Mini Cranberry Meringue Pies

I thought this recipe was from last year. The image of these cute, little, mini pies had been on my mind since last winter when I vowed to attempt them when fresh, fall cranberries came around again next time. Actually, this first appeared in Living magazine in November 2006, but it did appear again in a special holidays publication last year. I had the 06 article tucked away in my files, and I pulled it out last week to finally try this. The pasty is a citrus version of a pate sucree I've made before with the addition of lemon and blood orange zest. It occurred to me that I should make a big batch of these mini pastry shells and keep them in the freezer to use as needed. They would come in especially handy when I have some leftover pumpkin puree like I probably will later this afternoon. In this case, those handy pastry cups were filled with thickened cranberry sauce that was made in two stages. First, cranberries were cooked, and the juice was strained from the berries. Second, that juice was combined with whole cranberries to make a sweet, tart, filling with pops of flavor. Fluffy, toasted meringue topped it off.

The pate sucree was cut into four-inch circles which were crimped and fitted into twelve standard muffin cups. Each cup was lined with a small square of parchment paper, filled with weights and baked for fifteen minutes. The weights and parchment were removed, and the cups were baked for another five minutes or so. Once cool, they were ready to be filled. For the filling, first, fresh cranberries were brought to a boil with sugar and water. They were simmered until the cranberries burst and then passed through a sieve to extract the juice. The recipe states the solids should be discarded, but I'm getting more and more militant about not wasting food, so I kept the cranberry solids and enjoyed them on plain yogurt for breakfast. Next, the cranberry juice was returned to a saucepan, and sugar, lemon and blood orange zest, salt, cinnamon, cloves, and more whole cranberries were added. This time, the cranberries were cooked over a lower heat to prevent them from bursting. They should just become soft. Cornstarch was whisked into a mixture of blood orange juice and water, and that was added to the cranberries and juice to thicken it. Once cooked and cooled a bit, the filling was divided among the pastry cups, and they were chilled until set for at least an hour. Last but not least, a meringue was whipped to glossy peaks, spooned onto each mini pie, and the tops were browned under the broiler in about a minute.

While trying to get these pies done in less time than I should have planned to spend on them, the extra step of straining cranberries and then adding more whole cranberries seemed a little fussy. In the end though, I see why it mattered. The thickened juice nicely suspended the softened, whole cranberries in a way that a standard cranberry sauce would not have done. That being said, for a quicker version, a thick, sweet cranberry sauce would work fine here. Also, I'm always up for a meringue topping, but Kurt suggested that whipped cream would have been just as good. Either way, these festive, seasonal treats have earned a trip from my temporary, to-try file to my permanent, keeper file.

Blueberry Pop-Tarts

Homemade pop-tarts had become just like sugar cookie bars. They were everywhere, calling out to me, insisting that I try making them. There are several different recipes, and really, you can make any pie pasty and cut it into rectangles and fill them however you’d like. I decided to follow the Bon Appetit recipe from last April’s issue. It’s a simple enough process, but you do need to make sure your rectangles are pretty similar in size so they can be sandwiched and crimped together easily. This particular dough is a sticky one, so if you make this one, refrigerate or freeze the pieces for a few minutes between steps to make them more manageable. For a filling, I had just what I needed in the freezer. Last month, there were Texas blueberries in our CSA delivery, and I had cooked them with some lemon juice and cornstarch thinking they would eventually become a tart filling of some kind. You could also use your favorite jam or preserves from a jar for a filling. Then, you can wake up on a Saturday morning and have pop-tarts for breakfast while watching tv. I watched Anne Burrell on the FoodNetwork instead of the Smurfs, and these pop-tarts were on another level compared to ones from the box that I remember, but it was still a nostalgic Saturday morning.

So, I mentioned this dough was sticky. I actually rolled it between pieces of parchment paper. I left the parchment in place and cut it into big rectangles and let that chill for a bit. Then, I measured and cut the final, smaller rectangles and removed the parchment as I filled each tart. For pastry rectangles that were about five inches by three inches, you should use a tablespoon and a half of filling. Pressing the edges with a fork worked better on tarts that had been chilled first, but dipping the fork in flour helped it not to stick to the dough as well. Last, each tart was pierced with a skewer a few times to allow steam to escape while baking. The formed tarts should be placed in the freezer for at least two hours before baking, and they go straight to the oven from the freezer.

The Bon Appetit version shows the pop-tarts dusted with confectioner’s sugar. That’s one option. I also considered going all the way with a white frosting and sprinkles. In the end, I just brushed on an egg wash and sprinkled sanding sugar over the tarts before baking. The pastry was rich and flaky and the filling was fruity and just sweet enough. This could become a Saturday morning habit all over again.

Blackberry and Peach Crostata

When I saw the mixed berry crostata on LAtimes.com the other day, I started getting ideas. I had just bought some blackberries and peaches at the farmers’ market, and those two things are in season at the same time for good reason. I couldn’t wait to put them together in a simple, rustic kind of tart. The crostata dough from the LA Times is adapted from one by Nancy Silverton of Mozza. It’s a fairly straightforward pastry, but it includes a tablespoon of vanilla extract. I was sold. I’ve added nuts or lemon zest to dough before, but I had never thought of adding vanilla to pastry. With fresh, ripe, juicy peaches and just picked blackberries, a nice crust to contain them is all you really need.

I did go to the trouble of peeling the peaches this time although I often leave skins intact. It’s a simple procedure of bringing a pot of water to a boil, placing the peaches in the boiling water for about 45 seconds, and then transferring the peaches to ice water. Then, the skins slip right off when pulled with a paring knife. The peeled and sliced peaches and washed and dried blackberries were mixed with a little sugar and some cornstarch, and the filling was ready. The crostata dough was made in a food processor with all-purpose flour, cake flour, sugar, and salt, and chopped, cold butter was pulsed into that mixture. It was actually pulsed to a finer state than I usually mix a pastry dough. It was suggested to process until it resembled moist cornmeal. Ice water and vanilla extract were added, and then the dough was wrapped in plastic and chilled for a bit. For rolling out the dough, it was recommended that it be left kind of thick which is a good idea when juicy, fresh fruit is involved. The edges were rolled in over the fruit, and I brushed on an egg wash and sprinkled coarse sugar on the dough. The crostata baked for about 40 to 45 minutes until the fruit juices were bubbly and the crust was golden.

Sure, some ice cream or whipped cream wouldn’t be out of place here at all, but I was so excited about my first use of blackberries and peaches this season that I enjoyed the crostata with no added embellishment. This wasn’t a flaky, layered kind of pastry crust, but it was golden and crisp on top and tender in the center. With the flavor of vanilla throughout, it was a fine vehicle for the mixed fruit and thickened juices. If you have some ripe berries or other seasonal fruit on hand, consider using it in a crostata with this pastry dough, or try adding vanilla to your usual dough recipe for lovely added flavor.

Tomato and Cantal Tart

The title of this post is a lie. That is the correct title of the tart found in The Modern Baker which I continue to enjoy, but my tart was made with other cheeses. I went to Whole Foods in search of some cantal cheese, and they had none. What they did have was an incredibly helpful person at the cheese counter. I really should have learned his name. He offered me multiple samples of alternate cheeses, and when I was still unsure, he went in the back to grab a cheese reference book. Together, we looked at the description of cantal, and I really should have learned the title of that book. At any rate, the person whose name I don’t know read aloud from the book, with a title I don’t know, a description of cantal’s flavors. This book suggested that the flavor of cantal is best copied by blending laguiole and cheddar. Laguiole is an earthy, slightly salty and pleasantly pungent cheese, and a clothbound cheddar from Grafton Village lended a calmer milkiness with less of an edge. I was offered samples of each and was finally ready to make a decision. In the end, I spent an inordinate amount of time choosing some cheese for such a simple tart.

The no-roll, flaky dough as it’s called was made in a food processor, and it was patted into a tart pan. The dough was chilled in the pan overnight, and it could have sat in the refrigerator for a couple of days. Once I was ready to bake, some dijon mustard was spread on the bottom of the uncooked crust. The cheeses I selected were shredded, and half of the shredded pile was placed on the mustard. Sliced heirloom tomatoes went on the cheese, and the remaining cheese was placed on the tomatoes. Only black pepper seasoned the tart because Malgieri explains in the recipe that salt could cause the tomatoes to become watery while baking. The tart baked for about 30 minutes and then a little extra virgin olive oil was drizzled on top.

Before serving, fresh basil leaves were to be placed on the tart. You’ll want to let the tart cool some or the basil leaves will quickly turn brownish black. This tart of few ingredients is all about the ripeness and perfection of the tomatoes. The crust, baked to a barely-golden yet crisp state and the carefully selected cheeses were really there to accent the tomatoes. While I hesitated too long and clearly fretted about my final cheese decision, the kind man at Whole Foods said in an encouraging voice “you know what, the tart is going to be delicious.” And, you know what, he was right.

Plum and Port Crostata

First, I saw this plum and port crostata on the very last page of the August issue of Living magazine, and then I spotted Italian prune plums in the grocery store. Little, egg-shaped, Italian prune plums seem to pack a full-sized plum’s amount of flavor into a smaller parcel. For this crostata, they were mixed with a reduced ruby port syrup, and that sounded like a such a good idea, I knew I’d like it just by reading about it. There are two slightly unusual things about this recipe. One is that one half of a seeded and minced Thai chile is an optional ingredient. That was intriguing to me, so I included it, but the flavor was lost in the port syrup. The plums and syrup were so lovely together I don’t think I’d bother with it next time I make this. The other interesting thing is that a pie dish is suggested for baking the crostata rather than letting it be more free-form on a baking sheet. I went ahead and used a dish in case the plums and syrup needed to be supported to prevent a runny mess, and that was probably the point. The syrup does set up by the end of the baking time, but there’s a fair amount of liquid as it starts to bake.

So, the dough was rolled and placed in a baking dish and left to chill while the syrup was made. Ruby port and brown sugar were heated in a saucepan and left to reduce to about a third of the original amount. Once cool, that reduced syrup was stirred into a bowl with the halved and pitted plums, more brown sugar, salt, cornstarch, and cinnamon. That mixture was placed in the pie shell, and the dough edges were turned inward and then brushed with cream and sprinkled with turbinado sugar. The crostata baked for two hours total which seemed like a very long time, but it worked out fine.

The once juicy filling was bubbly and thick when it emerged from the oven, and the house was filled with the incredible smell of baking plums. I was sure this was going to be delicious, and it did not disappoint. The port prevented the syrup from being too sweet, and it mixed with the flavor of the plums perfectly. Italian prune plums won’t be around for long, in fact, I didn’t see any at the grocery store yesterday. Next time they appear though, I’ll be ready to greet them with this recipe in hand.

Long Awaited Loquat Tart

We’ve had our loquat tree for four years or so, and every year the birds get to eat the fruit before I do. However, thanks to last year’s abundant rain, we had more loquats than ever this year, and I finally got to harvest some. The loquat (Eriobotrya japonica) lives in our backyard with several palms, bananas, ferns, and bamboo plants. It’s evergreen and blooms in the fall and winter so that the fruit is ripe in the spring. Picking the fruit and cooking with it was very exciting because I’ve looked forward to doing so since my first taste of loquat. On a trip to Bermuda in 2002, my dessert one evening was goat cheese-cheesecake with loquat jam. Since then, knowing that loquats grow easily in Austin, I’ve been hoping to grow my own and cook with them. Maybe this isn’t exciting for those who have lived with loquat trees their whole lives, but it’s a warm climate delight for me. They were very easy to peel, and the seeds popped out with no problem. I cooked them down with a little water and honey. They didn’t thicken as quickly as apricots, so I assume they have less pectin. Their flavor is mild; not too sweet and not too tart. At last, I had my very own loquats in a tart of my making.

In hindsight, the look of the tart would have been improved by a few carefully placed raspberries on top.