Alpha Bakers -- Ganache Tartlets

 

These little puppies were the triumph they were more or less fated to be, being more or less truffles in mini pie shells. I used half leftover ganache from the ChocolaTea Cake and half almond milk ganache (a sleeper hit) from the alternative recipe.

Alpha Bakers -- Ganache City

I like living with messy people. In fact, I like messy people in general.

That's not to say I'm in love with clothes strewn all over the floor, or dirty dishes under the bed, although those things don't bother me as much as they do some people. What I like is people who are unafraid of the odd impulses, weird tics, and dark holes that live inside them. People who embrace their bizarre habits without too much normalizing commentary and are able to allow their lives to have untucked corners.
Every time a kid starts a question with...'Is this weird...?' my heart breaks a little. Who cares? The only thing that's interesting about anyone is the weird things that they do. There's barely a point to life if all your interesting edges are rubbed off. Sometimes I find that theater people are better at just not caring about small social observances, but sometimes they just find other ones to conform to. We are all so afraid of each other sometimes. It's...weird.

Which is to say, I like to hang out with two and three year olds, who are unabashedly strange. And I have a few strange habits of my own, like obsessive baking. Lately my schedule has been a little thrown off, due to all sorts of business and the arrival of a new person in my life, a person who doesn't even care about sweets. How in the name of all that is holy did I get matched up with a person who can ignore freshly baked cupcakes? At least I know he likes me for me?

Luckily, everyone else in my life is still cupcake-mad, and so after plying my workplace with last week's Praline Tart (made, in my case, with almonds), I whipped up this week's Coconut Cupcakes with Milk Chocolate Ganache for one of my sacred weekly institutions, Nacho Friday. These cupcakes are based on one of Rose's coconut cakes, already a huge favorite in my circles, and the only changes I made were to make them gluten free (using Thomas Keller's Cup4Cup flour) for my friend who has celiac disease and, due to my general messiness and failure to retrieve the muffin pan I left at a friend's house three months ago, to minimize them. As I was having dinner with toddlers, mini-cupcakes seemed like a good way to go, although the decision was not without its own fraught moments, as you'll see.

The cupcakes, with a milk chocolate ganache, that Rose-typically was not just made with milk chocolate but with a mix of white and bittersweet, were delicious and a huge hit. Anais, one of the two and a half year olds in question, ate one excitedly and then asked for another. One cupcake for each of us, she was told, whereupon she dissolved into tears and said, 'But I like two cupcakes....'

Everyone has a fold in their smooth surface. Some of us re-use bathwater or teabags with our spouses. Some of us hang out with our exes even though it hurts. Some of us embrace the things that make us broken. Some of us chant weird lines from children's books and love Maurice Sendak and eat odd things at odd times or do whatever it is we need to stay alive. Some of us like two cupcakes.

After Anais went to bed, several of us had a few more cupcakes. Because we're grown-ass women who can do as we please. 

Alpha Bakers -- Pizza Rustica

"But it's not a pizza!"

Wise words from a friend, as she watched me roll out a rich tart dough with thyme. In fact, she was so concerned that she flipped back through the book to check the picture.

"Nope, definitely not a pizza. That's a quiche."

While its pizza status might be debate-able (this delicacy is also known as a 'ham pie,' I'm told), the tart's appeal isn't up for debate, as long as you are craving a solid rich hit of cheese, sausage, and flaky crust. 

What this pie (pizza) is, is sturdy. Baked in a 9"x2" cake tin, a firm crust surrounds a rich filling of sopressata layered with mozzarella and a ricotta/egg custard. I had slightly less mozzarella than needed so I slipped in a little gruyere and goat boucheron. Whenever I have a party I stash a bunch of leftover cheese bits in the freezer for just this sort of occasion, and I'm working very hard on bringing the freezer back down to a manageable capacity right now, so that worked out well.

I served the pie in conjunction with some buckwheat waffles (yeast-raised, Marion Cunningham-style) and blackberry jam, so it never had a chance with me, but the others who ate it were big fans, and it was so easy to make, transport, and cut, that I will definitely be making versions of it again. Hearty and sturdy.

Alpha Bakers -- Lemon Cranberry Tart

The winds of winter. So long anticipated, so long delayed. George R. R. Martin may not be on schedule (since when does genius follow a schedule?), and neither may I, but winter has come nonetheless, and up in the frozen northland of Western MA, I made a tart.  

It was a very tart tart. It was a tart who prepared. I had no scale, and something was amiss with the proportions for the cookie tart crust, so it wasn't the prettiest tart of them all, but hell, people. It was a fancy lemon curd tart that had patterns on it. Can I not satisfy you folks?

My mother's strainer was broken, so I strained the lemon curd through a coffee filter, which led to some stiff whisking and some loss of curd, not to mention some interesting shapes and patterns.

The final tart, of which I only got a blurry shot, wasn't the tidiest, but it was interesting. Mom's verdict: "Tres tasty. Melts in your mouth. Very festive." Dad claimed I'd outdone myself. They don't get too many sweets... 

Alpha Bakers - Fudgy Pudgy Brownie Tart

I spend my days with toddlers, but I've never been a fan of cute for cutesy's sake, and so it must be registered that I object to the name of this confection. From this time forward, in order to allow me to continue typing, it will be referred to as simply the Brownie Tart.
 
With this one, what you see is pretty much what you get--a gooey brownie (unsweetened chocolate, dark chocolate (I ran out of unsweetened), white chocolate, cocoa, and cacao nibs) in a chocolate pate sucre (cookie) crust. Overkill, in my opinion, but much appreciated at work. I think that one of the nicest things about a brownie is that you get a lot of bang for very little work, and you don't have to make a fancy multi-step crust. If you're going to make tart crust (not that it's hard, but still), why not put something tart-specific, like lemon curd or raspberries and pastry cream, in it? Still, who am I to deny the chocolate fiends their fix?
 

A few notes on the process: As mentioned above, I ran out of unsweetened chocolate so I subbed in a bit of dark chocolate, which I'm sure sweetened the pot but not disastrously. Instead of the suggested walnuts, I used a generous handful of cacao nibs. Like many brownies, I baked it to the gooey side of fully cooked, and was happy with that choice.

 

 

As you can see, the light in my kitchen and the light in my breakroom are worlds apart, but I include the reddish photo in order to brag about my new gigantic stove! Center burner!

Alpha Bakers - French Orange Tart

Orange cream tart. Looks like cottage cheese, tastes way better. I brought it to work and most of my colleagues ignored it. Their loss. I just kept eating it. It was a mildly tangy orange tart. Nothing not to love. Could have made the filling a little deeper, or cooked it slightly softer. No problem. It wasn't pretty but it was good.

Alpha Bakers -- Frozen Pecan Tart

I don't do pecan pies. I just do not. Despite my love of caramel and nuts and pie crust, pecan pie is one of those things that people are yes or no on, and I am no. Why exactly? Can't say. But I don't make them and I don't eat them. There are so many good pies out there, why play around? Also, pecans are expensive.

It's just too early to bail on a bake-through now, though, so I made that Frozen Pecan Tart and now it is frozen and it is awaiting the first day of the new year, when it will be consumed with (presumptive) joy by the assembled crowd at my house. Here's how it went.

The crust: a food processor cookie-style dough, with turbinado sugar (I used raw). The dough was easy to work with, so easy that I didn't go through the elaborate pan-lining strategy outlined by the book, but just lined my tart pan as I always do, and was very satisfied with the results, especially the lack of puffing up in the par-baking. This may be my new go-to tart crust for sweet tarts. I'll probably stick with Dorie Greenspan's savory tart crust, but they're not that different.

The filling is a quick custard with egg yolks, sugar, butter, and golden syrup. I was glad to strain it because there were definitely a few egg bits, but the final product came out delicious. Can't I just eat that with a spoon and skip the whole dreaded pecan pie thing? Whatever.

My pecans were on the small side, so they didn't line up into the prettiest patterns, but otherwise the bake was uneventful. My only quarrel was with the instruction to un-mold the tart then slip it into a freezer bag once cooled. I had left the bottom round on instead of switching to a serving plate, and was glad I did, because the outer crust was too fragile to bag unsupported, and started crumbling off right away as I tried to get it in (cook's treat). I re-molded the tart into the tart ring and froze it that way. If I need the tart ring before we eat it it will come off easily, and the tart will be much sturdier now that it is frozen.

No comments on taste at this time, will update once we sample it on New Year's Day. 
UPDATE: The tart sliced beautifully, as promised. The filling had more stability to it than I expected, though, and remained reasonably firm even at a warm room temperature, rather than becoming a mess of goo, making it a perfect party dessert.

The pecan pie aficionados were loud in this tart's praise. 'Special,' 'good texture,' and 'delicious' were bandied about, and in general it was popular. I tasted it for authenticity's sake, and while I didn't love it, I think if the filling had been taken to a slightly deeper caramel stage and made into chewy caramels, I would have. Perhaps my pecan pie issue is more of a texture issue, in the end. It was a complete success of its kind.

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.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Chocolate Truffle Tart

I resisted this tart from beginning to end. Brownies are good, tarts are great, brownies in a tart shell, eh. I love chocolate but desserts that just taste of chocolate and sweet are not my favorite. Too sweet, too one-note, just too...eh. The chocolate tart crust was great, and I'm thinking of filling a small tart with the remainder and some passion curd. The original recipe resembled a riff on Rocky Road, with white chocolate and cookies and chocolate scattered into the brownie mix. I threw in some white chocolate chunks, grape-nuts (why not, I'm from New England), and cacao nibs, which almost always get mistaken for nuts at my office.

Next up, rugelach, which I can pretty much guarantee that I'll prefer.

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?

CSA #4: Zucchini!

Our CSA is starting to move into full summer mode, with greens-heavy shares giving way to more varied hauls, including heavier vegetables such as zucchini and summer squash, and broccoli.

This week, we got two heads of kohlrabi, one bunch of chard and one of yukina savoy, some more garlic scapes, scallions, a sage plant, a small head of broccoli, romaine lettuce, and three summer squashes.

I'm working very hard to use all the vegetables, as it feels like an unbelievable crime to waste them. This week I had two major successes. One was a classic Caesar salad, using Alice Waters' recipe from The Art of Simple Food. For my first ever assignation with cooking anchovy filets, it was a smashing success.

The second was this tart, which I made as a housewarming gift for Avi and Stacey, who just moved into a beautiful new apartment. The tart is based on a recipe from the Once Upon a Tart cookbook, a book from a Sullivan St. cafe I used to walk by on my way to work at The Flea Theater. In 2003. Back when I had a job and didn't spend all my time making tarts.

The zucchini and summer squash were oven-roasted with garlic, olive oil, salt, and pepper for about 20 minutes, then cooled and laid on a par-baked semolina savory tart crust over some chopped dried red plums, and then filled in with a curry-spiked custard and baked some more.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Tarte Noire

I was a TWD cheater this week. My Tarte Noire was assembled entirely from leftover components. I actually made two tiny tarts, one using a scrap of cheddar pie dough from an apple pie, one using a semolina crunchy tart dough from a zucchini tart. The crunchy tart dough proved a bit too fragile, the cheddar crust bite, made in a mini-muffin pan, was a success. The ganache, which was slightly different than Dorie's in that it contained no butter, was leftover frosting from an upcoming Heavenly Cakes selection, the Banana Stud Cake. The Franken-Tart-Noires were very delicious.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Toasted-Coconut Custard Tart

Coconut cream pie re-mixed...with toasted coconut right in the custard, a thick tart shell, and unsweetened whipped cream...Eat your heart out, President Obama, this one went to Sandy. 

Last month, Dorie was looking after my chocolate fiends. This month, it's jam lovers and coconut cravers. This is the second coconut dessert this week, following hard on Miriam's birthday coconut cake with lemon curd and seven minute icing. That cake was the finish to an epic feast (and horseback riding adventure) that deserves its own post, though, so I'll just say that there has been more coconut in the house this week than for many many months. I love it, but Matt doesn't eat it, so perhaps it's just as well. We'll take a 'light' month and give away our TWD. But I still lick the spoons, because I can't resist custard or cream in any form.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Chocolate Crunched Tart

I made this tart on the same day that I made last week's pufflets, and brought them both in to work. The 'turnovers' got a good response, but they couldn't touch the tart. In fact, once I finally located an implement (back of a fork) with which to cut the tart, one eater informed me that they made the turnovers 'taste like dirt,' and another told me that it was the best thing to happen to him since the office had moved a week and a half ago. Not bad.

The dessert in question, which can turn others to dirt and liven the days of very very put upon receptionists, was a tart layered with chocolate ganache and nutted caramel. It was supposed to have a tart crust, but I accidentally made Dorie's pie crust instead (it's on the page following the tart dough) and didn't bother to correct the mistake. Because I also didn't bother to allow the caramel layer to chill a while, it kind of blended into the crust and into the upper chocolate layer, which muted the effect but kept the taste wonderful. This kind of thing is not my dessert of choice, but no one can deny its near universal appeal (and it is good). Even Matt, though, who loves chocolate, said it well when he said it wasn't much different from eating hot fudge out of the jar. I can't explain why that's not as good a thing as it sounds like. I think, with my love of salt caramel, I would have preferred it with the layers unblended. Or just a great big fistful of salt caramel would be fine too.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Lime Cream Tart

Just a quick stopover on the way to cupcake roundups and campfire cooking, and our return to Brooklyn.

I'm getting odd about my Tuesdays with Dorie--I worry if I don't make it by Tuesday, but don't seem to have any ethic about actually posting it once it's made. Now that we're back from summer vacation, I'll work on that.

Theoretically I was on vacation hiatus, but last week's TWD was irresistible: a graham cracker crust filled with lime cream. Lime cream, like the lemon cream that went into the Mother of the Bride Cake featured a few months ago, is Dorie's challenge to the lemon/lime cream lover. 'Like decadent?' I can imagine her saying. 'Like tart? Well try this one...and add ginger.'

Lime cream is to lime curd what vichyssoise is to potato leek soup. More of everything. It's buttery, puckery, and eye-buggingly good. So, by the way, is the old fashioned graham cracker crust, which Liana could tell was good without even sneaking a taste as it cooled out of the oven. Or, so she said.

The recipe in the book came with meringue, but I think meringue is best in its other uses, and would have used whipped cream instead if the cream and crust weren't quite enough on their own.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Brioche Peach Tart

This is, for me, Dorie at one of her best moments, one of the special places where our tastes really overlap. Sweet brioche, baked in a tart pan and covered with raspberry jam and peaches and sugared almonds. I gave away both this and the cornbread with just a few slices out, but had they stayed around I could have easily eaten this in a day.
To make the brioche, I just mixed everything up in a bowl, beat it until I got bored, let it rise a bit, beat it some more, and continued doing that for a few rises. I wasn't sure that it was working, but in the end, it seemed to do well. I missed the instruction that it was suppose to be in the refrigerator during all this rising and mixing, but it did all right anyway. I refrigerated for about a half hour before spreading the dough into the tart pan, just to make it easy to handle. Because this was a half recipe, it cooked quickly, and I tented it with foil after just 10 or so minutes to keep the brioche part from burning as the peaches cooked.

This week's dessert was selected by Denise of Chez Us, and the recipe will be up on her page tomorrow.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Tartest Lemon Tart

The same winter that I started this blog, I read and was strongly influenced by Alisa Smith and J.B. MacKinnon's Plenty, their book on a year of a 100-mile diet in Vancouver. The book heightened my interest in local sources, and re-awakened an obsession with foraging. It did not, however, ultimately turn me into a self-sufficient locavore. I get better and better, but I have not made that leap, and am not sure I want to. What I want to do is live like a locavore, that is, considering the food miles and growing costs of my food, supporting the local farming economy, and making, growing or finding what I can myself. During my brief flirtation with total locavorism, I spent some time contemplating what I would miss the most, or what I would have as my 'exemption' if I didn't choose to go full-tilt.

I would miss tropical fruit. I would miss olive oil and spices. I would miss chocolate and coffee. But one of the things I would have the hardest time cooking without would be lemons. I would really really miss lemons.

This week's Tuesdays with Dorie recipe was an excellent reminder of just how wonderful a lemon can be. Tartest Lemon Tart, selected by Babette of Babette Feasts, is a kind of lemon jelly tart using whole lemons; skin, pith, pulp, juice and all. The lemons are blended in the food processor with sugar, butter, salt, and cream (I used buttermilk), and then poured into a par-baked sweet nutty tart shell and baked until firm. Strong resemblance to lemon bars. Some of the TWD bakers complained that theirs were too tart, mine fell on the other side, and even with reduced sugar was barely tart enough. It was also very pretty.

Here it is featured at Mothers' Day breakfast.
Matt and I invited his parents over for a Mothers' Day extravaganza, encompassing Matt's shrimp/asparagus/gruyere toasts on garlic-rubbed whole wheat, easing into sweeter territory with Orangette's buckwheat pancakes, syrup, grapes and strawberries, and then finishing with tiny wedges of lemon tart, because, like Everest, it was there. A group cross-country skype, in which we were informed by Matt's nephew that light sabres are manufactured exclusively in Seattle (of course), rounded out the morning.

It was an impressive day of cooking and eating, and a triumphant return to the entertaining scene from two people who have been largely too harried and busy to invite anyone over. I hope to start rooftop barbeques on a very regular basis soon, and since we always have a willing griller and 'extra' baked goods, I think you'll all fare very well. You're coming over soon, right?