The other day, my family went to our awesome local grocery store. My dad likes to bring me with him when he goes because I used to play basketball, and buying produce there requires a lot of the same skills as grabbing a rebound.
"Boxing out"
Just as we were walking through the fruit aisle, a worker came by and unloaded a beautiful, mouth-watering, glowingly fresh batch of apricots on the stand. Chaos ensued.
Considering that several people were shoved out of the way in the name of these apricots, I figured I had better make something extra special out of them!
I didn't take pictures of all the steps that went into making the tart, but it turned out so pretty that I thought I would post some pictures and a link to the recipe I used.
This recipe is for an apricot tart with an almond-flavored custard made with mostly eggs, extracts, and cream. The filling and crust of the tart ended up being pretty sweet, while the apricots added a little sour kick. I followed the recipe pretty much exactly and it turned out beautiful!
Side note: my #1 favorite part about this tart was the crust. The tart slid out of the pan so easily, there was no weakness or sogginess in the bottom, and the crust was delightfully crunchy and even caramel-y.
P.S...I know I haven't posted in forever (shame on me. Life has been crazy lately.) That will (hopefully) be rectified shortly. I'm a few buttons away from finishing a sewing project!
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.
Here's what a real outturned tarte tatin looks like.
But never fear! With a spatula and a delicate pair of fingers, you can put your tart back together like nothing happened. I promise. If you don't believe me that retroactively reconstituting your tarte tatin is valid baking practice, just ask Julia Child. After watching this chef turn out her own tarte tatin you will feel much better about your own kitchen!
(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!)
That's right...this nonintuitive dessert was good enough that I made it again. :D Here's an illustration of how to put it together. You can find the recipe and instructions here. (I seriously recommend.)
Guys, I have to nip this in the bud before I disappoint you too badly.
...I didn't actually take pictures* of how I made this dessert.
I know, I'm sorry! Picture courtesy of kasiawisz.com
*Update 7/5/14: Guess what! I made it again and took pictures!
The reason I didn't take pictures is because I didn't actually think it would be any good (...man, was I pleasantly surprised!)
Making rhubarb pie was not even my idea. I mean, the whole premise seems kind of messed up. You're taking a vegetable that's like a cross between celery and chard, containing it, dousing it, and heaping it with butter and sugar, baking the heck out of it, and calling it dessert. Leaving a final product that is neither healthy like a vegetable, nor appetizing like a dessert that...well, doesn't contain a vegetable.
My grandparents were visiting from Idaho, and it was my grandpa's birthday. I wanted to make him something special for birthday dessert, because baked goods are how I show love <3
My grandpa has this story (that I definitely have heard more than once) in which he was served an extra heaping slice of mud pie "on the house" because the former "didn't look big enough for him". In a moment of original, sentimental inspiration, I decided, how sweet would it be to make him a mud pie for his birthday!
Unfortunately, I soon realized that in its most common form, mud pie is less about "baking" than it is about "assembling". Ground-up Oreo-cookie crust, filled with store-bought coffee ice cream, slathered with jarred ice cream fudge. And maybe some whipped cream.
So began the epic ideological clash between pre-made-cutting-corners nonsense and Anelise's overachieving pastry-snob stubbornness.
First I decided that I would make the Oreo crust without Oreos because I wanted to avoid the chemicals and trans fats that go into them. I ended up having to make the crust twice because the first time I added too much butter and my "crust" looked more like soup than pie dough and I ended up adding eggs and making brownies. :/
I reconciled myself to having to buy some coffee ice cream. First I almost had to start protesting the Ralph's ice cream isle because for all their bizarre flavors I could not find a single carton of standard coffee ice cream. I finally unearthed a couple of absurdly tiny tubs that were so expensive that at that point I might as well go buy a whole mud pie. And then I took them home, and found out that one of them was half-melted, and I had to haul it back to the store and demand a replacement.
When I went to make the fudge for the top, I was sure that the type of mud-pie fudge I liked had a caramel-like texture, so I raked the Internet until I found a chocolate-caramel sauce that I thought would work, and peppered it with some roasted almonds.
And I apologize for not saluting you punctually, but a week into Christmas break I have been busier than during school! But never fear that this means a deficit of web-worthy scrumptious recipes! In fact, most of my business involves making brag-worthy outfits and desserts in time for various holiday deadlines! You have a wave of confections and clothing coming your way!
SUCH AS THIS ALMOND-CUSTARD TART I MADE FOR CHRISTMAS...this tart is notable because both of my brothers, who usually spurn dessert-related convolution in favor of steadfast staples like chocolate cake, LOVE IT. (as in, I get frequent requests nags). It probably has something to do with the fact that the custard tastes something like substantiated sugar. :)
Merry Christmas and I hope you like your present(s)!
What would Thanksgiving dessert be without pumpkin pie?
(Well, delicious, but that's besides the point.)
Each year my family makes two pumpkin pies (because let's be honest nothing gets the rush of gratitude flowing like extra dessert :D). The idea is that by gorging ourselves on pumpkin on Thanksgiving and the approximately two days it takes to polish off the rest of the pies, we'll probably make it to the next Thanksgiving and its promise of pumpkin pie.
Unfortunately, whereas making food is a Thanksgiving tradition, processed food seems to be something of an American tradition. Last year I was a little troubled to find out that pumpkin pie was one of the most pre-processed items that leaves my house. Not only did we use pre-packaged pie crust (the horror, right? how are you supposed to brag about that), but my mom directed me to the recipe on the outside of the pumpkin can. Like couldn't between me and my mom and my aunt and my grandma and the Internet we scrounge up something a little more original?
Evidently not, because I ended up using the same on-the-back-of-the-can pumpkin pie recipe again this year. Because it is really good.
But I could not find it in myself to forgive the pre-made pie crust...so I made my own. The dough is really simple and when you do chill it properly (yes, I learned my lesson) it turns out really good. It has no shortening in it because half of them are carcinogenic and the other half were not avaliable at the grocery stores my mom visited in the three days leading up to this project. And it was actually very flaky, and I will explain why below :)
And that is, when I make a recipe, I can tell you honestly which instructions you need to follow, and which ones you don't. We want to bake, not wade through a set of directions that could fill a small pamphlet. I can think of maybe one recipe where the outcome is materially benefitted by sifting the flour beforehand, and a good dozen where dumping all the ingredients in the bowl together in no particular order produces a quite lovely batter, thank you.
Well when I made the crust for this pecan pie it was 9:30 on the eve of Thanksgiving and I did not want to wait for my dough to chill for an hour before I rolled and baked it, so I rolled and baked it on the spot.
So you should chill your dough before baking it.
Pretty much what happened is that A) my dough did not roll out as neatly and B) my shell was not sturdy enough, so when I poured in the filling I got leakage. (Sorry to dissappoint, but I didn't take pictures of that part.) The filling is really runny before baking, because its pretty much composed of eggs, sugar, and melted butter. The leak stopped up soon enough once I put the pie in the oven.
Patchy crust :(
It is a testament to this amazing recipe that the finished product still looked stunning, but in the interest of avoiding a crispy corona around the base of your pie, I recommend chilling your crust. Just follow the instructions below!
