Guest Post: The Knave Of Tarts by Peter of cookblog

The Spain in Iowa Summer Blogger Series. A series to highlight people and their passion for food, culture and life. These are some of the people that continually inspire me in my own blog and life. My hope is that they will inspire you as well.

Today, I’d like to introduce you to cookblog.

Is it odd that I’ve noticed that many artisanal food bloggers with a do it yourself mentality also happen to be artists?  That’s Peter and one of the reasons his blog draws me in.

An artist and food editor, Peter grows his own food, cures, ferments and cooks.  It’s his simple, peasant cooking techniques and artisanal creations which I find irresistible.

Sourdough, tongue pastrami, homemade cheeses, terrine, pickled ramps and much… much more.

Each post filled with witty sarcasm yet passion.

I know once you get a taste for cookblog you’ll be inspired.  Peter can also be found on the cookblog facebook fan page or you can purchase some of his ceramic creations on etsy.

Since Diana kindly invited me to write a guest post, I had to spend a little while thinking what might be useful to her blog’s readership, which is clearly much more civilized than my own. I’m not a big fan of recipes, since I like to improvise and they tend to get in the way of that. But there are a couple of things that I make exactly the same way every time, and one of them is my Grandmother’s pie crust. It’s perfect, and I have yet to meet a guest or family member who does not endorse that statement wholeheartedly. It’s one of the very most useful items I can think of to have on hand in the fridge or freezer; it can turn a few random scraps and a handful of garden into a truly special meal, and what it does under a layer of choice fruit is so sublimely pleasurable that it’s probably illegal in Texas. Since I’ve been making a lot of tarts lately–summer is after all the season of glowingly fresh fruit and vegetables–I thought I’d share the recipe for the crust and a couple of important techniques to making sure that the result is as good as it can be.

First, the notes:

1. This recipe makes enough crust for two open tarts made in an 11″ fluted pan with the removable bottom. I have a few deep pyrex pie pans, and I never use them. I find just about all covered pies to be too sweet, too heavy, and drowning in starch-thickened goo that makes my teeth hurt. I like a thin, graceful, elegant open-face tart with a perfect balance between topping and crust. Once you get a feel for this dough, you’ll be able to roll it out as thin as it needs to be and you’ll be glad you did.

2. If you roll it out that thin, you won’t need to blind bake it, saving time and effort. I have a jar of chick peas that I use as pie weights, but more and more lately I just skip that part. When the tart is thin, your crust will brown perfectly while the stuff up top does what it needs to do. A slice lifted by the outer edge will remain perfectly flat when it’s done right, with no sagging. Elegant, I say.

OK, the recipe:

1.5 cups white AP flour

1 stick unsalted butter, frozen

small cup of ice water

pinch of salt

That’s it. Feel free to mess around with different flours if you like, but make it this way a couple of times so you get how it’s supposed to turn out.

Cut the butter into about 1/4″ slices and put into bowl of food processor along with flour and salt. Pulse a couple of times to combine. Turn on the fo-pro and dribble in the water in a thin stream (don’t let the ice fall in) while watching the dough carefully. It’s hard to describe, but you can see the moment when there’s enough moisture to allow the dough to cohere, and this will occur right about the time that your butter is cut into small lumps that are just the right size. Feel free to open it up and give it a squeeze if you can’t tell how moist it is. Remember that it’s easy to add more water, but not so easy to remove it if you put in too much. I’m not giving exact measurements because your flour and humidity are going to vary, and it’s important to develop the feel for this.

Once it will all stick together into a ball (but not too stickily, or you’ll need a lot of flour come rolling-out time) shape it into that ball, cut it in half, and wrap each lump tightly in plastic or similar and put them in the fridge (or put one in the fridge for dinner or dessert and the other in the freezer for another time, which is what I do). It will keep, wrapped well, for about a week in the fridge.

Heat the oven to 375˚. After at least a half hour rest, take it out and roll with a floured pin into a circle a bit larger than your pan. Don’t be shy with the flour–sticking is a drag–and flip it frequently to help it stretch. Butter your pan and drape the dough over it. Pinch off any excess dough, using the fluted edge as a knife, and use the scraps to patch any holes or thin spots, pushing them in firmly so they really fuse with the rest. Now top it.

If you try this, do yourself a favor and try it more than once, especially if you’re not a seasoned baker. This is a little tricky, since adding the water takes a light touch and the crust really wants to be rolled thin. (It won’t be bad if it’s thick, but the magic equilibrium will be diminished). Give yourself a chance to learn it and see how you like it compared to your standard recipe. Whatever kind you make, bake for about 40 minutes, but keep an eye on it. The thickness and ripeness of your toppings and variations from oven to oven will make a difference. What matters is that the bottom has time to get brown and crisp.

Here’s one I made last week with all the glorious local, organic fruit from the weekly market in town: doughnut peaches, apricots, nectarines, and blackberries, all arranged nicely and topped with a drizzle of maple syrup and a sprinkle of vanilla sugar. It’s worth adding another note here, which is that you should try to use less sweetener than you might be inclined to; I love for the natural acidity of the fruit to come through and play with the sweetness the way it does in real fruit. For very wet fruit, my Grandmother would sprinkle tapioca on the crust before adding the fruit so it would absorb and swell and make a nice extra little layer between crust and fruit. A few dots of butter on top never hurt, either. I like to make a glaze from a little apricot jam or apple jelly, a splash of local brandy, a shake of 5-spice, and a twist of black pepper and brush it on after the tart comes out, but in the case of this one there was enough juice puddled between the fruit so I just dipped my brush in there and spread it around to coat everything. This works famously with apples, pears, stone fruit, berries–anything you make pie from.When the crust is thin and the fruit is not much thicker, there’s an unbelievably pleasurable and sophisticated dialogue between the buttery, flaky, slightly salty crust and the sweet/tart fruit, and yet kids will put it away as enthusiastically as the adults do.

As for savory tarts, whatever you have on hand will work. One of my favorites is a layer of grated gruyère, a layer of caramelized leeks (or onions) and then toasted pine nuts scattered on top, finished with thyme and truffle oil. For parties sometimes I like to bake little individual tarts in muffin tins for a classier presentation. This one is a whole bunch of garden that I sautéed with some homemade miso-cured bacon and spread over grated local cheddar.  This wonderful crust allowed me to turn this:

into this:

in about an hour, most of which time I spent playing with my Son while it baked.

This one is even simpler, and shows just exactly how refined a few bits and pieces can become when arranged on such a noble substrate as this fine pastry. Running late come dinner time today, I grabbed the dough, rolled it out, and poured in four eggs beaten with a grated heel of smoked cheddar, thyme, and a little salt and pepper. I topped that with basil leaves, then sliced Brandywines, then a pinch more salt and pepper. Freaking amazing, and exactly what a warm summer evening demands. Some arugula salad (with homemade vinaigrette, but that’s another post) and a glass of rosé and it was simply as good as home cooking gets; I would serve this or something like it to the most special guests. I’m eating a piece of it now while I’m writing, and getting crumbs all over Diana’s blog. That’ll teach her to have me over.