Rich Chocolate Tart

Let's talk about this tart, shall we?
Oh my.

That's all I can say sometimes. Oh. My.

It's rich. It's chocolatey. It's smooth as silk, and the crust... don't even get me STARTED on the crust!

Okay, we'd getter get started. Before I swoon here and now at the computer desk. And then revive myself and go hide in the pantry and gobble what's left of the tart. (Which isn't much.)

We're gonna get started.... with butter.

Because all good things in life start with butter, am I right?

We've got butter. Next, flour.

And salt.

Also, sugar.

Now, add in the cold chunks of butter...

And pulse until it looks something like this: 

Now, in a separate bowl, you will have combined an egg and a couple tablespoons of ice water, and whisked it together.

You may not know it. But that's what you will have done.

 

Into the crumbly mixture it goes.

Pulse again, until it all comes together.

 

Come together..................... RIGHT NOW....

Sorry. Been on a Beatles kick lately.

Now, shape it into kind of a flat-ish disk shape, and swaddle it in plastic wrap.

Did I just say... swaddle?

Okay, refrigerate that for about 30 minutes. Then you can unwrap it, and plop it on a counter covered in flour. We're gonna roll it out!

I was excited to use my new French rolling pin for the second time since I got it at Christmas. (I've been really slacking in the baking area lately. It's sad.)

The beauty of a French rolling pin? No handles. And it's also wider in the middle so it flattens the center of the crust more, and avoids those pesky thin edges. Genius!

Sadly, even the best of French rolling pins cannot compensate for my lack of skill. Look at that! I'm a disgrace.

But it's okay! I fixed it!

Sorta.

Now, you're supposed to put it in the refrigerator for about 15 minutes to "relax". I guess anything being baked by me deserves a little relaxation. I'd be stressed too. Especially after what I'm about to tell you.

I have a really embarrassing confession to make. And I'm not embarrassed that easily. (A matter of self-preservation when you have 4 siblings and 2 parents.) The recipe said to line the tart with foil and cover the foil with weights or dried beans, just to keep it from poofing up when it bakes.

Well, I didn't read the recipe that well, and somehow managed to miss the part about the foil.

"Cool," I thought. "I'll just dump in some dried beans." 
So what did I do?
I trotted to the pantry, grabbed a bag of black beans, lopped off the corner with a pair of scissors and...

Well, you get the picture?

A pastry shell brimming with dried black beans... It wasn't pretty. Sometimes I really wonder about myself. Truly. I was, of course, horrified when I looked at the recipe and noticed the bit about the foil. So I spent the next ten minutes picking little black flecks of bean shell (or something) from the crust.

Do you see the devotion here? I could easily have just skipped this mortifying vignette. But I'm keepin' it real, you guys. Keepin' it real.

Okay. So once you have a foil-lined pan filled with beans or weights or whatever you use, pop it in the oven for about 30 minutes. After it bakes, you're gonna take it out, remove the foil and beans, and then brush it with a beaten egg white.

(Don't be grossed out. It's to assist in the lovely golden brown color we're going for.)

Then pop it back in the oven for another 8 minutes.

Look! Lovely, golden brown!

While the tart shell cools, we're gonna go wild and make the filling.

(Just a warning: this filling contains heavy whipping cream. If you are morally, logically, chronically or healthily opposed to heavy whipping cream, you may want to skip over this.)

You'll need:
1 cup of heavy cream
1 freaky-looking thumb with chipped red nail polish.

Also, 1/2 cup regular milk. (I used skim, subconsciously trying to cancel out the fat grams from the heavy cream, I believe.) But I won't show you the picture. The lighting is weird, and the milk looks yellow by comparison.

Not cute.

But you heat the milks together, stirring often, until it just begins to simmer around the edges.

Then remove it from the heat, and stir in the semi-sweet chocolate, sugar and salt.

Next; eggs. Two of 'em.
They must be beaten.

Pour the beaten eggs into the chocolate mixture...

Whisk it up...

And pour the chocolate filling into the cooled tart crust.

It goes back in the oven for 15 to 20 minutes, or just until it's set, and the surface is glossy.

 

Yum.

Guess what? I'm a dork. Here's what I look like when I try to photograph myself and the food, and the tart starts sliding, and I almost drop the camera:

I'm screeching. And that's not actually a smile. It's a rapidly mutating grimace.

(Yes, I realize that, to all intents, purposes and appearances, it looks like I have three arms.)
(I'm sorry.)

Note to self: From now on, stay behind the camera, where you belong.

The tart was a huge hit with the family. Therefore, you may rest assured it is delicious. (They're not afraid to tell me when something's gross.)

Click here for the printable recipe: Rich Chocolate Tart.

Happy Cooking!

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Sweet Potato Pie, Part 2

Not bad looking, if I do say so myself.
And I do.

The bottom of the crust was weird though. See how it looks really thick? Well, I know I rolled it thinner than that, so I went poking through my piece of pie to investigate.
It was what appeared to be a thin, custardy layer of...custard. Or something. I'm thinking it was the butter. I've read tons of places that it makes a HUGE difference to actually let it soften naturally, instead of in the microwave. I guess they're right - the superior cooks of the world.

It is a pretty color, though.



And though the bottom of the crust was a little sodden that night, the edges were SUPER flaky. And the next morning, the bottom was flakier, too. Don't know how that worked, but I'm not complaining.





This is worth it, if only for the pie crust, I think.
And even though I'm going to try Paula Deen's recipe next time - (it involves cream cheese;) - I'll post the recipe here for posterity's sake.

Sweet Potato Pie
1 (1 lb.) sweet potato
1/2 C. butter, softened
1 C. white sugar
1/2 C. milk
2 eggs
1/2 tsp. ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 tsp. vanilla
1 (9-inch) unbaked pie crust

Directions:
1. Boil sweet potato whole in skin for 40 to 50 minutes, or until done. Run cold water over the sweet potato and remove skin.
2. Break apart sweet potato in a bowl. Add butter, and mix well with mixer. Stir in sugar, milk, eggs, nutmeg, cinnamon and vanilla. Beat on medium speed until mixture is smooth. Pour filling into an unbaked pie crust.
3. Bake at 350 for 55 to 60 minutes, or until knife inserted in center comes out clean. Pie will puff up like a souffle, and then will sink down as it cools.

Flaky Pie Crust
1 1/4 C. all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 C. shortening, chilled
3 TBS. ice water

Directions:
1. Put flour and salt in food processor with evil, jagged-edged blade attachment. Pulse a few times to blend.
2. Drop rounded teaspoonfuls of shortening into the flour. Pulse until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.
3. Drizzle 2 to 3 tablespoons ice water over mixture, adding more water, a few drops at a time, until mixture comes together.
4. Roll out dough between flour-covered waxed paper sheets. If baking, bake at 425 for 9-12 minutes.

Happy Cooking!

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Sweet Potato Pie, Part 1

Just for kicks, I decided to take step-by-step pictures of this recipe-testing process.
If you humor me and make it through to the very end...bless you. You're a saint =)

First, toss two sweet potatoes (or the equivalent of 1 pound) into a pot of water. Crank the heat up. It's gotta boil.



When it comes to a full, rolling boil, set a timer for about 40 minutes.



Now, eat a cookie even though you shouldn’t, drink milk in a Christmas goblet, and flip through The Lady and Son’s Just Desserts cookbook.

Or

You could do something constructive, like clean out the cabinet under your kitchen sink, or re-pot your plants, or give yourself a manicure.
Meanwhile, the water turns yellower and nastier.



After you do whatever for about 28 minutes, remember that you should have been making the pie crust all this time.

So, very quickly, mix up the ingredients in your food processor. If you wouldn’t mind too terribly, cut your finger on the evil, jagged-edged blade. It would make me feel better.



Put a band-aid on your thankfully-not-bleeding finger, and roll out the pie crust.




A nifty trick I read the other day to spread the flour out on the counter evenly: wipe it down with a wet washcloth, and before it dries, sprinkle with flour and rub it around evenly. Works like a charm :)

Keep rollin’…you want it to be thin, but not too thin...

Obviously, I got a little carried away with the rolling. Because my crust would not come off the counter in one piece. It was too delicate. Next time, I’ve got to try rolling it out between wax paper sheets.

I’d also feel better if you’d make a mess of your pie crust. Patch it up. Fail miserably at getting it into the pie pan. Whatever.



Since there isn”t enough dough around the edges to create perfectly shaped scallops or ridges or little criss-cross designs, trim the extra.



If you don’t have Winnie the Pooh band-aids, go out and buy yourself some now.

Next, remove the happily boiling sweet potatoes…



Put them in a colander, and run cold water over them.



Peel the gross skin off. Inadvertently lose band-aid in the process.



Put the taters in the mixer. Because you feel like it, and because you can, (and because it might make things a little fluffier), put the wire whisk attachment on.




And then come the rest of the ingredients:

1 stick of butter, last-minute-because-I-forgot-softened in the microwave.



1 cup of sugar

and 2 eggs.

Wish I could actually crack an egg with one hand. As you can see, I only succeeded in puncturing it with my thumb.




Next up, nutmeg…



Cinnamon...



And vanilla.



Oh yeah, and somewhere in there, I added 1/2 cup of milk.

Start mixing.

Start panicking, because it’s looking a little like cottage cheese.

Change the attachment to Old Faithful.



And mix some more.

I don’t think it’s supposed to look like this.

I think I’ll blame it on the butter.



Suppress your gag reflex.



And pour it into the expertly molded pie crust.



Is it just me or does that look curdled and gross?



Ah well. Into the oven it goes and let the chips fall where they may.



Now. After cleaning up your mess, eat chili and a baked potato for dinner, watch Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown, and nervously make plans to bury this pie in the back yard, praying that no animal or human will ever find it.

Or, you could take a wild chance and try it.

Tomorrow, I’ll post pictures of the results. And if it’s any good, the full recipe.

~ Happy cooking! ~

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