{ Are you so not interested in the details? Head straight to the recipe for roasted vegetable tart with pâte brisée. }
I'm not a baker. I cook like I write: It may not be pretty (it won't be), and it may be disorganized and awkward (it will be), but it probably will be entertaining (well, maybe). The food I make generally tastes good, but when it comes time to Instagram it, I need props and good lighting. We, dear readers, are the people who cook at home. We're picky about the way the food tastes, who's there to eat with us, and where the food comes from (sort of), but plating is not our strong suit. And when we're trying to make ourselves feel better, we tell ourselves that elaborate garnish has no place at a private dinner party where, even if you've hired a caterer, you don't want it to look like you hired a caterer. And when we're really being snobs, we scoff at garnish anywhere, because it's wasteful and serves no purpose*.
Unlike casseroles, stews, and various things on toast, baking takes a certain amount of attention to detail. You can't just throw it together, tasting as you go, and hope it works out in the end.
Baking is for chemists who are also artists. I'm neither of those things.
In fact, I was well on my way to a D in my required high school art class when the instructor happened to see me working on my own and it was glaringly obvious that I was really, really not an artist and struggled with even the most basic of tasks, like a one-point perspective line drawing. Thayer Zaeder? It was me, not you. But I think you realized that. You were a very good teacher and I'm happy to see that your failure with me didn't derail you. I'm also happy to see you are only 7 or 8 years older than I am, because I thought you were handsome and now I know I wasn't even being particularly creepy. You were a teaching fellow then—as I've learned from an article about you in the Phillipian I found online—which means you were very, very young. I also see that you have children and seem to be doing well. Hooray! I think you rewarded my feeble efforts with a B-, though I remember my struggles and your compassion more than I remember the actual grade.
I had slightly better luck in chemistry. (Thank you, Dr. Ryshke! And thank you Dr. Ryshke's wife, who didn't seem to mind that he was available at all hours to help struggling students. I see from your LinkedIn profile that you're also doing very well and now live in Atlanta, which is much warmer than Massachusetts, so that has to be nice.) Anyhow, given that my chemistry skills are ever so slightly stronger than my art skills, I figured I could muddle through a tart crust, starting with the scientific method.
I apologize in advance to Ms. Starr, my middle school science teacher who taught us what the scientific method was and gave me decent grades on my projects even though the posters were hideous. I also apologize to the scientific method, which I'm about to butcher.
The Scientific Method of Pâte Brisée (You Know, Pie Crust)
Observation
My pie crust sucks.
Question
Will my pie crust suck less if I use alcohol instead of ice-cold water as the liquid?
Research and Gathering of Information
A bunch of places on the internet say my pie crust will suck less if I use vodka in place of the ice water. My tart crusts were dense and dry. Various sources (also on the internet and no I didn't bookmark them) claimed that, unlike H2O, ETOH inhibits gluten production. What does that mean for a crappy baker? Lighter, flakier crust.
I went to the package store to buy Everclear, because I thought it was cheap, since I remembered hearing people talk about drinking it when I was younger. This turned into more information gathering: Clearly, I didn't have a clue in high school, because that stuff is expensive!
I bought the smallest amount possible and somehow ended up telling the man behind the counter at Morganelli's why I was buying it. (I admit, I was embarrassed and had to explain myself, even though no one had asked. It's who I am.) I told him I had already tried it once with Tito's, a corn-based vodka, and had been pretty happy with the result but was looking for a cheaper option (also, an option that wouldn't deplete my stash of Tito's). He was curious about my experiment and suggested I try it with the Everclear, but also try a crust with really cheap grain vodka (McCormick's) and a less expensive non-grain vodka (Luksusowa, which is not an ice skater, but a polish vodka made from potatoes).
Hypothesis
I guess it was "one of these is going to make a better crust, and then we'll know if it's the concentration of alcohol or the initial ingredient or the price that matters most." Also? "Please let the Everclear and the vodka make decent crust because I really don't want to drink them but I hate to be wasteful." That wasn't part of the hypothesis, just a thought I had.
Experiment
First of all, the control group was just our memory of how crappy my other tart crusts were. I didn't actually make a new one with water, because I already knew it wasn't very good. I did use a food scale for my ingredients, because I wanted to be at least a little bit official.
1. Measure out three bowls of flour, 195 grams each, which turns out to be 1¼ cup.
2. Measure three portions of butter, 100 grams each, which is about 7 tablespoons.
3. Pulse the butter, flour, and your favorite amount of salt in a food processor until it's crumbly.
4. Measure 4 tablespoons each freezer-cold Everclear (grain alcohol, 190 proof, 95 percent alcohol), Luskusowa (potato vodka, 80 proof, 40 percent alcohol), and McCormick (also vodka, 80 proof, 40 percent alcohol). Note: Don't pour the booze until you're about to use it because ETOH evaporates. Four tablespoons of booze turned out to be about 30 grams. BUT WAIT! THIS PART IS COOL! I remembered from high school that alcohol evaporates faster than water. So...well, just wait.
5. Start to drizzle the cold booze into the food processor, with the motor running.
6. Follow the directions in the recipe below. If you're doing three crusts and comparing, like I did, don't measure out the alcohol until you're read to use it.
7. Believe it or not, if you just leave the food processor running, your dough will eventually seize up into a ball. Hooray!
Observation
So, we made three tarts. (The Tank was my co-researcher. He's my youngest child and therefore the one most likely to believe me when I say, "This is going to be fun!" or maybe he just feels bad for me because no one else cares. He's a very nice boy.) I explained the nature of the experiment to him, and the variables, but I didn't tell him which tart was which. I'd love to tell you we came to a dramatic conclusion. Well.
This was the only mildly interesting observation: The three kinds of alcohol remained on the food scale for less than two minutes while I waited to add them to the processor. (Because remember? The other ingredients remained on the counter the whole time, but I didn't get the booze out until the last second, for each of the three crusts.) The two vodkas (both 80 proof) weighed in at 30 grams and the Everclear (190 proof) weighed in at 26 grams. At least they did right after I poured them. For the two minutes the vodkas stayed in a bowl on the counter, they lost a gram each. The Everclear? Lost 5 grams in the same amount of time! (Well, the same-ish. I made the Everclear version last, so I was probably moving a little faster.) Anyhow, without having been super careful, I think it's safe to say the Everclear, which had more than twice as much alcohol in it, evaporated faster. You'll have to trust me, because your high school chem teacher definitely isn't going to let you do this experiment.
But back to the tart. We ate all three tarts. We couldn't decide which was best, even in a side by side comparison. We did think the Everclear version was a little denser, which would make sense, since there was less liquid if it evaporated at a faster rate than the vodkas. The Tank thought the cheap vodka version was the best, though he couldn't be sure. And because this wasn't a totally scientific experiment, the fact that the three tarts each had different toppings could have influenced the outcome. We'll never really know, will we?
We definitely agreed all three were better than my usual attempt with water.
Conclusion
You might as well use the cheap stuff, obviously. Because it's cheap, it comes in a plastic bottle that can be wedged anywhere in the freezer without breaking, and...and nothing. Why would you spend more than you need to? Plus it'll be fun to stare down your neighbors in the liquor store when they wonder what on earth you're doing with the swill. (Do not explain. Never, ever explain.)
Unintended Consequences
I now prefer Luskusowa vodka over Tito's (though I still like Tito's very much) and it's slightly less expensive, so that's nice.
Cool Tip
Making Pie Crust Ahead of Time
Want to make your own freezer dough instead of buying it? Put your dough into a zippered bag and use a rolling pin to distribute it evenly, because that'll make it much easier to roll out later. (Leave a tiny corner of the bag open to let the air out.) This has nothing to do with the experiment, it's just a nice tip. It also makes it easier to store the dough if you want to save it for later or make several batches at once. If you have room, a bigger bag makes it even easier to roll out later.
The bigger bags can also be rolled up pretty easily and stored in the freezer. When you're ready to use them, take them out like you would a store-bought pie crust and let them thaw enough to unroll. Wouldn't it be cool if you made like five of them at once? And then you could have pie or tart any time?
Easy Roasted Vegetable Tart
1¼ cup all purpose flour, plus a little more (about ¼ cup) for kneading the dough
½ to ¾ teaspoon salt
7 tablespoons very cold butter, chopped into crude pieces
4 tablespoons freezer-cold cheap vodka
Whatever vegetables and stuff you might like on your tart: sautéed mushrooms, thinly sliced and lightly sautéed eggplant, caramelized onions (a staple for me), red pepper, leeks, tomatoes (make sure to get rid of a fair amount of the juice), figs (not a vegetable), spinach, arugula, a handful of leftover kale (remove the stems)–seriously, just pick a few things that seem like they would go together and go for it.
Optional: a handful of pine nuts, a smattering of goat cheese, some Parmesan, any other cheese you like, basil, fresh herbs, any other thing you've ever had on a tart and liked
Salt and pepper to taste, and dried chili flakes if that's your thing
Add the flour and salt to your food processor, pulse a couple times to blend.
Add the butter, pulsing until you have a crumbly mixture.
Slowly add vodka, running the processor continuously. Keep an eye on it, but let the food processor run until your dough seizes up into one piece, no longer. (If there are a few scraps left in the bowl, you can press them into the dough after you remove it.)
Form the dough into a smooth ball with your hands, kneading in a little flour by hand if the dough is too sticky. Put it in a zip-loc bag, leaving one corner open, and use a rolling pin to press it evenly into all four corners of the bag. Close the bag and put it in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes.
When you're ready to make your tart, preheat oven to 375° and roll out your dough. I prefer to roll my dough onto parchment paper.
Add your toppings. (How about fig, prosciutto, arugula, and goat cheese? Eggplant, tomato, caramelized onion, and feta? Leeks, mushrooms, and a little brie? Your choice!)
Trim the edges of your tart if you like, or leave them there if you prefer a rustic look. Fold the edges ever so slightly over the tart, covering no more than an inch of your topping.
Drizzle with olive oil or not.
Cook for 20 to 25 minutes, remove from the oven, let it cool a little, and eat!
Notes:
When choosing your vegetables, make sure you remove as much liquid as possible or your crust will get soggy. Salt and blot your eggplant if you're using it.
You may want to pre-cook some of your vegetables depending on how roasted you want them to be. Just compare the normal amount of time you would cook them to the cook time for the tart.
Rolling your dough out onto parchment paper then sliding the paper onto the baking tin saves a lot of mess. I've become a big fan of the Reynold's grid-lined parchment paper (which they sent me for free, but I now love for real), because I can roll it out on the counter and know that I'm getting the size right.
You can definitely make the pâte brisée by hand, but the food processor sure does make it easier.
This recipe is a lot easier than it may seem, especially if you make the dough ahead of time (or cheat and use store-bought). Once you make it regularly, it becomes a great way to clean out the fridge, using up whatever you find.
So, what do you think? Does this sound like a total pain? Will you believe me when I tell you it isn't? Once you learn to make the crust, it's a breeze, especially if you make a few crusts at once and keep some in the freezer for a rainy day. Actually, I mean a busy day, because a rainy day is perfect for staying in and cooking.
In other news, do you have friends? I've talked about this with more than one person d'un certain âge recently and most of us agreed that it's harder and harder to have friends. And I say that like I have a ton of friends and we talk about this stuff all the time, but I don't.
So why do so many of us feel lonely? Is it because we're all too busy? Or just too guarded? We were guarded in middle school, too, but had very poor judgement as to what was cool or not, so we tended to let it all hang out. (Or was that just me?) Do we all assume everyone else is having fun somewhere else and they don't want to hear from us? Maybe they are. Most of us have been ghosted at some point—you know, when you wake up one day and realize you have one less friend than you thought you did? And you try reaching out a few more times, but eventually you have to let it go. But then you realize one less friend gives you a little more time, and that's valuable.
What if we use that free time to get in touch with someone else? Either an old friend you haven't seen in a while or someone new you think you might like. Maybe the first ten times, it won't work, but it won't leave you with any less friends than you had before, right? Does that sound exhausting to anyone but me? Maybe we're all just too tired. Anyhow, in my ideal world, people will just come over. I think that's why I post pictures of food on social media—not to show off (the pictures aren't good enough for that) but in hopes of someone seeing something they want to eat and stopping by to see if there's any left. And if there isn't we can just make something else, k? Hope to see you soon! I have tart.
P.S. Do you wish you could get my blog posts in your inbox? I don't do that many, so you won't get flooded. Subscribing will streamline your whole life! Not really, but if you hate it, unsubscribing is really easy.
* We approve of garnish that has a job, like a piece of greenery that keeps the aspic from sliding off the plate. Or a piece of parsley we can use to freshen our breath. Or a cherry, because trying to tie the stem into a knot with your tongue alleviates boredom.