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Here it is. The moment of truth.
You manage this, and your two hours of hulling produce, reducing caramel, kneading pastry, and trying to improvise an airtight turkey baster will (maybe) be rewarded spectacularly. If you mess it up, not only is your desert ruined, but you're risking everything from the fate of your glass cookware to personal injury.
All you have to do to unlock the (potential) glory of your exquisitely crafted dessert is to upend a heavy cast-iron pan filled with scalding liquid onto a breakable platter wearing padded mittens that wouldn't look out of place on an Eskimo.
But boy is the result worth it.
I present la tarte tatin.
Here's the basic methodology behind a tarte tatin: start by making a simple caramel out of butter and sugar (um, yum) in a stovetop saucepan. You delicately arrange an interlocking starburst of apple slices onto the bottom of the pan and then heap the thing with as many apples as you can physically stack. You cook them into tender submission, basting them in lemon juice and sugar until the entire filling is rendered with delicious caramel. Now here's the interesting part: once the apples are done baking, the pie crust goes on top of the filling; you cover the fruit with a circle of dough and bake the entire production in the oven until the crust browns and hardens. At that point, you flip the entire dessert so that the crust is actually on the bottom of the tart. Prepare for the moment of truth!
According to the fantastical land of error-free modern baking media, the tarte tatin is a masterpiece of foresight wherein the baker meticulously blueprints and lays out her fruit on the base of the pan (the top of the tart, remember?) and the final release is an all-or-nothing revelation of the success of the original vision. Here's an example of what television says an outturned tarte tatin should look like:
According to real life, your carefully organized design of lemon-coated crescents have likely already been prodded aside by your turkey baster, smashed by the adjacent layer of apples, and in all probability glued to the bottom of the pan by that lovely caramel you created.
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| Here's what a real outturned tarte tatin looks like. |
(Thank goodness for Julia Child.)
This was my first time making tarte tatin, and this recipe came out gorgeously. I think the trick is making sure that each component--the caramel, the apples, the crust--are all cooked properly in their turn, even if you have to cook them for longer than strictly called for, and the tart just eventually comes together compliantly.
My mom loves tarte tatin, and by her declaration, this dish was the best tarte tatin she has ever tasted.
(Which is a good thing, because it means I'm allowed to keep buying butter and getting flour all over the kitchen. Phew!)
Here's the recipe!




