Devil in a blue apron
Mastering the art of French cakemaking in the golden heart of Provence
GETTY IMAGES quite creamy. As soon as it cools, you pour over it a simple coffee- based chocolate butter cream, thin but intense. Guests put down their forks and look at you as though you’ve unveiled The Winged Victory. A sliver will do.
Discovering Le Diabolo was sort of like the moment of recognition when you’re dressed in blue flounces and someone wearing black Prada walks in. You get it. When something is this good, you don’t need much. Sometimes I ring the cake with raspberries, but, really, what’s the point?
In my kitchens, I have turned out Le Diabolo on to the same white Wedgwood plate for my daughter’s birthdays, endless dinner parties, potlucks, even funerals. Now my daughter bakes it for her family, and I’ve passed on the recipe to many friends, who, in turn, have handed it to others.
On that first day, however, my history with Le Diabolo was unwritten. I ate each bite slowly, savouring every tender morsel.
Writer Frances Mayes was seduced by the gentle landscape and the idea of a life in the countryside