Butter Cherry Tart- Bliss, Golden and Black

Make this when you have shy guests-
really, we talked of little else but how beguiling it was.

Last week at the market the vendor misheard me and gave me 2 kilos of black cherries rather than one. They were extraordinary- more like small plums in size, glistening and firm. He started to lighten the sack, but that didn't seem like a good idea.... Anyway, we were 7 at home that week; it really wasn't a daunting quantity. They went into a large glass bowl in the refrigerator, next to a smaller glass bowl of fat golden cherries. We did blind taste tests. They were both achingly fabulous.

Of course we took some to the beach, along with nectarines, and washed them in the waves to enjoy biting through their slightly salty skins. We had them cold from the refrigerator and ate handfuls of them at the sink. Still, what with the watermelon and the sagging trays of nectarines and apricots (it is such a generous season), some remained, and started to shrink up and condense.

They were just enough for a tart (and not too many to bother pitting), filled out a little and bound with a little... something. For me, cherries have a magnificent affinity for vanilla (think of the marvelous ice-cream flavor), and a little bitter almond underscores their aroma (think of the scent of the Jergen's lotion). I love a frangipane, but it can be a little dense, and detract from the fruitiness. The more delicate buttery, pudding-like texture of both lemon bars and pecan pie- a nutless frangipane if you will, leaving us with just butter, sugar, egg and a whisper of flour to hold it together, vanilla and almond to perfume. 

The shell:

For a baker, I am unfond of rolling out dough unless it is going to be showy- galette, lattice-topped pie, etc. This tart crust, adapted from Alice Medrich, is at once sturdy and delicate, and leaves you with a clean counter and just one bowl to clean up. 

1/2 C/ 125 g butter

1 1/3 C/ 130 g flour (maybe more)

2 Tablespoons sugar (for tenderness and structure)

Line the bottom of a 9"/ 24 cm springform pan with parchment (I don't cut a circle- I just put a square over the base and close the ring around it, trimming the overhang from the outside of the rim with a pair of scissors)

Melt the butter in the microwave and add the sugar and the flour and stir. It takes a moment for the butter to absorb the flour- wait a moment while it continues to stiffen, and then add a little more flour if you need it. We are aiming for a crumbly dough- not a paste- which we then press onto the bottom and sides of a pan, neatening the top edge.

The crumbly- not sticky- dough is pressed easily into the pan

No need to be too tidy- just make sure there are no tears.

This goes into the freezer- an indispensable step: the frozen crust, plunged into the hot oven, will bake without schlumping like a borphin, and there are no tiresome linings and pie weights to contend with. When the crust is frozen (it freezes quickly as it is so thin), bake at 375F/185C

for 10-12 minutes, until it takes on a golden color. 

The crust, pitted mixed cherries, and the rich golden egg/butter mixture
(Greek eggs have spectacularly orange yolks)

The filling:

As much fruit will fit loosely in the shell- that's about:

2 C cherries, pitted

or 

15 or so apricots, 

3 quite large peaches.... no real need to measure here.

1/4 C/ 60 g melted butter

3/4 C/ 150 g sugar

2 eggs

3 Tablespoons flour

1/8 tsp/1.5ml salt, if the butter is not salted

a few drops of bitter almond extract (discreet)

natural vanilla to taste (generous) 

Cherries strewn over the golden crust.

The filling- poured over the top- seeps all around them.

Put the fruit into the partially baked shell, and pour this mixture over the top. Bake for about 30 minutes- the filling will puff a bit, turn golden, and be just barely set in the center- still wobbly.

I have never made anything that smelled better than this- the butter-vanilla-sugar-fruit aroma knocks you out. It tastes of every individual thing- the eggy richness, the butter, the flavor of the sugar (not just its sweetness), of course the lush jammy fruit. We talked of little else all evening.

Cooling on the windowsill, it perfumed the veranda.