The other day, I received an email from my friend Ron, who had recently returned from a long weekend in Paris, which is something people who live in New York can do without killing themselves, time-wise:

"I had such a good time in Paris, and am so inspired to cook! I was thinking about you when I was there, and I almost bought a tarte tatin pan, but they were so expensive, and I realized I probably didn't need to get it there.

So, I thought i'd ask for your opinion on a good pan. Do you have a recommendation? I'd also LOVE to get your recipe as well. You were always going to teach me how to make one and we never got around to it. So, perhaps, i could at least get your recipe."

I thought for a moment. There he was in Paris, inspired to cook, looking at expensive tarte Tatin pans. He must have been to E. Dehillerin's-- a mind-blowing, intoxicating cookware store that only those with a severe allergy to copper or eating could leave without the purchase of something shiny or, at the very least, without inspiration.

I am delighted and somehow unsurprised that Ron managed to leave the store without the pan. Delighted because I would be jealous of any friend outside of easy borrowing distance who owned one, unsurprised because he's one of the best bargain hunters ever. He also has one of the tiniest apartments in the universe, which I think has been officially documented. He would hang that document on his wall, but he would most likely think it would take up too much wall space.

It is precisely due to this lack of space that I would suggest to Ron that he not invest in a one-use pan. Some folks swear by non-stick sauté pans, others by cast iron skillets for making this upside down apple tart. I happen to lean towards cast iron, because I'm just plain folksy. Either will do, so take your pick.

A Promise is a Promise

I had forgotten my promise of teaching him how to make Tarte Tatin, since it was about two lifetimes ago. I do, however, like to think of myself as a man of my word. So, Ron, though it's about six or seven years after the fact, and you now live on the other side of the continent, I will do my best to answer your questions. By opening this up from a simple email into a blog post, I encourage others with more Tarte Tatin expertise to weigh in, if you like.

I initially hesitated when offering up my recipe, because I thought it produced inconsistent results. It seemed a bit odd that something static-- printed and frozen on glossy paper-- could be inconsistent. It was I who was inconsistent. And the ingredients. Would I be vigilant and make a perfect caramel, with apples well-cooked and brown, but holding together? That is sometimes me. Or would I wind up with what my goddaughter Zelly referred to as "apple mush tart" when I decided to make one for her while trying to keep her 4 year-old little sister away from the knives and hot caramel? That is, unfortunately me, too. I'm glad it was the tart that wound up overcooked and not the child.

And what about the ingredients? I've made this dish at least two dozen times during my adulthood, but never with any sort of regularity. Somewhere along the way, I got it into my head that Granny Smith apples were the best, owing to their tartness and name-sharing with Dame Maggie. I had forgotten the better results I'd had with Golden Delicious and jumped back to the Smiths, which also happens to be the name of one of my favorite bands from my high school days. Unfortunately, while yielding great flavor, the Smiths yield an attractive-but-depressing mush, not unlike the music of the aforementioned band. I vote Jonagold which has inherited the firm flesh of its Golden Delicious mother, but taken on a little of it's father's (Jonathan) tartness.

I hope Ron has fun experimenting with this dessert. Especially in New York where the Autumn apples are better than anywhere I've had.

If he messes one up, it will still more than likely taste good, because how badly can you screw up apples, butter, and sugar? Well, I might suggest he watch Julia Child making one of the biggest goofs of her television career.

Suddenly, mine doesn't look so bad.

Tarte Tatin
Serves 8 to 10, depending on how you slice it.

When I first had this dessert presented to me, I can't remember where I was. Was it at some high school French Club get together? A special occasion restaurant venture with my family? The quaint little Loire Valley farm house where I learned a lot of dirty words from the sons of the proprietress who were trying to describe what they wanted to do with one of my female friends? I don't remember, since I've had it in all of those situations. I just remember the shock I felt at my love for the dish, since I had always been indifferent to apple pie. And I remembered the name thanks to the way I remember most everything-- through word association. "A good Tarte Tatin," I thought, "should be tart and tan."

The back story on this dessert is nearly as quaint as the tart itself. If it is to be believed, in 1888, Mlle. Stéphanie Tatin, owner of L'Hôtel Tatin in Lamotte-Beuvron with her sister either a) was not a very bright woman and accidentally baked her famous apple tart upside down in one of her frequent moments of confusion; b) became distracted during the making of said tart, let the cooking go a little too far, but managed to save the day by throwing a crust over the apples and baking them upside down; or c) was threatened with a smoldering cigarette to the face by a jealous Brett Somers, who suspected the Mlle. Tatin of having an unsavory dalliance with her then-husband, Jack Klugman, and therefore unable to reach the caramelizing apples in time to make a proper, right side up tart until La Somers was finished with her smoke.

I prefer to believe version "c", because it is the most exciting story.

Ingredients:

For the pastry:

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon sugar

A pinch of salt

1/2 cup chilled, unsalted butter, cut into pieces

1/4 cup ice water

For the filling:

6 tablespoons unsalted butter

3/4 cup sugar

6 apples, peeled, quartered, and cored. Jonagolds will do nicely. So will Golden Delicious. Go ahead and experiment with different varieties.

A pinch of salt

A dash of vanilla extract

Preparation:

1. To make the pastry, combine flour, sugar, and salt into the bowl of a food processor. Pulse briefly to mix. Add the chopped, chilled butter to the flour mixture and pulse until the the butter has been coated and broken into a million, pea-sized pellets. Sprinkle dough with enough cold water to make the dough barely come together. Turn the dough out onto a lightly-floured work surface and roll out into an 11" round about 1/4 of an inch thick. Transfer dough to a baking sheet, cover with wax paper or plastic wrap and refrigerate.

2. Preheat your oven to 400 F. In an 10" cast iron skillet or non-stick frying pan, melt butter over medium heat. Stir in sugar and pinch of salt until nearly dissolved (about 2 minutes or so). If it's lumpy, don't worry. Add the apple quarters, rounded side down into the bubbling proto-caramel using enough apples to fit snuggly. Reduce the heat to low and cook until the caramel is dark brown and the apples are just tender (about 15 minutes).

3. Place pan in the oven to cook the apples a bit more (5 minutes). Remove pan from oven and raise the heat to 450 F. Perfume apples with a bit of vanilla extract, then gently place the pastry circle over the top of the apples, tucking the excess pastry inside the rim of the pan. Return pan to the oven and bake until the pastry is all brown and flaky-like (about 20 minutes).

4. Remove from the oven. Run a knife around the inside edge of the pan, invert a serving plate over the pan and then flip over and pray that the tarte unmolds easily. Lift off the pan. And please, Ron, do wear oven mitts and sensible shoes. I'd hate to hear that someone spent the evening in a Manhattan emergency room being treated for caramel burns.

5. Serve warm with sweetened whipped cream or with vanilla ice cream.

Honestly, does anyone really like honeycake? I mean the old-fashioned kind, brown and frumpy, made with honey and coffee and served in damp slices after the roast chicken and brisket, or with tea and paper cups of Manischevitz after Rosh Hashanah services? It's traditional, sure. Honey is, after all, as important on the table for the Jewish new year as hoppin' john and greens are on New Year's Day down south, one promising sweetness, the other prosperity. Every newspaper food section trots out a recipe at this time of year, all promising moistness! nostalgia! as good as Bubbe's!

And yet I've never met anyone who really likes it. I love honey enough to have written a whole book about it, but even the recipe in my own book didn't thrill me. It wasn't until I started my own tradition of Rosh Hashanah dinners that I realized, with great liberation, that as an adult with her own kitchen I never had to serve, or eat, honey cake again. Instead, good honey would be enjoyed as a appetizer at my table, slathered on homemade challah or scooped up with slices of apple.

But still, it seemed necessary to end the meal with something sweet and spicy, with the festivity that only cake can provide. Not chocolate, not cheesecake (that's for Shavuot, when dairy foods are mandated). Something autumnal with apples would be nice, or pears, even poached quinces. For the cake itself, well, what could be better than gingerbread? Now that's something that everybody likes, and rarely gets anymore, muscled out of the homemade-dessert pantheon as it's been by the hegemony of brownies and oatmeal cookies. For a dark, strong gingerbread, use molasses; for a lighter one, use a full-flavored dark honey or cane or sorghum syrup.

The idea for turning the gingerbread upside-down over a caramelly topping of brown-sugared apples came from a wonderful cooking class up at The Apple Farm in Philo, halfway to Mendocino in the Anderson Valley. A nicer way to spend a weekend, especially in the fall when all their organic apples are ripe and ready for picking, I can't imagine, and I still use many of the recipes that Sally Schmidt taught us over those 3 days. I've tinkered with the original recipe since then, but the concept is hers, and I never make it without thinking of walking through the orchards or watching the ducks pick their splay-footed way through the herb garden. Sweet abundance, rich harvest: what better to invoke at the beginning of a new year? L'shanah Tovah!

(Better than Honeycake) Upside Down Apple Gingerbread

Using a one-two-three punch of ginger gives this cake complexity and depth. But it will still be delicious with just the powdered spices, as long as your spices are fresh and flavorful. If the same jars have been sitting over the stove since last Rosh Hashanah, chuck them. Or even better, empty the jars, wash them out, and refill them with bulk spices from Rainbow Grocery or Bombay Bazaar. Store them in a cool, dry, dark place, like a pantry or kitchen drawer.

Topping
2 tbsp butter
1/4 cup brown sugar, packed
2-3 apples or pears, peeled, cored, and sliced

Cake
1/2 cup boiling water
1 tsp. baking soda
1 1/4 cup flour
1 tsp. ground ginger
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/4 tsp freshly ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking powder
4 tbsp butter
1/3 cup brown sugar, packed
1/3 cup molasses or dark, full-flavored honey, such as buckwheat
2 tsp grated fresh ginger (optional)
1 tbsp chopped candied ginger (optional)
1 egg, lightly beaten

1. Preheat oven to 350F. Grease a 9” cake pan or 8 x 8 baking dish. In a small saucepan over low heat, melt butter and brown sugar together, stirring until smooth and gooey. Pour into greased pan. Arrange apple slices in concentric rings over sugar mixture, squeezing them together closely since they will shrink during baking. Set aside.

2. In a small bowl, combine boiling water and baking soda; set aside. Sift or whisk together dry ingredients; set aside.

3. In a large bowl, cream butter until soft. Add brown sugar and beat until fluffy. Beat in molasses and fresh and candied ginger, if using. Beat in egg. Gently fold in flour mixture. Stir in baking soda and water.

4. Pour batter over apple slices in prepared pan. Bake 25-30 minutes, until toothpick inserted into center comes out clean.

5. Let cool on wire rack for 10-15 minutes, then run a knife along the sides to loosen. Invert on a large plate. (It’s a good idea to invert it while still warm, otherwise the caramel hardens and it can be hard to get out of the pan). Serve with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

Yay! It's hot!

At least, it's hot by San Francisco standards, and when I wake up and find the cats have made neat little piles of their fur next to the garbage can, I'm thinking it's hot.

Last May, we took our first trip to Mendocino. After breakfast at the most amazing bed and breakfast in the area and a hike along the coastal cliffs, we drove inland along the Redwooded Rt. 128 to the Philo Apple Farm.

When we arrived, marveling over the 15° temperature change from the coast, the place was silent. We probably would have thought it was deserted if we hadn't caught sight of a cooking class being held in the main house, but instead we just found the stillness -- broken only by two farm cats wandering out to roll in the dirt at our feet and mew for pets -- peaceful. Pleasantly left to our own devices, we walked around the farm and examined the kitchen garden and the tiny cabins. We enjoyed the seven chickens being chased into a rose bush by a single rooster, we decided not to look in said rose bush to see what was going on, and we bought some cider. Hard cider.

The Philo Apple Farm is known for many things applelicious. At their old fashioned farm stand, which adorably operates on the honor system, they sell vinegar and syrup, chutney and juice, jam and jellies. When in season, they've even got apples. However, what got our attention was the open crate of unlabeled bottles on the loading dock. While the pristinely labeled and primly shelved bottles of hard cider were going for $8.50, this hard cider was selling for $6.00 a bottle.

"Torn labels, moldy labels, no labels!" the cardboard sign above announced, "Still the same good stuff!"

Something about the layer of dust coating the dark green glass made this clutch of cider seem more authentic, more farmhouse-y, more like what you would find in Normandy. So we went for it. We didn't need to pay $2.50 extra per bottle for all that window dressing! We shared one bottle that night in our little cabin and heartily agreed with the sign: "good stuff!" (However, I have to admit that the guarantee, "if you are not completely satisfied, blah, blah," now has me saying, "If you don't like the way I'm driving, blah, blah!" or "I'M out of order? YOU'RE out of order! This whole COURTROOM is blah, blah!")

Thursday, just as the heat of the day was melting into the blue of night, just as the sunburn I acquired planting at Land's End started to flare with comic book stars, we turned off all the lights and cooled off with two icy glasses of cloudy Apple Farm cider by the glow of the Democratic National Convention.

The Philo Apple Farm cider may have had a few more particulates than it did three months ago, but it was just as bracing and refreshing as that first May bottle. Even better, it was the perfect nightcap to a hot, sweaty San Francisco day.

Visit the Philo Apple Farm for cider, chickens, apples, or blah, blah.

The Apple Farm
Bates and Schmitt
18501 Greenwood Rd
Philo, CA 95466

As we near Halloween, my seasonal fruit larder is changing. Gone are peaches, plums and nectarines replaced by pomegranates, apples and persimmons. Hamada Farms and Twin Girls Farm supply my pomegranates, and I choose apples from Hidden Star Orchards, Devoto Gardens and Flatland Flower Farm. As usual, I turn to my fellow bloggers for recipes and creative ideas about this fall fruit.

Elise's Simply Recipes is normally my first stop on the Internet for recipes. "Try the recipe from Elise's site," I often tell friends asking how to make pork this or beef that, "I trust her recipes and they've always turned out for me." I've had the pleasure of tasting Elise's apple butter, and am looking forward to trying the recipe for myself this year.

Jocelyn blogs about food at her site Brownie Points in Portland. I found a great recipe for Apple Spice Pancakes with Pomegranate Syrup on her site that I'd like to try. Local food blogger Fatemeh has an interesting recipe for Cocoa-Pomegranate Roast Chicken with Eggplant Stuffing that looks like it would be great to serve to guests. And wrapping up the pomegranate recipes, Stacey at Just Braise has a delicious looking recipe for Bourbon-Pomegranate Molasses Beef Short Ribs with Broccoli Rabe

Here on Bay Area Bites, Shuna gave us her persimmon pudding recipe a couple of years ago that looks tempting.

Other fall fruit recipes from the blogosphere include:

Persimmon Bread from David Lebovitz
Curried Apple Couscous from 101 Cookbooks
Cinnamon Vanilla Applesauce from the Eat Local Challenge blog
Apple and Cumin Lentil Salad from Chocolate & Zucchini
Tarte Tatin from Orangette
Roast Pork with Braised Fennel, Apples and Onions from Too Many Chefs
Quince-Pomegranate Cranberry Compote from Seattle Bon Vivant
Pomegranate, Pear, Fennel and Arugula Salad from Cook Sister
Monkfish on Wild Rocket & Pomegranate Seeds from Delicious Days
Fuyu Korma from Sourdough Monkey Wrangler
Persimmon Mint Salsa from Habeas Brulee