With all the crap going on in the earth, I often question why I even bother to write about baked goods or keep this blog at all. Sometimes it’s comforting to have a eked out a microscopic personal pocket of the internet, but a lot of the time I feel totally useless for using my (very) modest soapbox to talk your ears off about, for instance, this labneh tart and how much I love Alice Medrich. Two icons from my childhood recently passed away, one who captured my heart and the other my imagination, and with the bad business of Amendement 1 in North Carolina (but yay Obama, finally! Although marriage equality should be a fundamental right, not a state issue.) and the untold amounts of frustrating news that I am, by virtue of a computer-based job, able to read every day, this space sometimes feels alienating to me for its lack of more important content.
I’m so lucky to find time to do all of this baking and equally lucky to have time to write this blog, and I don’t often acknowledge it here because it feels artificial to move from something serious into something buttery. But I’ve been sitting for nearly a week on a blog post about all of the “lasts” I am planning for as I prepare to move to Maine, and it ended up reading like a long list of awesome shit that somehow I was complaining about. It didn’t really get at what I’ve been feeling lately either, which is totally sad and frustrated about a lot of political and social goings-on, but equally happy and grateful for the personal progress I’m making in my own life. Sometimes this blog only reflects the latter because it’s more in keeping with the medium, and while this post itself isn’t meant to make up for all the levity or start any specific discussions, I did just want my handful of checkers-in to know that I’m thinking about how to strike a balance. I admire Lottie + Doof so much for that reason: he’s often brief and light, but is able with equal seriousness to talk about baking and politics and disagree with people and critique the food culture. I aspire.
Which sort of inelegantly brings me to this tart, of which I made three for the most recent edition of the Mod Attelet supper club. I’ve been collaborating with those folks for just about the better part of a year, working initially just on desserts and eventually on several other elements, and our latest menu was by far my favorite. It was totally special not just because it was my last, but also because we served my and Joey’s homebrewed spiced session ale, two of my very good friends attended, I made a three-part dessert, we smoked a pig, and the night was full of some super social folks who were still mingling when I went home at 1:00 a.m. The dinner brought out my favorite aspects of these supper clubs: an awesome, cohesive menu and a totally jazzed group of strangers who clicked and had a great night. Plus this tart, which is utterly simple, tangy, and drop-dead delicious. And balanced. Perhaps the most important quality and my goal for this blog moving forward. Thanks for reading, as always!
Labneh (Lebni) Tart
Barely adapted from Alice Medrich’s Pure Dessert
Never had labneh (also spelled lebni and lebneh)? It's essentially sour cream meets cream cheese in a way better, tangier form, and you can definitely find it at Whole Foods, Middle Eastern markets, and specialty stores. I spread the leftover labneh on toasted baguettes with olives, tomato, olive oil, and mint: a super breakfast!
Also, Medrich calls for 9 ½-inch tart pans, which I do not have, so I used 8-inch tart pans. The cooking time was actually in the same range. I did remove about two tablespoons of the tart dough to accommodate the difference in pan size so that my crust would stay thin around the edges.
Crust
1 stick unsalted butter, melted
1/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup all-purpose flour
Filling
3 large eggs
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1/8 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups labneh (kefir cheese)
1 egg yolk, lightly beaten with a pinch of salt
1. Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. In a medium bowl, combine the butter with the sugar, vanilla, and salt. Add the flour and mix (a fork will do) just until well blended. Dough might seem oily, but it will work!
2. Press the dough evenly over the bottom and up sides of a 8 inch tart pan with a removable bottom to make a thin, even layer; to avoid ending up with extra-thick edges, press the dough squarely into the corners of the pan. To even out all crust, I pushed a flat-bottomed dry measuring cup along the bottom, then into all the edges and up the sides. Place tart pan on a cookie sheet when finished.
3. Bake until the crust is a deep, golden brown, 20 to 25 minutes, checking after about 15 minutes to see if the dough has puffed up from the bottom of the pan. If it has, press the dough down gently with the back of a spoon and prick it a few times with a fork.
4. While the crust is baking, make the filling. Medrich specifies the order in which ingredients are mixed here, saying it has a big impact on the smoothness of the texture: In a medium bowl whisk the eggs with the sugar, salt, and vanilla. Then whisk in the cheese until very smooth.
5. When the crust is ready, remove it from the oven and turn the temperature down to 300 degrees F. Brush the bottom of the crust with a thin layer of the beaten egg yolk to moisture-proof it. Return the crust to the oven for one minute to set the yolk.
6. Pour the filling into the hot crust and spread it evenly. Return the tart to the oven and bake until the filling is set around the edges but, when the pan is nudged, quivers like very soft Jell-O in the center, about 15 to 20 minutes (all three times, my tarts were finished at 19 minutes). Check often in the last few minutes as overbaking will ruin the silky-smooth texture of the filling. Cool the tart completely on a rack before removing the tart pan ring; it will firm up as it cools. Refrigerate if not serving within three hours. Leftovers (yeah right!) will keep, covered and refrigerated, for about four days.
Sesame Brittle
Adapted from Pure Dessert
I altered the instructions after making this a few times since I didn't have any issues with stickiness, which the original recipe seemed concerned with. Nice and easy!
½ cup granulated sugar
⅛ teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
¼ cup sesame seeds (I used black and white)
1. Spread a thin slick of oil on a cookie sheet and set it aside. Mix the sugar and salt in a dry, light-colored 10-inch skillet. Set the pan over medium-high heat, and cook without stirring until edges of mixture start to turn clear. Turn the heat down to medium, and shake the pan while continuing to cook as long as syrup remains clear. This first part takes only a few minutes.
2. When the syrup begins to darken, use a rubber spatula to push it around until all the sugar is melted and evenly colored; if some parts of syrup darken more quickly than others, lift pan off heat and continue to stir until the color balances. When the syrup looks pale amber, add in the sesame seeds and stir to coat. Continue stirring until syrup turns dark reddish amber; immediately spread brittle onto cookie sheet in a thin layer, using the spatula to flatten and make it as thin as you can. You can shape the brittle--carefully!--while it’s still warm, or allow it to cool as is until hard, about 30 minutes. To achieve small pieces for the tart garnish, I smashed the brittle in a plastic bag. In a sealed container, the leftovers kept for about a week before the texture softened.
Barely adapted from Alice Medrich’s Pure Dessert
Never had labneh (also spelled lebni and lebneh)? It's essentially sour cream meets cream cheese in a way better, tangier form, and you can definitely find it at Whole Foods, Middle Eastern markets, and specialty stores. I spread the leftover labneh on toasted baguettes with olives, tomato, olive oil, and mint: a super breakfast!
Also, Medrich calls for 9 ½-inch tart pans, which I do not have, so I used 8-inch tart pans. The cooking time was actually in the same range. I did remove about two tablespoons of the tart dough to accommodate the difference in pan size so that my crust would stay thin around the edges.
Crust
1 stick unsalted butter, melted
1/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup all-purpose flour
Filling
3 large eggs
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1/8 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups labneh (kefir cheese)
1 egg yolk, lightly beaten with a pinch of salt
1. Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. In a medium bowl, combine the butter with the sugar, vanilla, and salt. Add the flour and mix (a fork will do) just until well blended. Dough might seem oily, but it will work!
2. Press the dough evenly over the bottom and up sides of a 8 inch tart pan with a removable bottom to make a thin, even layer; to avoid ending up with extra-thick edges, press the dough squarely into the corners of the pan. To even out all crust, I pushed a flat-bottomed dry measuring cup along the bottom, then into all the edges and up the sides. Place tart pan on a cookie sheet when finished.
3. Bake until the crust is a deep, golden brown, 20 to 25 minutes, checking after about 15 minutes to see if the dough has puffed up from the bottom of the pan. If it has, press the dough down gently with the back of a spoon and prick it a few times with a fork.
4. While the crust is baking, make the filling. Medrich specifies the order in which ingredients are mixed here, saying it has a big impact on the smoothness of the texture: In a medium bowl whisk the eggs with the sugar, salt, and vanilla. Then whisk in the cheese until very smooth.
5. When the crust is ready, remove it from the oven and turn the temperature down to 300 degrees F. Brush the bottom of the crust with a thin layer of the beaten egg yolk to moisture-proof it. Return the crust to the oven for one minute to set the yolk.
6. Pour the filling into the hot crust and spread it evenly. Return the tart to the oven and bake until the filling is set around the edges but, when the pan is nudged, quivers like very soft Jell-O in the center, about 15 to 20 minutes (all three times, my tarts were finished at 19 minutes). Check often in the last few minutes as overbaking will ruin the silky-smooth texture of the filling. Cool the tart completely on a rack before removing the tart pan ring; it will firm up as it cools. Refrigerate if not serving within three hours. Leftovers (yeah right!) will keep, covered and refrigerated, for about four days.
Sesame Brittle
Adapted from Pure Dessert
I altered the instructions after making this a few times since I didn't have any issues with stickiness, which the original recipe seemed concerned with. Nice and easy!
½ cup granulated sugar
⅛ teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
¼ cup sesame seeds (I used black and white)
1. Spread a thin slick of oil on a cookie sheet and set it aside. Mix the sugar and salt in a dry, light-colored 10-inch skillet. Set the pan over medium-high heat, and cook without stirring until edges of mixture start to turn clear. Turn the heat down to medium, and shake the pan while continuing to cook as long as syrup remains clear. This first part takes only a few minutes.
2. When the syrup begins to darken, use a rubber spatula to push it around until all the sugar is melted and evenly colored; if some parts of syrup darken more quickly than others, lift pan off heat and continue to stir until the color balances. When the syrup looks pale amber, add in the sesame seeds and stir to coat. Continue stirring until syrup turns dark reddish amber; immediately spread brittle onto cookie sheet in a thin layer, using the spatula to flatten and make it as thin as you can. You can shape the brittle--carefully!--while it’s still warm, or allow it to cool as is until hard, about 30 minutes. To achieve small pieces for the tart garnish, I smashed the brittle in a plastic bag. In a sealed container, the leftovers kept for about a week before the texture softened.
