Tart

This is a standard tart in France, and I thought the combination of pears and chocolate on flaky pastry was so tasty I had to bring it back. This would be a perfect ending to one of the “Impressing Your Date” meals. It’s easy, tastes great, looks really cool, and can all be done ahead of time.

Okay, I won’t lie to you, these take a while to make, but they’re so delectable and quintessentially Greek that it’s worth the time it takes. You can make these several hours ahead and serve them at room temperature or you can put them together and just bake them right before you serve them.

This dough is cookielike and sturdy, and it doesn’t need to be weighed down with pie weights for prebaking. But best of all, it’s pressed into the tart pan, so there’s no need for rolling.

This tart exemplifies what the French do best: combine just a few top-quality ingredients, doing as little to them as possible. Ganache is a mélange of cream and chocolate, reportedly named after a young baker who accidentally spilled some cream into the chocolate the chef was melting. The chef called him a ganache, which is slang for “idiot,” but when he stirred in the cream, they realized the mistake was probably one of the most brilliant things to ever happen to chocolate.

Friend and fellow baker Dede Wilson presented me with a slice of this tart after she made it on television. Believe me, if every viewer could have tasted it, ratings would’ve gone through the roof! The name of this tart is a little deceptive, just as television sometimes is. The recipe calls for almond paste, not marzipan, as the title suggest. (Marzipan is almond paste’s sweeter cousin that’s used for molding and modeling.) Yes, Dede took some liberties when she named her creation, but no matter what it’s called, this tart is renewed season after season in my kitchen.

The first time I saw a fresh fig was nearly three decades ago when I was living in upstate New York. I had no idea what it was. Then I moved to California and saw them everywhere. I can’t say for sure that fresh figs were the reason I stayed put there for so long, but they certainly were one of them.

I once found a long-forgotten jar of homemade quince marmalade in the back of my refrigerator. Rather than throw it out, I took it with me to a friend’s house out in the country with the hope that one morning I could slip it onto the breakfast table and no one would be the wiser. But I was so mesmerized by the gorgeous rosy hue of the quince preserves that, instead, I used the marmalade as a filling for this amazingly easy-to-make jam tart. The tart is easy for a couple of reasons. The first is that there is no filling to make or fruit to cut up—any type of thick jam or marmalade, homemade or otherwise, is all you’ll need. The second is that the dough doesn’t require rolling: two-thirds of it is pressed into the tart pan, and the rest is formed into a log, sliced like refrigerator cookie dough, then layered onto the tart to create the top crust. Truly a piece of cake to make, this tart serves as a wonderful breakfast pastry. In the end, the marmalade did indeed make an early (well, not too early) morning appearance on the table, and I didn’t have to be sneaky about it.

I never would have thought of pairing white chocolate with lemon. My first taste of the combination was in the form of a slice of a towering lemon pie with white chocolate sauce at a restaurant in San Francisco. The second was in a filling made of the two enrobed as a neat square of chocolate at Theo Chocolate in Seattle. I didn’t need any more convincing that the pair is delicious match. My third experience with the combination was making these tartlets, and they were a charm as well. Although I’m happy to share my recipes, I’m not so big on sharing desserts, so I made these tartlets in individual portions. You can swirl each plate with the white chocolate sauce or, if you’re better at sharing than I am, you can pass a bowl of it at the table.

I tried to explain to some French pals what a “treehugger” is, a term that we Americans jokingly use to refer to a person who participates in well-intentioned earth-saving activities. Judging from my friends’ baffled expressions, the meaning got lost in translation. There are now a few French people wandering around scratching their heads, puzzled about nutty Americans with a penchant for wrapping their arms around tree trunks. I’m guilty of hugging a few trees myself. I read that using Brazil nuts is something positive that we can do to help sustain the rain forests, so I came up with this tart, which is packed full of them. I can’t say you’ll feel better about saving the planet if you make it, but anyone who doesn’t give it a try is, in my opinion, definitely nuts.

This is an unusual tart. Not just for its brilliant red color, but for how it takes people by surprise when it’s turned out onto a serving platter. Be sure to plan in advance, as the apples really benefit from marinating in the red wine for at least one day, although two days of steeping gives them the best color. You’ll find the tart worth the wait.

If you’ve never made brown butter, it’s simple. You put butter in a pan and cook it until it develops the wonderful nutty aroma for which the French named it: beurre noisette, or hazelnut butter. Here, custard flavored with brown butter provides a rich background for a tart filled with dark rum–spiked pears and toasted pecans.

If you’ve never had whole wheat puff pastry before, you’re in for a treat. While many people love the taste of the buttery layers of traditional puff pastry, adding whole wheat flour gives it a hearty, nutty taste that I find especially appealing when paired with apples. I also reason that the whole wheat balances out what some might consider an injudicious amount of butter in the dough. This is a quick puff pastry, adapted from a technique I learned from Linda Zagula, that takes a fraction of the time and work required to make the traditional kind. It still takes six turns to roll it out, but you do the first four all at once, then the last two later. And the pastry recipe makes enough for two tarts, so you can wrap the extra piece and stash it away in the freezer, ready for the next tart.

I love a good, classic version of tarte Tatin, the famed French caramelized-apple tart, as much as the next guy—probably even more. But adding slices of quince makes this variation extra inviting to me. If you’re unfamiliar with quince, a cousin of the apple, it’s likely because they’re inedible in their raw state, so they tend to get neglected by folks who don’t know about the seductive, beguiling flavor that’s coaxed out of them by cooking. Like apples, quince are in season in the fall, and they’re easy to find by following your nose; when they’re ripe, their scent is rather intoxicating. I often keep a bowl of them on my dining table to perfume my entire apartment.

The Basque region is an area that spans the border between Spain and France, where a strong sense of nationalism has fueled a desire for independence among some of the Basque people. (I recommend not bringing up the topic if you go for a visit.) But one thing that all sides can agree on is that gâteau Basque is one of the region’s tastiest achievements and a great source of pride. I’m an impartial observer, but I am partial to this dessert, which is a cross between a cake and big cookie. But being Basque, it’s naturally subject to controversy: some versions have pastry cream sandwiched between the layers and others are filled with cherry jam. While happily tasting my way through various examples in the region, I’ve enjoyed versions of both, which is a pretty good way to keep the peace. Don’t be too concerned if the dough falls apart as you roll it; it can be pinched together and will still bake up perfectly.

Here you have the Queen of Tarts: fresh figs and apricot jam are a wonderful counterpart to the sweet and tangy taste of the seasonal berries and kiwi.

While vacationing in Paris, I fell in love with the delicious fruit tarts. Here is my whole grain, sugar-free version with a fragrant frangipane filling made in the classic tradition using finely ground almonds. Now you can indulge and feel great afterwards. C’est magnifique.

The usual corn syrup is replaced with agave nectar in this elegant tart. It’s beautiful on a holiday dessert table or at any get-together.

Without a doubt, this is the richest dessert in this cookbook. It’s an adapted and revised version of one of my restaurant’s most beloved desserts, Walnut Passion Bars. I’ve turned them into a tart and added buttery macadamias.

There is nothing more delicious than custard cream and fresh berries, as far as I’m concerned. I could eat it with a spoon, morning, noon, and night. This light, fresh tart is easy to make and a favorite with all ages. My kids adore the shortbread crust, because it tastes like cookies and it’s heaped with antioxidant-rich berries, making it rather virtuous (well, sort of . . .).

My friend Amy has celiac disease and a dairy allergy. She says this tart is just perfect, and makes her feel “normal” again. She loves that she can share it with her non-food-allergic husband and kids, and that they gobble it just as voraciously. The shortbread crust is heavenly with the rich chocolate pudding.