 issue of Town & Country. Subscribe Today

Ruth Reichl Contributing Editor Reichl is an award-winning writer and editor.

This content is created and maintained by a third party, and imported onto this page to help users provide their email addresses. You may be able to find more information about this and similar content at piano.io