Low Guilt Pie

There I was reading Cookiecrumb's latest tirade against the twin evils of white sugar, refined flour and fat, and I thought, "She's right! Summer fruits, when they are ripe and perfect, don't need the sugar embellishment. Let me try a pie with no sugar whatsoever."

So, I cut up one big peach, two or three nectarines and a small handful of strawberries, seasoned them with nothing but freshly grated nutmeg, and encased them in a Star Dough pastry. The entire prep took about 10 minutes, no more.

Slid it into a 375 degree oven for about 20-25 minutes, until the crust browned and the fruit softened and was artfully tipped here and there in black.

I cut a slice of galette as soon as it emerged from the oven and cooled enough. It did taste fresh but I have to admit that I missed that sweet hit. For me, it was like low-fat cookies, sort of a letdown. I agree with Cookiecrumb that you don't need to embellish fresh fruit but, given that you are going to cook it, I'd say go ahead add a driz of honey or a spoonful of sugar. This galette would have benefitted from just one tablespoon of sugar, adding a hint of sweetness without masking the fresh ripeness of the fruit.

Our strategy is to give at least half of what I bake away to the neighbors, which promotes good neighbor karma while we get a taste of the goodies without the calories of eating the whole thing. I'm going back to Full Guilt Pie - in moderation.

Burbank's Creation

In fourth grade, I went to a funky little school called the Bentley School. It was housed an a rambling old multistory wooden mansion in Berkeley. Founded by two sisters, it still exists today, although it has moved and has become expensive now. Of the ten schools I experienced as we moved around in the Navy, it was the best and my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Vohs, was the best teacher I had, ever.

Mrs. Vohs was one of those ladies who made children want to learn to please her. She was very positive and upbeat but she never took any guff from us, either. When she learned I was bad at subtraction, she immediately formed a "Subtraction Club" in which the best students helped me to get up to speed quickly in subtraction and somehow made me feel like I had gained admission to some desirable group by being lousy at math. Now, that's gifted teaching!

Mrs. Vohs also taught me about Luther Burbank and his many contributions to the world of botany; to this day, my favorite of his creations are nectarines. Easier and sweeter than peaches, nectarines are the best of all possible stone fruits. They rock as simple fresh fruit and, when you grill them alongside your pork chop, concentrating their sugars and striping them with caramelized goodness, they reach a stage of deliciosity that simply cannot be bettered in this life - and maybe even in Heaven.

Bless you Luther Burbank and thank you Mrs. Vohs!

Experience

Experience is what you get when you don't get what you want.

So, I'm in the kitchen with the radio for company, gently rocking to the music, halving tomatoes to slow roast and thinking, "Hmmm, those nectarines need eating soon."

Flash! Why not try slow roasting the nectarines, too?

Wouldn't they get all soft and even more intense than they are naturally? Wouldn't they be like leathery candy? What would I use them for if it works? Can I really bear to waste one of these lovely fresh nectarines if it doesn't work? Should I take a few minutes to look online first and see what others have tried?

Nah, let's just go for it!

Well, I shoulda checked online. Long, slow roasting doesn't improve nectarines. The tops got leathery but not sweet and the bottoms stayed soft, but a little too soft, mushy even, and no more flavorful than the fresh fruit would have been. Ick.

Turns out that nectarines do like heat but fast, hot heat like roasting in a hot oven or grilling, according to all the wisdom I found on the internet, after the fact. Oh, well, at least I only wasted one of my lovely nectarines to become "experienced"!

Summer Fruit Heaven

Having made Pear Croustade last year from Cousin J-Yah's recipe, I wanted to try one this summer using white nectarines and cherries. Somehow, that combination sounded like near nirvana to me, so this week, I made one.

This time, I used the recipe for pate brisee* that came in my Cuisinart instruction manual thirty years ago, then just loaded the pitted, sliced fruit into the crust, dotted it with butter and sprinkled a single tablespoon of turbinado sugar over the crust and already-sweet fruit before turning up the crust around the fruit and baking it in a 350 degree oven for about 30-40 minutes.

Initially, I was a little apprehensive when it came out of the oven as it wasn't bubbling and shiny like most fruit pies, but the first bite dispelled any concerns. It retained the essence of the two kinds of fruit, except where the mingled juices made a juicy, sexy marriage of flavors. Served with just a dollop of creme fraiche on top, it made a lovely summer dessert, as close to transcendance as I have found on earth.

*Pate Brisee (Basic Pastry Dough) from the Cuisinart instruction manual, 1978.

2-2/3 cups all-purpose flour (I use unbleached)
1 cup (2 sticks) very cold butter, cut into 1" pieces (I use frozen)
1-1/2 tsp. salt (original recipe calls for 2 tsps. but I find that unpleasantly salty)
1/2 cup minus 1 Tbs. ice water
1 egg yolk

With metal blade in place, add flour, butter, egg yolk and salt to the work bowl. Process for 8-10 seconds, or until mixture has the consistency of coarse meal. With processor running, pour ice water through feed tube in a steady stream. Stop processing as soon as dough begins to form a ball. Turn out onto waxed paper and shape into two smooth, flattened disks (for a two-crust pie - if making a crousade, keep it all together). Use immediately or wrap in plastic and refrigerate or freeze for later use.

When ready to roll chilled dough, let stand at room temperature to soften slightly. Allow frozen dough thaw for 10 to 15 minutes. Roll on lightly floured board to 1/8 inch thickness. Fit into pan or pans and chill again before baking to prevent shrinkage.

Makes enough pastry for a double-crust 10-inch pie, or one large croustade.

The Secret Ingredient

Cooks these days are experimenting with all kinds of wacky combinations and finding that really delicious tastes result - one standard example, chocolate caramels with smoked salt on top. Who woulda thunk it?

Last week, I was reading about Cookiecrumb's savory clafoutis and Molly's apricot tart in the same day.
I left a jesting comment on Cookiecrumb's blog about adding bacon and nectarines to a clafoutis, only half seriously, but then when I was reading about the fruit tart, I thought, "Man, nectarines would be great in a tart like that - and why not bacon, too?" So, I set to work to combine those two individually-delicious-but-odd-together ingredients in a tart similar to Molly's but with a Cookiecrumb flair.

I expected the bacon to add salt and texture to the tart but what it actually added was smoke. As it cooked with the fruit, the bacon softened (even though I crisped it first in a pan) and the salt was lost in the sweetness of the tart, but the smoky quality remained and it really was a fun undertaste (is that a word?) that sneaked in around the fruitiness and sweetness. I still wanted a little saltiness, so I tried adding fleur de sel to my next bite of tart but it was not a success, too aggressively salty and raw.

As with all experiments, some parts work- and the rest blow up the lab! Another time, I'd still add the bacon as my secret ingredient but with more realistic expectations.

The Sweet Season

Recently, I went to the farmer's market over in Marin, dodging giant SUVs and baby strollers to bring home a bounty of fresh fruit.

First, the strawberries and now, in a delicious parade, the cherries, raspberries and nectarines. These were white nectarines, dripping with flavor and so unbelievably sweet. All I did was slice them into a bowl, add a few raspberries and cherries for My Beloved who loves variety and plunked them on the table. Later, I'll feel jaded enough to make them into something but, for now, we are simply relishing the return of the sweet season.