Daring Bakers: Bakewell Tart

When I joined the Daring Bakers a year and a half ago, I was on the vanguard of a Daring Baker deluge. Because of being the 300th something member at the time, I was due to chose the month's recipe in around 2012. As numbers kept growing and newer members found out that due to the waiting list, their recipe-choosing turn was a legacy they would have to leave to their great-grandchildren, people began pairing up for recipe challenges.

Lucky for me, my good blog friend (and just friend all around) Jasmine had a more reasonable 2009 recipe challenge date, and invited me to share the month with her. We were both interested in doing something from another country and something that didn't just encourage people to take on a new skill but to look again at something they might never before have considered. I thought a recipe from my adopted country, Britain, might fall into that category.

British food still has a bad reputation (particularly in America and Australia...and probably other places too) that I think is due a lot to post-war rationing and deprivation but isn't really a deserved reputation any more. British food from the 1950s until the 1980s and 90s was rarely something worth seeking out, but modern British food has more than come into its own, drawing on traditions of using good quality fresh produce and a range of herbs and spices. I've become a British food convert and fight its corner whenever the fight is brought to me.

The Bakewell Tart, and English dessert from the 19th century, hasn't been changed much over the years since it hasn't needed to. You do have to like almond to stand a chance of liking the tart, but I've always appreciated the balance of sweet jam and spongey mild frangipane, crisp crust and soft topping, and how it can grow sweeter or milder depending on your tastes. A classic Bakewell Tart should have a cherry or strawberry filling, and though those are Mr A&N's favorite incarnations of the treat, I broke free a bit since Mr A&N wouldn't be able to share in the tart because of his diet restrictions. My jam element became a rhubarb, apple and ginger jam, another classic English dessert flavor that I thought might enjoy being introduced to its compatriot. Mr A&N called it a travesty against both the rhubarb and the tart, but since he doesn't have any say in this one, I shan't regard him.

Thanks for the recipe itself must go to Jasmine, who worked hard doing the testing and the tweaking, and only needed me to step in every so often and say 'yum'. I love the crust she's come up with and will use it whenever a shortcrust is needed, now. I also love how easy and adaptable the whole recipe is and it will now be a standard dessert for me to put on show. Thanks also to Ivonne and Lis for the massive undertaking and success of the Daring Bakers, and for all of you for joining in. I hope that you've (mostly) all enjoyed the tart as well, and at least used it as an opportunity to try out another classic British treat: to enjoy a slice of cake while having a nice sit down and a cup of tea.

Bakewell tart
Makes one 23cm (9” tart)
Prep time: less than 10 minutes (plus time for the individual elements)
Resting time: 15 minutes
Baking time: 30 minutes
Equipment needed: 23cm (9”) tart pan or pie tin (preferably with ridged edges), rolling pin

One quantity sweet shortcrust pastry (recipe follows)
Bench flour
250ml (1cup (8 US fl. oz)) jam or curd, warmed for spreadability
One quantity frangipane (recipe follows)
One handful blanched, flaked almonds

Assembling the tart
Place the chilled dough disc on a lightly floured surface. If it's overly cold, you will need to let it become acclimatised for about 15 minutes before you roll it out. Flour the rolling pin and roll the pastry to 5mm (1/4”) thickness, by rolling in one direction only (start from the centre and roll away from you), and turning the disc a quarter turn after each roll. When the pastry is to the desired size and thickness, transfer it to the tart pan, press in and trim the excess dough. Patch any holes, fissures or tears with trimmed bits. Chill in the freezer for 15 minutes.

Preheat oven to 200C/400F.

Remove shell from freezer, spread as even a layer as you can of jam onto the pastry base. Top with frangipane, spreading to cover the entire surface of the tart. Smooth the top and pop into the oven for 30 minutes. Five minutes before the tart is done, the top will be poofy and brownish. Remove from oven and strew flaked almonds on top and return to the heat for the last five minutes of baking.

The finished tart will have a golden crust and the frangipane will be tanned, poofy and a bit spongy-looking. Remove from the oven and cool on the counter. Serve warm, with crème fraîche, whipped cream or custard sauce if you wish.

When you slice into the tart, the almond paste will be firm, but slightly squidgy and the crust should be crisp but not tough.

Jasmine’s notes:
• If you cannot have nuts, you can try substituting Victoria sponge for the frangipane. It's a pretty popular popular cake, so you shouldn't have any troubles finding one in one of your cookbooks or through a Google search. That said, our dear Natalie at Gluten a Go Go has sourced some recipes and linked to them in the related alt.db thread.
• You can use whichever jam you wish, but if you choose something with a lot of seeds, such as raspberry or blackberry, you should sieve them out.
• The jam quantity can be anywhere from 60ml (1/4 cup) to 250ml (1cup), depending upon how “damp” and strongly flavoured your preserves are. I made it with the lesser quantity of home made strawberry jam, while Annemarie made it with the greater quantity of cherry jam; we both had fabulous results. If in doubt, just split the difference and spread 150ml (2/3cup) on the crust.
Annemarie’s notes:
• The excess shortcrust can be rolled out and cut into cookie-shapes (heck, it’s pretty darned close to a shortbread dough).

Sweet shortcrust pastry

Prep time: 15-20 minutes
Resting time: 30 minutes (minimum)
Equipment needed: bowls, box grater, cling film

225g (8oz) all purpose flour
30g (1oz) sugar
2.5ml (½ tsp) salt
110g (4oz) unsalted butter, cold (frozen is better)
2 (2) egg yolks
2.5ml (½ tsp) almond extract (optional)
15-30ml (1-2 Tbsp) cold water

Sift together flour, sugar and salt. Grate butter into the flour mixture, using the large hole-side of a box grater. Using your finger tips only, and working very quickly, rub the fat into the flour until the mixture resembles bread crumbs. Set aside.

Lightly beat the egg yolks with the almond extract (if using) and quickly mix into the flour mixture. Keep mixing while dribbling in the water, only adding enough to form a cohesive and slightly sticky dough.

Form the dough into a disc, wrap in cling and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes

Jasmine’s notes:
• I make this using vanilla salt and vanilla sugar.
• If you wish, you can substitute the seeds of one vanilla bean, one teaspoon of vanilla paste or one teaspoon of vanilla extract for the almond extract

Frangipane

Prep time: 10-15 minutes
Equipment needed: bowls, hand mixer, rubber spatula

125g (4.5oz) unsalted butter, softened
125g (4.5oz) icing sugar
3 (3) eggs
2.5ml (½ tsp) almond extract
125g (4.5oz) ground almonds
30g (1oz) all purpose flour

Cream butter and sugar together for about a minute or until the mixture is primrose in colour and very fluffy. Scrape down the side of the bowl and add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. The batter may appear to curdle. In the words of Douglas Adams: Don’t panic. Really. It’ll be fine. After all three are in, pour in the almond extract and mix for about another 30 seconds and scrape down the sides again. With the beaters on, spoon in the ground nuts and the flour. Mix well. The mixture will be soft, keep its slightly curdled look (mostly from the almonds) and retain its pallid yellow colour.

Annemarie’s notes:
• Add another five minutes or more if you're grinding your own almonds or if you're mixing by hand (Heaven help you).

The June Daring Bakers' challenge was hosted by Jasmine of Confessions of a Cardamom Addict and Annemarie of Ambrosia and Nectar. They chose a Traditional (UK) Bakewell Tart... er... pudding that was inspired by a rich baking history dating back to the 1800's in England.

Rhubarb Crumble Cake

Until a few years ago, rhubarb was a stranger to me. The word, the sight of the plant, the tang of the taste, were all unfamiliar. I blame my culinarily sheltered childhood. Mr A&N, on the other hand, having grown up in God's own rhubarb triangle, can't hear the rumblings of the syllable 'rhuuuu' without getting a tear in his eye.

I was skeptical about its worth. It's a strange looking character, growing like giant fronds of swiss chard and thriving in the winter. "But what does it taste like?" I curiously asked the Yorkshire-based A&N clan. "Oh, awful in its natural state" was the universal response. Bitter. Stringy. The leaves are poisonous. This was sounding like one of Those Very British (quirky) Things. "So how do you eat it?" I wondered, skeptical facade uncracked. Boiled in tons and tons of sugar, I was told, which makes it taste "wonderful". It seemed an obvious truth to me that anything boiled in its own weight of sugar would wind up tasting pretty good, but they were adamant I needed to allow rhubarb into my life.


With the steady drip-drip of rhubarb each winter, it turns out I was wrong to doubt the goodness of rhubarb. It is tangy (to put it mildly) but part of the joy comes with balancing that with other flavors, either sweet or savory like Freddie just tried in The Great Big Vegetable Challenge. With its improbable pink color and its love of frost, it is a ray of brightness in the winter gloom. Forced rhubarb in particular is a funny creature, grown and picked in dim candle light since anything brighter would stop its growth. It's also very healthy, having only 7 calories per 100 grams and is full of vitamin C and calcium. I'm such a convert that I'm being tempted by the Wakefield Rhubarb Festival from the March 7 - 8.


I knew I'd find some forced rhubarb at my favorite British produce stand at my local market, and so I tried to think of the best use for it. My friend Lorraine who lives in Oman very generously mailed me some Madagascan vanilla pods she picked up cheaply in her market (markets are wonderful things) so I was eager to use those at the same time. Rhubarb with vanilla custard is an obvious combination, but I felt more in a cakey mood. Cue the rhubarb cake, with a light vanilla bod, mushy tart middle layer of rhubarb, and a crunchy nutty crumble. It was, in a word, wonderful, just as I was promised rhubarb would to be.


Rhubarb Crumble Cake (lightly adapted from the National Trust recipe)
Makes an 8 inch cake

• 3 oz butter
• 3 oz caster sugar
• 2 eggs
• 3 oz self-raising flour
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 1/2 vanilla pod or 1 tsp vanilla essences
• 2-3 Tbs milk
• 1lb rhubarb
• 1 Tbsp demerara sugar

For the topping:

• 2 oz butter
• 3 oz plain flour
• 1 oz caster sugar
• handful of walnuts, roughly chopped

1. Heat the oven to GM5/190’C/375’F. Grease and line an 8’’ round cake tin.
2. Cream together the butter and the sugar, beat in the eggs and vanilla (either the essence or, if using a pod, split it open and scrape out the sticky bean goo inside and add it to the sugar mixture).
3. Fold in the flour and salt.
4. Add enough milk to give a dropping consistency(about 2-3 Tbs).
5. Slice the rhubarb into 1’’ pieces and toss with the demerara sugar.
6. Pour the cake base into the tin, and cover it in the rhubarb-sugar mixture.
   
7. Make the topping by rubbing the butter into the flour and then stirring in the sugar and. Follow by tossing in the chopped walnuts
   
8. Sprinkle the crumble topping evenly over the rhubarb, pressing down lightly.
   
9. Bake in the oven for 40-45 minutes until the cake feels firm on top.

British vs American Quick Recipes

Toward the end of July, I blogged about how The New York Times featured a list of 101 recipes, designed for the summer heat and getting in and out of the kitchen in 10 minutes or fewer. Perhaps because the weather has been so notoriously poor this summer it was delayed, but the Observer Food monthly has finally featured these recipes in this month's edition of the magazine. Ah, I thought at first, I've already copied them down. But then I began to wonder how much cross over there was between recipes, and how many had been tweaked for the two different cultures.

The answer is, there are some differences but it's mostly the same (I was enough of a special-sort to go through the two lists, side by side, checking and crossing off dishes as they appeared. Sigh). There are a couple fewer vegetarian recipes in the UK version (which surprises me, since vegetarianism is more easy to negotiate in the UK), although mackerel makes a slightly greater appearance as do other fishes (salmon, prawns). And, no surprise, rhubarb is a guest star in the UK but gets no mention in the US.

All boring and factual, but to me the underlying curiosity had to do with food prejudices and presumptions. British cuisine still has a poor reputation in places, particular the US; bad British teeth and bad British cooking are two stock jokes about life in the UK. Now that I've relocated, I find it really rankles me when someone trots out these lazy stereotypes, particularly given the quality of cooking that you can get served at restaurants as well as the food-literacy and appreciation of so much of the public. My cross-checking of the lists heartened me from the point of view that the 101 suggested dishes weren't dumbed down with their transplant across the Atlantic, and that to create relevance a few of the native British food stuffs were given their place of honor. Although, interestingly, the Observer attributes the dishes to the NY Times writer Mark Bittman and to the UK chefs Tom Norrington-Davies and Allegra McEvedy, while the NY Times only credits Mark Bittman. Hooray British food.