A Tart Little Tart

What a beautiful thing a blood orange is.  Deep garnet in color and exquisitely tart in flavor, these gems can brighten anybody's rainy February day.  As a fanatic for fruit, I'm especially taken with them during these lean months.  The colder it is outside, the more my body craves a good jolt of citrus.

A few weeks ago my friend at http://butterdate.blogspot.com/ cooked us a wonderful multi-dish meal that ended perfectly with an orange tart.  Delighted,  I devoured quite a few pieces, and then a few more the next morning.  Gorgeous splashes of citrus are nestled in an indulgent almond cream (one really cannot go wrong when almond cream is involved) and baked atop a flaky, buttery crust.  Pure winter tart heaven.  And quite handsome to boot.

My only mistake was not immediately begging her for the recipe, which is from the beautiful Big Sur Bakery cookbook.  Instead, when the craving hit,  I scanned multiple versions online and finally made sense of the full recipe by taking bits and pieces from each.  Every step was attempted with a little trepidation - I only had so many oranges and going to the store in the rain was not an option - but in about two hours flat I had a dazzling blood orange tart that was deemed wonderful upon the first bite.  Nothing like a tart little tart to perk up your Tuesday.

BLOOD ORANGE TART 

Adapted loosely from Big Sur Bakery

Serves 4 - 8

For Almond Cream: 
1/3 cup almonds, toasted and coarsely chopped
3 tbsp salted butter, softened
1/4 cup powdered sugar
1 tsp almond extract
1/2 tsp salt
1 egg yolk
1 tbsp + 1 tsp all-purpose flour

For Tart Dough: 
3/4 cups (12 tbsp) cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes  
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus extra for dusting
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
grated zest of one orange 
5 - 6 tbsp orange juice

For Assembling the Tart: 
1/3 cup orange marmalade (or any marmalade you fancy)
3 - 4 mixed oranges, or more if needed
1 egg, beaten
1 tbsp sugar
1/2 tbsp cold unsalted butter

Preheat your oven to 350 F.  Spread almonds on a baking tray and toast until fragrant and just browning, about 7-8 minutes.  Be careful not to burn them.  When they are cool, chop them coarsely.

Prepare your tart dough: in a medium sized bowl, combine butter, flour, sugar, salt, and zest.  Using your fingers, cut the butter and combine it with the dry ingredients until the butter is crumbly and the size of small peas.  Add the orange juice a few tablespoons at a time, mixing as you go until the dough is forming a ball and staying together.  It should be just a little sticky.  Turn out onto a well-floured surface and kneed until a smooth ball forms, about a minute.  Cover it with plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator for 30 minutes, or until very cold. 

Make the almond cream: combine softened butter, powdered sugar, almond extract and salt using an electric hand mixer until well blended and fluffy.  Slowly, add the egg yolk and then the flour.  Mix until well combined.  Fold in the chopped almonds.  It should be almost the consistency of peanut butter.   Keep at room temperature. 

Set your oven temperature to 375 F. 

On well-floured parchment paper, roll out the tart dough.  Don't worry about it looking rustic and misshapen, that's half the fun!  Transfer to baking tray.  Using a spoon, top with the marmalade, leaving a one inch border around the edge.  Cover the jam with a layer of almond cream.  Fold in the edges creating a crust to prevent the jam from oozing out.  Put in the refrigerator for 30 minutes. 

Prepare the citrus: using a paring knife, cut off each end of the orange.  Following the curve of the fruit, cut off the pith and peel.  Slice the oranges into thin rounds, removing seeds as you go.  

Assemble the tart: remove it from the refrigerator.  Top with citrus rounds.  Brush crust with beaten egg and sprinkle the whole thing with sugar.  Dot the oranges with butter to avoid burning.  

Bake for 40 - 45 minutes, or until the crust and almond cream are a toasty golden brown.  Cool before serving.  Fabulous for breakfast the next day. 

And every good morsel deserves a delicious sip of something, don't you think?  In this case, I went with color - because why not - and popped some Loire Valley pink bubbly.  I was feeling all sorts of celebratory and knew that a little sparkling rose would do the trick.  This particular bottle is one of my favorites.   From biodynamic Clos de la Briderie, the Purete de Silex Brut Rose is made from Pineau d'Aunis, Pinot Noir, Grolleau Gris, and Groslot Noir - major players in the Loire Valley.  It is smashingly bright pink, the color of the day!  Ripe strawberry, zest, hints of cranberry, a subtle toastiness.  Best sipped while dreaming of spring's promise of sunshine or relishing in winter's citrus bounty.  And for under $20, this bottle is a complete steal.  All smiles.

Get your quince on.

Quince is one of those fruits that you hear about, but don't really know what it tastes like nor how to properly use it.  Like lychee and loganberry.  For me at least.  

So, when I saw that Lee was selling quince at his farmstand, I had to buy a few to experiment.  They sat in my fridge for a week or so, while I read over tons and tons of recipes.  Initially I was just going to use them like apples in a savory roast chicken dish.  Cut them into quarters, toss with some butter and olive oil, thyme, sage, etc, and roast alongside the chicken.  Seemed like an easy way to cook them, and their faint floral notes would perfume the meat and cook down into a lovely sauce.  Simplistic, but very satisfying.   

But, the more that I read, I couldn't find a single recipe that suggested using the fruit with that technique, which generally means it just isn't a good idea.  Instead, there was recipe after recipe for poached quince, quince jellies and compotes, quince syrup.  I decided to forget the roast chicken plan and stick to a recipe.  A tart recipe.  Best to leave this to the experts.

Turns out quince is a bit of a beast - it has fuzzy, thick skin and a large core, which can be a pain to cut around.  Although, with a sharp knife, determination, and a few extra minutes,  you'll do just fine.  Inside it is a pale creamy color with a texture that lies somewhere between an unripe apple and jicama.  I did not try the raw quince - the single thread between all of the recipes I had read was that uncooked quince is pretty gross.  Very bitter.

As per usual, I fussed a bit with proportions and came up with a pretty darn good dessert, and beautiful to boot.  While lining my pie tin and stewing fruit, Daniel somewhat skeptically asked if I had made this pie before.  I admitted to being an amateur with quince and declared that this pie was simply a foray into the unknown, and that my next will most certainly be better.  Turns out I don't have too much to improve upon. 

QUINCE AND APPLE TART with Star Anise
for a seven and a half inch tart tin

3 quince, peeled, cored and sliced thinly
1/4 cup honey
3/4 cup water
4 star anise 
pinch of salt

1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 tbsp flour
1 tbsp butter

1 apple, thinly sliced
shortcrust pastry dough 

In a saucepan over medium heat, combine quince, honey, water, star anise and salt.  Bring to a simmer and poach the quince until just soft, about 5 minutes.  I managed to cook mine a bit too long, so the fruit became quite mushy.  Not a problem, but if you want fruit with a bit more bite, poach for less time. 

Strain quince over another saucepan, reserving all of the liquid.  Pick out the star anise and add to saucepan.  In a small bowl, mix together brown sugar, cinnamon, salt and flour.  Add to reserved cooking liquid.  Mix in butter and cook down until thickened, about 1 - 2 minutes.  Remove star anise.  Cool in fridge or freezer for about ten minutes, or until below room temperature.

Meanwhile, line your tart tin with pastry dough.  I LOVE doing this.  It's so relaxing and satisfying.  Once lined, put your tart tin back in the fridge - keep your dough as cold as possible.  
Put a cookie tray in the oven and preheat to 500 degrees.   

Once your sauce is cool enough, fill your tart tin with cooked quince.  Arrange apple slices over the top - make it pretty - and then pour your syrup evenly over the pie.  Leave a tablespoon or two for adding mid-baking.

Put your tart into the oven, on the preheated tray, and immediately turn the oven down to 425 degrees.  Bake for about 25 minutes, and then turn down the heat to 375, and bake for another 45 minutes, or until the crust is browned and the juices are bubbling.  Make sure to spoon more of the reserved syrup over the top of the tart a few times while baking - it will moisten and flavor the apples.  

Serve with simple whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.  

My favorite part of this tart was unexpected.  Because my quince cooked down so much and became kinda mushy, I needed something to give the tart texture and to make it look pretty.  The sliced apples on top were a bit of a last minute whim, but they were fantastic.  They dried out, adding a nice chewy note and their tartness complimented the rich flavor of the star anise and honey.  Quince has delicate floral and stone fruit flavors, which became the underlying element in a seriously delicious dessert.

And in closing, I totally think that I could roast them alongside a chicken and it would be wonderful.  Perhaps I'll find a few more at the farmer's market today to play with - updates to follow!