Two weeks ago, I had the most elaborate meal that a 25 square-foot kitchen could possibly churn out. I'm not exaggerating about the size of this kitchen; it was the most New York dinner I've had, reminiscent of the great illusion of pulling hares from a shallow top-hat. The magic was in the hand of my friend, Chau, who invited me and 5 others over for a holiday dinner. I had no idea what I was in for: pate, sauteed mushrooms, roasted butternut squash soup, salad with citrus vinaigrette, stuffed cornished hens, balsamic glazed brussel sprouts, thyme infused puree’d parsnips, fig and chestnut stuffing, and, just as I was approaching the point of total saturation, thanking the cosmos that I was wearing nothing with a button on my midsection, a beautifully plated Parisian Apple Tarte was set before me.
She’d out done herself by Julia Child’s standards, but my awe at this tarte was responded to with a whispered, almost shamed admission: “usually I make this ALL from scratch.” I, yet unable to decipher what of the tarte below was store bought, had to ask. “The pastry,” she said, “It’s puff pastry.” Well, you would never know. This, perhaps, is its beauty: puff pastry is chameleon in its adaptability. It jives beautifully with savory or sweet, and requires little skill from a cook, making it all to easy for Chau, a chef, to pull-off. With fresh poached apples, ground cinnamon and nutmeg, and a dollop of whipped cream, the puff pastry was very much upstaged.
My words about each of the dishes sampled on this evening are too many to share here. Really, I wouldn’t know where to start, and, more relevant to you dear reader, where to end. So, my homage to this beautiful meal comes not in my toughts of Chau’s incredibly seasoned chef’s hand, but in an attempt to recreate Chau’s [semi-home made --but you would never know--] Apple Tarte.
While the puff pastry spent a phase of its life on the conveyor belt, the whipped cream most certainly did not. Chau whipped this by hand (or by Kitchen Aid) and revealed that what elevates this whipped cream to its celestial ranks is, “a little bit of good Vanilla.” Well, we only had McCormick; not “good” by any means, but fine for this purpose. That included, this is all you need to make awesome, home-made, whipped cream:
She’d out done herself by Julia Child’s standards, but my awe at this tarte was responded to with a whispered, almost shamed admission: “usually I make this ALL from scratch.” I, yet unable to decipher what of the tarte below was store bought, had to ask. “The pastry,” she said, “It’s puff pastry.” Well, you would never know. This, perhaps, is its beauty: puff pastry is chameleon in its adaptability. It jives beautifully with savory or sweet, and requires little skill from a cook, making it all to easy for Chau, a chef, to pull-off. With fresh poached apples, ground cinnamon and nutmeg, and a dollop of whipped cream, the puff pastry was very much upstaged.
My words about each of the dishes sampled on this evening are too many to share here. Really, I wouldn’t know where to start, and, more relevant to you dear reader, where to end. So, my homage to this beautiful meal comes not in my toughts of Chau’s incredibly seasoned chef’s hand, but in an attempt to recreate Chau’s [semi-home made --but you would never know--] Apple Tarte.
While the puff pastry spent a phase of its life on the conveyor belt, the whipped cream most certainly did not. Chau whipped this by hand (or by Kitchen Aid) and revealed that what elevates this whipped cream to its celestial ranks is, “a little bit of good Vanilla.” Well, we only had McCormick; not “good” by any means, but fine for this purpose. That included, this is all you need to make awesome, home-made, whipped cream:
It's simple: pour about a cup of cream into a bowl, and start to whip:
Once it has thickened a bit, add some powdered sugar (eh, about 2 tbs) and some vanilla (a few drops, to taste) and continue to whip:
I read only after the whipped cream was done that stiff peaks are achieved quickly if the bowl, the cream, and the whipping attachments are chilled right before starting, and even more quickly if the cream is whipped at increasing speeds, starting slow. Because I'd just spent twenty minutes in traffic (one of the qualities of Southern California living that I do not miss) all three ingredients were room temperature to start, and because I didn't know slow to fast is better, I went at it with my hand blender on its fastest setting. I still ended up with real good whipped cream:
With the whipped cream finished and sitting in the fridge, I assembled the refreshingly few ingredients for the Apple Tarte:
I started by peeling the apples, and poached them until tender (but not too soft; this isn't the end of the cooking process) in boiling water. This took about 5 minutes:
In the meantime, unfold the sheets of room temperature puff pastry onto a piece of parchment paper. Now find a utensil in your kitchen that’s mouth is equivalent to the diameter you would like for your tartlets. I chose a drinking glass about three inches in diameter, and planned to include two in each serving. Press whatever you choose to use like a cookie cutter into the dough, and carefully pull out the round. Transfer to a cookie sheet that’s either well buttered or lined with parchment paper:
Bake the pastry tarts in the oven at 375 degrees for about 6 minutes, or until they’ve risen a bit and taken some color:
Now that the poached apples have cooled and can be handled, cut them into thin slices and cover the faces of each tartlet with a generous layer:
Because the apples were quite sweet to begin with (I can’t tell you what kind they were exactly --I know nothing about the taxonomy of fruits- I just picked them from our fruit basket at home; they were large, and sweet) I gave them a very light dusting of sugar, maybe a tablespoon for all twelve. After the sugar, light dustings of both cinnamon and fresh ground nutmeg were all that the tartlets needed before returning to the oven, at 375, for about 10 minutes:
The tartlets were gorgeous; the pastry was golden, the apples were caramel colored on the edges, and the scents of cinnamon and nutmeg were tantalizing:
The apples were definitely the showstopper here; the spices, pastry, and cream were just the periphery. I don’t mean to be dismissive, they are very vital components, they complete the dish, but don't speak too loudly. The next time you’re at a museum, notice what the frames of paintings do to draw your eye to the subject, the texture, the color, and the perspective of the painting. The pastry, the spices, and the whipped cream were the perfect frame for these apples; the relationship truly symbiotic:
My parents loved these. My Mom, who would take savory over sweet 9 times out of 10, and whose dessert portions are generally passed up or are so frustratingly controlled, had three. My Dad, as you can see, enjoyed them with abandon:
Merci bien, chere Chau; for a beautiful dinner, and a super recipe.
