Cooking Lessons: 4/1/11

4.23.2011

Celebrate spring with a lemony ricotta tart

I have been fiddling with this ricotta tart recipe ever since I came back from Italy a few years ago. I tasted it in a restaurant in Florence and had one of those aha moments.

Yes indeed! This is my kind of dessert! It is creamy, light, not too sweet, and imbued with the delicate aroma of lemons. In other words, it is the perfect light dessert to follow a holiday meal. Or in my case, it could be a complete holiday meal. I admit, even though I no longer eat sweets with abandon, I could gobble the whole tart up all by myself. In one sitting. It is that good

Italians seem to do a superb job when it comes to commemorating holidays, so that’s where I turn for inspiration as the seasons unfold. Let’s face it, they’ve got us beat. They’ve been at it a lot longer and they haven’t been inhibited by our Puritan inclinations. So much to choose from, so little time.

Trying to replicate something from memory is challenging (especially after a vacation.) But on a visit to my local market this week, the sight of a very high quality fresh ricotta motivated me to have another go at this tart. The ricotta comes in a cute little white tin with a perforated bottom to allow excess liquid to drain. It is the real McCoy: clean and sweet, good enough to eat with a spoon all by itself or drizzled with a little honey. I was not disappointed, and I offer you the results of my experiment. The crust is very buttery and difficult to roll out, so I pressed it into the pan instead. I’ve given you a blow-by-blow tutorial below. Now you have no excuse not to make it.

After a cool and often rainy week, the grass has suddenly brightened and shed its dismal winter coat of brown. The trees show us pale, green promises on their branches. We must seize the day to celebrate them—our New England spring is as tentative as the buds and will quickly turn to summer in a blink. At last the weather is catching up with the calendar. It is time to celebrate.

Ricotta lemon tart

Makes one 9-inch tart

The crust:

6 tablespoons (3/4 stick, 85 g) cold, unsalted butter, cut in 1-inch pieces, plus a little for the pan

1 cup all-purpose flour (145 g), plus a little for the pan

3 tablespoons (38g) sugar

1/2 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest

1/8 teaspoon fine salt

1 egg, separated

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

1. Generously butter a 9 X 1-inch tart pan with a removable rim. Sprinkle with flour to coat the bottom and sides of the pan and tap out the excess. Set an oven rack in the middle of the oven and heat the oven to 350°F.

2. Combine the flour, sugar, lemon zest, and salt and butter in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a metal blade. Process for a few seconds until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Add the egg yolk, vanilla and 1 tablespoon cool water and process until the mixture forms small clumps but has not yet gathered into a ball. (By hand, rub the butter into the dry ingredients with your fingertips. When it is well combined, work the egg yolk, vanilla and water into the dough with your fingertips.)

3. Dump the crumbly dough into the prepared pan. Press it evenly into the sides of the pan first and then spread the remainder of the crumble evenly over the bottom. Press the dough firmly and evenly into the bottom and sides of the pan with the help of a (dry) measuring cup and some patience.

4. Set the pan on a cookie sheet and bake for 15 minutes. Remove it from the oven and brush the bottom and sides with some of the reserved egg white (you won’t use it all). Return it to the oven for 15 to 20 minutes longer, until it is golden brown. The egg white provides a barrier for the filling and keeps the crust from getting soggy. Remove the pan from the oven. While the crust is baking, make the filling.

The filling:

1 1/2 cups (340 g) fresh, whole milk ricotta

2 ounces (57g) cream cheese, at room temperature

1/3 cup (67g) sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 1/2 teaspoons finely grated lemon zest

1/8 teaspoon salt

2 eggs

1/2 cup(119 g) heavy cream

Confectioner’s sugar for dusting the tart

1. Beat the ricotta and cream cheese together on low speed with the paddle attachment of a stand mixer until smooth and creamy. Beat in the sugar, vanilla, lemon zest and salt and when it is incorporated add the eggs. Mix on low speed until smooth and mix in the cream. (By hand, beat the ricotta and cream cheese together with a wooden spoon. Add the sugar, vanilla, lemon zest and salt, and when smooth, beat in the eggs. Finally, add the cream and mix until smooth.)

2. Pour the filling into the partially baked crust. Bake the tart (still on the cookie sheet) for 45 to 50 minutes, until set. To test, poke a toothpick into the center of the tart; it should emerge with only a few crumbs.

3. Transfer the tart to a rack to cool. Serve at room temperature or refrigerate and serve cold. Dust with confectioners' sugar before serving.

Tutorial :Press in crust

Generously butter and flour the pan, tapping out the excess flour.

Combine the flour, sugar, lemon zest, salt and butter in the bowl of a food processor.

Process until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs.

Add the egg yolk, vanilla and water.

Process until the dough looks crumbly and almost comes together.

Pour it into the prepared pan.

Use your fingers to evenly press the crumbs into the sides of the pan first; then press them into the bottom. Firm them up evenly with the use of a measuring cup and a piece of plastic wrap to keep the cup from sticking to the dough.

Bake the dough for 15 minutes at 350 degrees. Remove it from the oven and brush it evenly with egg white (you may not need to use all of it.) Return the dough to the oven and bake again for about 15 minutes, or until it is golden brown.

Set the tart pan on a baking sheet. Pour the filling into the dough.

Bake at 350 degrees until the filling is set, 45 to 50 minutes.

In defense of the ordinary:creamy cauliflower soup with parsley pesto

I’ve been sitting on this recipe for a while, because procrastination and inconsistency are two of my specialties. But wait, there’s more to it than that. The problem is: What can I possibly say about cauliflower? To be sure, it is not the sexiest of vegetables.

Last night I understood the difficulty while watching a snippet of Charlie Rose’s interview with Gabrielle Hamilton, chef/owner of Prune restaurant in NYC and author of a newly published, reputedly fascinating, memoir entitled Blood, Bones and Butter.

Cauliflower, like my life right now, just doesn’t measure up to that kind of excitement. In fact, both my life and cauliflower: nothing to write home about. Which means, I haven’t much news to impart to you, dear readers. I do not currently own a restaurant like Gabrielle Hamilton, nor have I wandered the length and breadth of a bunch of continents and returned with spellbinding stories of my semi-self-destructive (read glamorous) life.

I had to stop and think about that. (Warning: detour ahead). My father used to say ‘comparison is odious.’ I hated when he said that. First of all, I didn't understand the meaning of odious—he was no doubt trying to improve my vocabulary—but it sounded like ominous, so I had to look up both of those words in the dictionary. In addition, it smacked of unhelpful criticism. No accompanying constructive encouragement, explanations or tips.

But it turns out, Dad was right. Over the years I have observed that whenever I compare myself to someone (usually unfavorably) after some time passes, I understand with the genius of hindsight that my life is actually perfect and I do not want to trade it with anyone else’s no matter how unexciting it may seem to me.

Because there comes a time when you recognize that unexciting is good. Unexciting (not to be confused with boring) is healthy. Unexciting is in the eye of the beholder, too. (College Boy thrills at the prospect of cauliflower on the menu.) Every moment cannot be a tah dah! moment, thankfully, or in the pages of the newspaper. As my friend Bruce Rubin says, "Seeing the remarkable in the unremarkable requires a conscious effort, a daily practice, until it just arises on its own." Unexciting doesn’t engender exceptional storytelling on a daily basis, but it has its own little dramas. When you become free of the larger, crazy dramas (I’m not saying that I am, but I’m working on it), sitting down with a piece of buttered toast and a cup of tea is enough. It can be a blissful, wonderful moment, without fanfare. I like that.

As for the cauliflower, it is homely and plain, but it, too, is healthy and extraordinary in its own unique cauliflower way. The vegetable is packed with nutrients such as vitamin C, folic acid, potassium and fiber and it is easy to love when transformed into a creamy soup made without an ounce of cream. A single potato cooked with the cauliflower and a couple of seconds in a blender deliver a satisfyingly smooth texture.

If you need some drama you can live with, top the soup with a spoonful of pesto. When traditional basil is not in season, a parsley version is a winning contender, especially when you employ this neat pesto trick: Blanch the parsley in boiling water for a few seconds, plunge it into an ice-water bath and squeeze out the excess water before making the pesto in the usual way. Blanching produces a bright green color that lasts for days. Toss leftover pesto with pasta or spread on bread in a sandwich.

Cauliflower soup with bright green parsley pesto

Serves 4

For the soup:

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 onion, coarsely chopped

2 celery stalks, thickly sliced

1 head cauliflower, cored and broken into 2-inch florets

1 small potato, peeled and cut in 1-inch chunks

6 cups chicken or vegetable stock

Salt and pepper, to taste

1. Melt the butter in a soup pot over medium heat, Add the onions and celery. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes, or until the vegetables soften but do not brown.

2. Add the cauliflower, potatoes, stock, salt and pepper. Bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for 15 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender.

3. Puree the soup in a blender in batches and return it to the pot. Reheat, stirring, over low heat. Taste and add more salt and pepper if you like.

4. Ladle the soup into bowls and drizzle each bowl with a generous spoonful of parsley pesto.

For the pesto: (makes about 1 cup)

1/4 cup walnuts

2 cups packed parsley leaves

3 tablespoons olive oil

1/4 teaspoon salt

Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan

1. Toast the walnuts in a small, dry skillet over medium heat, stirring constantly for 3 minutes, or until they are aromatic. Immediately transfer them to small plate (they will continue to cook and possibly burn if left in the hot pan).

2. Bring a medium pot of water to a boil. Set a bowl of ice water next to the stove. Drop the parsley leaves into the boiling water and once the water returns to a boil, cook for 30 seconds. Remove the parsley with a slotted spoon and plunge it into the bowl of ice water. Swish it around for 30 seconds and drain into a colander. Squeeze out as much liquid as possible with your hands.

3. Combine the parsley, walnuts, olive oil, salt, black pepper, grated Parmesan and 6 tablespoons hot tap water in a blender. Puree until smooth. Taste and add more salt and pepper if you like. Store leftover pesto in the refrigerator for up to 5 days and toss with pasta or spread on bread in a sandwich.

Tutorial: How to prep a head of cauliflower