Dessert First

An Abundance of Apricots

 

Roasted Apricot Cinnamon Sugar Tartlets

Sometimes it's hard to figure out what to make. Sometimes I suffer from a surfeit of suggestions, unable to settle on just one idea, other times it's the dreaded blank slate, when everything seems either too simple or too difficult or too not my style or not my flavors and I end up with my refrigerator and bookcases in disarray and still-clean bowls lining the counter.

That's why I enjoy spring and summer so much, because it's so easy to find inspiration. I just walk down the street to market and see what's come in today: crates of dark red cherries, baskets of plump strawberries, bushels of rosy nectarines. Sometimes I'll finger the exotica: yellow-green papayas, pebbly-skinned lychees, flower bulb-like mangosteens, and ponder whether this is the week I'll try something with them.

This week, however, my eye was caught by a more familiar fruit: the blushing gold apricots. Apricots are the delicate little cousins of peaches and I feel like they often get treated that way: they're not as boldly, sensually curved, and eaten fresh their flavor can be subtler, tarter, unlike the sparkling sweetness of peaches.

I've talked before about holding a peach: it's a gorgeously brazen coquette that fills your hands and boldly tempts you. Holding an apricot, on the other hand, is like holding a robin's egg or a seashell, rare and subtle; you've got to hold it close to find its secrets. When apricots are not fully ripe they can be firm and tart and not the most flavorful. At their peak, though, their flesh becomes lushly yielding, and their flavor takes on a rich, honeyed tone. Cooking is where apricots really shine, which is why you see apricot jam so often: when heated apricots blossom into a wonderful ambrosia, as dreamily sweet as a summer Sunday afternoon.

Apricots have such a short season as well, so very often the apricots you find at market will not be perfectly ripe. I left mine in a paper bag for a few days until they softened and starting scenting the kitchen. I wanted something simple and quick to showcase the fruit, and a puff pastry tart immediately sprang to mind. 

Almond Apricot Frangipane Tartlets

Now, before you start protesting that puff pastry does not fall under the category of "simple and quick", let me direct you to my blitz puff recipe which you really can make on a whim. It take less than half an hour to put together and once you've given it a good chill, you're ready to start cranking out the tartlets.

I kept it as breezily easy as possible: apricot slices, a sprinkling of cinnamon and sugar, and instant summer dessert! With a scoop of ice cream, nothing could be simpler for a warm evening. If you're looking to up the ante, a layer of frangipane spread on the pastry, topped with apricots and a sprinkling of almonds, and you've got yourself a luxe little patisserie-worthy pastry.

Naturally, this will work wonderfully with many of summer's fruits, from peaches to plums. You could also add berries on top after they come out of the oven. In any case, the crisp, buttery puff pastry makes the ideal bed for honeyed, ripe fruit. I love how the pastry puffs up so neatly round the fruit every time, like the perfect picture frame. When you add the frangipane, its creamy nuttiness elevates the clean sweetness of the fruit even more.

I'm actually very happy with this week's creation as it embodies many of my ideals about pastry: simple, seasonal, and richly rewarding for the effort one puts in. After all, isn't summer all about minimizing work and maximizing pleasure?

 
Apricot Tartlets

makes about 12 3"x5" tartlets

7 to 8 apricots

1 recipe Blitz Puff Pastry

3 tablespoons sugar

1/2 teaspoons cinnamon

apricot jam for glaze

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Line a couple baking sheets with parchment paper or Silpats.

Halve and pit the apricots. Slice them thinly. Sort them them groups of 6 or 7 slices - this will make assembling the tarts faster.

Divide the puff pastry in half and return one piece to the refrigerator to keep it cold. Roll out the other half on a lightly floured surface to about 1/4" thick (not too thin).

Using a sharp knife, cut the pastry into roughly 3 1/2" x 5 1/5" rectangles. You can make the tartlets any size you want; square, round, etc. If you make one big tart, though, you may have to adjust the baking time and watch for the outer edges baking before the center.

If you want to use frangipane(see recipe below) on these tartlets, spread a thin layer on top of the puff pastry, leaving a 1/2" border as the frangipane will puff and spread in the oven.

Arrange 6 to 7 apricot slices on each rectangle. Combine the sugar and cinnamon and sprinkle over each tartlet.

Bake in the oven for 12 to 15 minutes, rotating halfway through. The puff pastry should puff up and turn golden brown. Place tartlets on a wire rack and brush lightly with apricot jam. Let cool slightly before serving.

Frangipane (adapted from Nick Malgieri's How to Bake)

3/4 cup blanched almonds

1/2 cup sugar

1 teaspoon almond extract

2 eggs

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

1/4 cup flour

Place almonds and sugar in a food processor. Process until almonds are very fine.

Add almond extract and one of the eggs and process until smooth.

Add the butter and process until fully combined and the mixture is smooth.

Add in the egg and process just until incorporated.

Add in the flour and process just until incorporated.

You can use the frangipane immediately or store in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

Tagged with: apricot puff pastry tarts + almond apricot frangipane + puff pastry

Bite This!

Strawberries For the Birthday Girl

There are so many things I love about spring: longer, sunnier days, which means I can finally hang up my scarves and wool coats; flowers blooming everywhere, filling the air with their scent (I always know it's spring when the honeysuckle at my parents' home begins to perfume the air with its delirious, heady fragrance); the advent of all manner of fruit colorful and sweet (including my favorite, strawberries - naturally). And, of course, spring means my birthday!

I always enjoyed having my birthday in May; all the gorgeousness of spring always puts in me in a celebratory mood already, so getting a cake with candles to blow out is just a bonus. Of course, back in my school days, having a May birthday meant it was also end-of-school test time, which sometimes put a little damper on things. This year proved no exception, unfortunately: I've been so busy trying to wrap up this book that I hardly realized that oh-so-special day was creeping up on me. How come when you're young waiting for your birthday to arrive is an agony, yet when you're older it sneaks up on you like a wayward butterfly?

No matter - I've been working furiously on my manuscript so I can take today off to celebrate. And I'm also happy to say that the book will be off to the printers very soon, which means that 1)no more late nights trawling the manuscript for errors 2)the book will be out by the holidays, 3)more time to return to the blog (and all you dear dear readers), and 4)I'll be able to share more details on the book very soon! I know I've been tempting you with all sorts of vague references and allusions, but once the book's been formally announced, I'll be able to tell you what's it all about and my experiences writing it!

Also, my birthday is also extra-special now because I discovered a year ago that I shared it with no other than Bea of La Tartine Gourmande!  Bea is of course the most fabulously talented chef, stylist, and photographer I know, not to mention very sweet and charming - I'm more than honored to share my birthday with her!

So I e-mailed Bea a month ago and suggested that we make the same thing for our birthday, and she suggested, since she also loves strawberries, that we do a strawberry rhubarb tart. Well, happy birthday dear Bea! Here is my version of strawberry rhubarb tart, paired with a brown sugar ginger ice cream, all ready for our birthday!

I have loved the combination of strawberries and rhubarb ever since I made a strawberry rhubarb compote to go with an ice wine ice cream. I also love French-style tarts, so what could be better than Pierre Hermé's lovely shortcrust filled with a mixture of strawberries, rhubarb, sugar, and vanilla? Baked in the oven to soft, bubbling perfection, it's an elegant, tea-party version of the classic American strawberry rhubarb pie. The voluptuously sweet strawberries commingle with the barely-crisp, tart rhubarb into an unfettered pleasure on the tongue. The rich buttery pâte sucrée  makes a luxurious backdrop for the beautifully, vibrantly, red fruit. No birthday cake could be better.

While the ice wine ice cream was a quite excellent companion for strawberries and rhubarb, I wanted to go in a more robust direction and created a brown sugar ginger ice cream to accompany the tart. Just-sweet, pleasantly piquant, it's ice cream at its warmest and most comforting, and enhances the flavors of the tart beautifully. I used egg yolks in this ice cream, which, combined with the brown sugar gave it almost an eggnog taste until I added the ginger; next time I might leave out the eggs, but either way it's scrumptious.

I hope today is as sweet and springlike for you as it is for me, and I wish I could celebrate with all of you! Thanks so much for coming to Dessert First - it means so much to me, and I hope for many more years of sweetness!

Strawberry Rhubarb Tart

makes about 6-8 tartlets

Pâte Sucrée (adapted from Pierre Hermé's Desserts

(recipe makes more than enough, so save the rest for another tart)

1 1/4 sticks ( 146 g) unsalted butter, room temperature

3/4 cup (86 g) confectioner's sugar, sifted

1/4 cup (5 g) almond meal or ground almonds

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 egg, room temperature

1 3/4 cups (232 g) all purpose flour

Filling

2 cups (about 9 ounces) strawberries

3 stalks (about 7 ounces) rhubarb

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

For the tart shells: Place the butter in a food processor and process until soft and creamy.

Add the confectioners' sugar and process until well blended and smooth.

Add in the almond meal, salt, and vanilla extract and process until well blended.

Add in the egg and egg yolk and process until just blended; scrape the bowl down as necessary.

Add the flour and pulse just until the dough starts to come together into a ball; don't overprocess. The dough will be very soft like cookie dough.

Scrape the dough out of the food processor and make into a ball. Flatten out into a disk, wrap in plastic, and chill in refrigerator for at least 4 hours until it is firm enough to handle.

When you are ready to bake off the tart shells, take the dough out of the refrigerator - let it warm up a bit if necessary but not too much because it will start melting fast.

Roll out the dough between two sheets of plastic wrap to 1/8" thickness. If the dough gets too soft, place back in the refrigerator to firm up.

Place the tart rings you will use on a baking sheet lined with a Silpat or parchment paper.

Cut out circles of dough to fit into desired tart rings. Press the dough carefully into the tart rings and up the sides, being careful not to stretch the dough or it will shrink when baked. Place the rings into the refrigerator to chill for at least 30 minutes. Trim off the excess dough from the top of the rings.

Heat the oven to 350 degrees F while chilling the tart shells. When you are ready, line the shells with parchment and fill with beans or rice to keep the shells weighed down.

Bake shells for about 15-18  minutes until they are lightly colored and the shell feels dry to the touch. Remove from the oven and place on a rack. Remove the beans and parchment and brush the bottoms of the shells with a light egg wash (made from an egg white and a bit of water).

For the filling: Wash the strawberries, hull them, and slice into 1/8 thick slices (not too thin).

Wash the rhubarb and cut into small pieces.

Combine the strawberries and rhubarb with the sugar and vanilla in a bowl and toss thoroughly to mix. Let sit for about 5 minutes so the fruit juices start mixing with sugar.

Divide the fruit mixture among the tart shells. You can lay the fruit down in a pattern or simply spoon it in, but be careful not to overfill. When the tarts bake the juices from the fruit will bubble out and you don't want them to overflow.

Place tarts back into oven and bake for about 20-25 minutes until the filling is thick and bubbly.

Remove from oven and let cool on wire racks.

Brown Sugar Ginger Ice Cream

makes about 1 quart

1 cup heavy cream

1 cup milk

1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger

1/2 cup light brown sugar

4 egg yolks

pinch of salt

Combine cream, milk, and ginger in a saucepan and bring to a simmer on medium heat on the stove.

Meanwhile, whisk brown sugar, egg yolks, and salt together in a medium bowl.

Pour about half of the hot milk mixture into the yolks, whisking constantly.

Pour the egg mixture back into the saucepan and return to the stove. Cook on low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon until the mixture thickens and coats the back of the spoon.

Remove from heat and strain into a bowl. Chill in an ice bath until room temperature, then cover and chill overnight.

Prepare ice cream in an ice cream maker per manufacturer's instructions. Store in freezer to firm up.

 

Tagged with: strawberry rhubarb tart + brown sugar ginger ice cream + pierre herme + birthday

Bite This!

Daring Bakers Challenge: Lemon Meringue Lovelies

It barely seems like the new year's had time to settle in, and it's time for Daring Bakers already! This month's host is Jen of the lovely The Canadian Baker, and she picked a great classic for us to make: lemon meringue pie. When I think of lemon meringue I always think of those Strawberry Shortcake dolls I played with as a child; I had the Strawberry Shortcake doll (of course) and my sister had the Lemon Meringue doll. I remember she had a big poufy hat that looked just like a swirl of fluffy meringue. I never did understand why her pet was a little frog though; I guess they were running out of different animals to assign to each character!

(As a aside, maybe I'm showing my age, but I like classic Strawberry Shortcake. I'm not really too keen on the modernized trendy new Strawberry Shortcake dolls I'm seeing in stores. And it looks like they gave Lemon Meringue a new pet - a skunk! Wow, this girl just can't catch a break, can she?)

I'm really glad Jen picked the lemon meringue pie, because I'm seeing some beautiful Meyer lemons at the market right now, little splashes of perky sunshine just begging to be used. I really love Meyer lemons, from their painter's palette-bold yellow color to their elegant smooth skins to their subtle tang. I'm already hoarding a batch in my kitchen with eager ideas for them, and making lemon meringue pie fit right into the plans.

I have to give a real thumbs up to this recipe as well; easy to execute with fantastic results. I'm not really a pie person; long time readers will notice I'm more of a tart girl, but this pie crust recipe came together and rolled out like a dream. My only issue was that the crusts shrunk a little more than I anticipated during baking, so I didn't get as deep-dish a pie as I wanted. Nevertheless, the baked crust was flaky, buttery, and a lovely container for the lemon curd filling.

Since I used Meyer lemons, the filling didn't have the traditional zing of other lemon meringue pies, but a creamy, smooth, and wholly satisfying lemon flavor. I really liked the addition of butter to the filling, as it reminds me a great deal of my favorite lemon curd by Pierre Herme. As luck would have it, it's been pouring buckets here in the Bay Area, and anyone who's dealt with meringues knows that humidity is meringue's worst enemy. And why does it always seem to turn humid the day you decide to whip up some egg whites? Nevertheless, the meringue whipped up as billowy and satin-shiny as you please, and baked up beautifully in the oven.

Playing around with piping the meringue made for great fun as well: I liked the little dots as shown in the first picture above.

Or you could go for some ruffly peaks.

Or perhaps just the classic swirly mounds.

These little darlings are really best eaten right out of the oven, though; especially on a rainy day, they just don't hold up for very long. Altogether this was a great Daring Bakers exercise; the little pies were polished off quite handily. Thanks to Jen for another fun challenge!

Lemon Meringue Pie
(from "Wanda's Pie in the Sky" by Wanda Beaver)
 
Makes one 10-inch (25 cm) pie

For the Crust:
3/4 cup (180 mL) cold butter; cut into ½-inch (1.2 cm) pieces
2 cups (475 mL) all-purpose flour
1/4 cup (60 mL) granulated sugar
1/4 tsp (1.2 mL) salt
1/3 cup (80 mL) ice water

For the Filling:
2 cups (475 mL) water
1 cup (240 mL) granulated sugar
1/2 cup (120 mL) cornstarch
5 egg yolks, beaten
1/4 cup (60 mL) butter
3/4 cup (180 mL) fresh lemon juice
1 tbsp (15 mL) lemon zest
1 tsp (5 mL) vanilla extract

For the Meringue:
5 egg whites, room temperature
1/2 tsp (2.5 mL) cream of tartar
1/4 tsp (1.2 mL) salt
1/2 tsp (2.5 mL) vanilla extract
3/4 cup (180 mL) granulated sugar

To Make the Crust:
Make sure all ingredients are as cold as possible. Using a food processor or pastry cutter and a large bowl, combine the butter, flour, sugar and salt.Process or cut in until the mixture resembles coarse meal and begins to clump together. Sprinkle with water, let rest 30 seconds and then either process very briefly or cut in with about 15 strokes of the pastry cutter, just until the dough begins to stick together and come away from the sides of the bowl. Turn onto a lightly floured work surface and press together to form a disk. Wrap in plastic and chill for at least 20 minutes.

Allow the dough to warm slightly to room temperature if it is too hard to roll. On a lightly floured board (or countertop) roll the disk to a thickness of 1/8 inch (.3 cm). Cut a circle about 2 inches (5 cm) larger than the pie plate and transfer the pastry into the plate by folding it in half or by rolling it onto the rolling pin. Turn the pastry under, leaving an edge that hangs over the plate about 1/2 inch (1.2 cm). Flute decoratively. Chill for 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350ºF (180ºC). Line the crust with foil and fill with metal pie weights or dried beans. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes. Carefully remove the foil and continue baking for 10 to 15 minutes, until golden. Cool completely before filling.

To Make the Filling:
Bring the water to a boil in a large, heavy saucepan. Remove from the heat and let rest 5 minutes. Whisk the sugar and cornstarch together. Add the mixture gradually to the hot water, whisking until completely incorporated. Return to the heat and cook over medium heat, whisking constantly until the mixture comes to a boil. The mixture will be very thick. Add about 1 cup (240 mL) of the hot mixture to the beaten egg yolks, whisking until smooth. Whisking vigorously, add the warmed yolks to the pot and continue cooking, stirring constantly, until mixture comes to a boil. Remove from the heat and stir in butter until incorporated. Add the lemon juice, zest and vanilla, stirring until combined. Pour into the prepared crust. Cover with plastic wrap to prevent a skin from forming on the surface, and cool to room temperature.

To Make the Meringue:
Preheat the oven to 375ºF (190ºC). Using an electric mixer beat the egg whites with the cream of tartar, salt and vanilla extract until soft peaks form. Add the sugar gradually, beating until it forms stiff, glossy peaks. Pile onto the cooled pie, bringing the meringue all the way over to the edge of the crust to seal it completely. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, or until golden. Cool on a rack. Serve within 6 hours to avoid a soggy crust.

Tagged with: lemon meringue tartlets + Daring Bakers

Bite This!

Apples Blooming in Autumn

Remember Pâtisserie Philippe's gorgeous apple tart from my last post? If you didn't get a good look at it, here is an outtake from my photo shoot:

Isn't it just beautiful? The perfect, wafer-fine crust, the carefully layered slices of apple fanning and furling into a blooming rose in the center; this is a dessert designed to elicit oohs of appreciation upon sight, and sighs of delight upon tasting. The filling for this tart is completely made of apple, and a glorious tribute to the fruit it is. I was amazed how a crisp buttery crust topped with smooth, rich applesauce and fork-tender, just-sweet apple slices could taste as satisfying delicious as the most complex of pastries - proof that nobody does desserts that are simultaneously simple yet elegant like the French.

After consuming about half of Philippe's tart, I was determined to try and make my own version. To my happy surprise, Dorie Greenspan came to the rescue again with her version of Normandy Apple Tart in her Baking book. Upon reading the recipe, I discovered it really was as simple as making a tart crust, filling it with applesauce, and covering it with apple slices.

Of course, the devil's always in the details, which is why Philippe's is so flawless and mine is merely an eager aspirant. It's not easy to get tart dough so thin and flaky, or the applesauce so smooth and velvety, or all the apple slices so thinly sliced and artfully arranged. But this recipe is one where you won't mind trying again and again to get it just perfect. A couple of tips: use the best, most flavorful apples you can find, since this tart is all about highlighting them - you shouldn't be burying the taste beneath butter and sugar. You can use store-bought applesauce if you like, but I agree with Dorie that it's so much better when you make it yourself - take advantage now before apples are gone from the farmers' markets! Finally, if you're nervous about slicing your apples evenly, a mandolin works wonders.

A slice of this apple tart, still warm from the oven and topped with a bit of crème fraîche, makes me think of fading afternoon light shining through the few copper and russet leaves clinging to the trees, fuzzy woolen scarves tucked into snuggly warm sweaters, and the cool, crisp smell of autumn in the air. If you have the chance to try Philippe's apple tart, please do. If you don't, maybe you'll try making it yourself, and you can feel just like a French pastry chef in your own kitchen.

Normandy Apple Tart

adapted from Dorie Greenspan's Baking: From My Home to Yours

makes one 9-inch tart

Pâte Sablée

1 1/2 cups flour

1/2 cup confectioner's sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

9 tablespoon butter, very cold, cut into small pieces

1 egg yolk

Applesauce

2 pounds baking apples, such as Empire, Cortland, McIntosh, or Pippin

1/4 cup water

1 tablespoon light brown sugar

1-4 tablespoons sugar to taste

Topping

2 medium-sized, firm apples, such as Golden Delicious or Granny Smith

1 egg for egg wash

1/3 cup apple jelly for glaze

For the applesauce: Peel and core the apples, and cut into smallish chunks. Place into a 3 quart, heavy-bottomed saucepan.

Add in the water and brown sugar, and stir to combine.

Cover the saucepan and cook the apples over the medium-low heat, stirring occasionally to make sure none of the apples scorch.

If the water seems to be boiling away too quickly, you can add in a little more. Over about 20-30 minutes, the apples should start reducing and softening in the bubbling water. Don't leave the pan unattended for too long or the water could boil over or the apples burn.

When the apples are soft enough to be mashed with a spoon, remove the pan from heat. Scrape the apples into a food processor and blend quickly to turn into applesauce - don't process too long or you'll liquefy the apples. The applesauce should still be thick.

Taste and add sugar to taste - traditionally this applesauce is not meant to be very sweet, but you can add at your discretion.

Pour the applesauce into a container, press a piece of plastic wrap to the surface, and refrigerate until it is no longer warm before using. You can keep the applesauce in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.

For the tart shell: Put the flour, confectioner's sugar, and salt in a food processor and pulse a few times to combine. Add the pieces of cold butter and pulse until the butter is cut into pea-sized pieces. Add the egg yolk and combine in several pulses until the dough starts to turn from dry to clumpy. Do not let the dough form one giant ball or it will be be overworked - just keep checking after every pulse and when the dough pieces looks like they will stick when you press them together, stop.

Butter a 9-in tart tin with removable bottom. Turn the dough out into the tin and press into the bottom and up the sides with your fingers. You probably will not need all the dough - save the extra for patching the shell after you bake it. Do not press the dough too hard or it will become tough - just enough for it to form to the tin.

Freeze the tart shell for at least 30 minutes. When you are ready to bake it, preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

To partially bake the tart shell, take a piece of foil and butter the shiny side, then press the buttered side tightly to the shell. You do not need pie weights. Place the tart shell on a baking sheet and bake for about 25 minutes, until the shell is dry and lightly colored. If any places have cracked, repair with the extra dough. Let cool on a rack until room temperature.

For the tart: When you are ready to finish the tart, preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Fill the tart shell with the applesauce almost to the top of the crust and smooth the top. Place the tart on a baking sheet lined with parchment or a silpat.

Peel and core the two apples. Cut each apple in half and then again lengthwise. Cut each apple quarter into about 7 slices - they will be quite thin.

Arrange the apple slices over the top of the applesauce in a pleasing pattern. I found that the apple slices shrink a bit while baking so be sure the edges overlap the tart crust and each other enough.

Make a egg wash by beating the egg with a teaspoon of water. Brush the egg wash over the apple slices.

Bake the tart in the oven for about 40 to 50 minutes. The applesauce will puff up a little bit and the apples slices will turn golden and slightly burnt at the edges. When the apple slices are soft enough to be pierced by the tip of knife, you can take out the tart.

Remove the tart and let cool on a wire rack. If you'd like to glaze the top of the tart, mix the apple jelly with a teaspoon of water in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Brush the glaze lightly over the top of the tart.

The tart should be served as soon as possible to prevent it from getting soggy.

Pâtisserie Philippe

655 Townsend Street

San Francisco, CA 94103

415-558-8016

info@patisseriephilippe.com

Open M-F 8-6, Sat 8-5

Tagged with: San Francisco bakeries + Patisserie Philippe + Dorie Greenspan+ apple tart+ Normandy apple tart

Bite This!

SHF#35: A Feast of Figs

Trust Ivonne of the wonderful Cream Puffs in Venice to come up with the perfect theme for this month's Sugar High Friday: figs. I will admit that figs were never my favorite fruit; I liked them well enough but I always preferred eating, and baking, with other more familiar fruits. This might partly be because whenever I thought of figs I thought of Fig Newtons, that bar-like cookie filled with what was supposed to be fig jam, but which tasted awful to me. I took Ivonne's theme as a challenge to renew my acquaintance with the fig and discover how I could use it in my kitchen.

Well, thank you, Ivonne, because now I have yet another ingredient to incorporate into my pastry daydreams. After much deliberation, I ended up making two desserts, because I really wanted to try both of them, and I had just bought over two pounds of black Mission figs at the market. Below, the very happy results of trying something new:

Honey Panna Cotta with Grilled Figs

The Honey Panna Cotta is from Alice Medrich's excellent new Pure Dessert, from which I can't stop baking; I saw the recipe and I thought it would be perfect paired with some figs. Indeed, the subtle, elusive sweetness of the figs, along with the slight crunch of their seeds, is a perfect foil for a silken panna cotta infused with the bright, rich flavor of honey. I had a bevy of honeys to choose from at the farmers' market; the delicately floral lavender honey was a nice match for the figs, but feel free to use your favorite.

Medrich's panna cotta is a wonder of simplicity: with cream, milk, and just a bit of gelatin, she creates an ethereal wisp of a dessert that just barely quivers under the touch of a spoon and dissolves in your mouth into pure flavor. This is about as far from Jell-O as you can get. Because Medrich is so particular about the amounts of gelatin used in order to achieve that barely-solid, on-the-verge-of-collapsing state, she prefers that this panna cotta is served in its ramekin rather than being unmolded, since it will lose its shape when it is turned out. A small price to pay for such exquisite delicacy. The warm figs, drizzled with a little more honey, taste mellow and earthy next to the panna cotta. A dreamy fall dessert.

Fig and Huckleberry Tart

This tart is one I was very excited to make, because fresh huckleberries are hard to come by in the Bay Area. I finally found some last weekend, so that triumph combined with getting the figs meant that this little number was a must. From Kate Zuckerman's The Sweet Life, this tart is a bit of a project but the rewards are immensely satisfying: a sweet crust filled with huckleberries and figs rendered gloriously gooey and jammy in the oven, topped with a lattice of puff pastry. Yes, this recipe calls for making both tart dough and puff pastry, and, of course, forming the shells and making the latticework. If you make the doughs the night before, the tart will probably take you a morning to do and you'll have a fabulously fragrant kitchen and some very delectable dessert by afternoon!

With berries in the filling and a top crust, this tart is almost like a kissing cousin of a pie. I liked having the tart dough for the shell, though; it had a buttery sweetness and the delicate crispness of the best pâte sucrée. Instead of using my old standby Pierre Hermé for the tart dough I tried Zuckerman's recipe since her other ones have turned out so well for me. Her recipe yields a dough that is remarkably soft and supple (I did have to work quickly with it before it started melting) but that bakes into a flavorful and tender crust. It's worth trying out to see how you enjoy the results. The huckleberries and figs married wonderfully together, the softly sweet figs mixing with the tart berries (my boyfriend describes huckleberries as extra-tart blueberries, and I'm inclined to agree). Tossed with a bit of sugar and butter, they turn into a filling both homey and sophisticated. Zuckerman suggests omitting the puff pastry lattice if you are short of time, but I urge you to make it if you can; the airy, sweet crunch of buttery puff on top really pushes the tart into the realm of extraordinary.

There you have it! I will never underestimate or neglect the noble fig again. Thanks again to Ivonne for showing me what I was missing out on!

Honey Panna Cotta with Grilled Figs

adapted from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert

makes (6) 6-oz ramekins

1 1/2 cups (290 g) milk

2 1/2 teaspoons (5 g) powdered unflavored gelatin

3 cups (700 g) heavy cream

1/3 cup (108 g) honey, plus extra for drizzling

1/8 teaspoon salt

12 figs

confectioner's sugar

Pour milk into a bowl and sprinkle the gelatin over it. Set aside for a few minutes to let the gelatin dissolve; the milk will turn spongy.

Combine the cream, honey, and salt in a small saucepan and heat on stove over medium heat until it begins to steam.

Take cream mixture off the heat and add in the milk and gelatin, stirring well to make sure all the gelatin dissolves and there are no hard bits.

Pour mixture into a clean bowl and set into a larger bowl filled with ice cubes and water. Let mixture cool to room temperature, stirring often.

Divide mixture among ramekins, cover with plastic wrap, and store in refrigerator to chill and set overnight.

When you are ready to serve the panna cotta, slice the figs in half lengthwise, sprinkle with a bit of confectioner's sugar, and place on a toaster oven tray or baking sheet if you using the oven broiler unit.

Grill for a few minutes until they are lightly colored on the edges; don't let them burn!

Serve immediately with the panna cotta.

Tagged with: SHF + SHF #35 + figs + Alice Medrich + honey panna cotta with figs+ Kate Zuckerman + fig huckleberry tart

Bite This!

Pure Dessert, Pure Inspiration

When I met up with Veronica of Veronica’s Test Kitchen a few weeks ago, not only did I get the pleasure of a fun night out with a fellow baker, but I was also clued in to an early release of Alice Medrich’s newest book, Pure Dessert – one I’d been eagerly awaiting. Veronica had just taken a class earlier in the day from Medrich at my alma mater, and what surprise did Medrich have in store for her students but several copies of her latest tome, fresh from the printer! Of course my immediate question was, “Are there any copies left?” Veronica, who shares my ardor (and impatience) for new cookbooks, very sweetly had a copy set aside for me when she returned to class the following day, for which I’m happily indebted to her. Thanks so much, sweetie!

In a sea of lookalike cookbook releases, many of them tired riffs on dusty old themes, Medrich’s book is an elegant, assertive breath of fresh air. Moving far beyond her familiar domain of chocolate, she re-examines the very concept of dessert from ingredient up, espousing her new philosophy of simplicity and purity. There are no elaborate, multi-component desserts or fancy, cutting-edge techniques in this book; instead, Medrich returns to the basics and turns them inside out, reinventing them into something new and exciting.

Medrich does what I would love to do all day long (alas, until I find someone to pay me for it, I must fit kitchen time in with the rest of real life): experiment in her kitchen. She takes apart recipes, examines methods and ingredients, and hones everything down to reach the most perfect, purest expression of flavor. Her boundless curiosity and rigorous methods are illuminating and inspiring; like the very best standard-bearers of any field, she makes possibilities seem endless and exploration an exhilaration. I’ve had people ask me, “well, how many desserts could there be? After you’re done a chocolate cake and a vanilla cake and a strawberry tart and a blueberry pie, haven’t you pretty much made everything?” Medrich’s book is a resounding no to that sentiment and an exuberant yes to experimentation, creativity, and imagination.

In her book, Medrich plays with the variety of ingredients, new and old, available to bakers: buckwheat and kamut flours in her scones, kafir cheese in her tarts, sesame oil and muscovado sugar in her cakes. She reconsiders baking techniques and recipes with the mind of a scientist: cakes are made with both cold and room temperature butter; spices are incorporated into batter or sprinkled directly over just-baked cookies; tea infusions are made with both hot and cold cream. Her thoughtful reasoning, and her dissection of her experiments, leads to some fascinating discoveries and a greater understanding of how baking works and how to best use various ingredients in this process.

The result is a wonderfully eclectic, marvelously original, and deeply personal collection of recipes. Like some of my other favorite recent cookbooks (Kate Zuckerman’s The Sweet Life, Pichet Ong’s The Sweet Spot, and of course Dorie Greenspan’s Baking: From My Home to Yours), Medrich’s book moves beyond a mere compilation of desserts to a glimpse inside the author’s mind and her thoughts and feelings – you share in her ideas writ tantalizingly in sugar, chocolate, fruit, and honey. I found what Medrich had to say enormously captivating. She wants one to see baking the same way cooking is being viewed today, as the search to best express the qualities and flavor of an ingredient. Baking doesn’t have to mean tons of white sugar and whipped cream everywhere; it also doesn’t have to mean following the same rigid rules to get the exact same result every time. It can mean using unrefined sugar or honey to give new nuances of sweetness to custards, or using whole grains to add nutty dimension to shortbread, or cooking fruit to enhance its flavor before turning it into ice cream.

Inspired is the perfect word for how you will feel after reading this book. You will be inspired to run to the grocery store and pick up ingredients you had never used before in baking. You will be inspired to look at the ingredients you have in your pantry with a new eye. You will be inspired to look at a basket of berries, or a jar of honey, and think about how to best capture and showcase it in a cake, or ice cream, or cookie. You will be inspired to know that you don’t need to make a multi-layer cake or an elaborate composed dessert or use ten different pastry techniques to make something sweet and satisfying.

One of the many desserts that caught my eye as I was leafing through the book was Medrich’s Bittersweet Citrus Tart with Jasmine Cream. You may remember that she had a similar recipe in her Bittersweet cookbook, the tempting Bittersweet Chocolate Tartlets. Here, they are reimagined in a more elegant incarnation, with a deliciously grown-up combination of flavors. One thing I like about Medrich is that she is unafraid to reexamine and redo her own recipes. There is no resting on her laurels, only a constant drive to update and improve. The new version of her tart has a ganache-like layer of citrus-hinted chocolate in a crisp buttery tart shell. Infused with the zest of pink grapefruit and blood oranges, enriched with butter and egg, the chocolate is as luxuriously smooth as a truffle center and pleasantly tangy to the taste. Medrich places a dollop of jasmine scented cream on top, but I took it a step further and turned it into a delicate ice cream. A scoop of this ethereal, floral ice cream makes refreshing and intriguing foil to the robust richness of the tart.

Pure Dessert should be available in most bookstores by now, so you can see for yourself what Veronica and I have been raving about. As an inveterate bedtime reader of cookbooks, I can vouch that this book has not left my nightstand since I've gotten it!

   

Bittersweet Citrus Tart

adapted from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert

makes one 9 1/2 in tart or (6) 3 1/2 in tarts

Crust

8 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

1/4 cup sugar

3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 cup (4 1/2 oz) flour

Filling

8 oz semisweet chocolate (62% preferred, I used Guittard 61%)

5 tablespoons butter

1/2 teaspoon grated blood (or regular) orange zest

1/2 teaspoon grated pink grapefruit zest

1 large egg yolk, room temperature

1/4 cup boiling water

For the crust: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Combine the melted butter, sugar, vanilla, and salt in a bowl and mix together with a wooden spoon.

Add in the flour and mix until combined. You can let the dough sit for a few minutes to firm up if it seems too soft to manipulate.

Grease the bottom and sides of your tart pan(s)  - I suggest ones with removable bottoms to make it easier to remove the tarts after baking. Press the tart dough into the bottom and sides of the tart pans, taking care to spread the dough as evenly and thinly as possible (this is not difficult but may take some time and patience.)

Bake the tart shells in the oven for about 20 minutes or until the shells appear golden brown and firm. Remove and let cool completely on a wire rack.

For the filling: Combine the chocolate, butter, and citrus zest in a bowl and set over a saucepan of simmering water to create a bain-marie. Stir frequently to ensure the chocolate and butter melt together evenly. When the mixture is completely melted, take off the heat and set aside.

Place the egg yolk in a small bowl and slowly whisk in the boiling water, taking care not to cook the egg. Place the bowl over the simmering water and whisk the egg mixture continually until it reaches a temperature of 160 degrees F.

Pour the egg through a strainer into the chocolate mixture and stir gently to combine - try to avoid creating air bubbles in the mixture.

Pour the filling into the tart shells and spread evenly. Place the tarts in a covered container and chill in the refrigerator for at least 3 to 4 hours to set the filling.

When you ready to serve the tarts, take them out of the refrigerator about half an hour beforehand to let it soften and regain the shine on its surface.

Jasmine Ice Cream

makes about 1 quart

2 cups heavy cream

2 cups milk

4 tablespoons loose jasmine tea (leaves or pearls will work)

1/2 cup sugar

pinch of salt

Combine all ingredients in a heavy saucepan and place on stove over medium heat. Stirring occasionally, heat until the mixture just comes to a boil.

Take mixture off heat and let cool to room temperature. Pour into a container, cover, and chill for at least 6 hours or overnight. You may want to check the mixture while it is chilling to make sure it has not become too strongly flavored from the tea.

Strain the mixture to remove all the loose tea. Freeze in an ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions.

Tagged with: Alice Medrich + Pure Dessert + Bittersweet Citrus Tart + jasmine ice cream

Bite This!

Daring Bakers Challenge: Milk Chocolate and Caramel Tart

One of the best things about joining the Daring Bakers is the chance to meet so many other passionate bakers from around the world –  fellow pastry lovers who love talking about (and making) dessert, are marvelously creative and talented, and who also happen to be some of the nicest and sweetest people I’ve ever met. I was lucky enough to meet up with one of the hosts for this month’s challenge, Veronica from Veronica’s Test Kitchen, when she made a visit to my hometown on SF, and we had a fabulous evening talking shop (and about other things as well!) I also got to tell her how excited I was about the recipe she and Patricia chose for this month’s Daring Bakers’ Challenge, as it comes from one of my favorite new acquisitions, Eric Kayser’s Sweet and Savory Tarts

The challenge this month was to make Kayser's milk chocolate and caramel tart: a layer of milk chocolate mousse over a caramel base in a cinnamon-spiced chocolate shortbread crust. I admit I took advantage of this situation to buy myself another tart pan: the classic 14”x4” rectangular pan I’d been eyeing for a while. Using this size pan with the recipe, you will definitely have leftovers from the recipe fillings, enough to fill another tart pan or some individual ones. But I am loving this new pan and have many plans for using it in the future!

It was mentioned when the recipe was revealed to us that a big part of the challenge would be interpreting the rather brief instructions. This was something I’d noticed in Kayser’s book; it assumes a level of baking knowledge and proficiency above that expected by the average home baking book. For example, in making the tart dough, the recipe says simply to “line a baking pan with the chocolate shortbread pastry and bake blind for 15 minutes.”  It does not mention that this is a particularly soft and delicate dough (out of the mixing bowl, it resembles cookie dough more than tart dough) and that overworking it or leaving it out of the refrigerator for too long will turn it into a melting mushy mess. I was working in a rather warm kitchen that day, which might partly explain why this dough was not on its best behavior for me. I found the easiest way to work with this dough is to let it soften no more than necessary out of the refrigerator, then roll it out between two sheets of plastic wrap to prevent sticking (Using two Silpats works too – roll out the dough on one Silpat, place the second mat on top of the dough and flip the stack over, then peel off the first Silpat). If it becomes too soft and sticky, it’s best to place it back in the refrigerator and let it chill and firm up a bit before rolling out again.

On the plus side, this dough seems to take patching very well, so if you can’t get it to roll out to a large enough sheet for your pan, you can always patch up the missing bits, being sure to pat the dough in gently. And I was very pleased with how the dough baked up – firm and shapely with minimal cracking or shrinking, and wonderfully tender to the bite, as shortbread should be. I confess to using a small trick that has worked wonders with my tarts in preventing soggy bottoms: After the tart shell comes out from the oven and is cooling, brush a light layer of egg wash over the bottom of the shell. As the egg wash dries, it forms a nice impermeable layer that protects the tart shell from berry juices, pastry cream, or whatever filling you have. The caramel filling for this recipe didn’t seem particularly “juicy”, but I think the egg wash is always a nice extra step to help ensure your tart stays flaky and crisp as it ought to be.

Speaking of caramel, the directions for making the filling were also amusingly haiku-brief: caramelize granulated sugar using the dry method. The most common method in making caramel involves dissolving sugar in water and heating it. But it’s possible to cook just sugar itself in a pot over heat. I’ve been warned that it’s typically more difficult because you run a greater risk of burning the dry sugar if you’re not watchful. Strangely, I have never had a problem cooking sugar dry – I do try to keep a close eye on it and make sure to stir it to let it caramelize evenly. The bonus is that without water sugar caramelizes much faster, and you don’t have to worry about problems with crystallization.

(Nota bene: None of these comments are meant to disparage the recipe or the cookbook. None of the instructions were actually incorrect; it was just interesting to note how much is implied in what is not specifically spelled out. It made realize how much technique I've learned that I take for granted now, and that I knew nothing about just a few years ago. I would have had no idea back then how to cook sugar properly or how to tell when a custard was done. The fascinating part of this challenge was in reading the recipe and drawing on my baking experience to tell me how best to accomplish all the parts of the tart, even when it wasn't spelled out for me. Challenging and satisfying indeed!)

I let my caramel get fairly deep amber before I added in the cream and butter. It may be helpful to note that the cream and butter should be at room temperature, which helps them combine better with the hot caramel. Dumping in anything cold will make the caramel seize up and harden - this can be saved by rewarming the mixture over the stove again, but it's probably less frustrating to have your dairy at a more agreeable temperature and let them combine smoothly with the caramel into a golden, thick, luscious soup.

The caramel baked up in the tart shell into a gorgeous, perfectly smooth base - lovely for pouring on the milk chocolate mousse. Now, perhaps to balance out my odd cosmic luck with caramelizing sugar, I am frustratingly prone to burning chocolate in the microwave, especially milk and white chocolate since its milk proteins can overheat and go grainy quite quickly. I think part of the problem is that I have a freakishly high-powered microwave that can boil water in seconds. I'm quite happy to melt my milk chocolate (I used Callebaut 31%) safely over a bain-marie.

The finished tart is sugar-spun, chocolate-dipped poetry: sweet, airy mousse giving way to a rich, buttery-gooey caramel, encased in the tenderest of crusts lightly spiced with cinnamon. It's a most soigné version of the Twix bar, one of my favorite candy bars when I was little. I felt the flavors worked beautifully together; it may be a little sweet for some, but taking the caramel darker and giving a deeper, almost-burnt edge helps create a little contrast, and the milk chocolate can always be substituted for a darker one. I myself found the recipe plate-scraped-clean delightful without any alterations - judging from how quickly the tart disappeared, I'll assume others felt the same.

Adding bits of hard caramel to the top of the tart makes for a lovely, sugar-strewn decoration and gives a nice extra crunch to the smooth tart filling. It's always nice to have an excuse to play with sugar and make some fantastical decorations.

For the recipe, take a hop over to Veronica's or Patricia's sites, and be sure to take a look at all the other Daring Bakers' beautiful takes on this fantastic little tart.

Tagged with: milk chocolate caramel tart + Daring Bakers + Eric Kayser

Bite This!

My Own Remembrance of Things Past: Dan Tats

Johanna of The Passionate Cook announced a most interesting theme for this month's Sugar High Friday: local specialties. While living in the Bay Area affords me the luxury of having many famous local goods to choose from, I really wanted to pick one that was close to my heart: Chinese egg custard tarts, or dan tat.

When I was young, my family lived about an hour south of San Francisco, and back then they didn't have many stores around that sold Asian groceries - Chinese vegetables, dried herbs and mushrooms, fish and meat fresh and butchered to the customer's order. (As a lifelong resident of this area, it's amazing to me how much the gastronomic landscape has evolved over the years - now Asian shopping centers dot the Bay Area like pearls along the necklace of highways that encircle the bay.) So every weekend our parents would pile us kids into the station wagon and we would drive up north on the highway to the big city, and to the venerable Chinatown on Stockton Street where they could find the ingredients to make the dishes they remembered from Hong Kong, their homeland.

I remember Chinatown being a cacophonous kaleidoscope to the senses: boxes overflowing with lychees and Chinese broccoli and all sorts of things I never saw in my local Safeway; shoppers jostling and bumping around the stands, assiduously picking through the produce to select only the best specimens; tiny old ladies in smocks unloading even more produce from the back of delivery vans, proclaiming the quality and inexpensiveness of their goods (if you walk through Chinatown and you don't speak Chinese, you may wonder why the grocers appear to be screaming at the top of their lungs at you - they're actually urging you to buy their cherries/peaches/item of the day, which are of course much better and cheaper than any other place on the block, so why don't you buy some now?)

Chinatown was a sort of farmers' market before farmer's markets came into vogue: although nobody threw around words like "sustainable" or "organic" back then, everyone who went shopping in Chinatown showed a passion and care for the food they bought that mirrors the spirit of sustainable agriculture today. No one would be caught buying ragged, limp greens or bruised, unripe fruit or less-than-fresh fish; indeed, the person who tried to sell such inferior goods probably wouldn't be patronized for very long!

My mother would adroitly navigate the streets of Chinatown, going to the places she knew and trusted: the stand with the best bok choy and lotus roots; the butcher who gave her the best chickens and cuts of beef; the dried goods store with the bins of dried shrimp and scallops and seaweed she used in her soups. I'm embarrassed to admit that although I spent years watching my mother bargain with and haranguing the shopkeepers in her quest for the best, I have nowhere near her shopping skills; even today, when I go to Chinatown with her, I always stand back and watch her mastery on display, as she somehow cajoles and convinces the grocers to give her the good stuff they're holding back, and to charge her just a little less.

It was fun, as a child, to see the incredible excitement and bustle in Chinatown, but sometimes I would get tired of getting bumped around by pushy shoppers, or waiting as my mother conducted another interminable bargaining session. I would start tugging on her arm and whine about when we would be done, or better yet, when we would get to eat. My mother would tell me to be patient, just one more stop, and then we would go the bakery and I could get something sweet (I have always, always had a sweet tooth).

Chinese bakeries are like any other business in Chinatown: microcosms of incredible chaos and efficiency at once. While I am inspired and delighted by the pâtisseries of Paris, I have the utmost admiration for my local bakeries in Chinatown, which produce a staggering amount and variety of breads, cakes, tarts, and other pastries day in and day out. Every time you walk in the door of a bakery, you are greeted with case upon case of meat-stuffed pastries, custard-filled buns, elaborately frosted cakes, fruit-covered tarts, loaves of bread...and there are more trays coming out of the kitchen in a constant stream.

Although you may want to stand there goggle-eyed at the overwhelming array of choices, the counter staff and regular customers are seldom indulgent; it's best to know what you want or the salesgirls will most likely move on to someone in less of a dither. Stepping up and speaking your order loudly will usually get you fast service; if you hover indecisively in the background you might never get served at all. However, the staff will usually give a quick description of any item you are curious about, and they are also quite good at pushing freshly baked items on you; if you're not careful, you may end up walking away with a dozen piping hot something-or-others in a pink box.

The most amazing thing is, though, how inexpensive everything is. Most of the buns, which are usually a soft, fluffy, sweet bread with either a sweet or savory filling, are less than a couple of dollars. Other items in the cases are similarly priced, which is mind-boggling considering they are all homemade and you can find coffee shops selling a factory-made cookie for 4 dollars or more. To me, this affords one the incredible freedom to try almost anything since it will only cost you a dollar or two and you will quickly find your favorites. My boyfriend, who does not speak Chinese, has successfully bought many things at Chinese bakeries simply by pointing; he's often come home with a six or seven different items which I have to explain to him and then he will happily try them all and decide which one he likes best.

My favorites? The cocktail bun (named not because of when it's meant to be served but because its oblong shape resembles a rooster's tailfeathers), a plain little bread filled with a creamy, coconut-flecked custard, and the egg custard tart, the actual subject of this entire post - thank you for your patience, dear reader!

Egg custard tarts are thought to have sprung from the British influence in Hong Kong; custard tarts with a smooth milky filling in a shortcrust pastry are a classically British dessert. There is also a Portuguese variant, the lovely pastéis de nata, which have a similar custardy filling but a caramelized, crème brûlée style top. Hong Kong residents often go on day trips to Macau, a former Portuguese colony about a 45 minute hydrofoil ride from Hong Kong, and a can't-miss activity there is to sample the authentic pastéis de nata still made by local bakers. However, egg custard tarts in Hong Kong have evolved into their own unique and delicious creature, and a staple of Chinese bakeries and dim sum houses everywhere.

What distinguishes an egg custard tart is its flaky, tender shell (the most authentic ones are made with lard)that resembles puff pastry at its crisp and buttery best, cradling a bright yellow custard that teeters flan-like, just on the edge between set and gooey. Fresh from the oven, it is the sunniest, most comforting piece of bliss I can think of.  An old dan tat, with limpid gummy crust and rubbery Jello-y filling, is a tragic thing indeed.

In San Francisco's Chinatown, one of the oldest and most famous Chinese communities in the world, there are many bakeries and restaurants selling egg custard tarts, but there is one place that stands above the rest - one that people in the know like my mother would go to - Golden Gate Bakery on Grant Ave.

Such is the reputation of the egg custard tarts at Golden Gate Bakery that lines routinely snake out the door into the street. As the scent of butter and vanilla wafts outside, you can see people shifting their feet, hoping to reach the front of the line soon enough to snag some of the freshly baked tarts before they are gone. I know of no other bakery in Chinatown that has the audacity to close down for several weeks at a time while the owners go on "extended vacation"; making excellent egg custard tarts must have proven very profitable for them indeed!

Golden Gate Bakery's egg custard tarts are considered on the "expensive" side at about $1.25 a piece - this is one of the reasons very few people make them at home because it really is so much cheaper to buy them. The tart shell pastry is also notoriously difficult to duplicate - although most recipes for Chinese flaky pastry involve a "water dough" and "oil dough" similar to the détrempe and beurrage used in puff pastry and the execution seems straightforward, somehow the tarts from the good bakeries always seem to have a supernatural flakiness and crispness that is, so far, out of my reach. If anyone has managed to penetrate the secrets of the egg custard tart, let me know!

If you do make it to San Francisco and visit Chinatown, do wander down Stockton Street and take in the amazing bustle of its denizens shopping, working, and living shoulder to shoulder in one of the most densely populated neighborhoods in the US. You'll see stores and restaurants that have been around for years with yellowed menus taped to the walls, delis with whole barbecued pigs and roast ducks hanging in the windows, giant delivery trucks unloading produce at all times of day to the hands of waiting shoppers. Don't go onto neighboring Grant Street unless you want a hefty dose of cheesy touristy silliness; wait until you get to Jackson Street to turn onto Grant, because Golden Gate Bakery will be just a few stores down. There will probably be a line, and be sure you bring enough cash because that's all they accept. But it's worth it for those sweet happiness-inducing handfuls - I'm as enamored of them now as I was years ago as a small child.

Golden Gate Bakery

1029 Grant Avenue

San Francisco, CA 94133

415-781-2627

For those of you wanting to brave egg custard tart making at home, here are a few online recipes as well as a dedicated eGullet thread. Several of these recipes use a shortcrust pastry, which is considerably simple and can yield delicious results as well - I've had more successes with them than with the flaky pastry.

Tagged with: dan tat + egg custard tart + Golden Gate Bakery

Bite This!

An Abundance of Summer

Back in the blogosphere...a happy sigh that my computer is up and running again! I'm glad I finally get to share some of what's been happening in my kitchen - a lot of sweet, succulent, summer fruit!

It's been a pleasurable challenge trying to keep up with the abundance of fruit coming my way - blush-colored peaches and nectarines, raspberries and blueberries bursting out of their cartons, watermelons stacked in their enticing hefty greenness. Here are a couple recipes I've made, out of the dozens begging to be made:

White Peach and Raspberry Tart with Pistachio Frangipane

What speaks the language of summer better than a fruit tart?  This, however, is a bit of a twist on the traditional berries-and-pastry cream combination. The last time I made frangipane, it was for a rich, autumn-colored tart. It turns out frangipane makes a perfectly delectable cushion for some ripe peaches and raspberries as well. The piquant nuttiness of the pistachio frangipane plays off beautifully against the floral, honeyed sweetness of the peaches and the puckery tartness of the raspberries. As well, I think the frangipane gives the tart a bit of heft and substantialness that makes it ideal for dessert after dinner, perhaps with a glass of muscato.

Instead of making the tart shell out of pâte sablée, I used pâte sucrée instead, to enhance the delicate sweetness of the dessert. A little trick I learned - brushing the par-baked tart crust with a light coat of egg wash before filling it - preve