Tartine Croissant Recipe
Medically reviewed by Christiana George Updated Date: June 8, 2023

Every now and again, I like to tackle big projects. I’m good at big projects. There’s something so reassuring about them, like you know there’s an end in sight, eventually, but it’s so far away that you’re not focused on it. Instead, you get to hunker down, keep your head low, and really sink yourself into the process. Drink some coffee while you’re at it, noodle around with other things while waiting (there’s always a lot of waiting).
BUT. Everything will be going swimmingly, until everything goes awry. That’s when, say, you open the oven to discover a hot tub’s worth of butter oozing around on the floor of your baking pan. It might be kind of like how Alexander Fleming felt when he realized he’d left a Petri dish uncovered in the lab—the horror!, the shame!, the contamination (him)!, the smell of frying croissants (me)!—except he discovered penicillin, and I ended up with rubbery croissants.
It’s in moments like these that your character will come through. You could give up, throw in the towel, decide to start down another path altogether. Knife-sharpening comes to mind, although that’s another one of those projects you could (and will be told to) spend a lifetime mastering. Or attempting the elusive scorpion pose. (I know, scary.) Alternatively, you could also decide to try again. According to my assessment, the latter demonstrates true grit. Or so I have to believe. Fine, mostly, I didn’t want to feel like I’d been defeated by a baked good.

So I took a step back and really tried to figure out where I’d gone wrong. I think it came down to one main reason: the butter hadn’t been soft enough when I’d started the lamination process. It seems that butter that isn’t sufficiently malleable will clump up and tear through the layers, resulting in lots of leakage points. Does that sound about right, seasoned croissant makers? But, a little leaking is normal too, and should not be a cause for concern. Along with a few other small tweaks, I felt ready to give croissants another go.
I’d initially made half a batch of plain croissants and half a batch of ham and cheese, but for my second attempt, I decided to pare down my expectations. If I could successfully make a batch of plain croissants, I could begin thinking about incorporating other ingredients. It’s kind of like how in Japan, sushi apprentices spend years mastering the art of making rice before they’re allowed to move on to even touching the other stuff. (Talk about integrity!)

Of course you’re wondering how my second attempt went? Pretty well, I think. The insides were a bit doughier than I would’ve liked, but they actually tasted like croissants. Buttery, flaky, layers shattering upon contact. I love that initial tenderness of the innards when the croissants are pulled apart. They’re still steaming from their bake and taste incredibly luscious and fresh. I also love the way the tips burn slightly. They’re the crispest parts, all puff pastry-like and caramelized. And the shape, the shape! While svelte and long are generally qualities esteemed by women the world over, I love how cute and round mine came out. They’re like the Volkswagon Beetles of the croissant world.
I don’t know, I think Tartine just might approve.


TARTINE CROISSANTS Recipe
Adapted from Tartine
Makes 10
Ingredients:
- For the preferment:
- 6 Tbsp nonfat milk
- 1/2 T (or 1.5 t) active dry yeast
- 2/3 cup all-purpose flour
And everything else:
- 2 t active dry yeast
- 1 cup minus 2 T (or 14 T) whole milk
- 3 cups all-purpose flour
- 1/6 cup sugar
- 2 t salt
- 1/2 T unsalted butter, melted
- 2-3/4 sticks (or 22 Tbsp) unsalted butter, cool but malleable
- 1 egg & a pinch of salt for the egg wash
Tartine Croissant Recipe Directions:
For the preferment: Heat up the milk so it’s warm but not hot (I mixed whole milk with hot water that had been heated in the kettle earlier in the day to make warm-ish “nonfat” milk.) and pour it in a mixing bowl. Sprinkle the yeast on top, stir to dissolve, and mix in the flour until a smooth batter forms. Cover and let rise until almost doubled in volume, 2 to 3 hours (or overnight if stored in the fridge).
For the rest of the recipe: Make the dough. Transfer the preferment to the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the dough hook. Sprinkle in the yeast and mix on low speed until incorporated, a minute or two. You can stop the mixer to scrape down the sides if needed. When the mixture is well-mixed, increase the speed to medium and mix for a few minutes. Slowly add in half the milk and continue to mix until the milk is fully incorporated. (This will take awhile. I helped the process along by stopping the mixer and scraping down the sides.) Reduce the speed to low, add the flour, sugar, salt, melted butter, and the rest of the milk, and mix until everything comes together in a loose, shaggy-looking dough, about 3 minutes. Stop the mixer and let the dough rest for about 15 minutes. Once again, turn on the mixer and mix until the dough is smooth and elastic, no more than 4 minutes. (Mixing encourages gluten growth, which is not what you want in this case, so try to keep the mixing time as short as possible.) Once you’ve achived a smooth dough, cover the bowl and let the contents rise in a cool place until the volume increases by about half, 1.5 hours.
Lightly flour a work surface and transfer the dough to the surface. Press it into a rectangle about 2 inches thick, wrap in plastic wrap, and place the dough in the fridge for about 4 to 6 hours.
About an hour before removing the dough, put the butter in the bowl of your stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, and mix it on medium-high speed for a few minutes. This part is important, as the consistency of the butter is really important for lamination. What you’re going for is butter that’s malleable, but not melting. It should still be cool but amorphous, not retaining its original shape. I found it helpful to stop and scrape the butter that had built up on the side of the bowl with a spatula and into a bowl. If you do this a few times, poking the butter out of the holes of the paddle, you’ll end up with soft but cool butter. Place the bowl in the fridge to firm up a bit.
Now the lamination begins: Lightly flour a work surface and take dough and butter out of the fridge. Unwrap the dough and set it on the surface. With a rolling pin, roll the dough into a pronounced rectangle 20 inches wide and 8 inches long. Make sure the long side is facing you. Starting from the left, spread the butter over 2/3 of the dough using a combination of your hands and a spatula to apply it evenly (leave a slight margin). Fold the uncovered third over the center third, then fold the left third over that. (It’s like folding a letter.) What you end up with is called a plaque. Seal the seams of the plaque so that the butter is sealed within the dough.
Now onto the second turn: Turn the plaque 90 degrees so that the long side is once again facing you. Again, roll the dough out to a pronounced 20′x8″ rectangle and fold it like you did earlier. All the while, feel free to scatter a little flour over and under the dough to keep it from sticking to the rolling pin/surface, but brush off excess flour as it will affect the final product. Wrap the plaque in plastic wrap and place it in the fridge for about 1.5 hours.
The third and final turn: Repeat rolling out the plaque and folding it. Re-wrap it in plastic wrap and place it back in the fridge for about 1 hour. (At this point, the dough can be frozen, but let it warm up by spending a night in the fridge before rolling it out.)
Shaping: This time, roll the dough out to a pronounced rectangle at least 22.5″ wide and 9″ tall. Using a sharp knife or pizza wheel, cut off the excess margins. You basically want a 22.5″x9″ rectangle with the sides all trimmed off. Using a ruler, slice the dough into five equal rectangles that are 4.5″ wide and 9″ tall. Slice each of these in half so that you have 2 right-angled triangles (with a long side about 10″).
Have a large baking sheet covered with parchment paper ready. To shape, position each triangle so that the base faces you. Take the two points of the base in your fingers and stretch them a bit. Then furl the base upwards into a roll. Continue rolling with your palms, and at the end, grab the last tip, give it a slight stretch, and tuck the point underneath the rolled dough.
Place the croissant on the baking sheet, giving it plenty of space (Please note: in the picture above of the raw croissants, they are way too closely-spaced!). After all the croissants have been placed on the pan, set the croissants in a draft-free, cool place for a final rise, 2 to 3 hours. I placed the baking sheet in a large empty plastic bag. (It keeps a skin from forming, inhibiting the rise.)
Preheat your oven at 400 degrees F. When the croissants are just about ready (they’ll be puffy, and when you push one with your fingertips, the indent will stay), prepare the egg wash by whisking together the egg, a pinach of salt, and a splash of water. Apply the wash with a pastry brush over all the surfaces and edges. Slide the croissants into the oven. After 5 minutes, reduce the temperature to 350 degrees F and bake another 20 minutes until the croissants are golden-brown. And if some butter seeps out, that’s totally okay.

Check More Recipes:
Apricot Raspberry Galette, Or Look What I Made!
Subscribe for New Racipies
Get mental health tips, updates, and resources delivered to your inbox.
Brussels Sprouts With Bacon And Juniper Berries

We recently sorted out that we’re hosting Thanksgiving this year. Nothing big, just some friends over for a small gathering, but still, Thanksgiving! The most important meal of the year! Talk about performance pressure. But, I think I’m just going to take it one step at a time. I’ve already decided we’re spatchcocking, and besides the turkey, isn’t everything else just gravy from there?
Did you know, up until I met Chris, I’d never eaten turkey? Thanksgivings with my family were such non-events, I can’t at all recall what we used to do. Really, I have no clue, and I’m really racking my brain here. I don’t think my sister and I ever felt like we were missing out though, because you can’t really desire something you’ve never experienced. It meant a week off from school, and that was good enough for us.
When Chris and I started dating, Thanksgiving was always fraught with separation anxiety. We were young, barely into college, and the idea of being apart for FIVE WHOLE DAYS was unimaginable. Obviously, our relationship survived. But just barely. Just kidding. (Actually, the first winter break we spent apart, my family decided to take a month-long trip to China, where all communication was virtually impossible. I’m still mad at myself for spending so much time moping around feeling sorry for myself that I didn’t really get to enjoy the visit.)
Now that I’ve been through a couple real Thanksgivings, complete with turkey and pumpkin pie and the whole nine yards, I can confidently voice my day-of preferences: NO cranberry sauce, NO stuffing, LOTS of mashed potatoes and gravy, dark meat, two slices of pie, and more Brussels sprouts please!

You see, somewhere along the way, I discovered the wonder that is Brussels sprouts. I mean, it’s seen such a huge lift in popular opinion in recent years that I’m pretty sure we’re all Brussels sprouts converts. What’s not to love, when it’s served Momofuku-style, all tart and spicy and refreshing? And who could possibly resist the rendition I present to you this year, tossed with lots of bacon, garlic, thyme and a hint of juniper. Not I. Especially since it comes from the cookbook of another lauded chef, the great April Bloomfield.
Here’s what Bloomfield has to say:
“In this dish, each bite is different—in some you get a nutty, sweet nibble of garlic, in others you’ll fork a sprout along with a big piece of pancetta. The juniper comes through just now and again. You might eat a sprout and not get the juniper, and you might eat another and get the juniper. I kind of like that.”
I kind of like that too, April. This sentiment is echoed throughout the book actually, and I find it unusually wise. The trick is to include just enough of an ingredient to leave you wanting more, but not so much that it gets taken for granted.
One last thing before I leave you with the recipe. The use of juniper berries as an ingredient would ordinarily go against all my instincts. It’s, well, GIN after all, herbal and pungent and seemingly not compatible with any kind of food. But it shines here, in a big but small way, an undertone that just works. Please please please seek out the juniper berries.

BRUSSELS SPROUTS WITH BACON AND JUNIPER BERRIES
Adapted from A Girl and Her Pig
Serves 3 to 4 as a side
Ingredients:
- 1 lb. Brussels sprouts
- 4 Tbsp olive oil
- 4 large garlic cloves, sliced lengthwise
- 3 slices bacon
- 1 tsp Maldon salt
- pinches of red pepper flakes
- 2 juniper berries, smashed and finely chopped
- 1-1/2 tsp thyme leaves
- squeeze of lemon juice
Directions:
Trim the Brussels sprouts and slice them in half.
In a large saute pan, heat 3 Tbsp olive oil on medium-high until it ripples. Add the garlic and let the pieces turn golden brown on one side, then flip them over and repeat. Remove the garlic and set aside. They’ll burn quickly once browned, so act fast.
Turn the heat to medium and add the bacon. Let it cook fully, until the slices are crisp, then set them aside on a paper towel to drain.
Add the Brussels sprouts, cut side down, in one layer across the pan. Cook, using tongs or chopsticks to occasionally check the undersides, until the bottoms are golden brown. Flip and continue to cook until they’re at your desired level of doneness. This step will take about 10 minutes. Don’t rush it. Take this time to chop your bacon into bits.
Stir in the salt, pinches of red pepper, smashed junipers, and reserved garlic cloves. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the thyme, another Tbsp of olive oil, the bacon pieces, and a nice big squeeze of lemon juice. Serve.
Subscribe for New Racipies
Get mental health tips, updates, and resources delivered to your inbox.













