By the time you read this, I will have gorged myself on gougères. And so will my family, my friends, and a number of strangers. Gougères, popularized in Burgundy, in France, have become the twenty-first century answer to the cheese biscuits of my Southern youth. (More than likely my son, Jess, who has a Mississippi accent as thick as high-fructose corn syrup, has, in his six years, eaten more gougères than cheese biscuits.)
Our friend Anne Konigsmark introduced us to them. A few years back, when we visited her and her husband, Matt, in New Orleans, Champagne and gougères materialized, as if by legerdemain. We were smitten.
The recipe is dead-eye simple. (The dough is the same one typically used for éclairs, cream puffs, and such.) And it's adaptable. Blair has stirred in, at various times, sage, thyme, black pepper, and smoked paprika—all to great effect.
The only downside, says Blair, is that, owing to the healthy dose of gruyère, gougères stink to high Heaven when you bake them. She compares the odor to a barnyard. I say they're bliss.
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