Karpatka, a Polish version of a vanilla custard slice is made with sheets of choux pastry filled with a creamy, light layer of custard cream.
Funny story: once, someone actually found my blog by googling for a “shoe pastry recipe”. I assure you there are no shoes called for in this recipe and the choux pastry, pronounced indeed as shoe, is quick and easy to make and not as scary as it may sound. And, it’s the pastry that makes the slice my favourite from amongst other nations’ custard slices.
But it has taken me two years to finally make this Polish vanilla custard slice from a recipe I was entrusted with by my cousin, a self-professed dessert queen.
Her version is true to the traditional Polish recipe, named after Karpaty (Carpathian Mountains), a 1500km long mountain range in Southern Poland. Unlike the traditional French Mille-Feuille, it is made with choux pastry, which once cooled gives the slice its trademark Carpathian shapes of ridges and valleys.
The filling is light and airy, not gloopy like some of the store-bought slices can be. The secret to this lies in the addition of whipped cream to the filling, which also helps to keep the sweetness in check. Having said that, the dessert is completed with a light dusting of icing sugar that ensures the sugar-free choux pastry top tastes just a little sweeter.
So why did it take me that long to make it? Well, because I thought it was going to be complex and hard and it was everything but. But with only 9 ingredients, it couldn’t be simpler. All up, it took less than 20 minutes make. Except, of course, of the 25 minutes of baking and a further 20 or so of cooling the baked pastry sheet and custard in between… A piece of cake, really!
And a perfect dessert to whip up and take over while visiting friends who just had a baby. I offered to bring afternoon tea along as to not burden the young parents with extra chores they surely didn’t need. I cooked it, layered it, played with the styling a little and, I confess, I ate a couple of the “rough edges” I had previously cut off – one of the perks of being the “chef”. We packed the slice tightly in a hessian bag along with the baby’s gift and set off.
As I was reversing out of the driveway, I watched the bag flop to the side and, in the blink of an eye, the slice was strewn across the floor mat of my car!!! Aaaarggghhh! Well, half of it was. Aaaarggghhh! Or something close to a third more like it (Aaaarggghhh!), because as I said I ate some of the crusts earlier. Sad face.
I was not happy. I yelled at the stupid bag for falling over and expected it to understand, return home and bake me another slice! Then, anger turned into disappointed. I realised the glass, or the tin rather, was still half full though. Four of the pieces were snuggling into the safety of the longer edge of the tin, so in the end everyone got a piece. Well, everyone except for the little baby girl. She was asleep and very beautiful as we enjoyed a square of Karpatka with our afternoon cup of tea.