Alsatian Onion Tart (Zwiebelkuchen)

An Onion Tart with 3 slices cut out

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.

Eccles Cakes

A plate of eccles cakes with tea

Yes, I’ll admit it – I’m a bit of an Anglophile. And, with the holidays just around the corner, I don’t simply dream of a white Christmas, but a Dickensian one. I imagine a holiday with Victorian carolers strolling snow-covered cobbled streets, a cozy Cotswold cottage lit with candles and scented with crackling roast goose and steamy figgy pudding, pulling Christmas crackers with family and friends around the table, and nibbling treats like these very British Eccles cakes.

The Eccles cake may have been created about 20 years before Dickens was even born, yet these are just the type of sweetmeat I imagine gracing Mr. Fezziwig’s overladen Christmas Eve party table.

Eccles Cakes

An Eccles cake is a small, heavily spiced pastry filled with currants and candied orange peel wrapped in a flaky (rough puff) pastry. The origins can be traced to the town of Eccles, formerly within the Lancashire boundary, but now a suburb of Manchester. Weights are in grams, nodding to their British origin.

Ingredients

    Filling
  • 120 grams currants
  • 50 grams candied orange peel, chopped
  • 50 grams butter, softened
  • 40 grams light brown sugar
  • ½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • ¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • ¼ teaspoon allspice
  • Zest of ¼ lemon
  • Juice of ½ orange
  • 1 Tablespoon brandy
  • Pastry
  • 250 grams All-purpose flour
  • 5 grams salt
  • 250 grams very cold butter, cut into small pieces
  • 125 milliliters ice-water
  • 1 egg white, beaten
  • Turbinado sugar (such as Sugar in the Raw)

Directions

  1. Stir together all filling ingredients in a small bowl. Microwave for 45 seconds to 1 minute until butter is melted. Cover and set aside for the flavors to meld and currants to soften. Refrigerate. Once cold, the filling should bind together without extra liquid. Drain if necessary.
  2. Pulse flour, salt and butter in a food processor until butter pieces are pea-sized. Gradually pulse in about 100-125ml cold water until mixture comes together into a dough. Do not overwork.
  3. Roll out the pastry on a lightly floured surface into a rectangle three times as long as it is wide. Fold the top third down into the middle, then the bottom third up over the top, then rotate the pastry 90 degrees so the fold is now vertical. Roll out again and repeat then wrap in cling-wrap and chill for 20 minutes. Repeat the rolling, folding, rotating, rolling and folding one more time. Chill for an hour.
  4. Roll the pastry out on a lightly floured work surface a little thicker than 1/8th of an inch, then cut out rounds about 3 ½ inches wide. Put a half-tablespoon of filling in the center of each, then dampen the edges of the circle and pinch together, tuck in the corners and pinch well to make it into a purse and fully enclose filling. Put on a parchment-lined baking tray smooth side up, and squash slightly until flattened. Repeat with the rest and chill for 20 minutes.
  5. Preheat the oven to 400 F. Remove pastries from refrigerator, brush with egg white and sprinkle with turbinado sugar. Cut three slashes in the top of each and bake for about 20-25 minutes until golden and well-risen. Allow to cool before eating – the filling will be hot.

Key Lime Tart

Today’s Musings:

Jump!
“I can’t.”
Jump!
“I’ll fall.”
Jump!
“I’m afraid.”
Jump!
“I don’t know how.”
Jump!
“I’m not a jumper.”
Jump!
“Others can jump further.”
Jump!
“Who am I to think I can jump?”

 Jump!
“We will steady you.”
Jump!
“You’re so close!”
Jump!
“Trust us; We will catch you.”
Jump!
“You’ll be great at it.”
Jump!
“Be Brave!”
Jump!
“We believe in you.”
Jump!
We’ll jump with you.”

Thank you for requesting baking demos until I said, “yes.”  Thank you for telling me when my words on the page move you. Thank you for giving feedback on my recipes. Thank you for believing I can write a book worth reading.  Thank you for reminding me I’m worthy of love. Thank you, to all my friends, who support, encourage, and push me just a little further.  I’m better for knowing you.   

Today’s Recipe:


Key Lime Tart

  • Servings: One 9-inch tart or six tartlets
  • Print

Mouth-puckering Key lime custard in a shortbread cookie crust garnished with raspberry coulis sauce.


Ingredients

    Crust
  • 1 ⅓ cups all-purpose flour
  • 5 Tablespoons sugar
  • ½ teaspoon salt
  • 9 Tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
  • Filling
  • 28 oz. sweetened condensed milk
  • ½ cup full-fat Greek yogurt
  • ¾ cup key lime juice
  • 1 ½ Tablespoons grated lime zest
  • Raspberry Coulis (optional)
  • ½ cup sugar
  • 3 Tablespoons water
  • 12 oz. frozen raspberries, thawed
  • 1 Tablespoon raspberry or orange liqueur (optional)

Directions

  1. Preheat oven to 350° F. In a medium bowl, combine flour, sugar, salt and melted butter. Pat dough on the bottom and up the sides of a 9” tart pan. Bake about 20 minutes until beginning to brown. Remove from oven and cool 30 minutes.
  2. Meanwhile, in a medium bowl, combine condensed milk, Greek yogurt, lime juice, and lime zest. Stir until combined and pour into crust. Bake in preheated oven for 10-12 minutes, until tiny pinhole bubbles burst on the surface of pie. Do not brown. Chill tart thoroughly before serving. Garnish with raspberry coulis, whipped cream, shaved white chocolate or grated lime zest.
  3. To make coulis, combine sugar and water in a heat-proof liquid measuring cup. Microwave on high power for two minutes and stir to ensure all sugar crystals are dissolved. Combine simple syrup with thawed raspberries in a blender. Blend until smooth. With a rubber spatula, stir and push puree through a fine-mesh strainer to catch the seeds. Add liqueur, if using. Store in the refrigerator up to a week.

Italian Baked Cassatelle

Baked Cassatelle on a cooling rack

“Thoughts disentangle themselves when they pass through the lips and fingertips.” – Dawson Trotman

Today’s Musings:
Without a particular game plan in mind, Two-Bit Tart has molded itself into a mash-up of half personal essay (aka Musings) and half food blog.  It has taken me an exceptionally long time to arrive here, but this blog is now unmistakably my own with its singular, quirky, yet clear direction.  This began as a personal essay blog, morphed into a food blog, and has finally, after almost 13 years, unapologetically matured into a blending of both.  My challenge with the personal essay section is that it’s an intense delving into the recesses of my most intimate thoughts and feelings. Nothing is off limits from examination, holding these bits of my life up to the light for anyone to see.   While I feel reasonably comfortable splaying myself in front of you, many of my stories involve others, as most personal stories do. Today, I’m experiencing a smattering of remorse and hesitation in exposing others’ secrets without permission, desiring to keep their story, tightly intertwined with mine, a compact between us.  I am passionately steadfast and loyal to those who reciprocate, even those long dead. I’ve been working on a piece the last five days that I would describe as raw, honest, authentic. 1817 words with all the beastly details. How, I wonder, can I speak my truth while protecting others’ privacy?  I have no wish to cause pain or embarrassment to those around me; just a desire to share my story. I’ve been reading Joan Dideon lately – The White Album.  She deftly manages that delicate dance between stark, personal exposure and others’ privacy.  I’m no Joan Dideon, but I’m taking mental notes.  What is off-limits?  Who is off-limits? Living family members?  Current friends? Current lovers?  How terrible that someone would eschew me for fear their secrets are exposed.  Who becomes fair game?  Strangers and mere acquaintances? One-date wonders?  Dead boyfriends?  Those who have injured me by accident?  On purpose?  I strive to behave better than my enemies and have a clear moral compass – but in my quest for self-discovery, have I forgotten that, if only for a post or two?  I’ve decided not to share the piece I’ve been fervently writing.  I’m pleased with it – my own missteps and failings exposed and acknowledged.  Hours of work that will never come to fruition, but it’s the correct decision, this time.  It’s my truth, but tugs too many others too far into the light, regardless of their own culpability.  Today, I am setting down rules – otherwise, I will too easily cross the line. 

Today’s Recipe:


Baked Cassatelle

These cassatelle are baked rather than fried and are best eaten warm, when the chocolate is melty, the ricotta velvety and the pastry crisp and tender. I pop them in a oven for a few minutes to heat them through before enjoying with a steaming cup of coffee.


Ingredients

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • ½ cup sugar
  • ¼ teaspoon salt
  • 1 stick (½ cup) unsalted butter, very cold
  • 1 large egg plus 1 yolk
  • 1 cup full-fat ricotta, drained overnight
  • ¼ cup powdered sugar, plus more for dusting
  • ¼ cup mini chocolate chips
  • ¼ cup candied orange peel, finely chopped (or 1 teaspoon grated orange zest)

Directions

  1. In the bowl of food processor, combine flour, sugar and salt. Add very cold butter and pulse until butter is well dispersed. Add egg and yolk and pulse until dough begins to clump together. Scrape dough onto a large piece of plastic wrap and press together to form a disk. Wrap plastic wrap around dough and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
  2. Meanwhile, in a small bowl, combine drained ricotta, powdered sugar, chocolate chips and candied peel. Refrigerate until ready to use.
  3. Cut dough in half, keeping one half refrigerated and roll out the other half to about ⅛” – ⅙” thick between two pieces of parchment or waxed paper. Cut out twelve 3” rounds. Dollop a generous teaspoon of ricotta mixture on one side of each round, fold other side of dough over, making a half-moon shape, being careful to enclose the filling completely. Seal edges with the tines of a fork. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet and refrigerate for 20 minutes.
  4. Repeat the process with the remaining ½ dough. Meanwhile, preheat oven to 350⁰ F.
  5. Bake for 25-30 minutes until cassetelle are golden along the edges and underneath. Cool slightly and dust with powdered sugar. Enjoy the same day and refrigerate any remaining cassetelle (due to the ricotta filling). If refrigerated, reheat in the oven a few minutes before enjoying.

Holiday Mince Pies

This time last year, I was preparing for Christmas in London – buying sweaters, confirming the cat sitter, excavating the converter from the junk drawer, and dreaming of mince pies.

Christmas in London without mince pies is unthinkable.  These little parcels of perfection are as ubiquitous during the London holidays as sugar cookies in the States.  Love them or hate them, you can’t avoid them while the halls are decked with holly.  I, personally, adore these pastry jewels and longingly anticipated eating my weight in pies of mince. 

Mincemeat has a history dating back to the 16th century.  Originally made with meat (hence the name), the pies were much larger and oblong in shape.  The fruit and spices, rather than headliners, were there to flavor the meat.  Modern versions are smaller and forgo the meat altogether, containing a decadent mixture of fruit, sugar and warming spices. Their size can range from a diminutive mini tartlet to something heftier approximating the size of a British pasty.

As I walked the cobbled streets of London, I sampled a dozen versions of these buttery beauties.  My first, from St. John Bread and Wine, was a disappointment, filled with almost nothing but currants.  Their Eccles cake, on the other hand, was heaven in puff pastry.   I sampled posh pies at Ottolenghi and take-away pies from a small no-name shop at the Columbia Road Flower Market.  I ate pies served from bags and pies served on china.  Arteries be damned, I prescribed myself nothing less than a pie (or two) a day throughout my trip. Home again after eating my fill in London, I added mince pies to my ever-growing list of recipes to try.

 A tumultuous year has passed and I had yet to try my own version.  Surprisingly, while researching  for my own recipe,  I discovered that many versions – including ones from famous British chefs (I’m talking to you, Paul Hollywood) call for nothing more than opening a jar of mincemeat.  Jarred?  Oh the horror!  Jarred may be fine in a pinch, but not for the pies of my London dreams.  Next, you’ll be instructing me to unroll a frozen pie crust.

After some additional research,  I settled on my existing Eccles cake filling (flashback to St. John), doubled it, and added grated apple.  My final filling is packed with currants, home-made candied orange peel, brown sugar, warming spices and brandy.  It’s the ideal jeweled filling to nestle in a buttery pastry crust.  Maybe not entirely traditional, for me, it’s London Christmas in the US suburbs.


Holiday Mince Pies

Buttery, flaky pastry filled with a holiday mixture of fruit, warm spices, and a bit of brandy. You will need two 12-cup muffin tins for this recipe.


Ingredients

    Candied Orange Peel:
  • Peels from 3 oranges
  • 18 oz. water
  • 6 oz. corn syrup
  • 20 oz. sugar
  • Mince Filling:
  • 8 oz. currants
  • ½ cup candied orange peel, chopped
  • 1 apple, peeled and grated (I use Granny Smith)
  • 1 stick (½cup) unsalted butter
  • ⅓ cup brown sugar
  • 1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • ½ teaspoon allspice
  • Zest of ½ lemon
  • Juice of an orange
  • 2 Tablespoons brandy
  • Short Crust Pastry:
  • 2 ¾ cups all-purpose flour
  • 6 oz. unsalted butter cold and cubed
  • ¼ cup Crisco, cold
  • ⅛ teaspoon table salt
  • 1 egg (beaten)
  • Water (cold, as needed)
  • Powdered sugar for dusting (optional)

Directions

    Make Ahead – Make Candied Orange Peel:
  1. Place orange peels in a pot of cold water, bring to boil, and drain. Repeat this two more times.
  2. Combine water, corn syrup, and sugar in a pot. Bring to boil. Add drained peels, reduce to simmer and poach for 1 hour. Cool peels in syrup. Store in syrup in refrigerator until needed.
  3. Day Before – Make Mince Filling:
  4. Stir together all filling ingredients in a small bowl. Microwave for 1-2 minutes until butter is melted. Stir until well blended, cover and set aside for the flavors to meld and currants to soften, about an hour. Refrigerate. Once cold, the filling should bind together without extra liquid. Drain if necessary.
  5. Baking Day – Make Short Crust Pastry.
  6. In a food processor, pulse flour, butter, Crisco, and salt together until resembling course sand. Gently pulse egg and add water until mixture just comes together. Wrap into two disks and refrigerate for 20-30 minutes. Preheat oven to 350⁰ degrees. Roll dough to ⅛” thick and cut circles with a 3 ¼” – 3 ½” cutter to fit inside muffin tins. Cut smaller circles or stars to fit on top. Press dough into each muffin cup and fill ⅔ full with mince filling, decorate with smaller shapes on top and refrigerate until ready to bake.
  7. Preheat oven to 350⁰ F. Bake for 22-28 minutes until tops are golden brown. Cool in tins for 15 minutes, remove from tins and cool completely. Dust with powdered sugar (if using).

TIP: To ensure the flakiest of crusts, freeze butter and Crisco for 15 minutes before using so that it is cold as possible before mixing with the flour.