Shrimp gougères

Way-uh ah the hors d’oeuvres? We were standing on the rooftop of a ladies’ club, and I did not have the answer to this burning question. There was white wine, a few mixed drinks, some crudités. Who dunks raw cauliflower in Ranch Dressing and eats it? There were no hors d’oeuvres.

For the types of people who attend these types of functions—that includes me—they are dinner. At this function, much fuss was made over who had told her husband that she would be having hors d’oeuvres for dinner tonight and therefore would not be having or attending or cooking for another dinner. But now what would happen? Now that there were no hors d’oeuvres?

Honestly, I don’t remember. It was too hot out anyway. But on the occasions that I throw or attend parties, I make sure there will be hors d’oeuvres. Raw vegetables don’t count. Shrimp cocktail always counts, though. It’s counted since forever. But I hate shrimp.

There were lots of vistas of water bodies and shrimp boats in my childhood. The nets sink down on either side, and the boats look bigger far away than they do up close. These are very pretty and very interesting, and I miss seeing the boats. But I still hate their catch. When people ask why (Why do they ask why? What’s so wrong with hating shrimp? They are called shrimp.), I say it’s because I ate too many as a child. This is a lie. But other people like shrimp, so I sometimes cook with them. And even I like these.*

Depending on which brand of chic you’re going for, you could call these little darlings shrimp sliders, recessionary lobster rolls, or, of course, the title suggested above. Gougères themselves are a specialty of Burgundy. They are little cheese puffs or rings made with choux paste and served either before dinner or as a part of wine tastings. On choux paste: It is really weird. It seems to separate and become clumpy before it becomes a proper-looking dough, but I’ve never had a problem. And thus, without further ado, hee-uh ah the hors d’oeuvres.

Shrimp gougères

45g / 3T butter  |  125ml / ½ cup water  |  salt + pepper  |  60g / scant ½ cup flour  |  3 eggs  |  components you would like for a shrimp salad

Heat oven to 375.

Combine the water, butter, and pinches of salt + pepper in a saucepan. Heat until the butter is melted and then bring to a boil. Dump in the flour and stir until the paste pulls off the sides of the pan. This never seems to take more than 15 seconds. Remove from heat and leave to cool for at least a few minutes, but longer won’t do you any harm.

Beat 2 of the eggs together and the third in a separate bowl. (The third is for the egg wash.) When the paste is cool enough that you can add the eggs without making scrambles, do so in several additions, beating well after each addition.** When it looks normal—as opposed to separated and clumpy—it is ready.

Scrape into a plastic bag and snip off a smaller bit of the corner than you think you should. If you have a pastry bag and want to use it, good for you. Either way, squeeze walnut-sized amounts onto a buttered or nonstick baking sheet. If they are evenly spaced, good again for you, but it doesn’t much matter as the gougères will not spread during baking. They just need a bit of breathing room.

Use a pastry brush or paper towel to dab the top of each with the egg wash. Make sure it doesn’t drip onto the pan, as this will prevent them from rising appropriately. Bake for 30 minutes, until puffed and golden brown.

When they have cooled, cut them in half as for a sandwich and pull out any extra breadiness. Save it for breadcrumbs or eat. Stuff with the shrimp salad and serve at your leisure. On Derby day, do this with mint juleps.

* In addition to my dear friend A’s shrimp + grits, which, it must be said, are about the best Southern supper fare there is. (I speak for only A’s. I would never order it in a restaurant, but maybe I do like shrimp after all.)

** If you would like to make real gougères, now is the time to beat in ½ cup grated cheese, preferably Gruyère or Comté.