cheesecake in a jar with passion fruit sauce

The birthday tradition around here is that the birthday girl or boy can choose whatever they like for their birthday dinner – often a brand-new recipe – and the non-birthday spouse will make it.

This year, the birthday boy chose his menu from Japanese Farm Food: fat little teriyaki hamburgers, Japanese rice, carrot and cilantro salad with citrus, and napa cabbage salad with sesame seeds.

Sure, I said, but what about dessert?

He scratched his head and thought for a while.

Then he remembered the perfectly smooth cheesecake and passion fruit sauce we were served in a fancy glass while we sat out on the patio at Cafe Julia in Honolulu a few years ago.

And thus began the great hunt of January 2015 to find passion fruit in Edmonton.

I called the grocery store.

I asked my friend whose parents are from the Caribbean.

I asked my other friend who is an accomplished dessert maker.

Eventually, a little bird called Twitter tracked the elusive passion fruit down, and I was full-steam ahead to make this little dessert.

I've never made a no-bake cheesecake before – essentially, mix some whipped cream cheese with some whipped cream –- and it seemed too easy to be true.

But people: it is divine. Light and smooth with a little tang from the cream cheese, and flecks of vanilla seeds rounding it out.

And then the passion fruit sauce.

It is a thing of wonder. Tart and sweet with a few crunchy seeds, it's the perfect thing to sit atop that cloud of cheesecake. (Not to mention so cute in that little jar.)

The birthday boy was pleased, and I'm pleased to have a new go-to dessert recipe. Actually, it was so good that it almost feels like it was my birthday.

one year ago: tuscan white beans
two years ago: pan de yuca (colombian tapioca buns) and black-eyed peas with kale and bacon
three years ago: tomato sauce with onion and butter and lemon syllabub
four years ago: glorious hummus and rosemary gruyère baked eggs

cheesecake in a jar
slightly adapted from Canadian Living and Charcut
half-fills six jars (leaving you room for sauce or fruit)

1/2 vanilla bean
150 ml. whipping cream
50 g. icing sugar
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
250 ml. (1 c.) cream cheese, at room temperature

Use a small paring knife to slit the vanilla bean lengthwise. Scrape out the seeds using the dull side of the blade.

In a mixing bowl, combine the vanilla seeds, whipping cream, icing sugar and vanilla extract. Beat until soft peaks form, and set aside in the fridge.

In another mixing bowl, beat the cream cheese until it's smooth and lightened, making sure to scrape down the sides of the bowl as necessary. Plop in one-third of the whipped cream and fold it in. Repeat with another third of the whipped cream, and then again with the final third of whipped cream.

Use two teaspoons to carefully spoon the cream cheese mixture into the 6 jars. Cover and put in the fridge until chilled, about 1 hour. Serve with a sauce or fruit tossed with a bit of sugar and liqueur.


passion fruit sauce
adapted from Easy Brazilian Recipes

1 c. passion fruit juice
1/2 c. water
1 c. sugar
2 passion fruit

Heat the water and sugar over medium heat in a non-reactive pot. Once the sugar has dissolved, cook 3 more minutes. Stir in the passion fruit juice and simmer at a good rate. Stir occasionally until the sauce begins to thicken, about 8 – 12 minutes. If it doesn't seem thicker after 12 minutes, remove from the heat and let cool for about 10 minutes. Stir to check on it. If it's still not thick enough for you, simmer for 5 more minutes. Again, let it cool and decide if you need to do another 5 minutes.

Once the sauce has cooled completely, scoop out the passion fruit seeds and flesh and stir them into the sauce. Put a few teaspoons on each little cheesecake in a jar and serve immediately.

silken chocolate mousse

Years ago, I discovered the chocolate mousse with raspberries at the Ogden Point Café in Victoria.

It was served in a tall parfait glass with a thick layer of raspberries in the middle and a few more on top for good measure. With a cup of hot tea, it was just the thing after a bracing walk along the breakwater at Ogden Point.

For such a rich and creamy dessert, it always sat surprising well in my tummy.

Years later, I heard that the mousse was actually made with silken tofu. Mystery solved, I thought, and filed it away. Why I didn't act on that information immediately vexes me now that I have made this mousse myself.

Fast-forward to this June.

Sheri and her family were coming from New Zealand to stay with us for a couple of days. Sheri and I met in university and got to know each other over many cups of tea and chocolate-y cookies and treats.

Even though we haven't lived in the same city for 13 years, we've always shared recipes over the miles and treats when we meet up. But now Sheri can't eat gluten, dairy or eggs.

Given our history of sharing treats, I was determined to serve dessert – and not just fruit salad. (Scott and I have heated debates about whether fruit salad is a valid dessert and I maintain it is not.)

I thought and thought and eventually pulled the Ogden Point chocolate mousse out of the recesses of my brain. Aha! A quick search turned up the ever-reliable Michael Smith with a recipe. With three ingredients. I was sold.

Michael Smith calls this the "world's fastest chocolate mousse" and I have to say I agree. It's all done (and chilling in the fridge) in under ten minutes – although I will not discount the dish washing, which includes a pot with melted chocolate. So let's say 20 minutes from start to mousse chilling to clean kitchen.

If you have some doubts about including tofu in your mousse, try to let them go. As long as you get silken tofu, it really does whip up to be smooth and creamy. The mousse doesn't taste even remotely like tofu because tofu is just the carrier: it absorbs the chocolate and vanilla flavours and gives them body.

You may also choose to do what I did for other dessert guests. I didn't mention it had tofu until they were licking their lips and asking me for the recipe.

related: caramel chocolate mousse 
one year ago: salmon with warm tomato basil oil and balancing tofino and the plane
two years ago: kristina's nuss kuchen and german zucchini tomato soup
three years ago: loganberry jelly

silken chocolate mousse
from Michael Smith
serves 6

227 g. (8 oz.) dark chocolate, chopped roughly
227 g. (8 oz.) silken tofu
1 tbsp. vanilla extract
250 g. (1 c.) rasperries

Put the chocolate in the top of a double boiler, or a metal bowl suspended over simmering water. Melt the chocolate and remove from the heat. Set aside.

Blend the tofu in a food processor until smooth and uniform. Add the melted chocolate and vanilla and process until perfectly smooth. Scrape into individual dessert cups. Refrigerate until set (not long, perhaps one hour).

Serve with a generous amount of raspberries on top.

eton mess

On Friday night, I looked at the weather forecast for Saturday and was delighted by what I saw: rain.

My little kitchen faces west and has great big windows (painted shut), which let in lots of light – and heat. There is no playing around in the kitchen in July and August; it's more a matter of getting in and out before you get heat stroke.

So back to Saturday. Scott had to work and I didn't mind at all, because it meant I could play and create as many dishes as I wanted without him interrupting and asking why I always like to make so many dishes.

The day dawned cloudy and I felt luxurious. I knew I could make all kinds of things in my cool kitchen. I fished a piece of paper out of the recycling and wrote down my plan.

Here's what I made, in order: meringues for Eton mess, gluten-free pizza dough, coffee ice cream with cacao nibs, pesto, and, finally, whipped cream for Eton mess. Oh yes, and I tarted up some loganberries and raspberries with kirsch and sugar for the Eton mess.

I did three loads of dishes at my own pace and listened to a lot of good radio.

Then I looked out the window. It still wasn't raining. The clouds seemed to be parting and I caught a glimpse of – gasp! – sunshine.

I was not impressed.

However, as an eternal optimist, I knew this would at least be good light for photographing the Eton mess, so I got down to work.

 

My good friend Andrea introduced me to Eton mess a couple of years ago on a hot summer day when we visited them in Kelowna. It is one of those perfect summertime desserts – cool, creamy and mostly made ahead of time. Think layers of crispy meringue, whipped cream and berries.

You only have to turn your oven on to bake the meringues, but you could do that in the morning or the late evening when your kitchen couldn't already be mistaken for a sauna. Then the whipped cream and boozy berries are a snap. Also, it's pretty fun to break up the meringues and you'll kindly remember that "fun" is a prerequisite for recipes to appear on this site.

As you see above, assembling is fun, too, and if you have guests, they'd probably enjoy being involved at this point. Pop a few meringue pieces into the bowl, add a dollop of cream, pour on some boozy berries, repeat if desired. (That last bit sounds like a shampoo bottle. Do not panic. This does not taste like shampoo.)

And there you go. My Saturday morning in the kitchen: satisfying times baking and cooking, lots of dishes, and unfortunately good weather.

After photographing in our sunny back room, I left the fourth load of dishes for Scott to enjoy later and went for a swim.

Too hot to stay inside any longer.

P.S. Do you have ripe cherries in your neck of the woods? If you pit them and freeze a few cups now, I'll give you a recipe for cherry peach jam in August.


one year ago: German zucchini soup
two years ago: ministrone with summer herbs and chocolate raspberry horse turds

eton mess
serves about 4 adults with extra meringues to use as you please

meringue shells
from my mom
bakes 12

3 egg whites, at room temperature
1/8 – 1/4 tsp. cream of tartar
2/3 c. granulated sugar
1/8 tsp. almond extract or 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees Fahrenheit. Line two pans with parchment paper.

Beat the egg whites with the cream of tartar until soft peaks form. Gradually add the sugar, one tablespoon at a time, until stiff peaks form. Add the almond or vanilla extract.

Spoon the meringue into 12 nests on the prepared pans. Bake for about 2 hours, or until they are crisp but not too brown. (If you check a meringue and it sticks to the paper as you lift it up, it needs to keep baking.) Cool on a rack. Once they are cool, break into smaller pieces.


whipped cream

2 c. whipping cream
2 tbsp. granulated sugar
1 tsp. vanilla extract

Beat the whip cream until it starts to thicken. Add the sugar and continue to beat until it's whipped. Beat in the vanilla.


boozy berries
from The Essential New York Times Cookbook 

2 c. berries (raspberries, loganberries, blackberries or strawberries) fresh or defrosted
1/4 c. sugar
1 tbsp. kirsch or framboise liquer

Put the berries, sugar and kirsch together in a bowl. Stir until the sugar dissolves.


assembling your eton mess

In little bowls or fancy parfait cups, make layers of meringue, whipped cream and berries. Repeat if desired. Eat!

caramel chocolate mousse

If there's one thing I long for, it's counter space.

When we were visiting my dad last weekend, I kept looking longingly at the expanse of counter space in his kitchen. Of course, we made good use of it, with this chicken curry and then buttermilk pancakes with frozen huckleberries and brambles.

Oh, and did I mention the caramel chocolate mousse?

Because that's what I really want to tell you about.

On Sunday afternoon, while Scott and dad were out pouring concrete for a gate (seriously!), I got to hang out in my dad's sunny little house and do my two favourite things: cook and read.

I started with the mousse. As you see, the sun was pouring in and everything was going swimmingly.

Well, it was . . . until I got a bit cocky about melting the chocolate and this horror happened.

What is that monster, you may ask?

That monster is overheated chocolate, where the cocoa has divorced itself from the cocoa butter.

(I don't know how they convince them to join up in the chocolate factories, but let me know tell you, they will never reunite in your kitchen. Goodness knows I tried.)

After that horror – in which my main panic was that my mousse would be a goner and I wouldn't get enough time to read before the boys got back – I found some more chocolate and got back on track. Dear readers, follow these instructions for melting chocolate carefully and don't let it get too hot!

It should look more like this:

Now, back to the whole idea of caramel chocolate mousse. It's a good one, don't you think?

Chef Michael Smith thought it up, and I saw it in his new book when I was flipping through it at the bookstore a couple weeks ago.

I have been intrigued with the idea of using caramel as a deep, dark base for chocolate ever since I saw this video about chocolate ice cream last summer. (Also check out Melissa Clark's cool sunglasses.)

This mousse is dish-heavy – pot to make the caramel, double boiler to melt the chocolate, bowl to whip the cream – but it's actually pretty simple. Also, I am relieved to finally have a reliable technique for caramel.

(Before this, I had a 50% chance of my caramel seizing into grains of horrible hard sugar. Which is not pretty. I'm fairly sure I'll have a 100% success rate of smooth, lovely caramel with Michael Smith's technique.)

I decided to mix the caramel and chocolate cream together before folding it into the whipped cream. I was afraid the sticky caramel would take too much mixing and deflate the whipped cream. Pre-mixed with the chocolate, the caramel folds in like a dream.

After a couple hours in the fridge, it takes on that airy, dense texture that I want in a mousse. (Do  you know what I mean: substantial but light?)

As for the taste – well, let's just say the caramel is worth it. It lends a deeper base of flavour, almost the way a homemade stock does for soup.*

In the end, I got my mousse into the fridge within less than an hour, and had lots of time to get back to my other important goal for the afternoon: sitting in the reclining chair next to the window and reading my book with a cup of tea.

*I will note that the original recipe calls for milk chocolate instead of dark chocolate, so as not to overpower the caramel base. I didn't have any milk chocolate, so I used dark and I think I'll keep it that way. I may also be influenced by the fact that I make my caramels pretty dark so they can stand up to the dark chocolate base.


 Last March: grand forks borscht
Two Marches ago: dahl for dinner, dahling

caramel chocolate mousse
slightly adapted from michael smith

1/4 c. (62.5 ml) sugar
1 c. (250 ml) whipping cream (separated to 2 tbsp + 2 tbsp + 3/4 c.)
2 oz. (62.5 g.) dark or milk chocolate, chopped finely
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml) vanilla extract

Take out a small saucepan with a heavy bottom. Pour in 1/4 c. of water. Sprinkle the sugar over the water, making sure the sugar doesn't touch the inside edges of the pot. Do NOT stir. Turn on the heat to medium. Keep an eye on it, but don't touch it. Eventually, the sugar will melt and the water will boil. As it begins to lightly brown, you may swirl the pot gently to help it brown evenly, although I don't find it necessary. Once it starts browning, keep an eagle eye on it. When it's deep golden brown, take it off the heat. Get out a shallow bowl and a whisk.

Stand back and get ready for some spattering. Carefully pour 2 tbsp. of cream into the caramel. Whisk until smooth. Transfer the caramel into the shallow bowl. (It is important to do this because the caramel will keep cooking and hardening in the hot pot.) Cool to room temperature, about 20 minutes. Set aside while cooling.

Now, it's time to melt the chocolate and cream. The important part here is not to overheat the chocolate. Get a clean whisk ready. Heat water to a simmer in the bottom of a double-boiler, or nestle a bowl over (but not in) a pot of simmering water. Keep the heat down to minimum so the water only simmers and doesn't boil. Put the chopped chocolate in the bowl. Pour in 2 tbsp. of cream. Whisk until the chocolate is just melted, then take the bowl off the heat and keep whisking until it's smooth. Set aside to cool somewhat.

Whip the remaining 3/4 c. of cream with the vanilla until it's whipped cream. Set aside.

Whisk the caramel and chocolate cream together. Gently fold it into the whipped cream until it's all a nice chocolate brown colour. Leave in bowl or put into serving glasses. Chill for at least two hours or even one to two days. Serve as is or with a bit of shaved chocolate on top.

lemon syllabub

Syllabub.

Looks like it sounds:

"Sill-uh-bub."

(Even though it looks quite silly. Actually, someone I know takes great delight in calling it "silly-bub.")

Syllabub, syllabub, syllabub . . . It's one of those words I could say over and over. Good thing I predict 2012 will be the year of the syllabub.

My mom whipped up a syllabub New Year's Eve, and now, I'm afraid, we're hooked. We say it and eat it as often as we can.

Oh, but you'd like to know what syllabub actually is?

Well, my dears, it is cold and creamy and lemony and tastes the way I always thought snow should taste. It is smooth and tart and packs an incredible amount of flavour into a small spoonful of cream.

The recipe itself is like child's play (well, aside from all that alcohol).

All you do is beat an improbable amount of lemon juice, sherry, brandy and vanilla into heavy cream. In just a few minutes, you have soft peaks of creamy lemon heaven. Then you drop a bit of lemon rind and shaved dark chocolate on top if you're in the mood.

The magical thing is that what you have created doesn't taste like sherry and brandy; it tastes like eating pure essence of lemon with a dollop of cream. It is that good.

My mother says she has been making this recipe for years. It has handwritten notes on it that say things like:

"Delicious, but rich!"

"Freezes well!" (My mother freezes everything.)

"People loved it. NY Dinner."

The recipe comes from a big hardcover cookbook I remember seeing since I was a child. It's called Drake's International Recipe Cookbook and has a price of 9.88 penciled in the front cover. Mom says she remembers buying it at a big bookstore in San Francisco in the 1970s. (I would guess she's talking about City Lights, but she can't confirm that.)

The thing I love about this cookbook – beside the syllabub recipe, obviously – is that it's broken into sections of different countries. Syllabub falls in the British and Irish section.

I did a bit more research and – if Wikipedia is to be trusted – syllabub dates back to the Tudor dynasty that ruled England from 1485 to 1603. You know I'm all about the heritage desserts, but I think I've really outdone myself here. Thank you, Mom and Drake's.

May I propose a toast?

To the year of the syllabub!

Last January: rosemary gruyère baked eggs

lemon syllabub
all the way from Drake's International Recipe Cookbook

serves 4 – 6

grated rind and juice of one lemon
1/2 c. sugar
3 tbsp. sherry
2 tbsp. brandy or cointreau
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
250 ml. (1 c.) heavy or whipping cream

Pour the lemon juice and most of the grated rind into a good-sized bowl. Stir in the sugar, sherry, brandy and vanilla. Pour the cream in and beat until the cream is thick. (It will be thick but not stiff.) Dollop into 4 – 6 wine glasses or parfait glasses. Chill in the fridge for 4 hours.

When serving, sprinkle with a bit more grated lemon rind and shaved dark chocolate. (Drake's also recommends serving with ladyfinger, macaroons or sugar cookies. I don't think they're necessary.)

dominosteine and christmas treats

My dear readers, I have been trying to make some Christmas treats to share with you. Trying being the key word.

After rolling and carefully cutting out a promising new recipe of cinnamon stars . . . they melted into tasty but shapeless blobs as they baked.

Then I pulled out a tried and true truffle recipe – one I've been using since I was 16! – and what do you think happened? Somehow, the chocolate separated and I have some very grainy pre-truffle mixture lurking in my fridge. (It's certainly not worth rolling.)

Now, I am in Toronto for work and there is no baking going on in my hotel room. So, all I can do is tell you about my favourite little German Christmas treat: dominosteine.

Maybe you've seen them in the import section of your grocery store and wondered what those dark chocolate cubes were? Well, they are actually the perfect cross between a chocolate and a cookie, and I would recommend you eat at least two every day leading up to Christmas.

The bottom layer is a soft lebkuchen or gingerbread. Top that with an apple jelly. And top that with marzpian! (No, I am never far from marzipan.) And cover it all in dark chocolate! Yes, you see why I love them so.

I know, I know, you still want to do some Christmas baking. Well, until my unlucky streak runs out and I'm back with both a pretty and edible recipe to share, how about repeats?

Here are a few ideas from the past (both pretty and edible) that could work for Christmas:

tipsy rum balls

chocolate nut balls

shortbread

salted chocolate shortbread

walnut slugs

butter tarts

bacon-wrapped dates with olives and almonds

spicy cajun almonds

Do you have any good recipes to share? (Yup, I'm looking for ones that actually work.)

a baked banana revelation

Oh yes, a baked banana.

Trust me. This will make you very happy indeed at breakfast time.

In fact, it might make you so happy that you’ll make another the next afternoon. And then plot how you can make yet another one the next day.

Somehow, baking transforms a regular old banana into something decadent. It’s almost like you’re ripening the banana until it has the most natural sugars possible – but instead of turning brown and mushy, it turns a brighter yellow and yields to your fork and sits like a banana revelation on your tongue.

This baked banana is laughably easy. It takes approximately three to four minutes to prepare. I drizzle a bit of melted butter over the banana pieces before cooking and then scatter a bit of cinnamon and brown sugar – just enough to bring out the intense banana flavour.

While it bakes in the oven for about 10 minutes, you can scramble the eggs and toast the toast.

And behold: you too can have a baked banana revelation.

last april: tom yum pak

baked banana

serves 2

please note: all quantities may be fiddled with

1 banana

1 tsp. – 1 tbsp. butter, melted or dabbed

sprinkle of cinnamon

1 tbsp. brown sugar

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Get out a casserole dish or cookie sheet with rims.

Cut the banana in half. Then cut it lengthwise, so you have four pieces. Lay these face down on the dish. Brush melted butter over banana pieces, or dab unmelted butter on bananas. Sprinkle with cinnamon. Scatter with brown sugar.

Bake for 9 – 10 minutes, until banana yields to the pressure of a fork. Serve.

tipsy rum balls

I’m not sure when I first tasted a rum ball, but I know I wasn’t of legal drinking age.

I grew up in a town full of German bakeries, so rum balls – like marzipan and rye bread – were inevitable.  My favourites were always the soft ones rolled in chocolate sprinkles, so saturated with rum they almost fell apart. (I believe rum balls that only have a faint whiff of rum should be called something else.)

I was also fed brandy beans at a very young age. I assume all that early exposure to liqueur was good for my development. In any case, it has given me a mature palate to appreciate alcohol and dark chocolate.

Now, sadly, I am not surrounded by German bakeries, and this year I have been dreaming of rum balls. I knew I wanted a soft, dark chocolate rum ball but I also knew my rum ball needed something else, something that would give it a secret background of flavour. After extensive research, I found the mystery ingredients: hazelnuts and walnuts. Germans love these nuts because they meld so well with dark chocolate that they almost become a whole new species of choconut.  

I also thought long and hard about the chocolate sprinkles I would roll the rum balls in. After all that work on the rum ball interior, I couldn’t take a chance on a waxy exterior. In the end, I made a special trip to the Dutch store to buy chocolate sprinkles there. I was not let down – these are indeed chocolate-y enough to sprinkle on toast. (Those crazy Dutch people!)

These rum balls are just what I remember: deep and dark and full of rum. In fact, they are so rummy that I made them very small – then you can also have some brandy beans and not be over the legal limit.

Merry Christmas!

A note for the gluten-free among us: These work perfectly with gluten-free chocolate cookies. I like this brand. 

tipsy rum balls

rolls 48

1 c. crushed chocolate cookies (about 1 1/2 c. before crushing)

1/4 to 1/3 c. rum, to taste plus more to dip

generous 1/2 c. hazelnuts

generous 1/2 c. walnuts

1 tbsp. cocoa powder

1 tbsp. sugar

sea salt, to taste

3 oz. semisweet chocolate

lots of chocolate sprinkles

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Crush cookies in a sturdy plastic bag or a food processor. Pour into a bowl and mix in the rum. Set aside.

Roast the hazelnuts and walnuts in the oven for 3 – 5 minutes. Keep an eye on them – don’t let them burn! Pulse nuts in food processor with cocoa, sugar and a couple sprinkles of sea salt until fine, but not a paste. Mix nuts into rummy cookie crumbs.

Melt chocolate in a double boiler, or in a metal bowl suspended over boiling water. Stir well into nutty cookie mixture.

Pour 1 – 2 tablespoons rum in a tiny prep bowl. Pour chocolate sprinkles in a cereal bowl. Use a teaspoon to grab dough and roll with hands, sometimes using fingers to keep it together. Dip the ball into the rum, then roll in sprinkles. Repeat until you’re done. Store in the fridge.

butter tarts

This recipe is more than half a century old.

I wrote it out on a recipe card, copying it from my great aunt Marjorie’s recipe card. On her card (and now mine), the back says, “Original recipe from Elva Doyle in South Arm Cookbook, 1950?”

Elva’s recipe is simple and quick. The only patience comes in rolling out that pie pastry.

But these butter tarts are worth it.

They are full of hidden gems: currants, raisins, pecans . . . even figs and dates. They hide in a gooey, buttery filling that is the perfect foil to their flaky pie pastry crust.

Butter tarts are meant to be pantry food. Bake a batch, put them in a tin, and let them ripen. After a couple days, the character of the brown sugar starts to shine and their velvety centre tastes richer and darker than ever.

And did you know that butter tarts are enjoying a resurgence as a uniquely Canadian food? I say, anything I can bake and eat to bump doughnuts and poutine down the list, and I’ll be a proud Canuck.

  

 

A note about the filling:

Yes, you can choose whatever you like. For this batch, I used 3/4 c. raisins, 1/3 c. currants and 1/4 c. pecans.

A note for the gluten-free:

Gluten-free pastry crust tastes good, but is more difficult to work with. I’d recommend making small tarts with a special tart shaper device. I have a wooden tart shaper that I cover in GF flour and then use to push a ball of dough into each tart cup. This is much easier than rolling it out and transferring fragile circles of dough into the tart cups.

butter tarts

bakes 48 small tarts, about 12 – 14 big tarts

2 eggs

2 c. brown sugar

2 tbsp. vinegar

1 tsp. vanilla

1/4 tsp. salt

1/2 c. butter, melted

1 1/3 c. currants, raisins, dates, figs or nuts, chopped

regular or gluten-free pie pastry (enough to make a double-crust pie)

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit.

Make pastry and chill in the fridge.

In another bowl, beat eggs just until the whites and yolks are blended well.

Beat in sugar. Stir in vinegar, vanilla and salt and mix well.

Stir in melted butter and fruit and nuts. Set aside.

Pull the chilled pastry out and roll out circles or make small balls you can smoosh with a tart shaper. Put them in muffin or mini-muffin tins.

Fill with butter tart filling, leaving about 1/4 to 1/8 inch from the pastry top for it to grow.

Bake regular tarts at 425 degrees Fahrenheit for 10 minutes. Then turn the oven down to 350 and bake for 20 – 25 minutes, until the filling is firm.

For mini tarts, bake at 425 degrees Fahrenheit for 5 minutes. Then turn the oven down to 350 and bake for 7 – 9 minutes, until the filling is firm.

Let cool before removing from pans.

summer fest: peach crisp

When I was a kid, growing up in Kelowna on a city lot with a rather astounding number of fruit trees, early August meant peaches.

My mom would draft me to help peel them for canning. Those memories have a distinct feel of slippery peaches shooting out my hands and little bits of fuzz everywhere.

She made a beautiful jar of canned peaches, but what I really looked forward to was peach crisp. Bubbling out of the oven with oats and brown sugar and butter, with a scoop of cold vanilla ice cream on top, it was the perfect August dessert.

We were back in the Okanagan for a bit of summer vacation last week, and picked up these beauties. (I also couldn’t resist cherries, apricots and plums. The Okanagan is a delicious valley.)

Sure enough, after a few days and a car and ferry ride home, the peaches were ripe and ready for crisp.

This is my mom’s recipe. My husband and I have different opinions about how much we like the ground cloves in it. If you’re not a clove fan, leave them out. But if you are, I think you will agree they add another layer of spicy goodness to the crisp.

Can you see the yummy cloves?

You can adapt this crisp recipe for pretty much any fruit: rhubarb, apple, pear, plum, whatever’s ripe in your neck of the woods. You can also play around with different proportions of fruit to crumble if you like more fruit or more crumble. (I’m a more crumble person, myself.)

I like the balance of cold ice cream on hot crisp, but I didn’t attempt to take a photo of that, as I expected it would then look like peach crisp ice cream stew.

This post is part of Summer Fest 2010, which is a community food blogging event to write about (and eat!) seasonal produce. Today's Summer Fest theme is -- you guessed it -- stone fruit.

My family recipe for peach crisp is below. If you'd like to see other food bloggers' delicious ideas about stone fruit, check out:

The Wright Recipes: Ginger and Vanilla Poached Peaches
Sweetnicks: Blueberry Peach Smoothie
White on Rice Couple: Poached Pluots in Reisling
San Diego Foodstuff: Grilled Peach Parfait and Coconut Peach Gazpacho
Eating from the Ground Up: Stone Fruit Slump
Just a Taste: Peaches and Cream Cupcakes
A Way to Garden: Clafoutis Batter from Michel Roux
Food Network UK: How to Poach a Peach
Tigress in a Jam: Nectarine Preserves with Summer Savory and White Pepper
Over a Tuscan Stove: Italian Amaretti Apricots
Tea & Cookies: Making Peach Jam
Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef: Gluten-Free Nectarine Blueberry Buckle

And if you'd like to join the festival, leave your comment or recipe about stone fruit on my blog and the others' blogs. The idea is to get everyone talking about what's ripe right now and how we can eat it.

A note for gluten-free people:

This recipe will only work for you if you can tolerate oats. Make sure you find oats that were grown in an uncontaminated field and processed in an uncontaminated factory. I like oats from Cream Hill Estates.

peach crisp

makes 4 to 6 bowls

6 medium peaches, peeled and sliced

1/8 tsp. ground cloves

1/2 tsp. cinnamon

2 tsp. lemon juice

2/3 c. brown sugar

2/3 c. rolled oats

1/3 c. wheat flour

            Or gluten-free flours:

            2 tbsp. sweet white sorghum flour

1 tbsp. sweet rice flour

2 tbsp. tapioca starch

1/2 tsp. xanthan gum or guar gum

1/8 tsp. salt

6 tbsp. butter

1/4 c. walnuts, chopped (optional)

vanilla ice cream for serving (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Butter a 6-cup casserole dish.

Mix the peaches with the cloves, cinnamon, lemon juice and half of the brown sugar. Pour into the prepared casserole dish.

Blend the remaining brown sugar, oats, flour and salt together. Cut in the butter with a pastry blender until the mixture has a crumbly consistency. Add the nuts and use your fingers to work them in. Sprinkle the crumbles relatively evenly over the fruit.

Bake 45 minutes, or until the peaches are soft and the crumble topping is nicely browned.

Serve hot with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top.