VANILLA CUSTARD BERRY TART

BLEU BLANC & ROUGE RED WHITE & BLUE

I have no consistency, except in politics;
and that probably arises from my indifference to the subject altogether.
- Lord Byron

The excitement mounts! An electric current zips through the apartment as the date approaches. We sit, night after night, glued to the television set, listening, observing, trading viewpoints and arguing opinions. The four of us gather every evening at 8 sharp for the news, following each candidate’s every word, every step. We compare the campaigns waging on both side of the Atlantic, the stream of candidates, from their policies to their faux pas, dissecting their political histories, analyzing their records, arguing their strengths, their weaknesses and whether or not we each consider their program, well, realistic.

To tell the honest truth, we also spend just as much time making fun of each candidate, each campaign move. As the evening news rolls to a close, the stream of back-to-back spots runs in glorious red white and blue, or rather bleu blanc rouge, and we love this part of the French presidential campaign. For one minute or two, this candidate or that one’s head looms large against the backdrop of searing red, crisp white or pale blue the color of sky, campaign motto splashed across the screen, La France Forte, Le Changement C’est Maintenant, Un Pays Uni Rien Ne Lui Resiste, Oui La France. Talking heads growling, barking, bellowing or mellow yet urgent, explaining as a teacher addressing a class of naughty children who refuse to follow the lesson. One son chuckles in self-satisfaction as he imitates this voice or that, following the words scrolling across the bottom of the screen, husband remarking on the insignificant, tiny mistakes made in editing while the younger son explains what is wrong with this policy or that. We sadly watch as the night’s series of campaign spots comes to an end, yet the discussion is far from over.

Everything is changing. People are taking their comedians seriously
and the politicians as a joke.
- Will Rogers

Our sons are well versed in politics. We raised them on television and radio news programs, often eating lunch or dinner in front of a panel of political pundits, never missing the evening infos, reading newspapers and debating, dissecting, explaining and, as they grew up, arguing, thrashing out, discoursing on everything French, American, Italian, European. We each have our own strong opinions and ideas of what works and what doesn’t, who is right and who is not and often lock horns. So this year, with presidential elections in both of our “home” countries, it is particularly exciting! The atmosphere is charged; we are geared up for a long year of exuberant, exhilarating, stimulating, often frustrating but definitely animated discussion.

And the fun has already begun with posters of our “favorite” candidates taped to each of our bedroom doors, faux campaign headquarters (although who put them there I have yet to learn), Our imitations are refined and in order, our clocks and watches synchronized so as not to miss even one well-regulated campaign announcement or candidate interview. Everything down to the second is timed and regulated in this beautifully over-regulated country, but how much better than the wild free-for-all in that vast cultural and political landscape (madhouse, some would argue) across the ocean. Words are measured, accusations tempered, and, as we are taught, everything is easier in moderation.


J - 2 (or as the French say it gee moins deux), two days until le premier tour, the first round of voting when the field will shrink from ten to two. Ah, yes, we will miss the odd candidates, and we may be sorely disappointed in the results. We may even be driven totally crazy by the madness of the final two weeks when things may get completely out of hand, wound up two notches or five, but we revel in everything political, no matter how insane.

And soon, France will have a new President and things will certainly return to the old humdrum, the same old same old, le retour à la normale, the status quo. And then the next one Over There will just be getting started.

From politics, it was an easy step to silence.
- Jane Austen

Bleu blanc rouge. Red white & blue: a little tribute to the fun and games that these mad, interminable, delirious, frenetic elections allow us but every four or five years. A luscious red, white and blue tart, worthy of our finest French pastry shop, worthy of our finest French election period, that brings together my little family of political animals as no election can. Or, well, at least not in quite the same spirit. A sweet pastry crust holds a voluptuously smooth, creamy, cool vanilla custard topped with a choice of berries: red raspberries, blue blueberries and wild blackberries. I prefer using frozen berries for tarts. Why? I find that frozen berries offer a much more intense flavor, sweeter, tarter, fruitier than fresh berries which gives wonderful results when baking. But use fresh berries when you can get full-flavored fruit all summer long.

Once baked and cooled, this tart offers sensational, winning, victorious results: tangy berries, sweet, creamy custard and just the right bite from the perfect crust. No analogies here, just a sublime dessert everyone will love. No matter their political bent or favorite candidate.


I will be adding this to my own April in Paris Monthly Mingle.


BAKED VANILLA CUSTARD BERRY TART

For the Pie Crust:
Or use your own favorite sweet pastry crust.

1 ¾ cups (250 g) flour
1/3 cup (40 g) powdered/icing sugar
8 Tbs (115 g) unsalted butter, slightly softened, cubed
1 large egg yolk
Scant ¼ cup (50 ml) milk, slightly more if needed

Sift or whisk together the flour and powdered sugar in a large mixing bowl. Drop in the cubes of butter and, using the tips of your fingers and thumb, rub the butter and flour together quickly until all of the butter is blended in and there are no more lumps; it should be the consistency of slightly damp sand. Add the egg yolk and the milk and, using a fork, blend vigorously until all of the flour/sugar/butter mixture is moistened and starts to pull together into a dough. If needed, add more milk a tablespoon at a time, blending vigorously after each addition, until the all of the dry ingredients are moistened.

Scrape the dough out onto a floured work surface and using the heel of one hand smear the dough inch by inch away from you in short, hard, quick movements; this will completely blend the butter in. Scrape up the smeared dough and, working very quickly, gently knead into a smooth, homogeneous ball. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 20 to 30 minutes if the dough is too soft to roll out immediately.

Lightly grease with butter the sides and bottom of a 13 ½ x 4-inch (35 x 10-cm) rectangular baking tin, preferably with removable bottom.

Remove the dough from the refrigerator and unwrap. Working on a floured surface and with the top of the dough kept lightly floured to keep it from sticking to the rolling pin, roll out the dough into a large rectangle and line the tin by gently lifting in and pressing down the dough. Roll the dough fairly thinly – you can see that mine is just a bit too thick. For a baking tin this size you will have dough left over. Trim the edges. Cover the lined tin with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes. This can also be done ahead of time.

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C).

Remove the baking tin from the refrigerator and discard the plastic wrap. Prick the pastry shell with a fork (not too hard or deep as you don’t want holes going all the way through the dough) and place a large piece of parchment paper over the shell and weigh down the parchment with pastry weights or dried beans, pushing the beans into the corners and up against the sides. Bake for 15 minutes. Remove from the oven, carefully lift out the parchment paper and beans, pressing the bottom of the shell down with your fingertips if puffed up, and prepare the Custard Filling.

For the Vanilla Custard Cream Filling:

3 large egg yolks*
¼ cup + 2 Tbs (75 g) sugar
2 Tbs cornstarch or corn flour
1 cup (250 ml) milk (I used 2% low fat)
¾ cup (200 ml) heavy cream
2 tsp vanilla
1/8 tsp ground nutmeg
1 – 2 Tbs slivered blanched almonds
Powdered/confectioner’s sugar for dusting

* Reserve the whites in a clean jar for Macarons!

Gently whisk the egg yolks with the sugar, cornstarch and the milk in a medium-sized saucepan until blended and smooth. Cook gently over very low heat, whisking constantly, for 5 minutes until thick like custard or pastry cream. Remove from the heat, quickly stir in the cream, the vanilla and the nutmeg; whisk until smooth. Transfer the cream to a bowl or glass/Pyrex measuring cup, cover with plastic wrap, pushing the plastic down to touch the surface, and allow to come to room temperature.

The Berries:

About 1 to 1 ½ cups fresh or frozen berries; I like a combination of blueberries, wild blackberries and raspberries. If using frozen, place the berries in a colander and run very, very quickly under running water to defrost then spread out on paper towels.

Just before baking the tart, place the berries (less any juice that has run off) in a small bowl and toss with 1/8 cup sugar (or slightly more to taste) and a dash of ground cinnamon.

Assemble and Bake the Vanilla Custard Berry Tart:


Once the pastry shell is partially prebaked and cooled and the vanilla custard is prepared and cooled, simply spoon the custard into the shell, spread to smooth and spoon the berries onto the custard. Bake in the 350°F (180°C) hot oven for about 40 to 45 minutes.


Remove from the oven to a cooling rack or wooden board and allow to cool to room temperature. Serve at room temperature or, better still, chilled, dusted with powdered sugar.

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VANILLA BUTTER CUT-OUT COOKIES WITH CHOCOLATE GLAZE

SWEET POLITICS


I have always been a political animal. I have voted in every election, local, state and national, since I was 18, no matter where in the world I lived. Even before each of my sons hit the 18-year mark, I made sure that they were registered to vote as well. From the time I shook Hubert Humphrey’s hand at the tender age of 8 to my choice at 24 to hit the dusty trail and head out to greener pastures when a certain, inexplicably popular Republican Cowboy President was re-elected, I have been aware of how a vote, many votes, those elected officials can have an impact on my life. Trying to understand my brother’s high school political cartoons or watching people alongside whom I volunteered fighting for funding in order to pay their staff, I have been amazed and outraged, amused and angered, charged to fight or throwing up my hands in defeat.

This most recent American Presidential Election was a real doozey, a cliffhanger to end all cliffhangers until the final seconds. Things were a real mess, both at home and abroad, and a real change was necessary. I followed the course of events from day one with bated breath, spending hours and days in front of the television, nose practically pressed against the screen, often arguing, debating or all-out yelling at the talking heads floating around in some far-away, virtual, tv-land. Newspapers were collected by the bundle, scoured with a frenzied passion, fists shaken and tears brushed away, all in the name of hope for a better world.

So cute, yet one tough cookie!

During this election, the political animal I have become is… a Moose. Large and seemingly dull, it is in reality a sturdy, highly protective beast, a peaceful animal but one that can become aggressive when it is threatened, crashing noisily through underbrush with tremendous power and vitality. The moose lives in cold, snowy places, forests and mudflats, often nosing his way into backyards, tipping over swing sets and snuffling in the clean, white snow. Why a moose, you ask?

Photo taken by and property of AKMuckraker

I have talked about The Mudflats before in these pages, about how I stumbled upon this brilliant and fascinating blog written daily (and more) throughout the campaign season by a dedicated, caring, hardworking, intelligent citizen, from her home in the Mudflats in that cold, harsh land that is Alaska, and I became a loyal and passionate follower. We, her readers, men and women spread far and wide around the world, shared and aired, laughed together and cried together, ranted and raved, learned and informed, gathered and shared information, analyzed and debated. We formed a motley crew but with a common interest and goal, to help bring about the change that we all so desperately hoped for. And somewhere along the line, we have all become Political Moose, peaceably protecting our country, angrily charging together whenever the basic tenets of our country are threatened.

Once again, I would like to honor the founder and writer of this blog and encourage her to keep up her oh-so important work. Whether dressed in her jammies, sitting in her basement (wink!) or fully dressed in jeans, yellow wellies and down jacket, she digs through the muck of Alaskan politics, unearthing treasures lost in the snow, brushing them off and wrapping them up in humor for public viewing. She has gathered around her this faithful following of educated, funny, warm men and women and we follow her still. Long after the election was over, we know that politics and political high jinx do not end. So here we remain.

AKM, thank you for doing what you do for all of us, representing the represented and informing the not-always so well-informed, and thank you immensely for the SHOUT OUT you gave me and Life’s a Feast in your on The Mudflats. AKM, in your honor and to thank you, I have made these Brian the Moose cookies. Delectable, buttery treats with a touch of vanilla and smothered with a chocolate frosting the color of mud, wallowed through rather than slung.


VANILLA BUTTER CUT-OUT COOKIES
Recipe from Nigella Lawson’s Feast: Food to Celebrate Life

6 Tbs (85 g) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
½ cup (100 g) superfine sugar
1 large egg
½ tsp vanilla
1 ½ (190 g) cups flour
½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt


In a large mixing bowl with an electric beater, cream the butter and the sugar until light and fluffy and lightened in color.


Beat in the eggs and vanilla.


Combine the flour, baking powder and salt together then gradually beat into the butter/sugar/egg mixture.


With your hands, gather and press the mixture into a soft, smooth, homogenous dough. If it is too sticky to handle, just knead in a bit more flour.


Form the dough into a ball, wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for an hour (this really is necessary).

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C).

Unwrap the dough and place it on a floured surface. Dust the surface with flour to keep the dough from sticking to your rolling pin. Roll out the dough, turning it and making sure the dough and work surface are sprinkled with flour as you go, into a disc ¼-inch (about ½ cm or slightly thicker).


Using your favorite (or occasion-appropriate) cookie cutter(s), carefully cut out desired shapes and gently transfer the cut-outs onto a parchment-lined cookie sheet.


Bake for 8 – 12 minutes (mine cooked for 10) until puffed, set but soft and just beginning to color to golden around the edges – they will, as most cookies do, continue to bake and set a bit while cooling.


Cool completely before icing or frosting.

CHOCOLATE MUD FROSTING FOR COOKIES

2 ½ cups confectioner’s (powdered/icing) sugar
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
¼ cup unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
¼ cup milk
1 tsp vanilla


(I halved the recipe and it came out perfect!)

In a small bowl, combine and blend the confectioner’s sugar and cocoa powder. Add the softened butter and the vanilla and beat until blended and the butter is no longer in chunks.

Add the milk, a bit at a time, beating until you reach the desired consistency, easy to spread but not runny.


Frost the cookies. If you want to sprinkle the frosted cookies with colored sugars, do so while the frosting is still wet and has not began to harden.

Moose

I also made guitars for Clem who taught himself to play this year!

And hearts for everyone else!

This is a frosting that won’t get hard like a Royal Icing, rather it forms what my friend Rachel calls a “skin”: the surface hardens while the frosting underneath remains soft.

Cheers, AKM!

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POST-ELECTION CONFESSIONS : It’s More Than Just About Food

Political Exile, Political Refuge



I have to confess that the months, then weeks, then days, even hours leading up to the Presidential Election 2008 I did quite a lot of Nervous Baking. Cake, cookies, muffins, pies. Comfort baking. Comfort food. It kept me sane and focused. It kept me busy and kept me from running through the house pulling my hair and screaming from the sheer tension and angst.

What was unusual for me was that for the first time since my discovery of the world of blogs, I tore myself away from my daily fill of favorite food sites to the wide, wild, passionate, sometimes heated universe of political blogs. Living so far away from the center of the election universe, getting no closer to the battlefield than my tv, newspapers and computer allowed, having no one around with whom to talk, discuss, dissect or argue (well, argue...) I turned to the internet for succor. I was immediately sucked into the emotional whirlwind of the campaign, jumping from video to campaign site to tv commentary and interview to newspaper headlines. I followed on-line discussions about registration and phone banks, stories about door knocking and neighborhood drives, I witnessed the debunking of smears and I laughted at the gaffes. I listened to speeches and accusations, promises and jokes. But I still had no where to stop and rest, nowhere to unload my rantings, share my thoughts or air my opinions.

I finally settled on one blog, written by the passionate, hard-working, smart and funny AKMuckraker at Mudflats, logging on every morning and tuning into the chat. Needless to say, I found like-minded souls, political and ideological brethren. AKM brought us together around the proverbial political campfire, handing out mugs of hot cocoa and food for thought. She braved the snow and the freezing temperatures to courageously face the often mad, sometimes corrupt world of Alaskan Politics and beyond. All we had to do was pull up a comfortable chair in our warm homes and, with a click of our mouse, we were informed, amused and inspired.

Politics has always been a part of my life. Though rarely involved, I was always aware. My parents brought us along to listen to Hubert Humphrey speak in front of the Jewish Community in Cocoa Beach, Florida in 1968. Even at 8, I was somehow aware of the importance of this man who bent down to shake my hand, impressed by the significance of the moment. 1972, my brother Michael proudly wore his McGovern for President button though 3 years too young to vote, something that I thought was the epitomy of cool, adult and smart. His high school art projects were peppered with political caricatures and cartoons which I tried so hard to understand. We spent our teen years as bleeding heart liberals who decried the government’s wasteful spending on space exploration when people were living in poverty down on earth. My youth group projects often centered around the plight of the Russian Jews and the difficult, often controversial, situation of the State of Israel. I came of age in an era of Women’s Rights which sent out the message that we should be striving to have it all: graduate degrees and high-paying, high-powered jobs, equality in marriage and shards of that good old glass ceiling in our hair as we crashed our way onward and upward.

I actually started to feel the true effect that the power of governement, the wrong government, could have on our daily lives towards the end of my university years. I saw Reaganomics taking its toll on the middle and working classes, on the poor and those who were trying to help others not as well off as themselves. I saw that great surge forward of the upper class in America, the rich not only getting richer, but getting all the breaks as well. While those of us trying to achieve something greater than what we grew up with were having to push harder and harder against a door that was slowly closing on us. This was the moment when I decided to go into what I have since refered to as “My Self-Imposed Political Exile”. I packed two suitcases, dumped all my other belongings that I hadn’t succeeded in giving away out on the curb, and flew off to search for a better life, a a different culture, a more humane society. This was my one great political statement though maybe it just turned out to be a scream in an empty room.

And all the while, I listened, I watched, I studied and I voted.

Election 2008 will surely go down in history as the greatest election of modern times, a campaign and election that awaked so much passion, excited so much emotion and, yes, so much hope. More people came out to work for the Obama Campaign than has ever been seen before. Rejecting 8 long, dirty, difficult years of an Administration that failed America, failed Americans. Inspired by hope and propelled into action, motivated by a smart, educated, compassionate man surrounded by smart, educated and compassionate people, we voted him into office.

I have felt the wave of change sweep over me and all around me. I am still in a dream-like period of disbelief. I am also, like many others, going through election withdrawal. Yes, it has allowed me to refocus on my baking and my blog, as well as my family, I should mention, but the build-up to November 4th was so exhilarating that I am completely exhausted by the fever pitch of the past few months. But the let down is mixed with the true hope that things can and will change. Hopefully we are moving back as well as forward to a more diplomatic, compassionate country, a country and an administration committed to education, health and opportunity.

My own personal political refuge in a small country called mudflats has given me the desire to bring myself out of my political exile and return home. Sooner or later. But for now, through the magic of internet I have been drawn into the shelter of a group of passionate, caring and intelligent people who have gathered around AKM’s campfire. We have opened up our minds and our hearts to each other, going well beyond the talk of issues and administration. We all agree that this election has made us understand how close we are, in fact, to the center, how our every vote, our every action can indeed affect other human beings around us, and how together we can bring about the change we need and crave. We have truly formed a family that I mean to hang onto for a long time.

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