{"id":1107,"date":"2008-10-21T19:47:00","date_gmt":"2008-10-21T19:47:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elitemporaryblog.wordpress.com\/2008\/10\/21\/this-old-thing"},"modified":"2008-10-21T19:47:00","modified_gmt":"2008-10-21T19:47:00","slug":"this-old-thing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orangette.net\/2008\/10\/this-old-thing\/","title":{"rendered":"This old thing"},"content":{"rendered":"
So, have you eaten your boiled kale<\/a> yet? Because dessert is ready, but you have to finish your vegetables before you can have any. That\u2019s how it works.<\/p>\n I came to this recipe in a roundabout way. Namely, via a desire to learn to cook to rabbit. I don\u2019t quite know where I got the idea, but a few weeks ago, it took hold of me. Rabbit is not exactly a popular meat choice, I know, but I had eaten it once before, in a restaurant, and though I had to struggle to keep my thoughts from drifting toward Beatrix Potter, Peter Rabbit, and Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail, it was very, very delicious. I had been wanting to try it at home, but I was a little afraid. I needed a partner in crime, or in whatever sort of deviant activity rabbit cookery constitutes. I happened to mention this to my friend Carla, and much to my delight, her eyes lit up immediately. The wheels were officially in motion! Then, not long after, this beauty<\/a> happened to glue itself to my hands at the bookstore – books can be so needy<\/span>, especially the pretty ones – and lo and behold, it offered an entire menu built around roasted rabbit. Clearly, it was fate. The menu began with a spinach cake, a savory sort of custard-meets-frittata, and then moved on to rabbit rubbed with cr\u00e8me fra\u00eeche and mustard, parsnips roasted in olive oil, and, finally, a free-form apple tart. Hubba hubba.<\/p>\n So last Wednesday night, we gathered around Carla\u2019s stove and put it all together, and it certainly looked promising. I was planning, actually, to tell you today about the spinach cake recipe, or maybe even the rabbit. But to be perfectly honest, neither turned out particularly well. The rabbit was just okay – a little dry, and with strangely curdled pan juices. I hate to admit this, but we gave most of the leftover meat to Jack<\/a>. He was the only one who really liked it. And the spinach cake, too, wasn\u2019t quite right. It was oddly watery, and I could hardly muster half a slice. The parsnips, however, were delicious. You can never go wrong with high heat, olive oil, and root vegetables. But the apple tart, the afterthought of the evening, wound up stealing the entire show. In fact, Carla\u2019s son Lluc proclaimed it the best tart he\u2019s ever had. He ought to know, too: he doesn\u2019t like cake, but he loves tarts and pies, so he\u2019s eaten plenty of them.<\/p>\n Anyway, it\u2019s all just as well, right? In a contest between spinach cake, roasted rabbit, and apple tart, I think we all know who the winner would be.<\/p>\n And should you have any of the tart left over at the end of the night, know that it\u2019s just as good on its own – the next day, maybe, as an after-lunch sweet. So long, of course, as you eat your kale. Don\u2019t forget that part.<\/p>\n<\/a>
I would like to introduce my new favorite dessert. Which, conveniently, is also the most ridiculously easy apple tart I have ever made. Isn\u2019t it charming? In a rustic, \u201coh, this old thing?\u201d sort of way? It\u2019s the edible equivalent of a dog-eared book: a little rough around the edges, rumpled here and there, but 100 percent lovable on the inside. It\u2019s the kind of dessert that wants to be eaten in a red barn with a loft full of hay bales, or in a bed with flannel sheets, while the wind whistles outside. Unfortunately, I have neither a barn nor any flannel, but I\u2019m working on it.<\/p>\n<\/a>
I like my fruit tarts simple, as you know<\/a>, and this one is just that. You begin by rolling a batch of buttery dough into a large rectangle. (I used my usual recipe, not the one Tanis proposes; I am becoming such<\/span> a rebel.) It doesn\u2019t matter if the rectangle is a little irregular. In fact, it probably will be. That\u2019s what it\u2019s all about. It\u2019s rustic<\/span>, bless it, and that word excuses all flaws. Anyway, yes, so you roll it out, and then you slide it onto a rimmed baking sheet. Then you peel some apples and slice them thinly. Don\u2019t throw out the cores, though. Instead, chuck them into a saucepan, add some sugar and water, and boil the mixture down until to a thick syrup: later, once strained, this is going to be your glaze. (Smart, isn\u2019t it? It\u2019s reason enough, really, to love David Tanis, notwithstanding our disappointment with the iffy rabbit and wonky spinach cake.) You fan the sliced apples atop the dough like cards in a game of Solitaire, and then you dust them with sugar. Then you bake the tart until the crust is golden brown, at which point the apples should be tender and fragrant. Let it cool a little bit, brush it with warm glaze, and that\u2019s it. Dessert is done: a little sweet, a little tart, perfectly understated, buttery to just the right degree. We served it that night with honey-sweetened whipped cream, which I strongly suggest. I might also suggest, while we\u2019re at it, that you play a game of Ticket to Ride<\/a> afterward. Do not, however, play against our friend Sam, because he will beat you every time. He will be nice about it, but he will beat you. Every. Time.<\/p>\n