Celebrate Local Cranberries with This Cranberry Tart

Oregon cranberries are one of those somewhat under-the-radar crops though, in fact, cranberries are native to the Northwest. The berries have been harvested by indigenous people for millenia and were (and still are) used fresh and dried in many traditional foods. They were traded widely among First Nation people on traditional trade routes, along with salmon and other products.

Cranberry bog.

Cranberries were first grown commercially in Oregon by Charles McFarlin, who settled in Coos County after failing, like so many others, to make a fortune during the Gold Rush of the late 1800s. He planted vines he brought from Massachusetts, later developing a variety known as McFarlin that is still grown today.

Most of the state's cranberries are grown in Coos and Curry counties on the South Coast and, at nearly 3,000 acres and accounting for 95 percent of the state's production, it's just five percent of the nation's commercial harvest. Most cranberry growers are heavily reliant on pesticides and herbicides to control insects and weeds that can devastate crops, but there's a growing number of farmers who are transitioning to organic methods.

Cranberry harvest.

While small in number, organic cranberry farmers are joining forces and sharing successes and challenges, according to an article from Oregon Tilth, one of the region's largest organic certifying agencies. It says that state agricultural agencies, which normally provide support to farmers, are almost exclusively geared to conventional growers and aren't up to speed on the specific needs and challenges of organic farmers, so this homegrown network of organic growers has become critical to the success and availability of locally grown, organic cranberries.

Many family farms grow cranberries.

“It’s been a steep learning curve,” according to cranberry farmer Richard Schmidt, who is quoted in the article and, with his wife, Pam Schmidt, owns Schmidt Berries in Bandon. “We’ve really relied on our neighbor, Ty Vincent, and his dad, Bill Vincent [of Vincent Family Cranberries]. They were the ones that put the farm into transition [to organic] after 30-plus years of traditional practice. It’s their expertise and practical experience that have made our new inexperienced farmer reality much easier. They are the essence of succession in a community. We’d never really been farmers before, and had never lived or farmed on the Oregon coast…we mainly rely on our neighbors. We’ll help them harvest, and they help us harvest. They’re organic too, so we can share equipment, which is kind of nice.”

You can find local, organic cranberries at some stores and area farmers' markets, and I can't say enough about the flavor of these ruby-colored jewels in jams, chutneys, sauces and, of course, pastries. This recipe for a cranberry tart is one of those can't-miss, smash hits that has been the raved-about culmination of two dinners so far this season!

Cranberry Tart

For the pastry:
1 1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp. sugar
1/4 tsp. salt
1 stick plus 2 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1/3 c. ice water

For the filling:
1 lb. cranberries, preferably locally grown
1 scant c. sugar
2 Tbsp. orange liqueur (triple sec, Cointreau, Grand Marnier, etc.)
2 Tbsp. cornstarch
Zest of 1/2 large orange
Egg white (optional)

Preheat the oven to 375°.

In a food processor, combine the flour with the sugar, salt and butter and process for about 5 seconds. With the processor running, drizzle in the ice water over the flour mixture until the pastry just begins to come together, about 10 seconds. Transfer the pastry to a work surface, gather it together and pat into a disk. Wrap the pastry in plastic or wax paper and refrigerate until chilled, about one hour.

Ready for the oven.

Just before the dough finishes chilling, place cranberries in a large bowl and add sugar, liqueur, cornstarch and orange zest. Remove dough from refrigerator and place on well-floured surface. Roll out into large round approximately 14-15" in diameter. Transfer to large, parchment-covered baking sheet (I usually fold the dough in half very carefully, transfer it to the sheet and unfold it). Brush the bottom of the dough with a very thin coating of egg white to within 4" of the edge. Place cranberry filling in the middle, keeping it within 3-4" of the edge of the dough. Lift the edges of the dough and fold over on top of filling, pleating it slightly to keep the tart's rounded shape. An option here is to brush the dough with egg white and sprinkle it with sugar to give it a shiny appearance.

Place in oven and bake at 375° for one hour or so until filling is bubbling and crust is golden.

Photo of cranberry bog from USDA. Photos of harvest from Vincent Family Cranberries.

Memories Found in a Puckery Lemon Tart

This past Mother's Day brought forth a flood of memories of the women in my family, many of whom have passed on but who left indelible impressions. Some are as sharp as the high heels my mother loved to wear, others as soft as the pastel-colored housedresses my father's mother wore. Many, for me—as I'm sure will come as a surprise to no one—involved food: my maternal grandmother's rhubarb sauce that my grandfather heaped sugar on; the batches of cabbage rolls that my dad's family called "hoblich," an invariable feature at any gathering; my own mother's love of fruit desserts and pies.

My mother in party mode.

The one dessert that she adored but never felt that she mastered, at least according to her exacting standards—my Kentucky-raised friend Kathryn would interject "bless her heart" here—was lemon meringue pie. I recall many of these cloud-topped confections parading through my young life, but for my mom there was always a meringue that pulled away from the crust, even if only a little, or it bore too many overly browned curlicues on its tips, or the curd was too sweet or too tart.

No matter how many compliments were showered on her efforts, she'd turn them away by pointing out its shortcomings or by saying, "Oh, you should try my friend Eleanor's, she makes the best lemon meringue." In other words, it was a fraught topic for her.

A simple lemon tart to love.

I, on the other hand, was more than happy to gobble up any and all "mistakes," major or minor. If the smooth lemony curd made the back of my tongue tingle, all the better. If its sweetness cut the lemon's tang, I can't remember minding. Ditto with any meringue issues.

These recollections came rushing back recently when Dave was experimenting with a lemon tart recipe from Cook's Illustrated, following on the heels of his apple galette epiphany. The curd is smooth and has just the right tang of lemon, the crust is short and not-too-sweet, and a dollop of whipped cream obviates any potential meringue traumas.

I think my mother would approve.

Lemon Olive Oil Tart

Adapted from Cook's Illustrated

For the crust:

1 1/2 cups (7 1/2 oz.) flour

5 Tbsp. (2 1/4 oz.) sugar

1/2 tsp. kosher salt

1/2 c. olive oil

2 Tbsp. water

For the filling:

1 c. (7 oz.) sugar

2 Tbsp. flour

1/4 tsp. kosher salt

3 eggs plus 3 yolks

1 Tbsp. grated lemon zest plus 1/2 cup juice (approx. 3 lemons)

1/4 c. olive oil

Make sure that all your metal equipment—saucepan, strainer and whisk—is nonreactive, or the filling may have a metallic flavor.

For the crust: Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350°. Whisk flour, sugar and salt together in bowl. Add oil and water and stir until uniform dough forms. Using your hands, crumble three-quarters of dough over bottom of 9-inch tart pan with removable bottom. Press dough to even thickness in bottom of pan. Crumble remaining dough and scatter evenly around edge of pan, then press crumbled dough into fluted sides of pan. Press dough to even thickness. Place pan on rimmed baking sheet and bake until crust is deep golden brown and firm to touch, 30 to 35 minutes, rotating pan halfway through baking.

For the filling: About 5 minutes before crust is finished baking, whisk sugar, flour and salt in medium saucepan until combined. Whisk in eggs and yolks until no streaks of egg remain. Whisk in lemon zest and juice. Cook over medium-low heat, whisking constantly and scraping corners of saucepan, until mixture thickens slightly and registers 160°, 5 to 8 minutes.

Off the heat, whisk in oil until incorporated. Strain curd through fine-mesh strainer set over bowl. Pour curd into warm tart shell.

Bake until filling is set and barely jiggles when pan is shaken, 8 to 12 minutes. Let tart cool completely on wire rack, at least 2 hours. Remove outer metal ring of tart pan. Slide thin metal spatula between tart and pan bottom, then carefully slide tart onto serving platter. Cut tart into wedges, wiping knife clean between cuts if necessary, and serve. (Leftovers can be wrapped loosely in plastic wrap and refrigerated for up to 3 days.)

Perfect Holiday Dessert: Not-So-Tart Cranberry Tart!

As a person who is in the kitchen several times a day feeding myself and various family members (pets included), I've had some experiments that turned out badly—thinking of you, cabbage torte—and others that came out, well, just so-so. But once in awhile there's that shining star, an attempt that, while it might take a time or two to perfect, is so wonderful that it's worth taking to a potluck dinner or serving to your own guests, where it gets those oohs and aahs that make a cook feel appreciated.

Local organic cranberries.

This last Thanksgiving I'd volunteered to take a dessert to my family's feast. My brother had the basics covered—turkey, mashed potatoes, etc.—and my sister-in-law was whipping up some of her fabulous pumpkin pies and homemade cranberry sauce. I'd thought about apple pie, one of my family's all-time faves, but I had a pound-and-a-half of cranberries from the Sidle family at Eagle Organic Cranberries in Bandon that I'd bought. (You can read a profile here).

Voila! Rusticity at its most tasty.

Since cranberry sauce was taken care of, it occurred to me that a cranberry pie of some sort might be in order, its tartness offsetting some of the richness of the rest of the meal. I decided a rustic tart would be a beautiful and relatively easy solution, plus the "Wow!" factor, if it turned out well—tarts, with their free-form artfulness are, to me, so much more impressive than pies—is so very satisfying.

There was a bit of holding-of-breath involved, since I wasn't sure how much sugar it would take to make it sweet enough but still keep some of the cranberries' lovely tartness, or how much liquid I could add without making it soupy, but the result was stunning. I served it again a few nights later using fewer cranberries, the original quantity being a little too bulky and tweaking the amount of sugar, but I think you'll find your audience, since cooking is performance art, after all, will be applauding.

Not-So-Tart Cranberry Tart

For the crust:
2 c. flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. sugar
3/4 c. cold butter or margarine (1 1/2 sticks), cut into pieces
4-5 Tbsp. ice water

For the filling:
1 lb. cranberries, preferably locally grown
1 scant c. sugar
2 Tbsp. orange liqueur (triple sec, Cointreau, Grand Marnier, etc.)
2 Tbsp. cornstarch
Zest of 1/2 large orange
Egg white

For the crust, you can use any pie crust recipe you like. I just made one-and-a-half times the amount I use for my single-crust pies, since a tart has no top crust, as such, but the outside edges are folded over the filling. And I make my crust in the food processor. (My mother never forgave this transgression, but some pie is better than no pie, after all.)

Put the flour in the bowl of the food processor with the salt and sugar. Pulse briefly to combine. Add butter or margarine pieces and pulse until the mixture resembles cornmeal. With processor running, dribble in ice water until the dough comes together in one piece (this might take a minute, so dribble slowly and stop as soon as it begins forming) and starts whacking around inside the processor bowl. Wrap in plastic wrap or zip-lock bag and place in the refrigerator to chill for one hour.

Just before the dough finished chilling, place cranberries in a large bowl and add sugar, liqueur, cornstarch and orange zest. Remove dough from refrigerator and place on well-floured surface (I use my mother's pastry cloth from my childhood). Roll out into large round approximately 14-15" in diameter. Transfer to large, parchment-covered baking sheet (I usually fold the dough in half very carefully, transfer it to the sheet and unfold it). Brush the bottom of the dough with a very thin coating of egg white to within 4" of the edge. Place cranberry filling in the middle, keeping it within 3-4" of the edge of the dough. Lift the edges of the dough and fold over on top of filling, pleating it slightly to keep the tart's rounded shape. An option here is to brush the dough with egg white and sprinkle it with sugar to give it a shiny appearance as in the photos above.

Place in oven and bake at 375° for one hour or so until filling is bubbling and crust is golden.

Not-Quite-End-of-Summer Tomato Tart

After roasting more than 142 pounds of tomatoes over three days last week, then freezing the resulting 36 quarts, a friend jokingly suggested that I might not be in the mood to help her harvest the bounty of Sungold cherry tomatoes in her garden. "Au contraire, mon cher!" was my snappy comeback.

It's that time of year when I want to exhaust my appetite for fresh sliced tomatoes, the better to remember their warm sweetness picked off the vine when I'm mired in the depths of the rain and cold this winter. Sliced thick or thin, eaten au naturel or drizzled with olive oil and a shower of salt, in a caprese or panzanella, sandwiched between slices of Dave's homemade whole wheat bread and a slather of mayonnaise (with or without his home-smoked bacon and a fresh-from-the-garden lettuce leaf) or chopped in chunks and barely warmed before tossing with pasta, you will find tomato juice dribbling down my chin until the last possible moment.

This tomato tart is a particularly fabulous way to enjoy the season, especially with the palette of colorful tomatoes available right now. Enjoy!

Tomato, Bacon and Greens Tart

For the crust:

1 1/4 c. flour

1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 c. cold butter or margarine, cut into pieces

2-3 Tbsp. ice water

For the filling:

4 slices thick-cut bacon, cut crosswise in 1/4" slices

1/2 medium onion, chopped

3 cloves garlic, minced

4-6 leaves beet greens, chard or kale, sliced into chiffonade

3-4 medium tomatoes, sliced in 1/8" thick slices (cherry tomatoes can be halved)

Preheat oven to 375°.

Put flour and salt in the bowls of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add pieces of butter or margarine and pulse until the texture of cornmeal. With processor running, drizzle in water until it comes together in the bowl. (I usually use 2 1/2 Tbsp. and it comes together well without being too wet.) Remove from bowl, adding in any stray bits, wrap in plastic and refrigerate at least 1/2 hour.

Roll out dough on floured surface to make 12" round. Transfer to 9" diameter tart pan with removable bottom. Trim edges, leaving 3/4" overhang. Fold overhang in to form double-thick sides. Press tart edges to raise dough 1/8" above pan. Chill in refrigerator for 30 min.

Heat non-stick skillet over medium heat and add bacon. When bacon has rendered, add chopped onion and garlic and sauté till golden, stirring frequently to avoid browning. Add kale chiffonade and sauté till wilted. Remove from heat and set aside.

Line inside of crust with foil and bake until golden, about 20 min. Remove from oven and cool slightly. Scatter kale mixture over the bottom of the crust in a thin layer. Top with single layer of tomatoes, arranged randomly. Place in oven and bake for 40 min. or until crust is browned and tomatoes are cooked through. Let cool slightly and remove outer ring from tart pan. Slide tart off bottom onto serving platter, using a spatula if necessary to loosen it. Can be served warm or at room temperature.

Social Experiment

My mother loved to entertain, and I remember many evenings reluctantly trudging upstairs to bed, falling asleep to the sound of vehement discussions and laughter floating up the stairs. One of her rules was that she never tried a new recipe out on her guests, preferring instead to stay with the tried and true.

Me, I think there's no better excuse to try something new than having folks over. I first tried out a new (to me) sauce called "pesto" on guests, and over the years there have been myriad salads, braised meats and desserts that were, for the most part, great successes. Though I have to admit there were a (very) few that, how shall I put it, will never be spoken of, or made, again.

So when my friend Peter invited us to bring an appetizer for dinner the other night, I mulled over the usual suspects…dips, wings, crostini/bruschetta, etc.…but nothing really clicked. Plus I really didn't want to make a trip to the store. So I looked around and took stock: tomatoes and kale in the garden, onions, garlic and parmesan in the pantry. Then I remembered a photo of an amazing tomato tart I'd seen on the cover of a cookbook, and the deal, as they say, was sealed.

Made with all sizes and colors of tomatoes, it fit perfectly with what I had on hand, though it would have been great with simple red tomatoes, too. The thin layer of sautéed kale and parmesan tucked underneath was just the right bass note for the bright treble of the fresh tomatoes. And the dinner that night, with great food, wine and friends laughing and talking, was one my mother would have loved. Even if I broke one of her rules.

Tomato, Kale and Parmesan Tart

For the crust:
1 1/4 c. flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 c. cold butter or margarine, cut into pieces
2-3 Tbsp. ice water

For the filling:
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
4-6 leaves lacinato (or black) kale, sliced into chiffonade
1/2 c. parmesan, grated fine
3-4 tomatoes, sliced in 1/4" thick slices (cherry tomatoes can be halved)

Preheat oven to 375°.

Put flour and salt in the bowls of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add pieces of butter and pulse until the texture of cornmeal. With processor running, drizzle in water until it comes together in the bowl. (I usually use 2 1/2 Tbsp. and it comes together well without being too wet.) Remove from bowl, adding in any stray bits, wrap in plastic and refrigerate at least 1/2 hour.

Roll out dough on floured surface to make 12" round. Transfer to 9" diameter tart pan with removable bottom. Trim edges, leaving 3/4" overhang. Fold overhang in to form double-thick sides. Press tart edges to raise dough 1/8" above pan. Chill in refrigerator for 30 min.

Add olive oil to non-stick skillet and heat until oil shimmers. Add chopped onion and garlic and sauté till golden, stirring frequently to avoid browning. Add kale chiffonade and sauté till wilted. Remove from heat and set aside.

Line crust with foil and bake until golden, about 20 min. Remove from oven and cool slightly. Scatter kale mixture over the bottom of the crust, then sprinkle with parmesan. Top with single layer of tomatoes, arranging randomly. Place in oven and bake for 40 min. or until crust is browned and tomatoes are cooked through. Let cool slightly and remove outer ring. Slide off bottom onto serving platter. Serve warm or at room temperature. (And I hear the leftovers are great for breakfast the next day.)

In Season NW: Sorrel Tart

It's not exactly in the same league as King Arthur's search for the Holy Grail, and I'm nowhere near as dedicated as Julia Child was in her effort to master French cuisine, but my quest to incorporate more seasonal greens in my repertoire continues apace. This time it was a basket of sorrel that caught my eye at the Gathering Together Farm stand at last week's Hillsdale Farmers' Market.

Years ago I tasted some of the green, spinach-like leaves that a friend had grown and was intrigued by its fresh, almost lemony tang. I even tried growing it, but was overwhelmed with the volume of leaves that sprang from the almost three-foot-high plant.

But this lovely little bunch proved to be just the right amount for a tart with bacon and cheese. And, as I'd read, it lost some of its puckery tartness after steaming, and the leaves were so young and tender I didn't need to remove the stems, making this an easy and quick week-night dinner.

Sorrel and Bacon Tart

This quiche-like tart is infinitely mutable. Use any green (or not) and feel free to improvise by eliminating the bacon, adding peppers or whatever catches your fancy.

Crust:
1 1/4 c. all-purpose flour
1 stick (1/2 c.) unsalted butter or frozen margarine
1/4 tsp. salt
3 Tbsp. ice water

Filling:
1 small bunch sorrel
3 slices good bacon
1 big onion, thinly sliced
Pinch of sugar
1 c. milk, Half & Half or cream if you’re feeling indulgent
2 eggs
2 egg yolks
1/2 tsp. ground black pepper
Generous pinch of salt
1/8 tsp. thyme
4-5 oz. cheese (use a good full-flavored cow’s milk cheese like Spahn, Fontina D’Aosta, or Gruyere), grated

Cut together flour, butter, and salt in a small bowl with a pastry blender (or pulse in a food processor) just until mixture resembles an uneven, coarse meal with some pea-sized butter lumps. Drizzle 3 tablespoons ice water evenly over mixture and blend (or process) until incorporated. Squeeze a little in your fist. If it crumbles, add a little more water, blend in and squeeze again. Repeat if necessary, but don’t work the dough too much or it will be tough. When you’re satisfied, press dough into a disk about five inches across, and chill for at least an hour.

Preheat oven to 400°F.

Roll out dough so it will fit in a 9-inch tart pan with removable bottom. Press it into the pan and up the sides, leaving 1/2" overhang. Fold over this excess and press against sides. Freeze 10 minutes. Line it with foil and fill with beans or pie weights [I use heavy-duty aluminum foil alone] and then bake crust 10 minutes. Take out the weights and foil and bake until it’s starting to turn golden, maybe 10-15 minutes more. Pull it out and let it cool while you make the filling.

Steam the sorrel until just wilted (remove stems if tough). Chop finely. In a medium skillet, sauté the bacon over medium-low heat until it’s crisp and has rendered its fat. Pull out the bacon and drain on paper towels. Raise the heat to medium and sauté the onion in the drippings with a pinch of sugar until they’re deep golden brown (15-20 minutes). Spread the onions over the bottom of the crust, break bacon into bite-size pieces and sprinkle over onions. Top with grated cheese and sorrel. Blend together the milk, eggs, salt, pepper and thyme, then pour into the crust.

Bake until filling is set, about 25 minutes. Cool tart on rack for a few minutes and then remove pan sides. Serve warm or at room temperature.

In Season: Nettles?

The good news:

"Nettles are fantastically high in vitamins A and C, and rich in nutrients, including calcium, choline, magnesium, boron, iron, iodine, silica , sulfur, potassium, chlorophyll, histamine, serotonin, glucoquinones, bioflavonoids, tannins and amino acids. They're unusually high in protein (40%) for a plant."

The bad news:

"These are a great and healthful green to eat, but they are only eaten cooked. Take care when handling, they will sting while raw. It takes very little cooking to shed the stinging."

I think that qualifies them as "extreme food." They were eventually going to be the main ingredient, along with a couple of leeks from the farmers' market, in a tart I was making for an appetizer, and serving it with my hands wrapped in gauze would probably be less than appetizing for my guests.

So I donned my (brand-new) gardening gloves, dumped the bag of nettles into the colander, gave them a good rinse and then transferred them into a hot skillet to wilt. After they cooled, and without the gloves, the big stems were removed and the (now stingless) leaves were picked off. Basically tasting like spinach or fiddlehead ferns, I chopped them, squeezed out the water that remained and added them to the tart.

And I mean, how many times do you get to tell a story about risking your safety for the pleasure of your guests? So worth it!

Spring Leek and Nettle Tart

Crust
1 1/4 c. unbleached flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 stick margarine, frozen and cut into eight pieces
2-3 Tbsp. ice water

Filling
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter, margarine or oil
2 leeks, white parts only, halved, rinsed and cut in 1/4" slices
1/4 lb. mushrooms, sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 tsp. dried thyme
4 c. nettles (not packed)
1 c. grated cheese
3/4 c. cream, half and half or milk
2 large eggs yolks
2 large eggs

For crust: Blend flour and salt in processor. Add margarine and pulse until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Add water and pulse until the dough starts to come together in the bowl. Remove, wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate 1 hour.

For filling: While dough chills, chop garlic, slice leeks and mushrooms and grate cheese. Melt 1 Tbsp. butter in skillet and add garlic and leeks. Saute till wilted, then add mushrooms and saute till golden, about 10 minutes. Mix in thyme and cool.

Wearing thick gloves, dump nettles into colander and rinse. Melt 1 Tbsp. butter in skillet and add nettles, cooking until nettles are wilted and most of the water they release has evaporated. Drain in colander and cool. Remove larger stems if desired and squeeze out water, then chop coarsely.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Roll out dough and place in non-stick tart pan with removable bottom, allowing 1/2" overlap. Fold rim down with 1/8" of dough remaining above rim. Line crust with foil and bake 20 min. or until lightly golden. Remove foil.

Sprinkle cheese in crust. Cover with vegetables. Whisk cream, yolks and eggs in bowl and pour over ingredients in crust. Bake until filling is set and top is golden, about 30 min. Serve immediately or cool on rack.

Peachy!

Last weekend was unusual for us in that we had commitments every evening, something we normally try to avoid since we're more in the "homebody" category than the "party animal" section of the social library. But it was all good, from hanging with Armandino Batali of Seattle's Salumi at Foster & Dobbs on Friday to dinner with good friends on Saturday to a knock-out dinner with the bro' and w- on Sunday.

And, since a couple of desserts were going to be needed and I was covering the Hillsboro Farmers Market for next week's column in the Oregonian, I picked up ten pounds of ripe, juicy peaches from VanDyke Farms. With those luscious peaches perfuming the car, it was all I could do not to grab one and slurp it on the drive home, but stickiness is not one of my favorite things, so the box made it back to the house unscathed.

The first dessert was a variation on the cobbler recipe I posted earlier, substituting peaches for berries. The second was a peach and blueberry crostata that absolutely rocked, and is one I'll be repeating with all kinds of fruits as the season goes on.

Peach and Blueberry Crostata
adapted from Bon Appetit's Outdoor Entertaining

For the crust:
1 3/4 c. flour
1/2 c. hazelnuts, toasted
2 Tbsp. sugar
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 c. plus 3 Tbsp. chilled unsalted butter
1/4 c. ice water (approx.)

For the filling:
5 large, ripe peaches, peeled and sliced
1 c. blueberries
3/4 c. sugar, plus more for sprinkling
3 Tbsp. cornstarch
1/2 tsp. cinnamon (optional)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Blend first five ingredients in processor until nuts are finely ground. Add butter in chunks, pulsing until mixture resembles coarse meal. Mix in enough water to form moist clumps. Gather dough into ball, wrap in plastic and refrigerate 1 hr.

For filling, place peaches and blueberries in large mixing bowl and gently combine with sugar, cornstarch and cinnamon.

Roll out dough on floured work surface into 15-inch round. Transfer to prepared baking sheet, centering it atop a nonstick tart pan bottom. Brush dough with egg white, then mound peach filling in center, leaving a 1 1/2 inch border. Fold dough border over filling, pleating loosely and pinching any cracks to seal. Sprinkle crust with sugar.

Bake crostata until crust is brown and filling bubbles, about 55 minutes. Cool tart 15 minutes on rack, then slide metal spatula under edges of crostata to loosen. Transfer to platter.

Tart Tart, Tang Tang.

As stated previously, I am a sucker for a good recipe and, if it features one of my favorite ingredients in an easy and delicious-sounding new form, there's a good likelihood that it'll end up in the "Gotta Try This" folder. When the Dining section of the New York Times ran an article a few months ago on lemons, they had me hooked. And since I'd recently purchased a non-stick tart pan, the description of the Lemon Confit Shortbread Tart made it a cut-it-out-right-now item even if everyone hadn't yet read the paper (sorry, honey...).

This one was particularly appealing to my lemon-loving self because the filling is no creamy compromise to less lemon-centric souls, but simply thinly sliced rind-and-all lemons with a touch of sugar, boiled down and sandwiched between two lightly lemon-scented crusts. It's enough to make even the most ardent lemon supporter's back teeth sing and it's incredibly good, especially served with fresh Hood strawberries and a dollop of Mio Gelato's Italian cream. Like the farro salad, it's going to be appearing with regularity on our summer table.

My friend Mary Fishback of Bread & Ink Cafe and the founding dessert maven behind Rimsky-Korsakoffee House made it with clementines and said it totally rocks, so come up with your own variation and let us know how it turns out. You (and your guests this summer) will be knocked out!

Lemon Confit Shortbread Tart
Originally from the New York Times Dining section

For the crust:
3 c. flour
1 tsp. salt
1/2 lb. (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into 1" pieces
1 1/4 c. sugar, divided
1 large egg
1/8 to 1/4 tsp. almond extract, or to taste
2 Tbsp. lemon juice

For the confit:
8 Meyer lemons, preferably thin-skinned and seedless, but regular organic lemons will work
3/4 c. sugar
2 Tbsp. water

For the crust, combine flour, salt, butter and 1 cup sugar in a bowl.  Mix with your fingers until it forms flaky crumbs and lumps. Mix in egg, almond extract and lemon juice. Continue to mix until it clumps; it may seem very dry at first. Shape into a ball, wrap in plastic and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, or up to 1 day ahead of baking.

For the confit, slice off and discard ends of lemons. Slice 5 crosswise, peel and all, as thinly as possible. Remove any seeds and place in a bowl. Peel skin, including white pith, from remaining 3 lemons, then slice thinly crosswise and add to bowl. Add 3/4 cup sugar and 2 tablespoons water. Toss and let sit at room temperature for at least 30 minutes or up to 2 hours.

Place lemon slices and their juice in a saucepan, and bring to a boil.  Cook down until lemons are candied and small amount of liquid in pan is sticky and syrupy, about 15 minutes. Transfer to a bowl and let cool.

To bake, preheat oven to 350°. Divide dough in half and form each half into a ball. Roll out one ball on a floured surface until large enough to fit into a 9-inch round tart pan. Dough will be crumbly (more shortbread than pie crust); if it falls apart, press it back together. Spoon Confit over crust, spreading evenly. Roll out second ball of dough and place on top, sealing edges but making sure no crust overlaps the rim or tart will be difficult to remove later.

Bake until edges of tart are lightly golden, about 35 minutes, then sprinkle top with remaining ¼ cup sugar.  Return to oven for about 10 more minutes; edges should be lightly golden and crust cooked through but not browned.  Serve warm or cooled.