Memories of Gooseberry Tarts

In my life, there have been three gooseberry tarts.

The first was a Martha Stewart Living inspired creation, with a thin layer of custard and purple-red gooseberries. This was before tarts were a regular thing for me, and it was made in a large mary jane pan that my mother found at a tag sale. At the time, I did not know it was called a mary jane pan, or what it was for, so I just used it like a regular tart pan. For those in my erstwhile situation, a mary jane pan is a tart pan with a raised center, designed to create a cake with a fillable indentation. I can't find a good picture of such a pan, but here is a good shot of a cake made with one. The tart was beautiful and delicious, though a bit wobbly. I don't remember exactly when I made it, except that it was during the time that Jill and I lived in a little shack in a garden on Hope Street in Williamsburg, and that I bought the gooseberries at the Union Square farmers market and had never seen any before, and that Jill's stepmother Rosie was in town and ate some of the tart. We may or may not have eaten at an outdoor faux chowder house.

Those were good days, in our tiny little house in the garden, where my room had a palatial ceiling fan, a pig-iron bedframe that let the mattress slip through and required eternal caution to mount, and an iron burn on the floor. A quirk of ceiling vent turned the tiny bathroom (separate from the shower and the sink) into an accidental confessional, perfect for overhearing all the drama from the balcony of a nearby bar, Larry Lawrence. Yes, its name was, and continues to be, Larry Lawrence. In retrospect, it makes me feel very 1930s Paris to have lived three years in two Brooklyn apartments without sinks in the bathroom. (I've never been to Paris, or the 1930s, but I have vague romantic ideas).

Speaking of vague romantic ideas, if I didn't have a thing for early 20th century British children's novels, I don't think I'd have a clue that 'playing gooseberry' is slang for tagging along as an unwanted chaperone on a date.

The second gooseberry tart in my life was made by Carrie, and the memory of it has lingered largely because it is such a perfect illustration of some of her best talents--if she loves you, she will show up at your door sometimes with a handful of berries and make you a tart. In this case, the door belonged to my parents, and they have treasured the memory of this impromptu tart for years, partly because it was the first time either of them had eaten a gooseberry.

This lingering memory inspired a recent purchase on my mother's part. Surprised to find gooseberries at her farmers market, she bought me a little carton. I'm sure she assumed that I would make something with them during my weekend visit, but instead I selfishly packed them (along with several pounds of strawberries) and took them home. A few weeks later, (they keep very well in the 'icebox,' as the seller said), I noticed them ripening and made tart number three.

This tart, made in a proper tart pan, of which I now have several, of course, was also a custard tart, a variation on the cherry clafoutis from Dorie Greenspan's Around My French Table.  The crust was Dorie's Sweet Tart Dough, a very forgiving and buttery dough made with confectioner's sugar and an egg yolk. I think it's a Pate Sucre, but what do I know? In any case, it was parbaked and then filled with gooseberries and custard. I didn't sugar the gooseberries, so they stood out sharp and tart against the sweet crust and custard. To round out the Western MA theme, I tossed in a few of the strawberries that I'd roasted with sugar. The result was delicious, which was foregone (it had custard), but also uncommonly beautiful. The opalescent pink shine of the berries through the custard reminded me of pretty plastic beads, and the strawberries added occasional touches of color. It was nearly perfect, at least to my taste.

And it's my taste that matters, these days. Certain hints may have given this away, but I might as well say it: Matt and I are no longer together, and I'm slowly beginning to put together the pieces of a life without him. Clichés abound, and certainly fuel my nostalgia for more than tarts. For now I'm just doing my best to live in this place of loss and change, and occasional perfect tarts. Though, to tell the truth, it too was imperfect, and the egg yolk wasn't well whisked in to the filling. There's room for improvement, at any rate, but it was very good.

There's more to say, maybe, but not now. I'm not as calm nor as wise as I'm maybe trying to sound. I'm looking into meaner stories, stronger stands, and harder things. Nothing is going to be the same, now. New memories. Old ones. And gooseberry tarts.

French Fridays with Dorie: Mushroom Soup

Photo by Matt Korahais.

So far, my foray into Around My French Table has been almost uniformly successful (we'll see how I feel when we get to the smoked fish), but this book really shines in the soup chapter. This week's soup, a rich mushroom, was perfect both for eating and for adding to other sauces. I made it even richer by adding Marsala instead of the white wine called for. While I ran out of mushrooms before making the little raw mushroom salad garnish Dorie recommends, it didn't much signify because I hadn't pureed most of the soup (house preference is chewy things in broth, rather than uniform mush). We're still eating it, and it's perfect for a snowy Friday, especially one when Matt's flying away to Paris and I'll be left alone at the end of the night. Still, we're so lucky, and this year is starting out very, very well. Lisbon in two weeks, and for now, there's mushroom soup.

French Fridays with Dorie: December Round-Up

Since it's January, it does seem like a good time to clear the decks on the December cooking from Around My French Table (did everyone remember that I was in that cooking group--I did). Back in November I decided that I wasn't going to let cooking clubs take over my blog quite as aggressively as they have my life, and thus I would only do monthly roundups of my French Fridays with Dorie cooking. Somehow that seems to have translated into losing most of the pictures, so this round-up will be mostly text-based, an overview for the curious.


There were five recipes for the month, of which I made four. The butter-glazed carrots will have to wait, but not too long, if I know the carrot fiend with whom I live.

Sweet and Spicy Cocktail Nuts, page 18 -- Made 'em last night.

Photo by Matt Korahais

An egg white, a little sugar, some spice (more and bolder next time), some salt, and as some people in the blogosphere say, causing me to giggle hysterically every time--"Walla!" You know how Bush mentioned the internets and now they're called that? Yeah, unfortunately it's like that. Voila!

I covered the bowl, ate one, and then went back and uncovered it for another. This may go badly. Also, note the lovely bowl, courtesy of Stacey.

My Go-to Beef Daube, pages 244 and 245 -- I bought beef for you, Dorie, and I never buy beef. I made stew for you, Dorie, and I love making stew. My version was a bit quick and dirty, but it was eaten. Stew rarely goes astray. I found it a little acidic for my palate, which is odd given that I eat unripe fruit and suck lemons. But there you have it.


Leek and Potato Soup, pages 66 and 67 -- My Christmas weekend dinner, breakfast, lunch, snack... Somehow, Matt never got any, nor any chance to photograph. I had it all. I made the basic recipe, garnished it with parmesan croutons (from SCRATCHbread's country parma loaves). Then I added more potatoes, because it was like a delicious warm milk. I think perhaps a potato weight would have been helpful. But then I've been whining about the fact that this book doesn't have weights in general, so chalk me up for a whiner and move on. The soup was great.

Photo by Matt Korahais.

Speculoos, pages 406 and 407 - Not my favorites, only in that they were like yet unlike the fiercely spiced, barely sweet gingerbread that I crave. No fault of the cookies themselves, which I had great fun shaping in many shapes. I have a great many cookie cutters and they don't get put through their paces enough.

Photo by Matt Korahais.

Looking forward to another month with this book, which is more than the sum of its parts, making these recipes.

French Fridays with Dorie: November Round-Up

Remember French Fridays with Dorie? I'm still cooking from Around My French Table, but I decided that instead of a weekly post it would make more sense for me to do a monthly round-up. The rules of the group are very low-key, and this past month the recipes could be made in any order. I made three of the four selections (and will probably still make the fourth, eventually).

The first recipe of the month, Roast Chicken for Les Paresseux (the lazy folks), was a chicken roasted breast down in a dutch oven, surrounded by root vegetables and garlic. The chicken, which was never turned, rested on a large piece of sourdough, which was meant to absorb all the chicken juices and become crispy and delicious. It was delicious, but because I thoughtlessly put the tough slice crust down, I missed out on the golden bottom, and nearly cracked a tooth trying to chew it all. Still, delicious. Next best was the garlic, and it was all gone pretty quickly.

One of the forum posters mentioned that she had made stock with the chicken carcass right in the roasting pan, a genius idea that yielded a rich, browned stock, which we ate last night with some frozen Udon noodles and pork dumpling filling meatballs.

It seems like we're working our way through the classics first, and nothing is more classic than Pomme Dauphinois. My version used slightly lower-fat dairy products and so was a little juicier than it could have been, more like potatoes floating in the sauce. It was garlicky and good.

The last recipe I made for the month was one of those that looks really good, has great things in it, and never really gets eaten. It just didn't tempt me, somehow, although I was looking forward to it, and I didn't sell it well to the rest of the household.
Maybe another time, Pumpkin Flans with Gorgonzola (it was Chevre) and Walnuts.  Looking forward to next month's recipes, as I continue to dip into the book at my own pleasure.

French Fridays with Dorie: Marie-Helene's Apple Cake, Standard and Rustic

This simple cake, more apples than batter, was the first recipe that I cooked from Around My French Table. Or, should I say, the first recipe in the book that I cooked. It was not until last night that I was finally able to cook from my brand new copy of the book itself (it's giant! it's fun! I love new cookbooks!).

The first time I made the cake, I made it in an 8-inch cake pan rather than the 8-inch springform  recommended, because the bottom to my 7-inch springform has gone missing...anyone seen it? As you can probably see, Matt was not around to photograph the 8-inch pan, so you're stuck with my sorry shot. Both times, I had no issues with the cake sticking to the pan, it pulled easily away from the sides, and as it was somewhat sloppy anyway, I didn't see a problem with the turnout.

When I made it again last night, I halved the recipe and went rustic, cooking it in a preheated small cast-iron skillet.

It was thin and flat, almost like a breakfast pancake, and this time I cooked it longer to get a really crispy brown top.

Both times, the flavor right out of the oven was delicious, warm buttery cake bits and molten apples.

Overnight, the juices from the apples released into the cake, and turned it into something closer to a bread pudding (not a problem in this house).

The flavor profile was what Matt would call 'breakfasty' and I would call 'I'll have some now please.'

I like ice cream for breakfast and fruity things for dessert.

Now that my copy of the book has finally (finally!) come in the mail, I look forward to cooking widely from it.

Happy Birthday Dorie: Brown Sugar Squash and Brussels Sprouts en Papillote

It's possible that Dorie Greenspan has taken over my life. She certainly has a choke-hold on this blog...or her recipes do. (I do cook other things, I swear. I really have to post more variations)

Just the other day Matt very solemnly explained to Liana, that yes, we do what Dorie says to do here in this house. It makes for very good eating.

Today, October 24th, is Ms. Dorie Greenspan's birthday, and because she's given us so much baking and eating pleasure, and because she seems like a lovely person, though I've never met her, I thought I would join a little project that Holly of Phe/MOM/enon put together, a kind of progressive birthday dinner, made entirely of recipes from Around My French Table.

I chose a recipe from the vegetable section, Brown-Sugar Squash and Brussels Sprouts en Papillote.  This simple preparation is chunks of winter squash (I used a potimarron, or red kuri) and Brussels sprouts (and apples, the sleeper ingredient) tossed with some brown sugar and oil and sage and roasted in a tinfoil wrapper until tender. It was sweet and gentle and very well liked in this house, where brussels sprouts are definitely all that.

I was extremely excited about the potimarron, a squash that is supposed to have a flavor like that of chestnuts. (Ok, I was so excited that Matt caught me cradling it in my arms when I realized what it was). The farm stand at the market that I bought it from had it identified, interestingly, as 'Baby's Favorite,' meaning, I think, actual infants, as opposed to one's sweetie. I thought the texture might have done better for soup, but the flavor of the almost translucent squash cubes was excellent. Known for having skin so delicate it can be eaten after roasting, it was also a weeper, and poured copious amounts of liquid when cut, which can just barely be seen in the photo below.

Happy birthday, Dorie. Enjoy the feast.

French Fridays with Dorie: Hachis Parmentier and my Beef Block

AKA post number one million about how much I love DiPaola Turkey Farm.

Hachis Parmentier, the French answer to the English shepherd's or cottage pie. Usually made with boiled (simmered! simmered! shouts John Thorne in my head) beef and sausage and vegetables, and freshly mashed potatoes, but seeing that it's a down-home, peasant dish, I felt free to adapt it to what was in the house.

Perhaps because I wasn't raised cooking it, or because of all the problems inherent in buying 'good' meat, I have issues buying beef. I'd like to say I don't easily eat that high on the food chain, both literal and metaphorical. Beef has a kind of weight that birds just don't seem to in the American food imagination, and it kind of scares me most of the time. I don't like to buy it, though I'll happily eat it if it's served.

In this case, the meats became boneless turkey thighs and turkey sausage (from DiPaola, where else? I love you DiPaola Turkey Farm). The pototoes were recycled from a batch of roasted fingerlings that made it to a Sunday dinner table too late to tempt overloaded appetites. I mashed them up skins and all and made it work. Sprinkled with some mixed cheese, it was just the kind of food that Matt often asks to have in the refrigerator, a heat and eat, hearty dish, that didn't last long.

Presentation, Presentation, Presentation; or My Love Affair with Pie Crust

French Fridays with Dorie marches on (see all those vegetables, Mom & Dad?). It's so early in this challenge that I haven't even started messing with the recipes yet. I made this one straight up, a simple tart crust, a simple quiche filling of dairy, eggs, mustard, pepper. The trick of this tart is all in the presentation, something I rarely give enough to. I can make many delicious things, but when it comes to plating, or arranging them in an aesthetically pleasing way, I'd do better with an assistant. In this recipe, Dorie Greenspan herself acted as my assistant, thoughtfully providing a clear guideline to making this one of the prettiest food items I've ever crafted, wedding cake included.

All I had to do was to cut a bunch of CSA carrots and leeks into matchsticks (they were no match for my newly sharpened knife), steam them for a few minutes (several people also suggested microwaving them, which would have probably worked well), and then arrange them facing in. And just look at that.

Not quite as pretty as the photo in the book, but not far off. And really, really good. Especially the tomato variation pictured on part of tart #2, above. Actually, according to the book, the tomato version is the classic, and the carrot is the variation. Either way, this tart is going to turn up a lot in my kitchen from now on--it's a classy potluck offering, and it was great for lunch. Welcome to the '70s. Or was it the '80s that were the heyday of the quiche?