CT Food

Guess I’m not the only one wringing my lettuce leaves over what I ought to be eating. And the right way to produce whatever it is that I finally DO decide that I ought to be eating. (See my last post)

The L.A. Times laments the shootout over local food versus, well, everything else. Sound familiar?

The New York Times a couple of weeks ago looked a the notions that plants have senses like – gulp — animals, know how to fight off interlopers and in general are truly … alive.

Aw geez – now what do we do?

Here’s the thing everyone seems to be forgetting. Eating ain’t optional. You don’t eat, you die. Now you can be eating organic vegetables only, or you can be eating McDonald’s. Same deal – you don’t eat, you die.

Here’s another thing everyone seems to be forgetting. Fun. Whatever happened to enjoying what you’re eating? Oh that’s right, we’re supposed to eat what’s good for us and things that were produced properly are morally acceptable, etc, etc, etc. What? No one told you it can all be one and the same.

I went to a small dinner party recently. The first course was potato, leek and asparagus soup. There were two torta rusticas made with chard – one with cheese and the other with non-dairy substitutes like soy cheese for the lactose intolerant folks among us (no vegans), broiled swordfish, beets with a touch of orange, a simple green salad served with whole wheat baguettes. And I contributed a pear tarte Tatin for dessert and a quick whipped cream was produced.

But the evening was friendship and catching up and debating (though not solving) all the troubles of the world. Did anyone care that the potatoes, leeks, greens, chard and just about everything else were probably from California via the grocery store and the asparagus pretty much had to be from some other country? Or that swordfish is usually on the top of the worry-about-mercury list? No. Was the meal unhealthy? No.

Culinary pleasures come in many packages, and this one came with people and wine and opinions. And a touch of pear tarte Tatin – featuring precisely zero local ingredients — never hurts. Crust is adapted from Gourmet and the filling from The New York Times many, many years ago.

Pear Tarte Tatin

Crust

1¼  cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoons sugar

¼ teaspoon salt

1 stick cold unsalted butter, cut into ½-inch cubes

3 tablespoons ice water plus more as needed

Whisk together flour, sugar, and salt in a bowl (or pulse in a food processor). Blend in butter with your fingertips or a pastry blender (or pulse) just until most of mixture resembles coarse meal with some roughly pea-size butter lumps. Drizzle ice water over mixture and gently stir with a fork (or pulse) until incorporated.

Squeeze a small handful of dough: If it doesn’t hold together, add more ice water 1 tablespoon at a time, stirring (or pulsing) until just incorporated, then test again. Do not overwork dough, or pastry will be tough.

Turn out dough onto a lightly floured surface and divide into 4 portions. With heel of your hand, smear each portion once or twice in a forward motion to help distribute fat. Gather dough together, with a pastry scraper if you have one, and press into a ball. Form into a disk. Wrap in plastic wrap and chill until firm, at least 1 hour. Dough can be chilled up to 1 day (it will freeze pretty well for a couple of weeks). Let stand at room temperature 20 minutes before rolling out.

Filling

7 firm, red Anjou pears, peeled, halved and cored

Fresh lemon juice

¾ cup sugar

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut in small pieces

Crust (above)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Position rack in bottom third of oven. Squeeze lemon juice on pears. Set aside.

Place sugar in a 11-inch cast iron skillet or tarte Tatin pan over low heat. When some of the sugar begins to melt, begin stirring with a wooden spoon until all of the sugar is melted and begins to turn a pale golden color.

Remove pan from the heat. Arrange pear halves in the pan spoke fashion, cut side up, with the narrow end of the pears toward the center, as close together as possible. Fill in the center with the remaining pears.

Scatter butter over the pears. Place pan over medium heat. Cook until the sugar turns a deep caramel color and the juices released from the pears are nearly evaporated, about 20 minutes.

While pears cook, roll the dough into circle about 2 inches larger in diameter than pan. Lift and lay over the pears, tucking the edges into pan around edges of pears. Bake until the crust is golden brown, about 25 to 30 minutes. Remove from oven and set aside for 10 minutes.

Run a small, sharp knife around the edge of the tarte to loosen. Place a large plate or platter over the skillet. Holding the plate and skillet together using 2 kitchen towels, carefully but quickly invert the tarte onto the plate. You may need to do a bit of re-assembling. Cut into wedges and serve with whipped cream or crème fraiche if desired. Eight servings.