Tart

Filled with nuts and meringue, this lattice-topped tart is quite lovely, quite easy, and typically Italian. In Andria, Carlo Tottolo gets almonds from the area of Toritto, some of the best in all of Italy.

This tart is a specialty of Calvizzano, a town near Naples, made with the mastantuono pear, which grows there. You will have to visit Calvizanno to taste the mastantuono—a small round yellow-green pear—but several of our American varieties, such as small Seckel pears or medium-sized Anjou or Bosc, are perfect for this great tart. In this recipe, the fruit is first cooked and saturated in a natural syrup, then baked in a pastry crust. Make sure to use pears that are still firm. This tart is delicious with a dollop of whipped cream, or served warm with some vanilla ice cream. I also like it with sour cream.

Decades after the fateful bite that I took of the peach when I was in Padova at the age of twelve, I still think there is nothing more sensuous than biting into a perfectly ripe peach. When the same peach is baked, though, it takes on an additional element of complexity in flavor. Bake the peaches on an amaretto crust, with a hint of chocolate, and you have a delectable Italian flavor harmony.

It’s no surprise that lime is used widely in Mexican cooking, although it can be confusing because the translation is limón. We don’t have the yellow lemon (well, it is very rare). Lime’s lovely puckery, tart flavor is celebrated in many of our preparations, including this one. The filling for the tart is essentially a curd with a creamy texture and a bright flavor. I don’t like to hide the qualities of the lime at all, and I love the combination of cherries with it. I originally made the fruit mixture with capulines, dark-fleshed wild cherries with large pits, but I’ve never seen them outside Mexico; regular cherries or blueberries are a tasty substitute.

We’re huge fans of these tartlets; while everyone else is sharing a box of chocolates (nice, but dull), we’re putting ours in a box you can eat! These tartlets are delicious and beautiful, with a pleasant hint of nuttiness when you add hazelnut liqueur. Topped with chocolate shavings and a dollop of whipped cream, they make a perfect Valentine confection. (We like to make a couple of extra tartlets for the girls—plus, they make great midnight snacks!)

They say that pumpkin pie is one of the scents that men react to most strongly. I’m not sure if I agree, but I think that by combining a smooth pumpkin filling with a chocolate crust, you have a good chance of getting your guests’ attention. I roast the pumpkin in the oven to ensure the filling isn’t watery. It’s really not possible to overcook the pumpkin; in fact, the longer you cook it, the more the flavors become concentrated. If you can’t find a sugar pumpkin, butternut squash or another hard-skinned fall squash would make a fine substitute. You can roast the pumpkin and bake the crusts at the same time, speeding the process along.

The intense dark chocolate flavor in these little tarts is proof that the best things come in small packages. For truly sensational flavor, use high-quality dark chocolate, such as Valrhona or Scharffen Berger, rather than garden-variety baking chocolate.

This lightly sweetened, eggy dough makes a deliciously buttery, shortbreadlike crust. It’s made in the food processor, so it’s important to go light on the pulsing and feel the dough with your fingers to make sure it isn’t getting overmixed.

Southern summers are too hot for rhubarb to grow, so we Southerners must make the most of our short-lived springtime harvest. This buttery, crunchy tart is one of my favorite ways to do just that.

This recipe came from Mark Zink, who holds the distinction of being the only male pastry chef we ever had at Bayona. This tart is plenty nutty (no offense, Mark!) and richly flavored, thanks to an abundance of almonds. Just after baking, the tart gets a dousing of scotch while it’s still warm—an unusual, aromatic, and delicious twist.

I never thought I liked lemon desserts. Then one summer, while visiting friends in the little French village of Hyères, I experienced the most sublime marriage of lemon and butter, in the form of a humble lemon tart. It came from a pastry shop called Le Pâtisserie des Artisans, and I was too shy to ask them for the recipe. So I vowed to myself that I would research every lemon tart recipe I could get my hands on until I found one that came close. Finally, I found this version in an old cookbook called (roughly translated) Secrets of the Best Restaurants of France. It is different from any other I’ve tried, and captures the sunny flavors I can still taste in my memory. I’ve since returned to Hyères and tried to find that pastry shop (I remember it was near the outdoor market), but I think it closed. Too bad—I would have liked to tell them about my epiphany.

We like Granny Smith apples for this tart, but you could substitute a number of other varieties, including Macoun, Cortland, or Jonagold.

My roommate recently made this for a party we were having and was surprised that something so tasty and fancy looking could be so easy to make. Everyone loved it and was impressed that she had made it. It travels well, too. Combined with a side salad, it makes for a nice lunch.

One taste of this and you will be hooked. The caramelized onions are so sweet that this could practically be a dessert. Other than the onions taking a while to caramelize, it’s so easy to put together, too. Be sure to let it cool completely, and then use a really sharp knife when cutting it so the squares come out clean.

The apple tart is France’s answer to American apple pie. (Or maybe it’s the other way around, but really, who’s keeping score?) The light and buttery crust is a delicious home for overlapping slices of lightly seasoned apples. Rolling the dough over a bed of sugar fuses the granules to the crust, creating a sugary layer that caramelizes into a tantalizingly crisp outer shell as the tart bakes. I like to serve this with crème anglaise—a silky vanilla-infused pourable custard—flavored with apple’s favorite spice, cinnamon. It adds just the right amount of richness to the elegant tart. A little ice cream on the side—vanilla or caramel, for example—wouldn’t hurt either.

I make batches of these in mini muffin pans, wrap them well, freeze them, and keep them on hand for last-minute parties. What a relief it is to have a dessert ready and waiting for an impromptu dinner. The only problem: I know where they are, and sometimes, especially late at night, I can’t resist unwrapping a few and eating them. (Yup, they’re pretty good frozen.) Before long, my party stash has dissipated, and I have to make some more. (Pictured on page 164, center tray.)

This party-perfect showpiece recipe is pure simplicity: fresh plums, flour, sugar, butter, salt, and water. Once it cools, free the tart from its springform pan and you’ll have a golden-crusted beauty with a jewel-toned plum center that advertises—in an elegant but low-key way—the wonders of summertime fruit. If you feel your guests need more, serve it with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream.

All you really need for a good dessert is some good jam and a little pastry in your freezer. This follows the same principle as the Cherry Almond Tart (page 163), but makes use of Blueberry Lemon Jam (page 10). You can substitute another homemade or store-bought jam of your choice.

There is no doubt that if you used only exotic mushrooms this tart would be delicious. However, white mushrooms, easier to find and less expensive, are fairly bland and will take on the flavors of other types. I suggest using a variety, including white button, for a balance of flavor and cost.