From the Aug./Sept., 2013 Garden & Gun

Every year around this time I begin to recognize with an internal thud that the season of fun is fast coming to an end. I seem to arrive at this realization later than most (many of my friends and family have been wringing their hands over this indisputable fact for weeks already) but eventually the truth creeps in, even for me. And so once again only a few more weekends to be enjoyed before the arrival of Labor Day. Of course, it’s a recognition that brings with it a certain kind of pressure—to do, see, and savor all the things I love most about summer before the window slams shut for another nine months. And being a food-fixated sort of person, by “savor” I mean eat, so lately I’ve been zeroing in on the fresh fruits and vegetables that won’t be easy to find in a few months’ (or even weeks’) time. All of which is a long-winded way of saying in the last few weeks I’ve been eating as many tomatoes as possible, prepared in as many different ways as I can identify.

Of course, a really good tomato requires no preparation—simply slice it, sprinkle it with a little salt and pepper, and you’re good to go. Nevertheless, even the most beautiful specimen of tomato-hood can benefit from some culinary intervention now and again. Just consider this recipe for tomato salad, which is a simple enough preparation to allow the glories of a ripe tomato to come shining through, but that thanks to the addition of basil, capers, and a shallot vinaigrette is given just enough something extra to make it truly revelatory. This is a new recipe discovery for me and already it’s a favorite—one I intend to make again and again (though as with most recipes calling for fresh tomatoes, I wouldn’t bother if the produce isn’t truly something special).

Slightly more involved is this recipe for tomato pie. I love savory pies, and I love that this one is essentially a delicious tomato salad (in addition to a pound of sliced heirloom tomatoes the filling calls for vinegar, olive oil, goat cheese, and basil) baked in a pie shell. What’s more, the recipe allows for a frozen (i.e. store bought) piecrust, so this is one of those impressive dishes you can throw together at a moment’s notice. In fact, if you want to fast track it even further, skip the fresh breadcrumbs called for by the recipe (and which serve as the pie’s topping), swapping them out for Panko, which has the added benefit of providing a little additional crunch.

One of the wonderful surprises of this recipe is the way the tomatoes break down during the baking to infuse the savory/salty flavor combination with a hint of sweetness. In the company of the flaky, buttery pastry dough it’s something truly special indeed—the perfect way to hold on to summer just a little longer.

Ingredients:
—4 shallots, minced
—3 garlic cloves, minced
—4 tbs extra virgin olive oil, divided
—1 tbs Dijon mustard
—9-inch frozen pie shell
—1 lb assorted heirloom tomatoes, sliced ¼-inch thick
—3 oz goat cheese, crumbled
—1/2 oz. fresh basil, chiffonade (see note below for explanation)
—1 tbs Grenache vinegar (TRG note: If you can’t find Grenache vinegar, red wine vinegar is also fine)
—1/2 cup fresh bread crumbs (TRG note: Try Panko if you want a crunchier topping)
—1 oz. Parmesan cheese, grated (TRG note: about a ½ cup)
—Salt and pepper to taste

TRG note: Although “chiffonade” sounds like something requiring a standing mixer, in fact it’s a chopping technique used to produce long, thin strips of herbs or leafy green vegetables. In the case of this recipe, make a small pile of leaves, roll it like a cigarette, and then cut crosswise.

Directions:
—Preheat oven to 400˚.
—In a small pan, sauté shallots and garlic in 1 tbs of olive oil until tender, about 3 minutes. Stir in mustard and set aside.
—Place pastry shell in a 9-inch pie dish (TRG note: following instructions on packaging about whether to thaw first or not). Layer in half of the tomatoes, and season with salt and pepper; spread shallot mixture over top. Add goat cheese and half of the basil, distributing evenly. Layer in remaining tomatoes, and season with salt and pepper. Drizzle 1 tbs each of olive oil and vinegar over the tomatoes; top with remaining basil.
—In a small bowl, combine breadcrumbs, remaining 2 tbs of olive oil, and Parmesan cheese. Sprinkle evenly over filling.
—Bake 30 minutes or until topping an crust are golden brown (TRG note: I needed more like 40 minutes to achieve the desired doneness).

Serves 8

The post 08/21/13 • TOMATO PIE appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the June/July, 2013 Fine Cooking

There’s nothing like the anticipation of big events in your life (and the arrival of your 5^th decade!) to spur change, which I suppose explains why Alfredo and I have recently made some alterations to our way of doing things—specifically in the realm of food. This isn’t the first time we’ve made such tweaks but it is the only occasion I can remember where the goal was less about looking good then it was about feeling better and having more energy (though needless to say, we’ll happily take the former should that present itself as a by-product). Alfredo was the first out of the gate on this one, and after meeting with a doctor in early April he went on a two-week detox program. Once that step was complete he eliminated all processed foods from his diet, focusing instead on lean proteins and lots of fruits and vegetables. The results have been pretty astonishing: in just under two months he’s dropped 25 pounds of fat, without losing any muscle mass. Naturally he feels better not carrying all that extra weight around, but his energy has also increased exponentially, which means he now bounds out of bed before the alarm goes off at 6:00 am (annoying to me as there is no bounding happening in my day before 11:00 am and several large cups of coffee). I know he misses things like bread and crackers and pizza (this most of all) but at least for now, the plusses so far outweigh the minuses that he’s sticking to the program with virtually no complaint. In other words, up to this point it’s been pretty easy for him.

As for me, the issue is not about losing weight but rather about increasing my energy, something I’ve felt I needed to address for a while now. Aside from the fact that I’m not a morning person (that will probably never change), on many weekday afternoons I find myself struggling to stay awake as I stare into my computer screen. Granted, I’m not getting my full eight hours of sleep every night (more like six) but that shouldn’t require an emergency espresso to get me through the second half of the day. And so I too have launched into the world of detox and, at least for the next 10 days, have sworn off sugar and carbohydrates. It’s only been a day but I have to say I feel pretty awful. I’ve always thought of myself as someone who ate healthfully (if not maniacally so), but the elimination of those three packets of sugar from my morning coffee, and that slice or two of bread from alongside my lunchtime salad, seems to have created both a psychological absence for me, as well as a physiological one. I need a sugar fix, bad! Maybe day two will be easier…

In any case, before I even launched into my own self-improvement program, the changes in Alfredo’s eating habits had prompted me to look out for dishes he’d actually eat (not that I plan to eliminate desserts or pasta or anything involving flour from this blog—where would the joy be in that?). Still, in these early days of his diet I didn’t want to torture him with the likes of brown butter financiers or an Asian noodle salad with roasted peanuts, so I put my sugar/flour blinders on and zeroed in on this recipe for pan-fried chicken breasts with a tomato and basil salad, from the current issue of Fine Cooking. And having now made it a couple of times I’m happy to report that despite my love affair with processed foods (and by that I don’t mean potato chips, but rather things like fresh bread and maple syrup) I’d happily eat this dish any night of the week—especially a summer night, when the bright flavors featured here are particularly well-suited. Then again, given the number of chicken and tomato recipes I’ve posted on this site over the past few years that probably comes as no surprise. We all have particular flavor combinations we’re drawn to, and I guess chicken and tomatoes is one of those for me.

Of course, it’s no secret that I also have a weakness for the acidic side of the food spectrum—something this dish offers as well, thanks to the presence of 2½ tablespoons of balsamic vinegar in the tomato mixture. The vinegar, plus a ¼ cup of thinly sliced basil leaves, a generous glug of olive oil, and some salt, pepper, and finely chopped garlic is all it takes to give this component of the dish a bright summery quality. As such, it’s the perfect counterpoint to the salty, slightly caramelized exterior of the cutlets, and the peppery arugula its sits atop. That said, you may want to tinker with the garlic quantity as on occasion I’ve found the single clove called for by the recipe to be over-powering (though admittedly I may have been working with an exceptionally strong clove).

As for the chicken breasts, these are sliced in half horizontally almost all the way through, so you can open the two halves like a book. Once pounded thin with a meat mallet or a heavy pan (sandwich the breasts between two sheets of plastic wrap so the pounding doesn’t damage the meat) the chicken can be lightly salted and peppered, and then introduced into a skillet with a little hot oil. Working with two breasts at a time, cook the chicken until golden brown (between 2 and 3 minutes), then flip and cook the other side for 30 seconds more. Repeat with the remaining two breasts, keeping the first two warm in a low oven. Once all the chicken has been cooked, place each breast on a plate containing a portion of the arugula, then top generously with the tomatoes and accompanying juices. That’s all there is to it, so not only is this a healthy dinner, it’s one that can be assembled in little more than half an hour.

The other nice thing is that the tomato and arugula treatment lends itself to a variety of other pairings as well, most notably sliced steak. That said the tomato mixture tends not to be great the next day (tomatoes don’t do well in the fridge, unfortunately) which means leftovers aren’t nearly the treat you hope they’ll be. Then again, it’s an issue you’re unlikely to face, since in my experience the only thing remaining at meal’s end is a lot of empty plates.

Ingredients:
—1 lb ripe plum tomatoes (about 5 medium), seeded and cut into ½-inch dice
—1/4 cup packed fresh basil leaves, thinly sliced
—5 tbs extra-virgin olive oil
—2½ tbs balsamic vinegar
—1 medium clove garlic, finely chopped
—Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
—4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves (about 2 lbs)
—4 oz (4 loosely packed cups) baby arugula

Directions:
—Position a rack in the center of the oven and heat the oven to 200˚.
—In a medium bowl, combine the tomatoes, basil, 3 tbs of the oil, the vinegar, garlic, ¼ tsp salt, and 1/8 tsp pepper.
—Butterfly each chicken breast by slicing it horizontally almost but not entirely in half so you can open it like a book. Open and pound each breast between two pieces of plastic wrap with a meat mallet or the bottom of a heavy pan until ¼ inch thick.
—Pat the chicken dry and season lightly with salt and pepper. Heat 1 tbs of the remaining oil in a 12-inch skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Cook two of the breasts until golden brown on one side, 2 to 3 minutes. Flip and continue to cook until just cooked through, about 30 seconds more. Transfer to a rimmed baking sheet and keep warm in the oven. Repeat with the remaining 1 tbs oil and chicken.
—Divide the arugula among 4 dinner plates. Set the chicken on top, spoon a generous amount of the tomato mixture and its juice over all.

Serves 4

The post 05/28/13 • CHICKEN CUTLETS WITH TOMATOES appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking

When I was growing up in Philadelphia in the 1970s, the French/Mediterranean vegetable casserole known as ratatouille seemed to be everywhere—sort of the way kale salads or pot pies are today. Or maybe it’s just that my mom was heavy into Julia Child’s the Art of French Cooking at the time, and that particular dish quickly became a dinner-party favorite of hers. In any case, either because she was making a lot of it in those days, or because it was one of the dishes my 7th grade French class prepared for our end of year feast (we also made a bûche de Noël, as I recall), ratatouille has strong childhood associations for me. Come to think of it, that may well be why it’s a dish I tucked away in my memory bank, barely giving it another thought until the Pixar film of the same name came out a few years ago. Watching that movie’s animated, anthropomorphized rodent prepare the casserole at least got me thinking about the dish again, even if it would require several years more for it to make its way back into my own cooking rotation. Still, I have to give credit where it’s due—after all, how else to explain why driving past an East Hampton farm stand on my way back to the city recently would out-of-the-blue prompt the idea to make ratatouille for an upcoming dinner?

This happened just as we were all preparing for the curtain to come down on summer, so in the back of my mind was the knowledge that the opportunity to take advantage of all this bounty was fast disappearing. Short of canning, what could I whip up that would make the most of all this good stuff the late summer season has to offer? And then the answer hit me: ratatouille. But not ratatouille as it’s made in the animated film (that version, which features vegetables cut into rounds as opposed to slices, was created by Thomas Keller), but the version first introduced to American home chefs back in the 1960s, and the version my mom had in turn introduced to me—the one made famous by Julia Child. (Child, of course, would have celebrated her 100th birthday earlier this month, a fact widely covered in the press at the time, so perhaps that, too, played an unconscious role in my impulse here).

So the following weekend—which, with its blue skies and dry summer weather, was notably Provence-like—I made the short bike ride to the same farm stand I’d passed a week earlier, with the express intent of scooping up the various ingredients needed for making the famous eggplant casserole. Little surprise there was plenty to work with—so much so, in fact, that I immediately decided to double the recipe—though it’s worth noting that one of the nice things about ratatouille is that the various fruits and vegetables called for can be found pretty much any time of year. Still, one can’t underestimate the added flavor that comes from cooking with something that came off the vine just days earlier, or the pleasure of doing your food shopping from a wooden shack set up beside a cornfield.

That was how I felt, anyway, as I handed over my few dollars for what amounted to several bags of eggplant, zucchini, green peppers, and onions. Maybe it was the beauty of the day or the sense of satisfaction that comes with buying something you know hasn’t travelled half way across the country to reach you, but I was almost giddy with the excitement of getting started. That is, until I read the following line from Julia’s brief preamble to the recipe: “A really good ratatouille is not one of the quicker dishes to make, as each element is cooked separately . . .” Now normally, being told that a particular dish is time-consuming would not give me pause, but when it’s Julia Child sounding the alarm it tends to resonate a little deeper. Still, a quick scan of the various steps convinced me I didn’t need to be a graduate of the Cordon Bleu to complete the dish. Quite the opposite, in fact—there may be a number of steps involved, but none seemed particularly challenging. What’s more, as Julia herself points out, one of the great advantages of ratatouille is that it improves in flavor if made the day before it’s eaten, so whatever labor is required can be logged in long before the finished product is brought to the table. In other words, no one needs to see you sweat.

And as it turns out, the really time consuming part for me wasn’t so much the individual sautéing of the various vegetables—first the eggplant (alone), then the zucchini (alone), followed by the onions, which are joined in the pan by a few cloves of smashed garlic, and then the strips of pulped tomato. Rather it was the chopping, the pulping (Julia’s directions for this are included below), and most of all the individual toweling off the eggplant and zucchini spears, once they’ve been allowed a half hour or so to release some of their water content—a process aided by being tossed with a few tablespoons of salt and left to sit undisturbed in a large bowl. After that, the frying, the simmering, and finally the layering of the various ingredients to form the actual casserole, is a relatively speedy process.

The other interesting thing to note here is that unlike some ratatouille recipes I’ve seen, this one requires no involvement from your oven. Instead, everything is done in a large skillet (Julia calls for a 10- or 12-inch enameled variety, though I used a standard nonstick pan with no ill-affect), and a 2½ quart flameproof casserole that’s about 2½ inches deep. This last piece of equipment makes its appearance during the final stage of cooking, once the various ingredients have been layered into your dish (tomatoes, chopped parsley, half of the eggplant and zucchini, and so on, ending with the tomatoes and chopped parsley), and is done entirely on the stovetop. It’s a process that occurs first while covered at a low simmer for ten minutes, then uncovered and at slightly higher heat for 15 minutes, all of which allows the liquid to evaporate and the flavors to become that more concentrated. At the end, the only liquid that should be left is a bit of vegetable-infused olive oil; good stuff!

It’s also a step that underscores one of the things that’s most special about this recipe, namely that even though the various vegetables (and the tomato) are cooked together, it’s done in such a way that each is allowed to remain distinct and fully intact throughout the process. This would obviously not be the case if everything were simply thrown into the pan together and pushed around. No doubt it’s one of the reasons Julia Child chose the recipe in the first place, and why she stressed that it’s the only one she knew of that “produces a ratatouille in which each vegetable retains its own shape and character.” In other words, this is not some sort of fragrant vegetable mush, but rather a medley of tender/firm vegetables, each with its own bright flavor but one that stills manage to play off all the others.

One final note on serving: ratatouille can be enjoyed hot or cold (for what it’s worth I prefer it at room temperature, as the flavors seem to come through loudest at this stage). Still, if you prefer the dish a little warmer or even hot and have prepared it the day before, reheat it slowly on the stovetop, uncovered, until it reaches the desired temperature. Either way it’s a dish that can be counted on to transport you to warm sunny days on the Mediterranean—no matter what the time of year.

Ingredients:
—1 lb eggplant, peeled and cut into slices 3/8” thick, 3” long, and 1” wide
—1 lb zucchini, cut into slices similar in size to the eggplant
—1 tsp salt, plus more as needed
—Ground black pepper
—6 to 7 tbs olive oil, divided, more if needed
—1/2 lb yellow onions, thinly sliced (about 1½ cups)
—2 green bell peppers, sliced (about 1 cup)
—2 cloves garlic, mashed
—1 lb firm ripe red tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and juiced (about 1½ cups pulp), then sliced into 3/8” strips (See note, below)
—3 tbs minced flat leaf parsley

Note: To peel tomatoes, drop firm, ripe, red tomatoes on or two at a time in boiling water to cover, and boil for 10 seconds. Remove from the water, cut out the stem, and peel off the skin, starting at the stem hole. To seed and juice tomatoes, cut peeled or unpeeled tomatoes in half crosswise (not through the stem), then squeeze each half gently to extract the seeds and juices.

TRG’s modified directions:
—Place the peeled, sliced eggplant and sliced zucchini in a bowl and toss with a teaspoon salt. Let stand 30 minutes. Drain. Dry each slice in a towel.
—Place 4 tablespoons olive oil in a 10- to 12-inch non-reactive skillet and heat over medium high heat. Once the oil is hot and working in batches, sauté the eggplant and then the zucchini, one layer at a time, for about one minute on each side, to brown very lightly. Set aside.
—In the same skillet, cook the onions and peppers slowly in 2 to 3 tablespoons olive oil for about 10 minutes, or until tender but not browned. Stir in the mashed garlic and season to taste.
—Lay the sliced tomato pulp over the onion, pepper, and garlic mixture. Season with salt and pepper. Cover the skillet and cook over low heat for 5 minutes, or until tomatoes have begun to render their juice. Uncover, baste the tomatoes with the juices, raise heat, and boil for several minutes, until the juice has almost entirely evaporated.
—Place a third of the tomato and onion mixture in the bottom of a 2½-quart fireproof casserole about 2½- inches deep, and sprinkle over it 1 tablespoon of the minced parsley. Arrange half of the eggplant and zucchini on top, then half of the remaining tomatoes and parsley. Put in the rest of the eggplant and zucchini, and finish with the remaining tomatoes and parsley.
—Cover the casserole with aluminum foil and simmer over low heat for 10 minutes. Uncover, tip casserole, and baste with the rendered juices. Correct seasoning, if necessary.
—Raise heat slightly and cook uncovered for about 15 minutes more, basting several times, until juices have evaporated, leaving a spoonful or two of flavored olive oil. Be careful not to let the vegetables scorch in the bottom of the casserole.
—Set aside uncovered. Reheat slowly at serving time, or serve at room temperature. NOTE: Ratatouille gains in flavor when cooked the day before it’s served.

Serves 6 to 8

The post 09/20/12 • THE REAL-DEAL RATATOUILLE appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the Sept., 2012 Elle Decor (click here to view the recipe)

If you’re the sort of person who reflexively slows down whenever a roadside farm-stand comes into view, then you’ve officially entered whiplash season. That was my conclusion last weekend, anyway, as I tooled around the East End of Long Island and found my head repeatedly swiveling right, then left, then right again. Farm-stands, of course, have been piled high with good stuff for months now, but in the last few weeks things seem to have taken a particularly distracting turn, with late summer tomatoes and corn vying for space alongside zucchini, squash, peaches, all manner of berries, and that ultimate (non-edible) attention grabber, sunflowers. For a food-minded individual like myself, it’s enough to make you start hyperventilating, wondering when, and how (!), you can possibly make the most of all this bounty before it withers away and it’s back to frozen pea-time. That “how” is a critical question, not just because there are only so many eating opportunities in a given week, but because (as addressed in my corn and tomato salad posting of a few weeks ago) no matter how spectacular the produce you’re working with, by this point in the season a certain sameness can set in. The challenge is landing on a preparation for those peaches, or zucchini, or what-have-you, that will keep things sufficiently exciting while still respecting what’s best about this direct from the farm goodness in the first place: its exceptionally vivid flavor.

Those two qualities (the excitement, the purity of flavor) were just a few of the things I liked about this recipe for a corn and heirloom tomato tart. It’s a preparation I pulled from the current issue of Elle Décor, a magazine I consistently find myself thumbing through each month both because there are few things more fun than checking out other people’s houses, but also because I’m a big fan of Daniel Boulud’s regular cooking column—especially when the featured recipe offers a twist on something traditionally French. Here that attitude comes in the way this dish echoes quiche (that onetime obsession of so many American cooks), not to mention the way the tart’s tomato topping is mixed with Parmesan cheese, breadcrumbs, and a variety of the other ingredients, all of which lends it a decidedly Provencal flavor. That said the tart’s corn pudding base is nothing if not American, making the entire combo an appealing kind of Franco-American mash-up I was drawn to. For those reasons, as well as the fact that I’m a fan of most any savory assortment that’s nestled within a tart shell, this was a recipe I couldn’t wait to try.

I’ve also recently become enamored of making pastry dough, something that for many years I had an irrational fear of tackling. If that’s an anxiety you can relate to—and even if it isn’t—this is a good recipe to add to your repertoire, as it’s so very simple. Boulud describes the version included here as a classic “pâte brisée”—a term that the website Cookthink defines as “shortcut pastry,” the pastry of choice for quiche and tarts, and one comprising equal parts fat (as in butter, lard, or shortening) and flour, merged and then bound with a bit of water or egg yolk. That one-to-one ratio does not exactly hold with the recipe presented here, but the idea is basically the same. So in the Boulud version, flour, butter, and a small amount of salt are combined (“pulsed”) in a food processor until crumbs form, at which point a lightly beaten egg is added to the mixture. This, too, is pulsed until the mixture starts to clump. When telltale curds start to appear, place the mixture onto a work surface, kneed a few times, wrap with cellophane, and refrigerate for at least an hour so the various ingredients have a chance to come together.

Once the dough has had a chance to chill, lightly dust a work surface, then roll the uncooked pastry into a circle that’s roughly ten inches in diameter and an eighth of an inch thick. Gently lift the dough (wrap it around a rolling pin if you’re worried about tearing), lay it across a nine-inch fluted tart pan (the kind with a removable base), and gently press it against the bottom and up the sides of the pan. Trim any excess that may have formed along the edges, puncture the base in a few spots with the tines of a fork, then cover the interior with a 10-inch round of wax or parchment paper, and fill with dried beans or rice. (As is probably clear, both the puncturing of the tart base and the covering of it with the dried beans is designed to keep the pastry shell from bubbling during the baking process, the goal, of course, being to end up with a perfectly flat receptacle for the good stuff to follow.) Bake in a 350-degree oven for 20 minutes or so, carefully remove the paper and the beans, then bake the shell for another 5 minutes, or until it’s lightly browned. (Note: this final baking process took me more like 15 minutes to achieve the desired color, so you may need to adjust accordingly).

Next up is the layering of the baked tart shell with its two farm stand fillings—first the corn mixture, then the heirloom tomatoes (both of which can be prepped while the shell is in the oven). For the corn component, sauté 1½ cups of corn (from 2 ears; see tip below for an easy method for shucking and de-silking) in a medium saucepan, along with a ¼ cup of onions and two cloves of chopped garlic (both given a 4 minute head-start so that the onion is already translucent when the corn is introduced). After 5 minutes or so, remove a ½ cup of the corn and onion mixture from the pan, set this aside, then add a cup of heavy cream to the corn still on the stove. Bring this to a simmer, transfer to a blender, puree until smooth, and add to the bowl containing the ½ cup of reserved corn. To this mixture you whisk in the eggs (including the one egg yolk), the scallions, the Tabasco, and a small amount of salt and pepper, pour into the prepared tart shell, and bake in a 300 degree oven for 30 minutes or so, or until the custard is just set. (Here again, my oven required an additional five minutes beyond Boulud’s instructions, so keep an eye on things and use your judgment. Remember, the goal is to end up with something that is no longer liquid, but that’s not so firm it won’t jiggle when you move it.)

While the corn custard bakes you can deal with the tomato topping, which involves little more than tossing a ½ pound of thinly sliced heirlooms (either the cherry or larger variety are fine), along with a ¼ cup of grated Parmesan cheese, a small amount of smoked paprika (which imbues the whole dish with a subtle bacon-y flavor), a 1/3 cup of panko bread crumbs (great for soaking up the tomato’s juices so that the tart doesn’t go all soggy on you), and a sprinkling of salt and freshly ground white pepper. Once the custard is set, the tomato mixture can be laid across its surface, and the whole thing is slipped back into the oven for another 15 minutes, or until the tomatoes begin to break down and the breadcrumbs turn golden. Let cool slightly (twenty minutes or so will do it) and dig in.

This may seem like a lot of steps—Hell, it is a lot of steps!—but none are particularly taxing or time consuming. And even if they were, I’d say it was a small price to pay for something this bright and summery. For me, it’s the perfect mix of rustic and refined, the crunch of the cheese and breadcrumbs giving way to the softness of the tomatoes, the smooth flan-like quality of the corn, and finally the buttery crumble of the tart base. What more could you want this time of year?

Ingredients for the tart shell:
—1¼ cups all-purpose flour
—8 tbs cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces
—1/8 tsp salt
—1 large egg, lightly beaten
—2 cups dried beans or rice, for baking shell

Ingredients for the filling:
—3 tbs unsalted butter
—1/4 cup chopped onion
—2 cloves garlic, chopped
—1½ cups uncooked corn kernels (about 2 ears); see note below
—1 cup heavy cream
—4 eggs: 3 whole eggs, plus the yolk from one
—3/4 cup sliced scallions
—Dash Tabasco sauce
—1/2 lb heirloom cherry tomatoes, halved, or 1 to 2 large heirloom tomatoes, cut in thin wedges
—1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
—1/2 tsp smoked paprika
—1/3 cup panko bread crumbs
—Salt and freshly ground white pepper

NOTE: To facilitate the husking and de-silking process (one of my least favorite cooking tasks), here’s a handy trick I found in a recent issue of Cook’s Illustrated: With a sharp chef’s knife, cut off the stalk end just above the first row of kernels. Place 3 or 4 ears on a microwave-safe plate and microwave on full power for 30 to 60 seconds. Hold each ear by its uncut end and shake up and down until the cob slips free of the husk and silk. The corn will have heated up enough to release the husk, but the kernels remain uncooked.

Directions for tart shell:
—Combine flour, butter, and salt in a food processor and pulse until crumbs form. Add egg and pulse until the mixture resembles moist curds. Turn the dough out onto a work surface, and knead once or twice to pull the dough together. Flatten into a disk, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour. (At this point, the dough can be kept refrigerated for up to two days or frozen for up to a month.)
—Center a rack in the oven, and preheat to 350˚. Cut a 10” diameter round of waxed or parchment paper. Place a fluted 9” tart pan with a removable bottom on a baking sheet. Lightly dust a work surface and the top of the dough with flour. Roll the dough out into a round that is approximately 10” in diameter and 1/8” thick. Fit the dough into the bottom and up the sides of the pan. Trim excess dough even with the pan’s rim and, with the tines of a fork, poke a few holes on the bottom.
—Line the shell with the paper round and fill with dried beans or rice. Bake for 18 to 20 minutes. Take the pan out of the oven and carefully remove the paper and beans, then bake the shell for 3 to 5 minutes more, or until lightly browned. Remove and let cook in pan on a rack. (The shell can be kept covered at room temperature for up to 8 hours.)

Directions for filling and final assembly:
—Preheat oven to 300˚. Melt 1 tbs of the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook, stirring, for 4 minutes, or until the onions are translucent. Add the corn, with a sprinkle of salt and pepper, and cook, stirring, for 5 minutes. Reserve ½ cup of the corn mixture in a medium bowl. Add the cream to the saucepan, bring to a simmer, and then transfer to a blender. Puree until smooth and transfer to the bowl with the reserved corn. Whisk in whole eggs, egg yolk, ½ cup scallions, Tabasco, and another sprinkle of salt and pepper until well combined. Pour the mixture into the prepared tart shell, and bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until the custard is set.
—Meanwhile, melt remaining butter, transfer to a medium bowl, and toss with the remaining scallions, tomatoes, Parmesan cheese, smoked paprika, bread crumbs, and salt and pepper to taste. Once custard is set, remove tart from oven, and arrange tomato mixture on top. Return tart to the oven and continue baking for 15 minutes more, or until tomatoes are soft and bread crumbs are golden. Let tart rest for 20 minutes before slicing.

Serves 6 to 8

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