Category Archives: Main Course/Entree

Alsatian Onion Tart (Zwiebelkuchen)

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An onion tart with three slices cut

TODAY’S MUSINGS:
I worked briefly for a hot-shot, marketing executive, Bob G, who would, on occasion, call me out for misusing a word.  He’d say something like, “I don’t think you understand what that word means,” or “You’re not using that word correctly.” Because he sat in the C-suites, had a Marketing degree from some prestigious college, was a man (I’m loath to admit that affected me), and was older, I bit my tongue and deferred to him while stewing inside.

One of those words was “ruminate.”  We were discussing the best marketing methods for attracting potential customers to the very-large, very-expensive custom trade show booth I was having built.  We were spit-balling. I had some ideas; he voiced his own thoughts.  He brought up Danica Patrick more than once. I wanted time to consider these options while also mulling over grander schemes we hadn’t yet fathomed so, I said, “Give me the weekend to ruminate on it.”  Bob replied, “I don’t think you understand what that word means.”  Granted, using the word, “ruminate,” was perhaps hyperbole on my part.  One ruminates about the meaning of life, a recent breakup, or how to stop global warming, but, from my perspective, using the word “ruminate” meant, “let me give this topic careful consideration over the weekend, reflecting on our conversation thus far, and remaining receptive to other ideas that may bubble up.”  In other words, let me chew on it a bit.  Bob seemed rather smug for calling me out.  The Oxford Dictionary defines “ruminate” as “to think deeply about something.” So, what do you think, was it perhaps Bob who did not fully understand the meaning of the word?

During another meeting, coincidentally while discussing the same very-large, very-expensive trade show booth, I mentioned that the attached meeting room would be enclosed by frosted plexiglass windows, providing plenty of light for conducting business while simultaneously blocking the proceedings from any passerby.  Bob asked me, “Are they opaque?” I answered, “No, it’s frosted plexiglass.  The windows are semi-opaque.” Bob responded, “They need to be opaque, so no one can see who is in the meeting.”  My response was, “They won’t be able to see in.  They will possibly see blurred movement behind the frosted plexiglass.”  “So, it’s opaque.” “No, it’s semi-opaque.” We probably went back and forth with variations of the same question/answer process four or five times, Bob getting more emphatic that frosted plexiglass was opaque until I finally said, “let me bring you a material sample,” as a way to end the conversation. As someone who has worn nylons, stockings, and tights, I, and other women my age, am very well versed in the difference between opaque and semi-opaque.  Semi-Opaque:  not fully clear or transparent. Thus, the frosted windows were semi-opaque. 

Bob wasn’t a bad guy.  I’m unclear why he felt it was acceptable to question my intellectual acuity and English vocabulary comprehension. In other words, I’ve ruminated on the opacity of his rationale.  I doubt he would similarly question a peer, particularly a male peer.   In hindsight, I wish I had the confidence each time he questioned my “understanding” of a word to say, “Really?  Let’s look it up together!”

TODAY’S RECIPE:
This recipe for Alsatian Onion Tart is adapted from the tart Andre Soltner served at Lutèce in NY. Baking the tart on a pre-heated sheet pan helps ensure a crisp bottom crust.

Alsatian Onion Tart (Zwiebelkuchen)

This is a savory tart from the Alsace Lorraine region of France. It's richer than your standard quiche; I’d expect nothing less from my Alsatian heritage. Use regular white or yellow onions – not sweet. The long, slow sautéing of the onions already sweetens them up. To gild the lily, cubed bacon can be sprinkled over the tart before baking.


Ingredients

  • 1 9” tart crust (homemade pâte brisée or pre-made refrigerated shell)
  • 2 yellow or white onions cut lengthwise and thinly sliced crosswise (with mandolin, if possible)
  • 2 Tablespoons butter
  • ½ teaspoon salt
  • 1 large egg
  • ½ cup heavy cream
  • ½ cup grated Muenster cheese
  • 1 Tablespoon chopped fresh thyme
  • ¼ teaspoon nutmeg
  • ¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper

Directions

  1. Preheat oven to 350° F. Place a sheet pan on the lowest rack of the oven. Line a 9” tart pan with crust and dock. Freeze for 30 minutes.
  2. Sauté onions in a large skillet over medium-high heat with butter and salt, scraping up the browned bits occasionally, until onions are golden and tender, 20-30 minutes Set aside to cool.
  3. Meanwhile, line tart shell with parchment paper and fill with rice, beans, or pie weights. Place tart pan on top of sheet pan and blind bake for 12 minutes. Remove parchment and rice, beans, or weights and bake another 10 minutes until sides of tart are beginning to color and bottom looks cooked. Remove from oven.
  4. In a bowl, whisk together egg, heavy cream, Muenster cheese, thyme, nutmeg, and pepper. Add egg mixture to cooled onion mixture, scraping up any remaining brown bits from bottom of pan. Pour onion mixture into tart shell and spread evenly.
  5. Bake 30–35 minutes on the sheet pan until filling is golden brown and set. If the edges of the crust brown too quickly, cover edges with foil. Cool 10 minutes and serve hot.

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Vegan Lasagna

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A pan of vegan lasagna with a pice taken out

Today’s Musings:
At first glance, 2021 appeared to be a 7” version of 2020, the single (kudos to anyone who is old enough to understand that reference). And that distills down to a tale of opposition – heated, angry, fractious opposition…fact/science/proof/experts vs. anecdotal evidence/conspiracy theories/personal (internet) research. When I think of a personification of America today, an image of “Bison Guy” from the Capitol mob attack, rather than Uncle Sam, springs to mind. Our collective New Year’s Eve was again spent in isolation (thanks Delta), anti-vaxxers still refuse to get vaxxed, Global warming continues its march as glaciers melt, fires burn and wildlife suffers – starving, homeless, and unable to escape inevitable extinction. In Texas and other states, old white men still insist on regulating my body. Black men continue to get killed for minor or non-existent infractions of the law.

And yet, for me, 2021 provided me with a clearer focus of who I am and where I’m striving to go. A major shift, 2021 was about GROWTH. I started the year by finding my voice – my loud, outdoor, “I matter” voice – as I recounted my uncensored personal struggle to survive the aftermath of a toxic relationship. I felt ill as I hit the “publish” button each day, afraid of the repercussions, emotional and potentially physical, yet forged ahead irrespective of my fear, buoyed by friends, fellow victims and a therapist. I burned a few bridges in the process, telling my truth – what happened to me and my subsequent healing. If others were incensed by my brash decision to speak out, that’s their burden.  Overall, however, the response was overwhelmingly positive – counselors, educators, and victims thanked me for sharing my experience and assured me my words matter.  

That farce of a relationship compelled me to take a stark look at my own culpability. I chose to pursue him,  to not ask questions, to ignore the red flags which, in hindsight, waved furiously in front of my eyes throughout my time with him. Life doesn’t allow do-overs. I couldn’t return to the time before, start over, make better choices, but I could sure as hell ensure it never happened again. So, using this specific tragic coupling along with other previous disastrous relationships as guides, I created a list of eight must-have, line-in-the-sand characteristics the next man would possess. No longer would I be blinded and distracted by charm, superficialities, or the dark, damaged men I inexplicably find so appealing. I created a roadmap for the type of love I deserve.

In addition to romantic love, 2021 offered fertile ground for nascent buds of new female friendships to bloom and grow as well. A few years ago, I developed an inkling that my inner-circle, my sounding-boards, my confidants, didn’t always have my best interests in mind or, when they did, didn’t fully understand my perspective. Taking the quote, “You can’t change the people around you, but you can change the people around you,” to heart, I began developing friendships with an expanded circle of women who shared my lifestyle, goals and perspective; women who built each other up instead of competing; women who were smart and funny and lived full lives. I’ve enjoyed connecting with this new pussy-posse, building friendships, and supporting them as much, I hope, as they’ve supported me. Two of these fabulous women, in fact, encouraged me to write the cookbook I began in March, a humongous exercise in personal growth.

The recipe below is an additional testament to my 2021 evolution. This time last year, I was baking up Gourmet S’mores and Rocky Road Pie, while my kitchen staples amounted to whole milk, whipping cream, butter blocks, eggs, and cheese wedges. Then, in July, I met Mr. M. – a vegan (gasp!). Food avoidance is ordinarily a deal-breaker in my book, and vegans…well, vegans, no matter their laudable motives, are culinary self-flagellators and should be avoided. Yet, before I closed the door on us permanently, I perused my new “must have, line-in-the-sand” list referenced above and also pinned prominently on my bulletin board. I scanned the list for mention of dietary restrictions and found none. This culinary quirk was obviously not as important as I thought. So, I gave us a chance, with happy results. Shortly after we became a couple, my annual blood test showed alarmingly high cholesterol levels (see previous list of kitchen  staples – is  it any wonder?!) prompting a choice – statins or a diet overhaul. I chose the latter – while not vegan or even vegetarian, the beginning of 2022 finds me with a refrigerator full of vegetables, “plant based” bacon, creamer, mozzarella, pepperoni, and butter – and a 13 x 9 inch pan filled with the remnants of our New Year’s Eve dinner – my version of vegan lasagna. Growth, indeed.

Happy New Year!

 Today’s Recipe:


Vegan Lasagna

Layers of vegetables and plant-based ricotta result in surprisingly satisfying Italian comfort food – you won’t miss the meat. It tastes even better the next day, after the flavors have had time to meld.


Ingredients

    Lasagna
  • ½ onion, diced
  • 1 red bell pepper, stemmed, seeded and diced
  • 10 oz. package sliced cremini mushrooms
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 6 oz. package baby spinach
  • 12 oz. jar marinated artichoke hearts, chopped
  • 24 oz. jar tomato basil marinara sauce
  • 12 sheets no-boil lasagna noodles
  • 16 oz. vegan ricotta, divided in half
  • 4 oz. vegan parmesan, divided in thirds
    • Bechamel
  • 2 Tablespoons vegan butter
  • 2 Tablespoons flour
  • 1 cup oat milk
  • pinch nutmeg

Directions

  1. Make Lasagna: In a large pan, sauté onion and red bell pepper in olive oil until beginning to soften. Add cremini mushrooms and sauté until mushrooms have released their juices and onions are beginning to brown. Add garlic and baby spinach and sauté until spinach is wilted. Remove from heat, stir in artichoke hearts and approximately ½ cup marinara sauce. Season with salt and pepper.
  2. Cover bottom of a 13” x 9” pan with about ¼ cup marinara sauce. Dip lasagna noodles in additional sauce and cover bottom of pan with one layer of noodles. Spread ½ of vegetable filling over noodles. Cover noodles with half the ricotta and a third of the parmesan. Continue with another layer of marinara dipped noodles, vegetable filling, ricotta and parmesan. Cover parmesan with one more layer of marinara dipped noodles – you should have 3 layers of noodles, and two layers of vegetables and ricotta.
  3. Make Bechamel: Melt butter in a small sauce pan. Add flour and whisk until thoroughly combined. Continue whisking for another minute, but do not let the “roux” brown. Add milk and bring to a simmer. Cook bechamel until it resembles a thin pancake batter. Remove from heat and season with nutmeg, salt and pepper. Pour bechamel over lasagna and sprinkle with remaining parmesan. Cover with foil and let lasagna rest at room temperature for 30 minutes to allow noodles to soften.
  4. Preheat oven to 375° F. Bake lasagna, covered, for 30 minutes. Remove foil and bake for another 15 minutes or until lasagna is bubbly and edges are beginning to crisp. Remove from oven and let rest for 20 minutes to ensure it slices cleanly when cut.

Firefighter’s Jambalaya

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Today’s Musings:
An artifact formerly excavated…

Russell claimed his eyes were hazel, but I disagreed.  Russell is slightly colorblind, so  he’s never looked in a mirror and contemplated the nuances of his irises;  he’s relied on others’ interpretations.  I’m reminded of that parable about the three blind men and an elephant.  Perhaps, at one specific moment, on a particular day,  his eyes did appear hazel, but they are not so easily described.  Hazel is a catch-all category,  for those lacking the vocabulary to describe an iris’s shade in more, um, er, colorful terms.  Hazel eyes, by definition,  are a combination of green, brown, and golden hues, decidedly not the shade of Russell’s.  I’m the one with eyes of hazel – a drab olive green with rays of russet brown and a few flecks of ocher. When asked,  I liken their unremarkable color to dirty pond water. 

Russell’s eyes were grey – a light bluish slate. He dismissed my assessment, assuring me his driver’s license states differently and also insisting I’m the only person who has ever mentioned the smoke-hued mirrors beneath his lashes.  Has anyone else bothered to examine them closely, I wonder?  Their shade rippled, mutable, depending on his clothes or the light, shifting from pale sky to the faintest sage. I’m sure the silver from his hair held sway over these misty specters, as well.

When in the throes of passion or paroxysms of anger – states I witnessed in equal measure – these portholes to his psyche grew graphite dark,  like storm clouds just before the deluge.  When our romance still blossomed,  this kaleidoscope of shifting greys and blues and greens transfixed me; the emerging of a yet unobserved color arresting me mid-sentence with their beauty.  However, once his kindness drained away, replaced by indifference and contempt,  I was met with windows of the bleakest winter, two gravestones,  hard, cold, and unyielding grey as he seethed and accused. 

I examine images of his face now, looking deeply in eyes both right and left, trying to fathom how I was fooled – and only flat, blank, detached emptiness stares back at me.

Today’s Recipe:

Firefighter’s Jambalaya

This jambalaya is a hearty combination of sausage, ham, chicken, and shrimp that can feed a large family or small party.


Ingredients

  • 4 Tablespoons ( ½ stick) unsalted butter
  • 1 lbs. Andouille or smoked sausage, sliced
  • 1 lbs. ham steak, diced
  • 1 lbs. chicken thighs, skin, boned and diced
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 3 stalks celery, chopped
  • 1 green pepper, chopped
  • 4 scallions, sliced
  • 4 garlic cloves, minced
  • 2 c. rice, uncooked
  • 4 Tablespoons, flour
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 1 teaspoon thyme
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon white pepper
  • ½ teaspoon cayenne
  • ¼ teaspoon cumin
  • ¼ teaspoon allspice
  • 1 14 ½ oz. canned tomatoes, chopped
  • 8 cups beef stock
  • 2 lbs. raw shrimp, peeled and deveined

Directions

  1. Melt butter in a large, heavy, Dutch oven. Cook sausage, ham, and chicken until beginning to brown. Add onion, celery, green pepper and scallions and lightly brown. Add garlic and cook until fragrant, 30 minutes. Add rice and combined. Stir in flour and spices. Add canned tomatoes and stock. Bring to a boil, reduce and simmer until rice is cooked through, 35 – 45 minutes.
  2. Add shrimp and cook another 5-7 minutes until shrimp is cooked.

Pizza Margherita

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A pizza margherita with a slice taken out

Today’s Musings:
When you press the “start” button, you expect electronics to…start.  So, when something doesn’t, like your computer, it can be unsettling.  At first, you don’t panic. You check the cords and the outlet. You remove the battery, wait ten seconds, replace it, press the “start” button again and nothing happens – at all.  Frustrated at this point, you try pressing the “on” button multiple times (although this tactic never works) then try holding the button down, yet you are still met with a black screen – not a blue screen of death, not a beep, not a whir. Nothing.  Now, you are frightened.

You know you should backup your files on a regular basis.  You know your laptop has been unreliable in recent months, and yet you just assume it’ll turn on nightly, as needed.  You’ve been contemplating buying a new one (an expense you don’t really need right now), and rue the realization that you should have spent the dough (cost be damned!).  You envision the hundreds of food photos saved only there and the photos of you with family and friends, long dead.  You recall your resume and the retirement documents you worked on diligently and saved nowhere else.  You are acutely aware of the hours your fingers have massaged the keyboard this past month –  first finishing a 60-page memoir on love that hadn’t been touched in 11 years and, more recently, the beginnings of a book and the 16,000 words you have typed already – and you thank providence that you at least backed up both on a jump drive last week – only some of the work will be lost.  You think about the list of book club selections for 2021 only saved on the desktop and multiple half-finished blog posts and recipes that are irretrievable.  You feel sick.

You hope it’s merely the AC adaptor, order a new one, and deflate when you see it’s not scheduled to arrive for 12 days.  Can you wait 12 days?  If not the adaptor, the next step is the computer hospital, but they weren’t much help on the last visit, just a few weeks ago.  You had plans to write this weekend.  It’s rainy, it’s cold, and your plans for the day included a log in the fireplace, candles scattered on your desk, a sleeping kitty on your lap and words, words, word.  You try to remain calm; you adjust your weekend plans for more time in the kitchen.  If not writing memoirs, then perfecting recipes it is.

You promise yourself that if you can, just one last time, retrieve your files, you’ll buy that new laptop immediately.  You write all these thoughts out longhand – your hopes, your frustrations, your disappointments, your fears, and realize you just need to put your panic aside and move forward.  12 days cannot come soon enough.

(Update:  The AC adaptor did the trick – sort of – it still took me five tries to boot up.  I need a new laptop – and a backup drive – today. )

Today’s Recipe:
With unexpected kitchen time on my hands, and a 25-lbs. bag of “OO” flour reaching its expiration date, I decided to try my hand at a simple Pizza Margherita.  Many of you probably have a pizza stone – I don’t buy a lot of kitchen gadgets, including a pizza stone, so I don’t mention one here, but if you have one, please feel free to use it – it’s only going to help.


PIZZA MARGHERITA

  • Servings: One 14” Pizza
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The perfect pizza margherita is crisp along the outside and, when you cut a slice, the tip just slightly dips down.


Ingredients

  • ¾ cup water, 105⁰ – 110⁰
  • 2 ¼ teaspoons (1 package) active dry yeast
  • 1 ¾ cups “OO” flour, divided
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 2 teaspoons olive oil
  • 2 large garlic cloves, finely chopped
  • 1 14-oz. can whole San Marzano tomatoes in juice, chopped*
  • 1 Tablespoon tomato paste
  • 6 oz. fresh mozzarella, cut into ¼” slices
  • 6-10 fresh basil leaves, torn if large

Directions

  1. In a liquid measuring cup, sprinkle the yeast over the warm water and set aside for about 5 minutes.
  2. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a dough hook, combine yeast mixture, 1¼ cups flour, salt, and olive oil. Mix ingredients on low until fully combined. Add additional flour until dough pulls away from the side of the bowl. On medium-low, knead the dough until smooth, soft and elastic, about 8-10 minutes. Form into a ball, place into an oiled bowl and cover with plastic wrap in a warm draft-free area until doubled in size, about 1 hour.
  3. Meanwhile, in a medium saucepan, cook garlic in a little oil until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add tomatoes with juice and tomato paste. Simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until thickened and reduced, about 30 minutes. Season with salt and chill in the refrigerator until ready to use.
  4. Place a baking sheet on the bottom rack of the oven and preheat to 500⁰ F. Scrape dough onto a large piece of lightly-floured parchment. Pat, stretch, or roll dough into a 14” circle on parchment.
  5. Spread sauce over dough, leaving a 1” border. Arrange cheese on top, leaving a 2” border (cheese bubbles and spreads). Slide pizza on parchment onto preheated baking sheet. Bake until pizza is crisp and golden and cheese is bubbling and browning in spots, about 15 minutes. With a spatula, look underneath the pizza to ensure it is well browned. Transfer pizza to cutting board, cool 5 minutes, sprinkle with basil leaves, slice and serve.

* You may be tempted to pick up a can of diced tomatoes to save yourself the work.  I don’t recommend it. Diced tomatoes contain calcium chloride, which means they won’t break down like regular tomatoes.  They’ll retain their bite and shape even when cooked and we are not looking for a chunky tomato sauce.

Tarte Flambée (Flammekueche)

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Today’s Musings:
During my semi-regular pilgrimage to the Mecca known as Trader Joe’s, I follow a specific ritual.  After anointing my red shopping cart handle with sanitizer, I weave my way through each aisle, starting at the first station, flowers and fresh vegetables, and completing my procession at wine and cheese, before ultimately paying my tithe to the cashier.  In the frozen food aisle, alongside the frozen pizzas, without fail, I slightly genuflect, reaching into the freezer to pull out one, if not two, Tarte Flambée. 

I discovered Tarte Flambée in 2006 while visiting my grandfather’s hometown of Strasbourg, FR.  Strasbourg and the surrounding Alsace Lorraine region is unlike any other in France.  Situated along Germany’s border, Strasbourg has, at certain points in history, been annexed to both France and Germany, a result of various wars.  In fact, my grandfather considered himself German, while his sister, Lucette, was decidedly French. Oui?  The official language is French, but the indigenous language spoken is Alsatian, which is its own beast – a southern German dialect influenced over time by French. So, although part of France, they don’t really speak French, the city doesn’t look French, and their food in undeniably heartier than most French fare. 

On arriving in Strasbourg, our hotel proprietor recommended we dine at a local neighborhood winstub.  Winstubs, as you can probably guess by now, are distinctly Alsatian – and unlike any French bistro I’ve frequented.  These charming little wine bars are snuggled within old, half-timbered buildings, and chocked full of Alsatian charm – rustic tables, low ceilings, wood-burning stoves, and comfortable, cozy nooks where you can relax, sip a local wine and order something to nosh. 

This particular winstub was brimming with locals; we being the only foreigners.  The limited menu catered to our adventuresome palates.  I recall braised rabbit, choucroute, foie gras, and something called Tarte Flambée.  Neither my tablemates nor I were familiar with Tarte Flambée and asked our server to explain – of course, we don’t speak Alsatian (or German or French), and she didn’t speak English, but from what we could gather through hand gestures and vigorous head-nodding (and after a trip to the kitchen to show us the ambiguous “herb” she managed to translate),  we discovered Tarte Flambée is similar to a crispy thin-crust pizza (although any Alsatian would slap me for even mentioning pizza) with a creamy sauce of crème fraîche and fromage blanc (a fresh cow’s milk cheese), sparingly sprinkled with lardons (thin slices of slab bacon), and onion,  grilled hot and fast for a crispy, cracker-like crust, and sometimes garnished with “herbs” (typically parsley or chives).  Oh heaven!  We devoured our first Flambée in minutes and then proceeded in the next week to make our way through Alsace Lorraine ordering Tarte Flambée whenever we had a chance, usually for lunch with a salad or pâté.  During our travels, we happened upon a few variations which included adding a sprinkle of local Munster cheese (la gratinée), or thinly sliced mushrooms (la forestière), although I prefer the simpler version. 

Trader’s offers a pretty damn good frozen facsimile in a pinch and I enjoy one almost weekly.  Eschewing the directions on the box, I bake the frozen (and therefore stiff) version directly on the oven rack (no sheet pan) and tend to cook it in a bit longer than recommended (I’m aiming for a crisp crust from edges to middle).  The serving suggestion of 2-4 people makes me giggle – serving for one is more like it. 

Today’s Recipe:
When I have more time – or I don’t want to trek to Trader’s, I use the following recipe.  The trick to an authentic Tarte Flambée is “restraint” which, for anyone who follows this blog, knows isn’t a strength of mine.  However, if you pile on the bacon and onions and add tons of cheese, you’ll never get the crisp crust holy grail you are looking for.  Also, I’ve simplified the recipe a bit – substituting the fromage blanc for 100% crème fraîche.  Finally, unlike pizza, this crust doesn’t require yeast, making it quicker to throw together.


Tarte Flambée

  • Servings: One 12” tarte
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Tarte Flambée is similar to a crispy thin-crust pizza with a creamy sauce, sprinkled with bacon and onion, and then grilled hot and fast for a crispy cracker-like crust.


Ingredients

  • 2 strips thick-cut bacon, chopped
  • ⅓ cup onion, thinly sliced and then chopped
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour, plus more for rolling
  • ¼ teaspoon salt
  • 4 teaspoons canola oil
  • ¼ cup water, plus more if needed
  • ¼ cup crème fraîche
  • ¼ teaspoon salt
  • ⅛ teaspoon freshly-ground pepper
  • ⅛ teaspoon nutmeg
  • parsley or chives (optional)

Directions

  1. In a small pan, partially cook bacon until fat renders, but not until bacon is crispy. Remove bacon and drain on a paper towel. Partially cook onion in bacon fat until soft, but not brown. Add to bacon.
  2. In a medium size bowl, combine flour and salt. Make a well in the center and add oil and ¼ cup water. Slowly combine using your fingers until it becomes a shaggy dough. If the dough is too dry, add additional water 1 teaspoon at a time. Knead dough 2-3 times and shape into a ball. Wrap dough in plastic wrap and let rest for 10 minutes.
  3. Meanwhile, preheat a baking pan on the lowest rack of a 550⁰ F. oven.
  4. While the dough is resting and the oven is preheating, combine crème fraîche, salt, pepper and nutmeg in a small bowl and set aside.
  5. Dust dough with flour and roll into a 12” circle between 2 pieces of parchment. Remove top layer of parchment and spread crème fraîche mixture over dough leaving a ½” border. Dot with bacon and onions and decoratively pinch border of dough.
  6. Using lower parchment sheet, transfer Tarte Flambée to preheated baking sheet. Bake for 10-12 minutes. Do not be alarmed if edges of parchment darken in the very hot oven. Remove from oven, let cool for 1-2 minutes, sprinkle with parsley or chives (if using) and cut into wedges. Enjoy immediately.