I have become something of a cliché these days. It’s October and the leaves are turning all shades of flame. I have mums on my front stoop. I’m considering buying a pumpkin. Freshly sharpened pencils would be nice too. Fall in the suburbs in New England brings out a lot of stereotypes. Yes, I pick apples and buy cider by the jug-full. We like to leaf peep. As I write this post, a double-crust apple pie bakes in the oven. Someone reading this in say, Southern California, is probably rolling their eyes. Those New Englanders and their apples.
I can’t help it. The nice thing about baking with apples is that you automatically have to throw certain other things into the mix, because they simply have to go together. Like cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg. I still get a little thrill every time I have an excuse to whip out the fresh nutmeg we purchased in Mystic. I love the way it sprinkles the fragrant mocha-colored dust from the zester. This is what baking is all about for me; what the ingredients remind me of, the memory of the places where I’ve eaten and the people I was with.
So as to not be so traditional and homey, a couple weeks ago I made a french tarte aux pommes. It might as well be the french equivalent of apple pie in its steadfast-ness, but let me tell you, it is more like the sexiness of Paris than the valleys of central Connecticut. It is pretty. It has concentric circles. It’s something I bet you won’t see at every upcoming holiday table (such a shame) and tastes very much like a sweet apple sugar cookie – if anything like that ever existed. The recipe is a bit of a mish-mash of different techniques. For example, the dough is Julia Child’s Pâte Brisée Sucré, because, well, it’s the best. The filling, while not keeping to the standard french apple-sauce mixture, was found on one of my favorite sites Sweet Amandine. It is as uncomplicated as can be and when served with a scoop of french vanilla ice cream – is like nothing you’ve ever tasted before.
There are advantages to any place, but I’ll take the apple orchards and the cider mills. I’ll take the mums and corny carved pumpkins. I’ll also take the pies and tartes and anything else that you can bake when the leaves start to fall and the skies turn dark before you even get home.
Tarte aux Pommes
Pâte Brisée Sucré
Adapted From Julia Child (Mtaofc)
I doubled Julia’s original proportions because my tarte pan is closer to 10 inches.
1 1/3 cups flour
2 Tbs sugar
¼ tsp salt
8 Tbs (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
3 Tbs cold shortening, cut into small pieces
5-6 Tbs ice water
I like to throw all the dry ingredients into a food processor. Pulse to combine. Then toss in the sliced butter and shortening and pulse 8-10 times until you get course crumbs. Add the ice water a tablespoon at a time, and pulse just until everything starts to come together.
Dump the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and form into a flat round disk. Refrigerate for 30-60 minutes before using.
Filling
Adapted from Sweet Amandine (who adapted it from someone else)
2 apples, cored, peeled, and thinly sliced
2 eggs
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/3 cup sugar
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp vanilla
2 dashes of cinnamon
3 Tbs flour
2 Tbs turbadino sugar (if you don’t have any, just use granulated)
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
Roll out the dough and fit into a 9 or 10-inch tart pan. Prick the dough all over with a fork, and arrange the apples over the dough in concentric circles.
In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, cream, sugar, salt, vanilla, cinnamon, and flour. Pour the mixture over the apples. Bake the tarte for approximately 50 minutes or until the filling is slightly puffed and golden.
Once the tarte has cooled, sprinkle the sugar on top and either place beneath the broiler for a minute or use a kitchen torch to brown the apples a little further.
Serve at room temperature.
Orange Madeleines 