Still here with offerings of Cherry Pie Tart Squares

October 3rd, 2010  |  30 Comments

Jeez, did she forget she has a blog? Did she come down with a case of perma-flu? Did she exhaust her whole baking repertoir already?

Alas, nothing monumental happened that kept me away from all the keyboards in the world. I simply never realized how much actual WORK blogging is. When I first started, I threw myself into it full force, then I burned myself out. So I took a little break. And by a little, I mean a couple of seasons worth. Long enough to make you wonder if I dropped dead.

If, by some miracle, you’re still with me, I thank you. I sure have missed you. What’s new with you? Let’s shoot the breeze.

A couple of new things have happened here over the last few months. Scott and I got back together. Yay! We bought a new house in suburban New Jersey. Yay?

Just kidding. It’s a yay. It’s gorgeous here, but I got a vision of you raising your eyebrow in wonderment of why anyone would move to Jersey with with these two running loose around here.

One thing that makes me happy about the new place is the  all-white counter. This may not mean much to you, but it’s a huge deal. The counter we had in the last apartment, seen in many recipes, such as this cannoli post, looked like a bird splat all over it. It’s a wonder you can see where the food is. I kept losing my knife in that pattern.

I’d love to feature some local desserts, but is there such a thing as a Jersey themed dessert? “Industrial” Crackers? “Big Hair” Crumble?

Anyway, I brought you some Cherry “Pie Tart” squares in honor of our reunion. I didn’t know what the hell to call these, so there you have my Franken-name.

Did you know that one day cherries are readily available for purchase and one day they’re not? Practically overnight. That quickly. I once had a cherry dessert on a menu over a summer season, and September was looming ahead. I knew I would have to  switch the dessert out for something else soon, but thought I had a little buffer time while I tested out some replacements.

Um, no. On a Tuesday I was able to order a case of cherries, on a Wednesday, the cherry delivery ceased to exist. I grabbed my purse and went to the store a few blocks away. No sign of cherries. I went to the deli. No cherries. I walked even further, to another supermarket,  all the while getting more and more stares from people wondering what a person dressed in chef’s garb was doing in a supermarket. Not a single, not even sad looking cherry.

After about an hour, and a couple of miles of hoofing later, I found an outdoor fruit vendor with some cherries. They must have been the last ones in the city, and cost me $18. Rat bastard. At least this bought me enough time to come up with some other game plan.

Cherries happen to be my favorite fruit and over the course of the summer, I eat them as though I’m being sent to the electric chair. I mourn a little when they’re gone. So what’s a girl with cherry withdrawl to do?

Sniff around for alternatives, I say. And you know what? These jarred sour cherries ain’t half bad. They’re comparable to a compote in light syrup, good for spooning on yogurt, ice cream or if you’re desparate, like me, gobbling them up straight out of the jar with a slotted spoon. Baking them into a cookie crumb bed and a meringue blanket makes me forget they’re extinct for a while.

In the photos, you’ll see my mother’s great, lived-in hands. That’s because this is her recipe and she’s been making this since the day I was born.

I’ve never had a problem finding sour cherries in a supermarket—usually with the canned fruit, but sometimes they’re in the ethnic aisle. They come in a jar. Something like this:

Amarena di Cantiano – Sour Cherries in Syrup

or this:

Zergut Pitted Sour Cherries in Light Syrup 24 oz.

Cherry Pie Tart Squares

makes about 24 squares.

These are best the day they’re made, but I wouldn’t refuse them the next day. They survive well enough left out at room temperature.

For the dough base:
2 sticks (225 g) unsalted butter, cut up into chunks
2 large egg yolks
2 tablespoons (25 g) granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon (2 g, or a pinch) salt
2 cups (294 g) all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon (14 g) lemon juice
1 teaspoon (5 g) baking soda
3 tablespoons (40 g) breadcrumbs
2 24-oz jars (672 g each) pitted sour cherries in light syrup

For the meringue:
4 large egg whites
1/3 cup (75 g) sugar

1. Drain the cherries as well as you can. (You can save the syrup or toss it. I like it added to iced tea, or I just drink it straight up.)

 

All the players.

 

2. In a large bowl, whisk the yolks and sugar together just to mix.

 

3. Toss in the butter…

 

…then, the flour. Stir it up just to get the mixing started, but the bulk of the mixing will happen in a second.

 

4. Ok. This is a weird step, but bear with me. Take your baking soda, and put it in a big spoon. All at the same time, pour the lemon juice over the baking soda, and…

 

…as it activates and foams up, let it run off the spoon over the stuff in the bowl. The acid from the lemon juice reacts with the baking soda and starts the leavening process right there in the bowl! I feel like I’m in high school chemistry.

 

5. Then my favorite part: getting the hands dirty. Start mixing the dough. Knead it, and turn it, and work it. Break up the butter into it as you go.

 

A little progress.

 

Aaaaaaaalmost.

 

Ok, here we go. The sides of the bowl are just about crumb-free.

 

Wrap the piece in plastic, and let it rest in the fridge for at least 2 hours or overnight. We want butter in the dough to get cold and firm up.

 

6. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Prepare a high-sided baking pan by spritzing it with some non-stick cooking spray (or grease the sides with a piece of butter). Mom used a roasting pan, about 10″x14″. (I use a glass baking dish, ’cause that’s all I got!) Somehow I forgot to take its picture, but you can see it in action in the upcoming photos.

Flour a tabletop with a light dusting of flour, and roll the piece out to about 1/2 inch thickness. No need to be neat about it. If it’s rough around the edges, that’s no biggie.

 

7. Wrap the dough around the pin for easier transport from the table to the baking pan. If it rips, it doesn’t matter, because…

 

…it get’s pressed in to the pan, all rustic-style, like in the old country.

 

Once the even-ness is satisfactory, sprinkle the breadcrumbs over the surface. Hopefully, some of the extra moisture that oozes out of the cherries will be absorbed, and the base won’t get soggy.

 

8. Spread the cherries over the surface. A single layer is ideal, but dense is best. Pack ’em in there!

 

Bake! About 25-30 minutes, just until the dough part is golden. Remove the pan from the oven, let rest on the side, and heat  up the broiler.

 

9. Once it’s baked, and only when it’s baked, start the meringue:

 

Slowly, at medium speed, start beating the whites. (You can use hand-held electric beaters, a standing mixer with a whip attachment, or manually, with a hand-held whisk.) When it starts getting frothy, like this, slowly start pouring in the sugar, all the while whisking.

 

The sugar should all be in by now. Increase the speed of the beaters to medium-high, and continue to whisk until the consistency is a pretty firm peak.

 

 

 

Quickly, spread the mixture over the baked cherry base. If the base hasn’t completely cooled from baking, that’s ok. I like to keep the top rough and full of personality, with peaks and valleys.

 

Stick the pan under the broiler, about 6 inches away. Watch it carefully! This will just take a minute or two. It’s a good time to finally make use of the window of your oven door.

 

Once the top becomes golden, it’s done! It’s a matter of a minute between nicely browned and burned, so keep that watchful eye.

 

It’s best to slice it before it cools. The meringue tends to stick to the knife for dear life, so run the knife under hot water, dry with a kitchen towel, then slice. It does help make a cleaner cut. I get about 24 pieces, but I suppose 16 BIG pieces wouldn’t be bad either (wink.)

 

And out of the pan they go.