Reflection Is Bunk

I've been blogging for more than a year now. In the blogosphere I'm way past overdue for a cushy, reflective post about how my life has been transformed through blogging--just so long as this post and this post don't count as cushy and reflective. This is the point in a blogger's life that they are approached by big time publishers to print the records of their trials now overcome by romantic love or self-love or self-actualization or blah blah blah and how blogging helped them live their life to the fullest. How recipe after recipe, each blogger has moved past fears, loneliness and illness to be a truer version of themselves. Transformation is packaged for film by film by film by bestselling novel by self-help book, and I buy it and you buy it and I totally believe in that I can change into this version of Lainey that lives the ideal life. But how much of change is opening up a door to what you already were. I change my clothes every day. I change my hair. I move into a new apartment. I get a new job. I write a different story. I use a new recipe. So yeah, I've changed. But when I look back, I always loved squash, I just didn't know it yet. I always had wavy hair, I just didn't know how to work with it. I've always been adventurous, I just used to be afraid to be alone. There isn't an ending; there isn't a final epiphany; it keeps going. Last week I made quiche, Monday I made ratatouille and Tuesday I made tomato salad with croutons. Sunday I was strong, Monday I was scared, Tuesday I fell in love, Wednesday broke my heart. I and you and we get knocked down, cry our tears, learn our lessons, and (however long it takes) we get back up and do it all over again. And in the meantime, we make jam. Not dramatic jam. Not lyrical jam. And NOT transformational jam. Jam is not a metaphor. IT'S JAM.

Jam with handpicked strawberries--ones we gathered on our hands and knees along with a load of chigger bites, but we did it all by ourselves. Jam with juicy peaches and orange juice, vanilla and amaretto. And it tastes just like summer, as literally as a season can taste like something. We make a humongous, sticky mess in the kitchen and clean it up afterwards. And we share. (Now we're to the climax of this dooce-like monologue.) We share our runny, sweet jam. This is life people! Transformation happens every day.

Peachy Sunrise Jam: adapted from Barefoot Contessa and Crane Coffee's smoothies 2 pints hulled strawberries 2 peaches, diced 1/4 cup Jonathon apple, diced 2 cups fine sugar 1 tablespoon orange juice 1 tablespoon amaretto liqueur 1 teapsoon vanilla optional: pectin or citrus peal Wash all fruit. Cut up the bigger strawberries, otherwise leave them whole. Place strawberries and peaches in a heavy saucepan. Toss sugar, vanilla, orange juice and liqueur in with the fruit. Put saucepan on medium heat and bring to a rolling boil, stirring frequently. Add apples while the fruit mixture is boiling. Continue boiling until sauce reaches 220 degrees (on a candy thermometer)--takes about 25 to 30 minutes. Once sauce reaches desired temperature, turn off heat. Skin the foam off the top of the jam. My jam didn't get as thick as I would have liked. Adding citrus peal or pectin would have helped. I followed directions on Ball's (the mason jar people) Web site, FreshPreserving.com. But here's a quick rundown. To sterilize the jars, I placed the jars, lids and bands in boiling water. That was wrong. So I had to do it again in not-quite-boiling water. The only thing wrong with that is the rubber on the lids can't take the heat. So I used different lids. K, jars are sterilized. Without touching the lids or the lips of the jars, I poured the jam into the jars and placed the lids on the jars with a pair of tongs (also sterilized). With the jars filled and the bands secured, I placed the jam in boiling water for 5 to 10 minutes. Without removing the jars from the hot water, I turned the heat off and let the water and jam cool slowly. An hour or so later, I removed the jars from the water. The seals still hadn't popped, which caused a bit of concern. But as I was staring at the jam, all the seals popped in. And voila, preserved strawberry jam. Please also follow the directions on FreshPreserving.com.

Lemon Berry Tart

I escaped last Saturday to Bellevue Berry Farm with the goal of picking more strawberries than I knew what to do with. It only took an hour or so before I was ready to leave; my box of red berries weighed in at four pounds--a respectable amount I thought. But at home I couldn't fit them all in the fridge or even in one container. In anticipation of welcoming 30 to 40 people to the apt within a few hours, I was forced to ban the beer to an oversized cooler that has been taking up space on our back porch. All went well and I was able to escape from people for a few hours before being bombarded by them once again (though I was unable to elude a small army of chiggers at the strawberry patch). The berries were perfect though. The juice colored my hands red and they tasted wholy unlike the giant grocery store strawberries. I know those strawberries are beautiful and pink and can be quite juicy, but when comparing to these small, organically grown berries, they seem quite abnormal. How, in God's name, did those berries get to be that size? They're berries. And out of season, they taste like styrofoam. These berries taste like summer, perfect combination of the sweet attributes of a blueberry and the tartness of a raspberry. I've been chomping the berries plain and adding them to my bowl of Kashi granola cereal every morning. I have an eye for making some jam--just to torture myself. But first things first: a tart.

Now that I've mastered the art of the crust, I feel an urge to flex my pastry-making muscles. I loaded up on berries (black, rasp and blue) at the grocer for the perfect summer dessert. The tart I ended up with was absolutely devine.

The lemon curd was just tart enough to cut the sweetness of the berries. And the crust was perfectly crumbly. Even the roofer admired the pastry. And crusts aside, it was shockingly easy.

Lemon Berry Tart: (lemon curd courtesy of David Lebovitz) I followed this recipe for the tart crust. 6 tablespoons butter 1/2 cup lemon juice 1 teaspoon lemon zest 1/2 cup granulated sugar 2 large eggs 2 large egg yolks 1 9-inch already baked tart shell 2 cups assorted berries powdered sugar for dusting (optional) In a medium sauce pan on medium-low heat, melt the butter. Stir in the sugar, lemon juice and lemon zest until sugar has dissolved.

Pre-heat oven to 350. In a small bowl, whisk together eggs and egg yolks. Pour half a cup of the warm lemon mixture into the bowl with the eggs and whisk to heat the eggs. You want the eggs to be warm so they don't scramble in the sauce pan. Pour the egg mixture into the sauce pan with the lemon-butter sauce. Stir continuously until curd thickens (it will be nearly bubbling on the side, some chunks may develop, which is fine, it just means it's time to remove it from the heat). Immediately remove from heat once it has thickened. Pour the curd through a strainer onto the already-baked tart shell, pushing any chunks through the strainer with a spatula. Smooth the top of the tart and pop it in the oven for 5 minutes to set. Remove and let cool. Top with berries and powdered sugar.

Queen of Tarts

I saw this tart on the cover of April's Gourmet Magazine and knew I had to make it. I even finally bought a tart pan with a removeable bottom. I predict many quiches and elegant pies in my future. Additionally, I think I may have solved my previous pie crust issues. Thus in the epic battle of me-versus-tart, I am the victor. I am the Queen of Tarts.

Strawberry Tart: from Gourmet Crust:
1 1/4 cups flour 3 tablespoons granulated sugar 1/4 teaspoon salt 7 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 egg yolk 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract 1/2 teaspoon lemon juice
3 tablespoons cold water Filling:
1 1/2 pound strawberries 1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon lemon juice 1/2 cup amaretto 1 pound mascarpone cheese 1/4 cup confectioners sugar 1 teaspoon lemon juice 1 teaspoon lemon zest 3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

Pre-heat oven to 375. For crust, blend flour, 3 tablespoons of sugar, salt and butter in a large mixing bowl with a pastry blender until the mixture resembles coarse meal. In a small bowl, whisk egg yolk, vanilla, lemon juice and water. Add wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and mix until a dough is formed. Turn out on a lightly floured surface and knead a couple times. Form a flat, 5-inch circle with your hands. Place circle of dough into 9-inch tart pan and press with your fingers until dough covers the bottom and sides of the tart pan. With fork, stab little holes into the bottom of the crust.

Cover crust with aluminum foil and fill with pie weights or uncooked rice (guess which I chose). Bake for 20 minutes and remove tart from oven and remove foil and rice. Replace in oven and bake for another 20 minutes until golden. Let cool for at least 30 minutes.

While tart crust is cooling, make the filling. Slice strawberries and place in bowl with 1/3 cup granulated sugar and 1 teaspoon or so of lemon juice. Let sit for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, to allow the juice from the strawberries to collect in the bottom of the bowl.

Meanwhile, mix together mascarpone, powdered sugar, lemon juice, lemon zest and vanilla in a medium bowl. Once tart crust has cooled, spread mascarpone evenly onto the crust.

Go back to the strawberries. Using a strainer, pour the strawberries and their juice over a medium frying pan. Once drained, arrange the strawberries on top of the tart. Going back to the skillet, add 1/2 cup of amaretto liqueur to the strawberry juice mixture. Bring to a boil and simmer for 15 minutes or until it has reduced by half or has thickened to a syrup. Remove from heat and pour over tart. Refrigerate before serving. This is best eaten the day of.