Hi!
You haven’t heard from me in a while, because, honestly, work has been a lot. Staff shortages? I do know her. I am now on holiday though! Fun, fruit-loving, print-wearing Mia! Woo!
We are meeting a group of family friends for dinner tonight. I have offered to make dessert. In love with the fruit here, and looking for something straightforward, I settle on a nectarine galette, for which I have a foolproof recipe. It is the first year since my ~career change~ and on some level feel the need to prove I can, in fact, cook.
I buy spelt flour, butter, creme fraiche for the pastry, almonds for frangipane, and get to work. Then I remember there aren’t any scales in the house. Not a problem, I say to myself, I can probably eyeball the quantities. I am a chef. I rub together flour and butter, conveniently forgetting that I have the world’s hottest hands and it is also quite hot today generally. Yolo, I think, I’ll just work quickly. I add the creme fraiche, mix, and realise: this is not pastry - this is sludge. I add a few more tablespoons flour, because realistically, it didn’t look like a whole lot when I eyeballed it earlier. Mix. Still sludge. Hm, surely if I just wrap it up and freeze it will be fine.
I pick out the worst nectarines in the fridge, as they will just get baked and I would rather just eat the good ones, slice and macerate with sugar and lemon. Except, there is no lemon, so I add lime. I taste them and realise there is not enough tang, so I debate adding vinegar. Too edgy, too risky. I leave the nectarines to do their thing and hope for the best.
I get out the frangipane ingredients and, again, eyeball it, high off the not-complete-failure of my pastry. Butter, sugar, almonds, eggs last - I look in the fridge and it turns out there are only two eggs left, and one of them is cracked open - ew. At this point, it is what it is. One egg goes in, the other goes in the bin. Mixy-mix. What do eggs even do? Put it in the fridge.
I whip the pastry out of the freezer, and while it is not looking great, it is in fact a solid block now. We don’t have parchment in the house, Classic, so rolling in between two pieces of paper is not an option. Cool, I will just roll this block of butter sludge straight on the counter in 30c. I dust the worktop in enough flour to sustain a small provincial bakery in France and cautiously but decisively get on with it. It goes fine for a few minutes, until I realise I have to manoeuvre it to the baking sheet. More like baking shit amirite ladies. I try to roll the pastry onto my rolling pin to swing it onto the sheet, but lo and behold it has already melted and starts to melt into itself. HM, I scream internally, NOT SURE ABOUT THIS GALETTE ANYMORE :). I pull a tart tin out of the cupboard and start lining it with pastry, piece by piece, like a soggy puzzle. THIS IS FINE :). As the pastry starts to stretch and tear under its own weight, the dance music I usually like to listen to while cooking starts to sound like a threatening pounding, and I begin to splinter under the pressure, literally sticking pieces into the tin until the case is full.
I whack the tin into the freezer, filled with delusional hope that it will keep its shape during baking, and go look for some baking beans. I will, after all, have to blind bake the shell, as this is no longer a chill galette project. No beans in the cupboard, no coins in the house, I decide to use pebbles from the garden. Except they’re not pebbles. They are literal rocks the size of my fist. I take the tart shell out of the freezer (still not frozen), cover it with foil (not parchment, obviously), and drop the rocks onto it. Yeet. Into the oven she goes for 15min.
My phone alarm goes off and I remove the rocks and foil, only to discover that the rocks are so heavy they have made holes into my pastry. Nice. I take a couple of chunks of leftover pastry, flatten them between my fingers and patch them into the holes. Very nice. Slip it back into the oven, no foil this time, and finish baking for another 10min. It’s not great, but it will do. I leave it to cool and go make lunch.
10min later, and approximately 20min too soon, I take the frangipane out of the fridge, set on ending this nightmare once and for all. The pastry still feels warm, but heck, what’s the worst that can happen? I spoon the mixture into the case and smooth it all around. As I start laying the fruit into the almonds, I get the sense that the butter in the frangipane is starting to melt. AH! Driven by the terror of the frangipane melting into the pastry (is this even a thing?) and failing this far into the ordeal, I aggressively lay the nectarines into place, say a small prayer, and throw it into the oven. For a while, nothing happens. I watch through the glass door, like the victim of a home invasion film, waiting for the worst. The frangipane turns alarmingly liquid, but my family arrive back for lunch so I tear myself away and wait for the timer to go off.
When I come back to the tart it looks… ok? Dare I say, good? I brush the fruit with honey while it’s still hot. That’ll do, Donkey, that’ll do.
In reality, this is a very easy recipe made up of tried and tested components. If I can make this in a hot kitchen with no measuring instruments, parchment, eggs, patience, or baking beans, you most certainly can with at least one of those present. It will work nicely as a galette or tart, though the method will vary very slightly.
For the dough:
245g wholegrain spelt flour
pinch of salt
2 tbsp sugar
150g cold butter, cubed
85g creme fraiche
For the frangipane:
100g butter, softened
100g sugar
100g ground almonds
1 egg
1 egg yolk
1 tsp orange blossom water (optional)
For the filling:
3 nectarines, thinly sliced
1 lemon
2 tbsp sugar or honey
First, make the pastry: combine all dry ingredients in a bowl and mix well.
Add the cubed butter and work into the flour using your fingers, until it resembles coarse breadcrumbs and there are no large chunks of butter left.
Add the creme fraiche and mix well. Shape into a puck, wrap in parchment, and chill in the fridge.
In a bowl, toss the nectarines with the lemon and sugar/honey, and set aside to macerate.
Next, make the frangipane: beat the butter in a bowl with a spoon until softened, then add the sugar and mix well.
Add the eggs, mix well, then add the almonds and orange blossom water (if using). Move to the fridge.
Preheat the oven to 200c/180c fan/GM6.
Remove the pastry from the fridge and place on a floured surface. Roll into a circle approx. 2mm thick and 30cm in diameter.
Line a 9inch tart tin, making sure to get the pastry into all the corners, then trim the top as needed. Cover with a piece of parchment and fill with baking beans/dried beans/coins/ rocks (preferably not).
Bake for 15min, then uncover and bake for a further 10-15min. The base should feel sandy, with no grey patches and a light golden colour. Leave to cool. Drop the oven temperature to 170c/150c fan/GM2.
Spoon the frangipane into the cooled pastry case, and smoothing it with the back of the spoon to create an even layer.
Lay the slices of fruit into the frangipane, either in circles (like I did), or as you see fit - I think vertical strips would look quite cool.
Bake for 30-40min, until the frangipane is set and lightly golden.
While still hot, brush the fruit with honey. Leave to cool completely before removing from the tin and slicing.
If you’re making a galette, roll out the pastry to a 30cm circle as above. Leaving a 4cm border all the way around, spread the frangipane into a circle. Lay the fruit onto the frangipane, then fold over the border to create a sort of crust. Bake for 45-55min at 200c/180c/GM6, until the frangipane is set and the pastry is fully cooked.
Honestly, making this today was so traumatic I was shocked at how few steps this recipe takes. Any other day, I could do this in my sleep - and so could you. Remember you can switch out the fruit!!! No stone fruit will go unbaked this summer if I can help it.
I’m off to continue having a nice, chill holiday time for now, but will likely be back soon (I do always say that, don’t I?).
Mia