Be Bop a Re Bop Rhubarb Tart

I suppose I'm a bit tardy in posting this, as for most of the country rhubarb season was over eons ago. However, if you are clever you will have stashed away chunks of those jewel-like stalks in your freezer to whip out whenever you please and this recipe will still be of use to you.

It has come to my attention that I must be growing up. There are lots of of things that lead me to believe this - rapidly approaching 30, starting a business, finding grey hairs on my head, but perhaps one of the most telling events is my growing fondness for things I disdained in my youth. Last summer's obsession with plums may have been the advent of this newfound maturity. Then came my conversion to parsley use. Next up was prunes. And now rhubarb. You get the idea.

Truth be told rhubarb began to woo me last July when I bravely turned it into a one vegetable (yes, it's really a vegetable, just like tomatoes are really a fruit!) crisp with no supporting cast such as a strawberry to be seen. But this, this is the year of true rhubarb love. It made it's debut atop the best pancakes ever , has been gently stewed with (albeit frozen) strawberries then spooned atop vanilla cake garnished with a bit of creme fraiche. It has accompanied creamy panna cotta on it's journey to my stomach and most recently made it's way into this tart. Rhubarb is so wonderful in fact that this man sings a song about it on his radio show.

I am also a sucker for anything with nuts. Especially if those nuts are ground up and mixed into a batter with things like butter! and sugar! and eggs! oh my!!

This tart is one of my favorites because unlike a standard custard-based fruit tart you can make this any time of year with whatever fruit you happen to have on hand, frozen or fresh. To boot the only work involved is making and rolling out the tart dough but I have been known to simply pat it into a tart shell (this works especially well for tartlets) and leave the rolling pin in the drawer. It seems to me that almonds and rhubarb pair especially well, however this tart would be just as tasty with raspberries, sour cherries, plums, apricots, pretty much anything you can get your hands on.

Rhubarb Frangipane Tart
A compilation of recipes from two of my favorite books: Crust from Suzanne Goin's Sunday Suppers at Lucques and Filling from the Tartine Bakery Cookbook

Crust (Pate Sucree): Yields dough for 2 10-inch crusts
I like this recipe because you can make the dough and immediately line your shell. Most recipes call for chilling the dough for at least an hour. Let's just admit it, there are days we just don't have the patience for that.

1/4 c heavy cream
2 extra-large egg yolks
2 3/4 c plus 2 Tbsp all purpose flour
1/4 c plus 3Tbsp sugar
1/4 tsp kosher salt
2 sticks (8oz) unsalted butter

Whisk the cream and egg yolks together in a small bowl.
In a stand mixer fitted with the dough hook, combine the flour, sugar, salt, and butter on medium speed until you have a coarse meal. Gradually add the cream and yolks, and mix just until combined. Do not overwork the dough.. Transfer the dough to a large work surface and bring it together with your hands to incorporate completely (use the heel of your hand to smear the dough on the counter as you push it away from your body, this is called fraisage). Divide the dough in half , shape into 1" thick discs, and wrap one of them to freeze and use later.

If the dough is too soft, put in the refrigerator for 5-10 minutes to firm up a little. If the dough is manageable, place it on a lightly floured work surface, sprinkle a little flour over the dough, and roll it out into a 1/4-inch thick circle, flouring as necessary. Starting at one side, roll and wrap the dough around the rolling pin to pick it up. Unroll the dough over a 10-inch tart pan. Gently fit the dough loosely into the pan, lifting the edges and pressing the dough into the corners with your fingers. To remove the excess dough, roll the rolling pin lightly over the top of the tart pan for a nice clean edge, or work your way around the edge, pinching off any excess dough with your fingers. Chill for 1 hour (or if your name is Amy, throw it into the freezer until it is firm, 10-15 minutes).

Filling (Frangipane Cream): Yields 3 cups

2 c (7 oz) sliced almonds
1 c (7oz) sugar
3/4 c plus 2Tbsp (7 oz) unsalted butter at room temperature
pinch kosher salt
1Tbsp plus 1 tsp brandy
2 large eggs
2 Tbsp whole milk

1 1/2-2 c rhubarb or other fruit

In a food processor, combine the almonds with 1/4 c of the sugar and process until finely ground. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter on medium speed until creamy. Add the remaining 3/4 c sugar and mix to incorporate. Add the almond-sugar mixture and beat until thoroughly combined. Add the salt, brandy, and 1 egg and mix until incorporated. Add the remaining egg and the milk and mix until light and fluffy.

This cream will keep in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to one week.

To assemble the tart:

Preheat the oven to 375 F.

Fill the tart shell with 3 cups of frangipane cream (I only had a 9-inch tart pan so I used 2 1/2 cups of filling and it was plenty). Smooth the top with a rubber spatula. Arrange the fruit on top. Place the tart on a baking sheet. Bake the tart until the crust is golden brown and the filling is set, about 1 hour and 20 minutes (if your filling is browning too fast loosely cover the tart with foil. You want the crust to be fully cooked so don't skimp on the full bake time). The filling should feel firm and slightly springy to the touch and the fruit should be tender. Transfer to a wire rack and let cool. This tart is best served warm or at room temperature. It will keep in the refrigerator for up to 3 days, however it is so delicious I'd be willing to bet it won't make it that long!

Yields 8-10 servings

Carrot Stick Salad

I often make the mistake of cooking something in a rush because I am so hungry or because if I don't get a move on it will be 10:00 before we eat dinner that I forget to record it in case it should turn out well enough to share with you. This is one of those things.

When I was a kid my mom would let my brother and I "cook". We were the proud owners of The Kid's Cookbook, I think it was called, and we would drag it out and pore over the pages agonizing over what to make. Our specialties were ants on a log and carrot coins. It's quite possible that the first thing I learned to "cook" was carrots. And by "cook" I mean setting a cutting board on the floor, carefully cutting the carrots into coins with a dull knife, sticking a toothpick in each one, and arranging them on a plate. I was born to be in the kitchen! Fortunately my skills have advanced a bit since those early years but I can still appreciate the charm of a simple dish.

 As luck would have it while all those people who live on either coast are gorging themselves on local cherries and strawberries and peas and avocadoes I am still waiting for my garden to produce something other than an unruly patch of arugula and one pea pod. So when it came to what to make into a salad to go with dinner my best option was a bag of carrots (from one of the coasts, of course) that have been patiently waiting in the fridge for their moment of glory.

One other thing that is growing like a weed in my garden is a mint plant. It is threatening to take over all the bell pepper territory so in an effort to aid their growth (with the hope that maybe by October(?!) the plants will be big enough to produce a pepper) I lopped off a sprig and it became part of my salad plan. Eight leaves down, about a million to go!

This salad is so simple I almost feel guilty calling it so, but it is one of those perfect summer dishes - quick, cool, crisp, and tasty!

Carrot Stick Salad with Red Wine Vinegar and Mint

4 medium carrots
1/2 a small shallot thinly sliced
6-8 mint leaves, rolled up and sliced into ribbons
a splash of red wine vinegar
a drizzle of honey
a pinch of kosher salt

Slice the carrots into long strips and then cut those strips into matchsticks. Toss all ingredients in a bowl and season to taste. The acidity of the vinegar should be balanced with a bit of sweetness from the honey and just a pinch of salt to take the edge off.

Serves 2 as a side dish

When Life Hands You Lemons

There is a saying that goes something like, "When life hands you lemons, make lemonade". Here is a saying I like better. "When it is a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon, make lemonade." Sure it's not quite as catchy, but  it's a lot more practical.

Remember the day when you could drop by a neighbor's house and they'd invite you in for a frosty glass of lemonade? No? Me neither. But I've read about it in books and it sounds lovely. I often wish those were the times in which we lived; it seemed there wasn't a worry that a seat on the porch swing and a glass of lemonade couldn't soothe. While my story doesn't quite hearken back to yesteryear it is a good one.

Last week my friend invited us over for a delicious lunch accompanied by some very tasty limeade; it was during that lunch that I learned a little secret which (I hope she won't mind) I'm now going to share with you.

Zest. Yep. That's it. One word that will change your life, or at least your lemonade. It takes the lemon flavor to a whole new level, packing a punch one cannot achieve with juice alone.

I'm going to play my food snob card here and say that in my opinion lemonade made from a can is not real lemonade. Worse yet is the powdered stuff that used to lurk in my grandmother's cupboard. Sure they can be handy in a pinch, say for instance a large group of dehydrated people happen to come to your house and all you've got is a tray of ice, a faucet, and a minute to spare.  Barring those circumstances it is not okay to serve lemonade that didn't come out of a lemon. Period. Ok, I'll get off my soapbox now.

Feel free to tinker with this recipe as you see fit. It would be delicious with limes or a combination of lemons and limes and even tastier if you were, say, to mash around a few mint leaves in your glass before you added your lemon or limeade. Mmm, I think I better go pour another glass!

Zest-y Lemonade

Zest of 1 lemon (I like to use a Microplane, it produces very fine zest)
1 c. lemon juice
1/2-3/4 c. sugar
4 c. water
1 c. ice cubes, plus more for serving

Zest one lemon and place the zest in a pitcher. If you use a box grater to zest your fruit be sure to only get the yellow part and avoid the white pith. Mince the zest very fine so you don't have to chew your lemonade.

Juice 6-8 lemons to yield 1 cup of juice. Pour into pitcher with zest, add sugar to taste, and top with water. Stir vigorously to dissolve the sugar. Add 1 cup ice cubes to chill. Pour into ice filled glasses, find a porch to sit on, and enjoy!

Get Out Your Griddle!

Pancakes and I go way back. We've known each other since my parents had shag carpet and I had no front teeth. We've been on camping trips and boat excursions together. Over the years we have occasionally met over a restaurant table, but it is fair to say we became best acquainted during the years of my family's ritual Friday night pancake dinners. Yes. We ate pancakes. For dinner. On Friday. Every week. It was wonderful.

How the tradition came about I don't know. What I do know is that pancakes, when done right, are divine. I have eaten and made my share of pancakes in this life. There were buckwheat cakes and wholewheat cakes, cakes flecked with orange zest and cakes dotted with blueberries. There were cakes fortified with wheatgerm and flax and cakes studded with cinnamon scented pears. But the pancake to go down in history was laden with little golden nuggets of granola, offering up at once a sweet, delicious, yet hearty, stick-to-your-ribs breakfast. It was after that life-altering granola pancake experience that I began to ponder further pancake possibilities.

Fastforward to a couple of months ago when I happened to see two fellow bloggers adding pancakes to their repertoires, both of which involved oatmeal. Since I don't live anywhere near here or here or here it was clear that in order to get my pancake fix I needed to take matters into my own hands. It occured to me that a pancake made with oats had the potential to mimick the granola pancake of glory. True it would not be the same, and would best be considered a second cousin once removed, but it just might do the trick.

This pancake is second to none. It is at once fluffy and filling. It is substantial but won't make you leave the table feeling like you just ate a brick. It is best served draped in warm fruit compote, or if you are a purist, with a splash of pure maple syrup.

The only drawback to this pancake is that you need to know the night before that you want to eat it in the morning (or if you happen to have a p.m. pancake ritual you'll need to prepare accordingly the morning of). But, I assure you that once these bad boys have ventured off the griddle, onto your plate, and subsequently into your mouth there is not a single drawback that will keep you from eating them time and again! They have become my one and only pancake pursuit and have accompanied me from Mexico to South Dakota and pretty much everywhere in between that happens to have a kitchen stocked with a skillet and a spatula.

Oatmeal Pancakes
adapted from Orangette

I had been making these pancakes just as the recipe on Orangette states until the most recent batch; it was late at night and my oats were in the bowl waiting for their buttermilk bath when (gasp!) I realized I had only half the amount of buttermilk necessary. This has NEVER happened to me before! I always err on the side of having too much buttermilk standing around in the fridge twiddling it's thumbs just waiting to mold. A quick mental jog led me to think that perhaps a mixture of yogurt and milk might have the same effect as buttermilk. The next morning as I ate the thickest, most light and fluffy oatmeal pancakes ever I don't think I could have been happier to run out of an ingredient!

2 c. Rolled Oats
1 c. Milk
1 c. Plain Yogurt
1/2 c. All Purpose Flour
2 Tbsp. Sugar
1 tsp. Baking Powder
1 tsp. Baking Soda
1/2 tsp. Salt
2 Large Eggs
1/2 Stick Butter (4 Tbsp), melted and cooled

In a large bowl mix together the oats, milk, and yogurt. Stir well to make sure all the oats are moistened. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and place in the fridge the night before (or approximately 10-12 hours before you want to eat your pancakes).

In a medium bowl whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. When you are ready to begin cooking the pancakes stir the eggs into the oat mixture, mixing well. Next stir in the dry ingredients, followed by the melted butter. Mix well.

Scoop approximately 1/3 c. batter onto a lightly greased, preheated (med-low works well on my stove) griddle. Gently flip when bubbles appear on the top and the edges are just beginning to set. Griddle till golden brown and firm to the touch. Serve immediately or, if you are making a large batch, which I often do (this recipe doubles perfectly), preheat the oven to 190 or 200 F and place a casserole dish inside. As you take the pancakes from the griddle place them in the casserole, covered loosely with foil. You lose a little bit of that crunchy crust but you get to sit down and eat with your fellow dining companions without having to hop up every 3 minutes to turn pancakes; well worth the crust sacrifice if you ask me!

Serves 2-3

Think of it as a Miniature Cake

I have a confession to make. I don't like cupcakes(!). I also don't like muffins, but let's save that for another post.

Considering they are both baked in the same tin, one could assume my dislike centers around their shape or size. One would be wrong. I'm all for baking and eating convenient hand-held pastries. What I'm NOT for is convenient hand-held pastries that are dry, stale, or worse too sweet. Herein lies the problem. Nearly every cupcake I have ever consumed has fallen into one or more of those categories.


In the 90's there was a popular TV show about 4 thirty-something women living, loving, dating, and breaking-up in perhaps the greatest city in the world (I'm not at all biased). One of their hangouts was this bakery. Which is now famous for it's cupcakes. Which are not very good. They filmed one scene with the main character eating a cupcake and years later the whole country is still feeling the affects of the craze started in that little Greenwich Village hotspot.

Why am I writing a post about cupcakes if I don't like them, you ask? That is a fine question. In fact I asked it of myself just before sitting down to type this. Here is the answer: It just so happens that a friend of mine had a birthday party last week. When invited to this birthday party I immediately began to scour my brain, cookbooks, and fellow blogsites for "just the thing" to make. First it was going to be a fantastic 3 layer Tres Leches cake. Ooh! how about miniature Hazelnut Panna Cotta with Blackberry Compote. No, definitely Key Lime Bars. Brownies. Biscotti? . . . you get the idea. In the end what it boiled down to was logisitics. This birthday was a joint party for my friend and his housemate which meant lots of people, lots of beer, and not a lot of places to sit with a proper piece of cake on a plate and eat it. This was just the situation for a convenient hand-held pastry.

I'd like to be able to tell you that the cupcakes I took to his party were the best cupcakes ever. They were not. They were little morsels that disintegrated into a pile of crumbs the instant you peeled the wrapper off. They were so wimpy that you basically had to use the blob of chocolate frosting inevitably stuck on your fingers to mash around on the paper and retrieve as many crumbs as possible before jamming the whole mess in your mouth. Not a pretty site. This is not what to take to a birthday party for a friend who is also a baker!

Such things happen when a girl gets all her pastry recipes from either coast and winds up in the middle of the country 5,000 feet above sea level. Surely I'm not the first to tell you this: things do not bake the same here. Sure there are some tips and tricks to high altitude baking, but the real trick is that there is no golden rule. Each type of baked good and/or recipe requires slightly different tweaking, making me a very frustrated little baker with a lot of sorry looking pastries coming out of my kitchen.


I am determined not to give up. The dream of my bakery has become good motivation to stick with a recipe and keep tweaking and testing until I get it just right. This time I was lucky enough to get it figured out on the second try. As I sit here typing there are just shy of 3 dozen mini cupcakes basking in the glow of perfection mere inches from my computer. Ahhh, the sweet smell (and taste) of success.

Vanilla Cupcakes with Chocolate Frosting


This recipe yields batter for one 9-inch single-layer cake OR about 4 dozen mini cupcakes (I'm not sure how many full sized cupcakes it would make, clearly I didn't do due diligence with this recipe!).

 I apologize that this recipe is in weight rather than volume measurement, I forget that not everyone has a kitchen scale kicking around in the cupboards. I will do my homework over the next few days and try to get some volume measurements posted on here.


2 large eggs
1 tsp. vanilla extract
3 oz unsalted butter, room temperature
8 oz sugar
6 oz cake flour
1/2 tsp. baking soda (if you live at sea level, double this amount)
pinch of salt
4 oz full fat sour cream
1/2 c whole milk


Preheat oven to 325 F. Place a rack in the upper-middle portion of your oven.


In the bowl of an electric mixer combine butter and sugar. Using a paddle attachment cream on medium speed for 5 minutes. Add vanilla extract and eggs one at a time, mixing until incorporated. Stop and scrape your bowl well. Beat on high for 1 minute. Sift together cake flour, baking soda, and salt. Add flour mixture in thirds, alternating with the sour cream (in two batches), so that you begin and end with flour. Slowly pour in the milk while mixing on low speed. The batter will be runny and somewhat separated. Wait for it to begin to come together then stop and scrape the bowl thoroughly. Mix on low speed for one more minute.


If using a cake pan, grease it and place a circle of parchement paper on the bottom and grease that as well. If you are using muffin tins line them with paper liners. Fill each tin 2/3 full.


For mini cupcakes bake 12-15 minutes, turning about 3/4 of the way through. The bake time for full size cupcakes will be longer, probably 20-25 minutes and a cake may take 30-40 minutes. The best way to know if your cupcakes or cake is done is to gently press the top with your finger. The batter should be firm yet springy. If the spot you pressed holds an indentation the cake needs a few more minutes in the oven. You can also test with a toothpick or skewer, it should come out clean.


Chocolate Frosting

One of the best, and easiest frostings to make is chocolate ganache. You can be patient and let it sit and firm up at room temperature overnight, or place it in the fridge for a bit to speed things along. You can also chill it just slightly in the fridge and then whip it with a mixer until you get a light fluffy mousse-like frosting. You can also flavor it a number of ways if you like by steeping orange peel or coffee beans, etc. in the hot cream before adding it to the chocolate. The possibilities are nearly endless.

You may have some ganache left over; it is delicious straight from the fridge on a spoon or add a couple spoonfuls to a cup of hot milk for hot chocolate, or melt it and use it as a chocolate fondue for fresh fruit.


8 oz bittersweet chocolate (60% or higher)
8 oz heavy cream
flavor of choice (optional)

If your chocolate came in a large piece chop it into pieces no larger than a quarter. Place chocolate in a medium heatproof bowl.

In a small saucepan heat heavy cream and flavor ingredient (if using) just to a boil. Keep an eye on it; cream can boil over in an instant and it's a mess you don't want to clean up! If you are using a flavor, turn off the heat and let the cream and flavor ingredient sit for 10-30 minutes, this is called steeping. Vary the time based on how intensely flavored you want your frosting.

If you steeped your cream, reheat it just to a boil. Slowly pour the hot cream through a strainer over your bowl of chocolate. Allow the chocolate and cream to sit for a few minutes so that the chocolate can soften. Gently whisk the chocolate and cream together, using small concentric circles. Mix until smooth.

Place a piece of plastic wrap right on the surface of the ganache and leave out at room temperature overnight or place in the fridge for a while, stirring from time to time as it thickens. Be sure not to let it get too hard around the edges between stirring or you will end up with chunks in your frosting and it will be hard to pipe.

When frosting is a spreadable consistency spoon it into a piping bag fitted with a large star-tip and frost each cupcake with a gentle swirl motion, letting pressure off the bag as the tip comes around to where you started; this will stop the flow of frosting and make a nice little point.