My Brown Butter Tart Quest, Part II

So now that I've eased you into my consuming obsession with brown butter tarts, and even left you hanging (I'm sure the anticipation was keeping you up at night), it's time to finish the tale of my epic quest.

When we left off, I had scientifically broken down the three components of brown butter tarts - filling, crust, and fruit - and explained why each is spectacular both separately and as a whole. But I was at a crossroads at how to replicate them in my home kitchen. Should I take the plunge and just cut the recipe down severely? (How exactly could I 1/12th a single egg yolk?) Should I just resign myself to only enjoying brown butter tarts at Bistro VG? Should I send a kind e-mail to the pastry chef asking him or her to elaborate further on the recipe? Should I send an angry e-mail to the pastry chef asking him or her how any home baker was expected to deal with such an unhelpful "recipe" (the most tempting option, I assure you)?

The answer turned out to be none of the above. A few weeks ago, I was perusing one of my favorite food blogs, Smitten Kitchen, browsing innocently through the substantial recipe index when I stumbled upon a recipe for cherry brown butter bars. I stopped dead in my tracks. Could this finally be the answer to my (sugar- and butter-laden) prayers?
Indeed, it was. Turns out that Deb at Smitten Kitchen had adapted a recipe for raspberry brown butter tart (from Bon Appetit) to bars filled with cherries instead of raspberries. And she documented the whole thing, complete with those all-important cross-section shots, and put her stamp of approval on the recipe. It all seemed too good to be true. Was it?

I eagerly e-mailed my mom, who knew all too well that these tarts had become the object of my desire, asking her to confirm that these tarts really did look like the real thing.

Her reply (via e-mail): "om. that's it. I'm sure of it." (For those not in the know, "om" - pronounced "O.M." - stands for "oh my" and is my mom's totally adorable version of "omg.")

So that was it. It was settled. This was the recipe I should use. But for some reason, I was still unconvinced. Or not convinced enough that these were really the real deal, because I kept searching for brown butter tarts. After many hours of tireless searching, I finally came across another recipe from Los Angeles chef Suzanne Goin. Her recipe looked promising, and as a recipe source she seemed trustworthy.

So I did what any self-respecting baker would do. No, I didn't bake each version. Ironically, I wasn't willing to commit the time and calories to such an undertaking (didn't I realize I was baking brown butter tarts?). Instead, I did an ingredient-by-ingredient comparison of all three recipes (Bistro VG, Smitten Kitchen, and Suzanne Goin) to see where differences in flavor and texture might arise.

I had a hunch that, from the photos on SK, the filling might be too custardy and the crust not flaky enough. After several unit conversions and a little bit of Excel work, I figured out that the BVG recipe had much higher ratios of butter than the other recipes, which were pretty similar. To make a long story short, my Excel spreadsheet actually made me more confident in the SK recipe; seeing BVG as the outlier in terms of ratios made me think that perhaps the recipe was faulty to begin with.

So I forged on with the SK filling recipe; I was committed to it, custardy interior and all. As for the crust, I was looking for one that was a deep golden brown (no blonde crusts!) and intensely flaky. Whenever I found a photo of a crust that seemed to embody this ideal, it almost always contained powdered sugar instead of granulated sugar. I'm not sure why this ingredient produces these desired effects, but I knew for sure my crust recipe would utilize it. I eventually found my answer in Dorie Greenspan's tart crust, a fairly common pate sucree variation. Now that I had my crust, filling, and fruit (I opted to make three strawberry and one cranberry), I headed into the kitchen and began.

For all the work I did in researching these tarts, the process of actually preparing them was relatively simple. First, I made the dough, which comes together quite simply and has the added bonus of being ready to use right as it's made. Instead of rolling the dough (a task that always sends me into a stress-induced frenzy), it can be patted right into the tart pans. It takes a bit of practice to get the shells to an even thickness all around, but it was easy work.

While the crusts baked, I set to work on the filling, which was my favorite part of the baking process simply because brown butter is surely heaven-sent from the culinary gods. Its scent is particularly hypnotizing. To merely proclaim it to be "nutty" would be to do it a great disservice. I can only advise you to go brown some butter right now and then please try to capture and bottle that scent and send it my way promptly. Please and thank you.
Like the crust, the filling is quick work and becomes a thick, ribboned concoction spotted with brown butter magic. After assembling the tarts and baking them, it was time for the moment of truth.

How did they taste?

Well, they were everything I wanted and more. My fears about the filling being too custardy were misplaced. While not as cakey as the Bistro VG tarts, the texture was somewhere in the middle of the fudgy/cakey spectrum. Not too dense or airy, but just right. The strawberries turned out to be a spectacular choice for fruit. Their flavor intensifies in the oven, becoming altogether more sweet and tart, similar to the effect oven-roasting has on tomatoes. The real surprise was the crust, though. I was afraid the crust would be more like shortbread than short pastry, but this is the flakiest (and easiest) crust I've ever made. As a whole, the tarts were a resounding success.

The only problem? Given how little effort the tarts require and how big the gratification is, brown butter tarts are all I want to eat right now. I think you'll feel the same.

Strawberry Brown Butter Tarts
As I mentioned in Part I, these tarts are highly adaptable in terms of the fruit you choose to pair them with. I've yet to try out or apples or pears - which I think would require some form of pre-cooking - but feel free to substitute blackberries, raspberries, blueberries, cherries, cranberries, peaches, or plums for the strawberries here. Or try a mixture! I'm currently dreaming of a strawberry-rhubarb version that would be perfect paired with the lovely spring weather we're having.

Yield: 4 (4.5-inch) tarts or 1 (9-inch) tart*

Crust:
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen, who adapted from Dorie Greenspan

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 stick (8 tablespoons) cold butter, cut into pieces
1 large egg

In the bowl of a food processor fitted with the steel blade, combine flour, sugar, and salt. Pulse a few times to combine. Scatter the butter pieces over the flour mixture and pulse 8 to 10 times, until the butter is the size of peas. Add the egg and pulse in short bursts until the dough gathers into a ball in the food processor. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 5 to 10 minutes, until chilled but still pliable.

Meanwhile, prepare your tart pan(s). Spray them liberally with nonstick cooking spray (especially if the edges are fluted, the last thing you want is precious pastry sticking to the tart pan!).

When the dough is chilled but still pliable (think cold play-doh), begin pressing into the prepared tart pans. I find the best way to do this is to start on the bottom and form an even thickness before working my way up to the sides. Using two fingers, mold the dough to an even thickness (about 1/2 an inch) on the sides, trim any excess, and use the scraps to fill in any gaps on the bottom. Remember that the crust needn't be perfect, but a uniform thickness is essential, as is making sure there are no bare spots.

When the dough is molded into the tart pans, place the pans on a baking sheet and freeze for 30 minutes. As the dough freezes, adjust an oven rack to the center position and preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

After 30 minutes, remove the tart pans from the freezer. Prick the bottom of the dough 3 or 4 times with a fork. Prepare four small (or 1 large, if you're making a single tart) squares of foil - they should be large enough to entirely cover the tart dough. Spray the dull (non-shiny) side with nonstick spray and, sprayed side down, place on top of the dough. Fit the foil tightly against the crust.

Bake the tarts (still on the baking sheet) for 15 to 20 minutes, until they are a pale blonde color. Remove the foil and continue baking for 10 to 15 minutes longer, until they are golden, firm, and fully baked. Remove from the oven and allow to cool while you prepare the filling. The finished tarts can be made several hours ahead.

Filling:
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen

7 tablespoons butter, cut into pieces 
1/2 cup sugar
2 large eggs
Pinch of salt
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

In a light-colored pan (i.e., not nonstick; something stainless steel works fine), melt the butter over low heat, swirling occasionally. Once the butter has fully melted, the foam will begin to sizzle and make cracking noises. Continue cooking, stirring constantly with a spatula or wooden spoon, distributing the milk solids (that's what browns) evenly. The butter will begin to take on a brown color, but watch it carefully as brown can quickly turn to black and you'll have a pan full of burned butter. Once the butter has taken on a deep brown hue and smells intensely nutty (and sublime), remove it from the heat immediately and pour into a small bowl or measuring cup. Allow to cool slightly.

As the butter cools, in a large bowl combine sugar, eggs, and salt and whisk until smooth. Add the flour and vanilla extract and whisk again until smooth. When the butter has cooled (it should be warm, not hot), add it slowly to the sugar-egg mixture, stirring until completely smooth.

At this point, you can set aside the filling, covered, until you're ready to use it.

Assembly:
8 medium-sized strawberries, sliced

To bake the tarts, begin by adjusting an oven rack to the center position and preheating the oven to 350 degrees F. Arrange sliced strawberries in tart shells in concentric circles or in an asterisk-like pattern. If you're baking individual tarts, use an ice cream scoop to portion out the filling evenly (giving it a quick whisk if it's been sitting for a while). It may take a little rearranging of the strawberries to make sure there is filling in all the nooks and crannies of the tart. The filling should come up to the top of the crust. If you're making one large tart, I still recommend using the ice cream scoop to portion out the filling, since it's quick and easy.

Bake the tarts on a sheet pan in the oven for about 30 minutes, or until the filling has puffed and no longer looks wet, and a cake tester inserted into the filling comes out clean. Remove from the oven and allow to cool.

Serve the tarts warm, preferably with a scoop of ice cream or dollop of whipped cream.

The tarts will keep for several days in an airtight container, although they will lose some of their crispness. To re-crisp, bake in a low oven (300-325 degrees F) for a few minutes and serve warm.

 *This recipe will make enough for 4 individual tarts or 1 large tart. Because the tart is rich, I would say the entire recipe will serve 8. I know it's kind of awkward (and defeats the purpose) to serve an individual tart to more than one person, but one individual tart can easily feed 2 to 3 people. That said, if you're serving this to company, I'd go for making the large tart; if you don't have a fancy occasion to serve this (say, it's a Wednesday evening), then spring for the individual ones. It'll make you feel special.

My Brown Butter Tart Quest, Part I

I have three words for you: brown butter tart.

Let me elaborate.

At one of my favorite restaurants, Bistro VG in Roswell, they serve brown butter tarts filled with seasonal fruits: apples and cranberries in the fall, pears in the winter, fresh berries in the spring, and stone fruits in the summer. They are magical. For real, they rival cheesecakes for my favorite desserts, and that’s really saying something, if you know how much I love cheesecake.

And similar to my quest for the perfect cheesecake, I’ve also been on a quest to recreate these brown butter tarts. This quest began nearly five months ago. It was a few days before my birthday, in early November, and I was on the phone with my mom, answering her questions about what I’d like to have for my birthday dinner at home. After discussing the finer details of the main meal, I said, “And I assume you’ve got dessert covered,” with a knowing tone.

“You know we’re not going to have cheesecake,” she said. My heart sank.

“NO CHEESECAKE?!?!!?” I wanted to scream. Instead I muttered, “Oh, alright, well, ok. Well, I’ve got to go. See you soon.” I hung up the phone and quietly mourned by cheesecake-less birthday.

But I shouldn’t have been so devastated. Instead of cheesecake, I was happily presented with three brown butter tarts in various flavors: fig, cranberry, and blackberry. They were heavenly, to be sure.

The tarts that started the obsession: (from left) fig, cranberry, and blackberry. I think the visual of them at my own home allowed me to grasp that I could actually make and enjoy the tarts outside of the confines of the restaurant. 

The very next day I e-mailed the manager at Bistro VG asking for the recipe so that I could recreate it for Thanksgiving. It wasn't until a few weeks later, less than a week before Thanksgiving, when I finally had the recipe, straight from the pastry chef at the restaurant, sitting in my hands.

Well, I should say "recipe." Because apart from a list of ingredients and a general guideline, this was no recipe. For starters, it was fit for a small country, what with the five or so pounds of butter and 20+ cups of flour. It's generally not so hard to halve or quarter a recipe with success, but I'd never dealt with a recipe this industrial in size and with no general idea how many tarts could be made with this gargantuan recipe. So I chickened out, not wanting to risk failure on Thanksgiving, my holy grail of dessert holidays, and decided to go the safer route with my beloved (but not nearly as exciting) pumpkin cheesecake and apple crisp.

But I still couldn't shake the thought of homemade brown butter tarts from my mind. Soon it became something of an obsession for me. Anytime I saw a recipe with brown butter I was drawn to it, and I soon had scoured all of Foodgawker, Tastespotting, and Google of every permutation possible of the words "brown," "butter," and "tart."

Maddeningly, there were few recipes to be found for brown butter tarts. The few contenders were either sparsely reviewed and therefore unreliable (the problem with the Bistro VG recipe) or far from what I had in mind.

To be clear, there are three main components to the Bistro VG tart that make them so incredible: the crust, the filling, and the fruit. Let me explain.

The crust:

Everyone loves a good pastry crust. And this one, a deep golden brown and supremely flaky, is what pastry crust dreams are made of (what, you don't have pastry crust dreams?). It's buttery but not too rich, crisp but not tough.

This photo became my guiding light in my attempt to find a crust recipe that would replicate the supreme buttery, flaky qualities of the original. The excellent golden brown color indicates far more flavor than a blonde crust would, and you can practically see the bits of butter in the baked crust. Also, the flakiness is evident at the bottom of the tart.

The filling:

Imagine the moistest and most buttery and nutty cake and you'll have a good idea of what the filling is like. On the fudgy/cakey sprectrum, it's firmly in cakey territory, but it's not airy. The closest approximation I can make is to a denser, moister gingerbread (in texture, not flavor).

No cross-section shots of the original tart make it hard to visualize the texture of this filling, but this photo comes close. The lightness and cakiness of the filling can be approximated on the perimeter of the tart (left side). 

As for the flavor, it's sublime. Bistro VG always serves these warm, a major plus. The browned butter perfumes the entire filling, giving it a nutty and rich character, but it never crosses over into excessively rich. And like my favorite cheesecake, there's also a gradation of texture. The filling that's in direct contact with the fruit becomes a little bit moister and takes on the dueling sweetness and tartness of the fruit. In contrast, the filling nearest the crust is drier and less dense. Perhaps most importantly, it's not overwhelmingly sweet.

The fruit:

The fruit is what makes the tart. Without it, there would be no balance at all. I doubt I'd turn down a browned butter tart sans fruit, but without it, something is definitely missing. (Plus, adding fruit to any dessert makes me somehow think it's less artery-clogging than a cheesecake or chocolate ganache.) Adding fruit lends a distinct sweetness but also a tartness that cuts the butter flavor from the crust and filling.

This is a cherry tart served with pomegranate arils and rum raisin ice cream. The importance of the cold ice cream and warm tart should not be understated. The contrast in temperature (and the custardy sauce that soon forms from the melting ice cream) is magical.

While I've dissected the components of this tart (and literally, I have: "Wait, let me cut open it to examine the texture," I said to my mom the last time we had it at Bistro VG), it's important to note that the finished product is so much greater than the sum of its parts. The way that everything combines - flaky crust, crumbly filling, a piece of sweet raspberry, and all in one bite - is nothing short of divine.

But how to recreate it at home? I'm not afraid of a project, but I'm a baker and a cook, not a recipe developer. The Bistro VG recipe was a good starting point, but I couldn't bring myself to plunge into five pounds of butter headfirst. Fortunately, and thanks to a fortuitous series of events, my brown butter tart quest was about to take a turn for the better, and in a place I least expected it.

Dinner in NY

What does your dinner look like?

Miho Aikawa recently debuted a project titled Dinner in NY, which shows the images of people eating dinner in the metropolitan melting pot of New York City. The portraits are wildly different: the people, the surroundings, the food, and especially the time.

One of the portraits shows a monk from Myanmar eating a full array of delicious foods. At 11:17 AM, since he doesn't eat after noon. (I shamefully admit that 11:17 is sometimes my breakfast time, not my dinner time.) Another shows a drummer eating take-out late at night (or, rather, early in the morning) after a long rehearsal. It might not be "my" definition of dinner, but it's his. I think there is something really personal and intimate about our meals and the food we eat, and that's what so cool about this project.

U Pa Mok Kha is a monk from Myanmar who cannot eat after 12 noon. Local people bring him food and after he is done, he shares the rest of the food with them. 

Age: 55 Time: 11:17 AM  Location: Jackson Heights, Queens

In beginning this project, Aikawa aimed to answer the question, "What is a quality dinner?" Is it the quality of the food, the people you eat with, or the circumstances that define the dinner?

Robert and Vivian DeRosa share Sunday family dinner, 

a long-standing tradition as Robert grew up in the same home. 

Age: Robert 60, Vivian 55  Time: 5:59 PM Location: Fresh Meadows, Queens

Of course, in today's fast-paced world, the ritual of eating a meal has really gone by the wayside. It seems more people "eat to live" rather than "live to eat." Certainly there's nothing wrong with that, but as a food lover, I really cherish my meals (I only get three a day, after all).

Matthew Vogel relaxes with a sandwich and a beer during the evening commute to Pleasantville, NY. 

Age: 30 Time: 6:59 PM  Location: White Plains, Harlem Line

According to a study in Public Health Nutrition, eating as a primary activity has declined in the past 30 years, but eating as a secondary activity has risen substantially. And half of our eating is done while doing something else: watching TV, surfing the Internet, playing Words with Friends.... (I think I see a trend here).

When I eat dinner, I am also usually doing something else. Most often I'm reading blogs, which is a great way for me to wind down after a long day. Other times I'm watching TV. Sometimes I even eat in bed, which is my favorite place to eat dinner. Especially if Friends or a really good/bad reality show is on (i.e., anything with a Kardashian or Real Housewife).

Jai Yoon Lee, a student from South Korea, has dinner in her dorm room watching her favorite Japanese TV shows. 

Age: 20  Time: 7:51 PM  Location: Greenwich Village, New York

 [Full disclosure: this is pretty much what my dinner looks like, except 

a) I wish I lived in Greenwich Village and b) it's approximately three hours later]

But for me, there's no comparison to a long, leisurely meal enjoyed in good company. Whenever my sister and my mom and I go out to eat, it's wonderful. We order a bunch of things to share, and the conversation and food are always stellar. It's a simple thing, but, as Aikawa says, it really brings the pleasure back to the table.

[Photos and Captions from Miho Aikawa Photography]