The buttery-sweet smell of morning muffins, fresh from the oven. A lavishly frosted kid's birthday cake, awaiting its candles. A sticky spoonful of chocolate-chip cookie dough snuck from the bowl. What can be more comforting coming out of the kitchen than home-baked treats? Home Baked Comfort, Williams-Sonoma's latest addition into its line of comfort-food cookbooks, is very aptly named.

Written by longtime cookbook editor and Bay Area Bites contributor Kim Laidlaw, Home Baked Comfort jettisons the informative but anonymous tone typical to many Williams-Sonoma books for a warmer, more personal voice. Many of Laidlaw's recipes are inspired by family traditions or by cooking with friends, interspersed with photos and recipes from well-loved neighborhood bakeries, including our own Tartine.

There are also a few recipes from popular home baker-bloggers, like Deb Perelman of Smitten Kitchen and Aran Goyoaga of Cannelle et Vanille. The short interviews with the owners of local bakeries are pithy and funny, and the brightly charming photos of each spot made me want to run right out and get a Banana Puddin' cupcake at Sugar Mama's Bakeshop in Austin, Texas or a purple-studded, sugar-topped blueberry muffin at Huckleberry Cafe & Bakery in Santa Monica.

Beautifully photographed by baker Eric Wolfinger (who also photographed the striking Tartine Bread), the book looks both scrumptious and modern, neither cutesy-cozy nor bare-plate stark. Wolfinger, a baker himself, made every recipe he photographed, providing yet another round of useful recipe testing. Recipe pages without photographs are given a parchment-paper wash, a bit of visual interest presumably meant to evoke a family recipe scribbled on a time-yellowed slip of paper.

Nothing's too daunting; nothing requires much more than the usual home-kitchen setup of cake pans, pie pans, and baking sheets. (Do pick up some buttermilk, sour cream, and a microplane citrus zester before you start, however.) And, like the pictures, the recipes are flavorful and engaging; you could serve them at a bake sale or a dinner party and earn the same enraptured, nothing-but-crumbs-on-the-plate reaction. As an dedicated home baker myself, I caught up with Laidlaw at her home in Noe Valley on the eve of her book's release to find out how it all came together.

First of all, how did Laidlaw go from editor to writer? Last year, as part of her job as an editor at Weldon Owen, a San Francisco-based publisher which creates Williams-Sonoma's branded books in addition to other titles, Laidlaw was tasked with finding a writer/recipe developer for a planned home-baking book. (Full disclosure: As a freelance writer and editor, I have worked with Laidlaw and others at Weldon Owen professionally over the years.) The more she thought about the project, the more she realized, "This is what I do!" It wasn't just that she was a lifelong home baker; before becoming a full-time cookbook editor, she'd graduated from CCA's Baking and Pastry program, then worked as a baker at Oakland's La Farine bakery. She knew, having edited dozens of Williams-Sonoma cookbooks, just how important it was to produce the sort of meticulously tested, foolproof recipes that the brand was known for, and felt sure that she had both the baking and writing chops to do it.

But just being an employee didn't give her an automatic in; like any other potential author, she had to present a detailed proposal outlining her recipes, her approach, and why she'd be the best choice for the job. It worked, and with a pressing deadline looming, she got busy whipping up layer cakes and butterscotch puddings in her cramped home kitchen, where there was no Viking stove or Sub-Zero fridge, just the usual generic appliances of any apartment rental.

Writing the book happened to coincide with Laidlaw's pregnancy--which translated into a mostly ravenous appetite. Laidlaw laughed when asked about the rapturous headnotes describing each recipe. "I wrote it while I was pregnant! I would find myself eating half the batch of scones," in one sitting, and everything she made tasted like the best thing ever. Her husband, who had recently started a new job, earned instant popularity around the office as the guy with the recipe-testing wife; "crazy amounts" of tester cookies, brownies, cakes and more went with him to work almost daily.

Now, with the book just out, Laidlaw is still baking, only this time with her young daughter Poppy tucked in a carrier across her chest. "We bake together. She loves it!" Laidlaw said, and it's true: during my visit, Poppy was giggling and smiling, her eyes following her mother's deft movements as Laidlaw whisked together the batter for Pumpkin-Brandy Bread, (see recipe below) a specialty of her own mother's. The finished product, still hot out of the oven, wasn't overly boozy, but it did have a wonderfully grown-up whiff of brandy to it, making it perfect for afternoon tea, especially during the holidays. Her trick for cooking while parenting? "I cook everything in tiny steps, so I can stop anytime."

Some of her favorite recipes in the book are ones that come from her own family traditions, like the Christmas Breakfast Pie, something that she, her mother, and her brother make every Christmas, no matter where they are, and the Beer Rolls, originally made with just Bisquick and beer. "My brother and I thought that was so cool, baking with beer!" she said, which led her to develop a similar, from-scratch recipe that captured the appeal of the original.

She finds her inspiration in things she sees in bakeries, in restaurants, in flavor combinations she imagines. "I'm kind of a lemon freak. There's a crazy amount of citrus zest in the book, it's kind of obnoxious!" As for her favorite thing to bake, "definitely pies and galettes," although she especially admires bread bakers. "It's a real skill that can be kind of hard to do in a home kitchen. But it's so basic and satisfying." Flipping through the recipes, it's clear that Laidlaw has a taste for fruit; there are wonderful, not-too-sweet fruit desserts in every chapter. Pear Custard Tart (see recipe below), inspired by a old Julia Child recipe, comes out delectably elegant, and the vanilla-poached pears are good enough to eat on their own. Laidlaw prefers a hint of salt to too much sweetness, and few recipes seem overly gooey or rich.

It's an easy, appealing book, reflecting Laidlaw's own opinion, based in experience as both a professional and a home baker, that baking isn't that hard, and that its reputation as the stern, inflexible taskmistress of the kitchen is ill-deserved. Once you know the basic chemistry of baking and have a feel for how different baked goods work, you can mess around with your recipes, more than you might think.

"The whole point of the book is to get more people baking, get them to see that it's not so daunting, make it approachable and fun."

That said, are there common pitfalls that new bakers might avoid?
• "People overwork pastry and biscuit dough too much, then they get frustrated," when it doesn't turn out as flaky or fluffy as they hoped.
• In making quick breads, like muffins, that are raised with baking powder and/or baking soda, "some people mix the batter and then just let it sit," rather than getting it into the oven, pronto. Once the batter is mixed, the chemical leavening process starts, and so delaying the baking process can produce a flat result.
• And finally, people frequently overbake, paying more attention to the minutes specified in the recipe than to what their senses tell them about the finished product.

It all comes down to not following recipes too rigidly.

"I want people to relax and enjoy it, be more flexible. Not all ingredients are the same, and things change depending on how cold, hot, or wet the day is. Just relax! I think it's the best thing you can do for somebody, to bake something for them."

Recipe: Pear-Custard Tart
The first recipe from Julia Child that I ever made was her French custard apple tart, which I still love to this day. This delicately flavored tart, filled with vanilla-poached pears and brandy-spiked custard and topped with sugary toasted almonds, is an ode to her and that memorable dessert.

Ingredients:
Flaky Pie Dough for single crust (see recipe below)

for the poached pears
3⁄4 cup (6 oz⁄185 g) Sugar
3 ripe but firm pears, preferably Bosc, peeled, quartered, and cored
Peel of 1 orange, removed in strips with a vegetable peeler
1⁄2 vanilla bean
1 large egg
1⁄4 cup (2 oz⁄60 g) sugar plus 1 tbsp
3 tbsp all-purpose flour
1⁄2 cup (4 fl oz⁄125 ml) heavy cream
1 tsp pure vanilla extract or 2 tbsp brandy (optional)
Pinch of kosher salt
1⁄4 cup (1 oz⁄30 g) sliced almonds, lightly toasted

makes one 10-inch (25-cm) tart

Instructions:
Prepare the flaky pie dough and chill as directed. (see recipe below)

To poach the pears, cut a circle of parchment paper that will fit in a medium saucepan. Cut a small circle in the middle of the parchment. In the saucepan, bring 3 cups (24 fl oz/750 ml) water and the sugar to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium and add the pears and orange peel. Split the vanilla bean and scrape out the seeds with the back of a paring knife; add the pod and seeds to the saucepan. Lay the parchment in the saucepan to submerge the pears. Adjust the heat so that the liquid simmers gently and poach the pears until just tender, about 15 minutes. Let cool in the poaching liquid.

Position a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 400°F (200°C). On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the dough to a circle about 13 inches (33 cm) in diameter. Transfer the dough to a 10-inch (25-cm) tart pan with a removable bottom and ease into the pan. Trim away any excess dough. Line the tart shell with foil and fill with pie weights or dried beans. Bake until the crust is dried out and just starting to color a bit, about 20 minutes. Remove the foil and weights. Let cool. Reduce the oven temperature to 350°F (180°C).

Cut each pear quarter lengthwise into 4 slices, then lay most of the pear slices in the crust in an overlapping circle close to the rim. Use the remaining slices to fill the middle.

In a bowl, beat together the egg and the 1⁄4 cup sugar until thick and pale. Beat in the flour and then the cream, vanilla, if using, and salt. Pour evenly over the pears. Bake until the custard starts to puff up, about 10 minutes. Sprinkle the toasted almonds and remaining 1 tablespoon sugar over the top of the tart. Continue to bake until the custard is set and lightly browned, 15–20 minutes. Let cool on a wire rack until warm or room temperature before slicing and serving.

Baker's Note:
To turn this into an apple tart, gently sauté 3 peeled, cored, and sliced apples in 1 tablespoon butter until they just start to become tender. Spread evenly in the partially baked crust, pour over the custard, and proceed with the recipe from there.

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Recipe: Flaky Pie Dough for Single Crust

Ingredients:
1 1⁄4 cups (61⁄2 oz⁄200 g) all-purpose flour
1⁄4 tsp kosher salt
1⁄2 tsp sugar (optional; omit if making a savory dish)
7 tbsp (31⁄2 oz⁄105 g) very cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes
5 tbsp (3 fl oz⁄80 ml) ice water, plus more if needed

makes enough for one 9-inch (23-cm) pie or tart

Instructions:
In the bowl of a food processor, stir together the flour, salt, and sugar, if using.

Sprinkle the butter over the top and pulse for a few seconds, or just until the butter is slightly broken up into the flour but still in visible pieces.

Evenly sprinkle the water over the flour mixture, then process just until the mixture starts to come together.

Dump the dough into a large lock-top plastic bag, and press into a flat disk. Refrigerate the dough for 30 minutes or up to 1 day, or freeze for up to 1 month.

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Recipe: Pumpkin Brandy Bread
Growing up, I remember my mom baking this bread in metal coffee cans and how I loved the funny round shape. This recipe calls for a lot of brandy, more than you might be comfortable with, but it is honestly the best pumpkin bread I have ever tasted. You can cut the brandy in half if you want.

Ingredients:
4 large eggs
2 cups (1 lb⁄500 g) granulated sugar
1 cup (7 oz⁄220 g) firmly packed light brown sugar
1 cup (8 fl oz⁄250 ml) canola oil
2⁄3 cup (5 fl oz⁄160 ml) brandy
1 can (15 oz⁄470 g) pumpkin puree
3 1⁄2 cups (171⁄2 oz⁄545 g) all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking soda
1 1⁄2 tbsp pumpkin pie spice
1 tsp kosher salt
1⁄2 cup (2 oz⁄60 g) chopped pecans or walnuts, lightly toasted (optional)

makes 2 loaves

Instructions:
Position a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 350°F (180°C). Generously butter two 9-by-5-inch (23-by-13-cm) loaf pans.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs and sugars. Add the oil, brandy, and pumpkin and whisk to combine. In another bowl, sift together the flour, baking soda, pumpkin pie spice, and salt. Add to the pumpkin mixture along with the nuts, if using, and stir to combine.

Divide the batter between the prepared pans and bake until richly golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center of a loaf comes out clean, about 50 minutes. Let cool slightly in the pans, then turn the loaves out onto a wire rack to cool.

Baker's Note:
Baked in smaller, individual-sized loaf pans, this decadent bread makes excellent mini gifts during the holidays. Divide the batter between the pans. The baking time might vary depending on the size of the pans. Once the baked loaves have cooled, wrap each one in colorful cellophane, tie a ribbon around it, and bring on the good cheer.

Recipes and Photos appears with permission from Home Baked Comfort. Photographs by Eric Wolfinger Copyright 2011 by Weldon Owen Inc. and Williams-Sonoma, Inc.

It's hard to be a pie on Thanksgiving. It's the quandary of the big feast: everyone wants to see pie on the table, it seems, but after all that turkey, stuffing, gravy-drenched mashed potatoes and marshmallow-topped yams, few have the available real estate inside to truly do justice to a slice (or more) of pie. All that time you spent rushing around sourcing precious leaf lard from the appropriately happy, local, and pasture-raised pigs, all that careful crimping and filling, hovering and squatting in front of the oven window, praying that the crust edges wouldn't overbrown, finally sweeping up the big floury mess, and for what? Nothing but the sight of all your tipsy, satiated friends and family asking for "just a teeny slice" and then pushing it around on their plate while they drink more wine and attack the whipped cream instead.

Pie, of course, is the best day-after-Thanksgiving breakfast ever. But you can only count on leftover pie if you’re hosting the dinner in your own house. Bring the pies to someone else’s dinner, and you must hope and pray to be sent home with what remains. After all, a pie must be brought over intact; a pie minus one piece is a used pie. Sadly not every host/ess has the grace to make up little care packages of leftovers. What this means, besides no turkey sandwiches for lunch, is that you could have rolled and latticed all day long, seen lots of uneaten pie on the counter, and still ended up with no pie to go with your coffee the next morning. This has happened to me more times than I would care to remember.

You can get around both these scenarios in one easy step: just turn your pies into bars. This works best with solid, open-faced pies—pumpkin, sweet potato, pecan, or the chilled cranberry-tangerine, below. Apple or other sliced-fruit pies won’t work, but someone else will make these, anyway. Instead, imagine a lemon square refashioned for autumn, with crunchy crust on the bottom and creamy-firm filling on top. Baked and then chilled until well set, these can be cut like brownies into narrow rectangles or small squares, a two- or three-bite morsel, perfect for both children and overstuffed adults alike.

How to do it? Use a cookie-like crust recipe, one with egg yolk and vanilla in the dough instead of just water, what's usually called a sweet tart dough. This dough, sturdier and sweeter than a typical plain pie dough, can be easily rolled out and/or pressed to fit into the bottom of an 8"x8" square pan. Prick lightly all over with a fork and bake until just blond and set. Let cool, then pour on filling and bake as usual, keeping in mind that it will probably take a little less time to bake than a regular pie, since the filling won't be as deep. Cool, chill, and cut.

Cranberry Tangerine Bars
This cranberry-tangerine dessert is a longtime family favorite. It's particularly great for any holiday get-together, as the nut crust holds up well in the fridge and doesn't get tough or soggy. You can definitely make it the day before; because of the gelatin, however, you'll need to keep it refrigerated until dinner time. A nice blob of fresh whipped cream helps balance the tart fruitiness of the filling.

Yield: 16 squares
Prep Time: 45 minutes
Cook Time: 20-25 minutes
Total Time: 1 hour, 5-10 minutes, plus several hours' chilling time

Ingredients:
1 cup finely chopped, lightly toasted walnuts
3 tbsp sugar
1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 cup (4 oz) butter, softened
1 egg yolk
1/2 tsp vanilla
1-2 tbsp water (optional)

Filling:
1/4 cup plus 2 tbsp water
1 envelope (1 TB) unflavored powdered gelatin (such as Knox)
3 cups fresh or frozen whole cranberries
1 1/4 cups sugar
Rind and juice of 1 tangerine (you may not need all the rind; add half first, then more if you want a stronger orange flavor)
1 tbsp good orange liqueur, such as Grand Marnier or Cointreau (optional)
Whipped cream for serving

1. To make crust: Mix walnuts, sugar and flour together in a large bowl. If you have a stand-up mixer (like a KitchenAid), use the paddle attachment to beat in the butter. Otherwise, mix and mash in with a hand-held mixer, a pastry blender or your fingertips. Stir in egg yolk and vanilla to form a crumbly dough, adding water as necessary to make the dough stick together. Chill dough for 1 hour.

2. Preheat oven to 350F. Press dough into an 8x8 square pan, preferably glass. Bake until light golden and firm, about 20-25 minutes. Let cool before filling.

3. To make filling: Sprinkle gelatin over 1/4 cup water and let sit until gelatin swells and softens into a pasty, translucent gel. In a saucepan, combine cranberries, sugar, rind and juice, and remaining two tablespoons of water. Bring to a simmer over medium-low heat, stirring frequently, for 10-15 minutes, until berries have popped and mixture is thick.

4. Remove pan from heat, cool slightly, then stir in gelatin and liqueur, if using. Let cool to room temperature. Taste for sweetness, adding more sugar or liqueur as desired, keeping in mind that a bittersweet tartness is this dessert's main charm, then spread over crust.

5. Chill until firm, at least several hours or overnight. Cut into bars and serve with fresh whipped cream.

Still need pie therapy? Local pastry chef and caterer Meloni Courtway, who taught last year's wonderful Orchard to Oven workshop, is offering a hands-on apple-pie workshop at the Marin Country Mart on Saturday, November 19. All participants go home with a hand-made pie that can be frozen and baked fresh for Thanksgiving.

It is time once again for my annual raspberry post. You see, early June is my time to contemplate all things raspberry. Why now? What’s stopping me from meditating on the delights of baked and fresh raspberry dishes in, say, April when spring starts, or July when everyone is making juicy fruit crisps? The answer is simple really: raspberries are actually in season now. Not in April or July. Now. Sure you can buy raspberries all year long; and if you’re a commercial grower I’m sure you can extend the season from early spring to late summer or even fall. But if you are a home gardener, this is your raspberry moment.

One thing to know about growing your own raspberries is that you can pretty much forget about the vines for most of the year. In my backyard, they sit alongside a fence near the barbecue. Throughout the summer they pretty much act as a green foliage background to cover up the fence. When summer is done, their leaves change color a bit and then start to fall, memories of their luscious fruit barely concealed by the apples that are ripening heavily above them. By the time winter arrives, I’m focused on pruning, cutting back dead wooden stalks to make room for younger shoots that will emerge soon, the skeletons of old flower buds that once housed berries now dry and sitting vacant. When spring arrives I am struck with just how lovely the small white flower buds are, peaking out of the verdant green leaves that are new and growing toward the sky. I’m always amazed at just how tall those vines then become in the span of a month or two, maturing and getting leggy like a young teenager until they reach the lower limbs of my apple tree. And then just when I’m getting ready for summer, the berries appear. It’s clandestine at first, with only a few hiding under lower leaves, their rich raspberry red peeking out. Excited and anxious to taste them, my family stands right out amidst the vines, eating as we pick, with none making their way into the house. Each day more berries ripen, until we are overwhelmed with them a week later, the vines literally drooping, laden with fruit.

It seem miraculous just how big my patch has become, and numerous the berries. After all, I planted only one lone vine in a gallon pot six years ago. Since that time, my patch has grown from a small one-foot area to 10 feet, now spanning half my side yard. Even better is that these vines are thornless, so I can let my kids romp through them on berry-picking missions without worrying about scratched arms or poked faces.

So what do we do with our haul of berries? In years past we have eaten our share of berry shortcakes and I’ve also tried my hand at making raspberry jam. This year, however, I decided to focus on making tarts. After years of purchasing expensive pastry cream and fruit tarts from La Farine, I thought it was time to get over my fear of making the perfect crust and cream filling. When all was said and done, my trusty pie crust recipe (which is really BAB blogger, Kim Laidlaw’s crust recipe) worked beautifully, and the pastry cream (a Williams-Sonoma recipe) couldn’t have been easier to whip up. My husband even said he liked the tart better than La Farine’s, although I wonder if he just liked saving the money.

So if you find yourself with some sweet ripe raspberries, try making a tart. It’s really the nicest way I can think of to bask in the season.

Recipe: Seasonal Raspberry Tart with Pastry Cream
A summer tart made with freshly prepared pastry cream, a flaky crust and just-picked raspberries.

Prep time: 20 minutes
Cook time: 30 minutes
Total time: 50 minutes
Yield: 1 10-inch tart

Ingredients:
2 cups fresh raspberries (washed and air dried)
1 batch pastry cream (see recipe below)
1 batch of tart dough (see recipe below)

Instructions:

1. Fit tart dough into your pan and blind bake for 20 minutes at 350 degrees. Be sure to set some foil or parchment paper on top of the dough and then weigh it down with either pie weights or dried beans (which will become inedible after baking) to keep the dough from bubbling up in the oven.

2. Remove tart dough from the oven and remove the pie weights/beans and parchment paper/foil. Bake for another 10 minutes or until golden brown. Remove from oven and cool.

3. When crust is cooled, spread the pastry cream along the bottom and then nestle the raspberries on top. You can dump them all on or organize in circles for a more uniform appearance.

4. Serve as is or top with whipped cream.

Recipe: Pastry Cream
(From Williams-Sonoma Cooking at Home by Chuck Williams and Kristine Kidd, printed with permission from Weldon Owen)

Cook time: 15 minutes
Yield: 1 cup

Ingredients:
1 cup milk
2 egg yolks
1/4 cup sugar
4 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch
pinch of salt
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Instructions:
In a small, heavy saucepan over medium heat, bring the milk to a simmer. Meanwhile, in a heatproof bowl, whisk together the egg yolks, sugar, cornstarch, and salt until well blended. Slowly add about one-third of the hot milk to the bowl with the yolk-sugar mixture, whisking constantly. Then pour the combined mixture back into the saucepan and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture comes to a boil and thickens slightly, about 3 minutes. Continue cooking, stirring constantly, for 1 minute longer.

Remove from the heat and pour through a fine-mesh sieve placed over a heatproof bowl. Gently stir in the butter until melted, then stir in the vanilla. Cover with plastic wrap, pressing it directly onto the surface to prevent a skin from forming. Poke a few holes in the plastic wrap to hasten cooling. Let cool, then cover tightly and refrigerate until well chilled, at least 2 hours, or up to 3 days.

Recipe: Flaky Pie or Tart Dough
(Adapted from a recipe by Kim Laidlaw)

Prep time: 10 minutes + 30 minutes refrigeration
Cook time: 30 minutes
Yield: Enough for one 10-inch tart

Ingredients:
1 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
6 tablespoons very cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1/4 cup ice water + 1 tablespoon

Instructions:
1. To make the crust, in the bowl of a food processor, stir together the flour, and salt. Sprinkle the butter over the top and process for a few seconds, or just until the butter is slightly broken up into the flour but still in visible pieces. Sprinkle the water over the flour mixture evenly, then process until the mixture just starts to come together.

2. Dump the mixture out of the bowl onto 2 large sheets of plastic wrap. Press the dough together into a mound and then wrap with plastic and press into a flat disk. Refrigerate the dough until chilled, about 30 minutes or up to 1 day, or freeze for up to 1 month.

Happy May Day! My middle sister spent her college years at a small Seven Sisters school known for both its academic rigor and its fondness for Anglophile-ish, slightly archaic traditions (lots of teas there). On May 1st, the president of the college would ride into campus on a white horse, and students wore flower crowns and white dresses and sang hymns to the May before having strawberries and cream for breakfast.

White horses, sadly, do not have full representation in my part of Temescal. But the strawberries from just south of here are finally starting to get sweet (all that rain delayed the season somewhat). If you look, you can probably find some rhubarb, too. Any new kind of fruit is very welcome right now, during this season when the weather feels like spring but winter's kales and citrus are still hanging on.

Rhubarb

Remember that rainy scene in the beginning of Animal Vegetable Miracle, when author Barbara Kingsolver, in the first week of her locavore experiment, is despondent at the thought of returning home to her banana-less household with no fruit? Drenched by a spring downpour, she splashes through the farmers' market and is rewarded at last with a beautiful bundle of red-stemmed rhubarb.

Unless you're a gardener and an old-fashioned pie-lover, you've probably never seen rhubarb growing, and you might not recognize it even if you did. A perennial plant, it forms a low, leafy mound, with wide spinachy leaves the size of a hat. Look under the leaves and you'll see long, reddish stalks coming up from the ground. Grip one firmly and pull it out. Trim off the mildly toxic leaf, and there you have it, a sour, sour stalk of what used to be called pieplant.

Still, it doesn't take much sweetening to bring out its lovely tangy fruitiness, one that matches incredibly well with both strawberries and orange.

Lots of recipes tell you to put the rhubarb through all sorts of elaborate machinations before putting it in the pie. What a bunch of, well, rhubarb! Just cut it up, toss it with sugar and a little cornstarch, and you're on your way to pie heaven. The only caveat is that rhubarb contains a lot of water, which the sugar will pull out, so you want to make your filling just before you're ready to bake your pie. Otherwise, you'll end up with a lot of small pieces of fruit floating in a big puddle of syrupy liquid.

Don't go overboard with the cornstarch; being juicy is one of this pie's homemade charms. Vanilla ice cream is the perfect accompaniment.

Because this is a very juicy pie, it's good to use a lattice crust to let the steam out. Yes, making a proper lattice does take some concentration and a little finger-dexterity, but I find the few minutes' effort to be well-rewarded by the amazement this fancy-pants basket weave inspires. If, for some smart reason, your utensil drawer contains a little crinkled-edged pastry or ravioli wheel, now's the time to use it. It will make your pie crust look incredibly 1950s-cute.

So, this is how you do it: Lay your longest strip of dough across the middle of the pie. Then lay another long strip crosswise across the middle. Lay another strip down next the first. Then lay down another crosswise strip, only weave it under the first strip and over the second one. Keep doing this, alternating vertical and horizontal strips, lifting the strips as necessary to get that cute under-and-over pattern. If your strip breaks, just jam the pieces back together or hide the broken parts under another strip.

You can make this either as one pie or six three- to four-inch tarts. In order to get the right crust-to-fruit ratio, I would use tart pans or ramekins that are at least two inches deep.

Recipe: Strawberry Rhubarb Tarts

Summary:These pretty pink tarts are a sweet, tangy taste of spring. Because the filling is very moist, it's best served the day it's made, to avoid a soggy bottom crust. You can also make this as a single strawberry rhubarb pie.

By Stephanie Rosenbaum

Prep time: 2 hours, plus 1 hour chilling time for dough
Cook time: 45 min
Total time: 3 hours 45 min
Yield: 6 tarts or 1 pie

Ingredients

Crust:
• 2 1/2 cups flour
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1 tbsp sugar
• 2 sticks (1/2 lb) butter, very cold
• 1 tbsp cider vinegar
• 6-8 tbsp ice water

Filling:

• 5- 6 stalks rhubarb, about 1 1/2 lbs, trimmed and chopped into 1/2-inch pieces (should make about 4 cups)
• 2/3 cup sugar
• 4 tsp cornstarch
• 1 tsp finely grated orange rind
• 1 box organic strawberries, hulled and sliced

Instructions

1. In a large bowl, mix dry ingredients. Cut butter into cubes, and toss in dry ingredients until butter is completely coated. Using a pastry blender or your fingertips, cut butter into flour until it is the size of biggish peas. Leave it chunkier than you think you should.
2. Mix cider vinegar into water. Add 5 tbsp of water mixture all at once, stirring and tossing with your fingertips. Gently scooping and mixing in any dry patches as you go, add just enough more water so that you can squeeze a handful of dough together into a rough ball. Flatten into two disks, wrap in plastic (or pop into 2 large resealable plastic bags) and chill for at least an hour.
3. Then, roll out one round on a well-floured surface. For tarts, cut circles of dough just slightly larger than each tart pan. Drape each dough circle over a tart pan and gently press it in so pan is lined evenly. Put tart pans back in fridge to chill while you make your filling.
4. Preheat oven to 375F. Mix sugar and cornstarch together, and pour over rhubarb, strawberries, and orange rind. Toss it a few times. Set aside while you roll out the top crust.
5. Roll out your second dough round. Cut your top crust into strips for the lattice.
6. Take the chilled crusts out of the fridge. Scoop filling generously into each pan, adding in the sugary goo from the bottom of the bowl. (If it seems like you have a lot of liquid left in the bowl, pour it off before you scoop in any leftover goo.) Weave your lattice on top of each tart. Sprinkle with sugar and place on a big foil-lined baking sheet in the oven. (Why a baking sheet? Because some juice going to bubble over and burn, and a baking sheet is easier to clean than the bottom of the oven.)
7. Bake for 40-45 minutes, until crust is golden and filling is juicy and bubbling. Don't worry if filling seems a little soupy at first; it will thicken as it cools.

I'm not a vegetarian. It's not that I have anything against it really, I'm just far too hedonistic to limit myself. So with a healthy dose of hedonism—and summer's wares peaking—I find myself gorging on more and more vegetables and fruits fresh from the market. Meat has taken a backseat. I'd rather bite into a big juicy tomato than a big juicy steak.

And, as in my last post on market suppers, I'm constantly looking for new and delectable ways to eat them—even though currently it seems to be raw, out of hand, and with little or no embellishment. When I'm feeling a bit more inspired, and have a little extra pastry dough on hand (which is actually quite often as I make way more than I need and store extra disks in my freezer), I love tucking whatever leftover vegetables that need to be eaten into a quiche or tart, like this one. It is deliciously simple and gooey with three different kinds of cheese.

The recipe below is for a zucchini tart, because I can't seem to stop loading up on them each week at the market. But to make this an any-kind-of-vegetable tart, replace the zucchini with about 1/2 cup sautéed leeks; blanched asparagus, green beans or chopped broccoli or cauliflower; freshly cooked chopped spinach or other greens; fresh, chopped tomatoes; fresh corn kernels; or a mixture of any of these. You can also add a sprinkle of fresh herbs, like basil, marjoram, oregano, chives, or swap out the cheeses for your favorite.

The point is, this is an extremely versatile way to make your own seasonal specialty. Or just find something new to do with that bounty of fresh veggies you have in your fridge.

Zucchini (Or Any Veggie) Tart

Makes: One 10-inch tart

Ingredients:
One 10-inch tart pan lined with flaky pie dough (see recipe below or use your favorite recipe)
3 zucchini, trimmed
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup cubed fresh mozzarella
3 eggs
1/4 cup crème fraiche or sour cream
1/4 cup milk
1/3 cup shredded fontina cheese
3 tablespoons grated Parmesan

Preparation:
1. Preheat the oven to 400F. Line the tart pan with the dough, then line the dough with foil. Fill with ceramic pie weights or beans or rice. Place the tart shell on a baking sheet and bake until it starts to dry out, about 15 minutes. Remove the foil and weights and continue to bake until very light golden brown. Remove from the oven and set aside.

2. While the tart shell is baking, shred the zucchini on the large holes of a box grater-shredder onto paper towels. Spread evenly and sprinkle with salt. Let sit for about 20 minutes. Using paper towels, blot the zucchini dry (try to get it as dry as possible).

3. Sprinkle the zucchini and mozzarella evenly in the lined tart pan. In a bowl, whisk together the eggs, crème fraiche, and milk. Season with salt and pepper. Pour evenly over the zucchini. Sprinkle the fontina and Parmesan evenly over the top.

4. Bake until the filling is set and the top is golden brown, about 25 minutes. If you want to get the cheese extra bubbly and brown, place under the broiler for a minute. Let sit for a few minutes before cutting into wedges and serving.

Flaky Pie Dough

Makes: Enough for two 10-inch tarts

Ingredients:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
12 tablespoons very cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1/3 cup ice water + 1 tablespoon

Preparation:
1. To make the crust, in the bowl of a food processor, stir together the flour, and salt. Sprinkle the butter over the top and process for a few seconds, or just until the butter is slightly broken up into the flour but still in visible pieces. Sprinkle the water over the flour mixture evenly, then process until the mixture just starts to come together.

2. Dump the mixture out of the bowl onto 2 large sheets of plastic wrap. Press the dough together into a mound and then wrap with plastic and press into a flat disk. Refrigerate the dough until chilled, about 30 minutes or up to 1 day, or freeze for up to 1 month.

Yesterday was Bastille Day, France's Independence Day which, like the US is celebrated with parades and red, white and blue flags. That's where the similarity ends. At least from my vantage point. The parade was much more of a military parade with marching soldiers and imposing tanks flexing their military muscle down the Champs-Elysees rather than the baton twirling cheerleaders and Boy Scout troops sauntering up Main Street USA waving to Mom and Dad on the side. The crescendo was the French version of the Blue Angels screaming up the Champs-Elysees from La Defense emitting a red, white and blue trail of smoke.

Quite spectacular and impressive over all but I absolutely missed the down home, charming, local parades I grew up walking in with my Camp Fire Girl troops where your friends and grandparents would be screaming at you from the sidewalk and you'd end up at the town park with a bandstand and the local Kiwanas or Rotary Club playing the Star-Spangled Banner, Oh When the Saints and God Bless America on accordions and trumpets. Bar-b-ques would be sizzling, slurpees flowing and kids with huge cotton candies running everywhere. So how do I impart a little bit of the Good Ol' USA into a French celebration? I was going to bake another apple pie but I thought that was too obvious and I refused to do that ubiquitous raspberry/shredded coconut/blueberry striped cake. . So I opted for a rustic apricot pie with hazelnuts and a little brandy splashed in for good measure. I love the French word for brandy: eau-de-vie, or water of life. Amen and pass the pie!

The apricots at the market nearly took my breath away. Vibrant orange to coral to red, perfectly plump and I so wanted to squeeze one but dare not face the wrath of the produce lady so I politely requested a kilo (a little more than two pounds) which she delicately measured into a little paper bag. I ran home and squeezed them all. :-)

More decades ago than I care to admit, I was in my apricot period. Picasso had his rose period, I had my apricot period. Apricot colored clothes, stationery, sheets, apricot jam, apricots, apricot pie, apricot ice cream all inspired by a huge apricot tree in our yard that practically rained down those precious fruits. One of my many chores was to rake the yard and pick up the fruit that was rotting on the ground. More often than not, I would first pick a few pockets full of apricots, sit under the tree and tuck in, juice running down my chin, spotting my little apricot-colored tops. Within minutes the bees would arrive, their sugar radar at full tilt, and chase me away.

I find etymology fascinating and "apricot" did not disappoint. Apricots are one of the earlier fruits to ripen so no coincidence that it derives from the Latin praecoc or praecox which means early ripening or precocious....as in a precocious child or one who matures at a very early age. Who knew?!

Apricots have been traced back 4,000 years when a fruit belonging to the rose family was discovered on the mountain slopes of China. They were subsequently introduced into Asia Minor (the Persian Empire) and the Mediterranean where they flourished in that sultry climate. The Spanish Explorers brought apricots to the New World, specifically to California and the Spanish missions that dot the west coast of California.

In 1792, in what is now the heart of Silicon Valley, the first major production of apricots was recorded. In 1910, 96% of all apricots grown in the United States were produced in California and nearly 100 years later that statistic remains constant though most all of the apricot (and cherry, plum and peach) orchards were overrun by the hi-tech explosion and relocated to the San Joaquin Valley. Ironic that Apple took over the apricots. Sorry, couldn’t resist. A few fun facts on apricots include 1. no saturated fat, sodium, or cholesterol, 2. low fat, 3. high in vitamins A and C, and 4. A good source of potassium. You can't afford not to eat them!

So when I saw these precocious apricots beckoning me from their precarious pyramid, I couldn't resist. Nor could I resist the alliteration. Sorry, on to the pie!

Apricot Hazelnut Brandy Tart ~ Tarte aux Abricots avec Noisettes et Eau-de-Vie

1 package of pastry dough (sorry shuna, but i'm pastrily-challenged)
1.5 to 2 lbs of apricots
1/2 cup sugar
a few splashes of brandy

2 eggs
2 tbsp flour
1/2 cup creme fraiche

3 tbsp cup ground hazelnuts
1 small handful of whole hazelnuts

Options: Add bright raspberries or black berries for a gorgeous contrast. Scrape the insides of half a vanilla bean into the sugar. You can also add a few shakes of cinnamon or nutmeg and a few dots of butter on the top. A squeeze of half a lemon can also give it a kick. This one I kept simple. And if you want it really sweet, double the sugar.

1. Heat over to 400F / #7

2. Halve and pit the apricots. Lay them out on a dish cut side up and sprinkle with some of the sugar. Hold your thumb over the spout of the brandy bottle and splash some on all the apricots. Set aside and let sit for 15-20 minutes.

3. Roll out the dough. If you are using puff pastry, dock it or poke it all over with a fork. I used puff pastry here but a pate brisee or standard tart dough would work fine. You can also incorporate the ground almonds into the crust for more flavor if you are making it from scratch.

4. Cover the bottom with a thin layer of ground hazelnuts.

5. Bake it for 10 minutes. (this is called blink baking - browning a crust with nothing in it so that it cooks a bit which keeps it from getting soggy from the liquid filling.)

6. Mix the remaining sugar, eggs, flour, creme fraiche.

7. Chop whole hazelnuts and toast carefully in a non-stick pan on the stove.

8. Take it out pie crust from oven and pour in the sugar, eggs mixture.

9. Arrange the apricot halves around the pie dish as you'd like. I had a lot of apricots so I stood them up on their sides at an angle to fit them all in.

10. Sprinkle with toasted chopped hazelnuts.

11. Put tart in oven and reduce heat to 350F / #5. Cook for 30 to 45 minutes, depending on your oven. I'd rather cook it longer at a lower temperature.

12. Take out and let cool for at least an hour.

Bon appetit and Vive la France!

Every year for the past 5 or 6 years I've made a decision to find fresh sour cherries in the Bay Area. It has never happened for me. I've either missed it by a week, or no one knows anyone who grows them. So this year, I decided to start early. Very early. And do a lot of research. First, however, I'll take a step back and offer up a few facts.

Also called tart or "pie" cherries, the most popular variety of sour cherries grown in the United States is the Montmorency. They are harvested in the hot summer month of July. And while they are primarily grown in Michigan and New York, there are surely other sour cherry farmers sprinkled throughout the U.S. Sour cherries are quite easy to find in Europe. Just walk down any street in Paris in the summer and the produce bins are spilling over with sour cherries. That doesn't help me. Who is going to go to Paris and bake a cherry pie? Okay, maybe I'll have to resort to this, but for now, I've decided that I need to find them closer to home.

My pursuit was rekindled recently when I came across a jar of Bulgarian sour cherries in light syrup. I used them in a delicious cherry tart (see the recipe below). But instead of quelling the fire, it just stoked it further. A jar of cherries shipped halfway across the world is just not the same as using the real thing. I started asking farmers at the market (no luck). I emailed CUESA, the Center for Urban Education and Sustainable Agriculture, which manages the SF Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market (still haven't heard back, I'll let you know what I hear). I googled SF sour cherries, Bay Area sour cherries, west coast sour cherries? I searched the internet. I asked friends. I started looking into planting a tree. They are difficult to keep alive. Okay, so I'm a little obsessive.

So now I need your help. I've only got 4 1/2 months. Do you know someone who grows sour cherries? Can you hook me up?

Sour Cherry Tart

FOR THE DOUGH
2 cups flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter
1 egg yolk
5-7 tablespoons ice cold water

FOR THE FILLING
2 large jars Bulgarian sour cherries in light syrup (you should have about 3 heaping cups of cherries without juice)*
1/4 cup flour
2/3 cup sugar

1 egg, well beaten
Sugar for sprinkling

To make the dough, put the flour, sugar, and salt in the bowl of a food processor and pulse a few times to mix. Add the butter and pulse until the butter is about the size of large peas. Stir in the egg yolk and water with a spoon. Dump the mixture onto a work surface and knead just until the dough comes together. Form into a disk, wrap with plastic and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 375F. Roll out 2/3 of the dough and line a 9-inch tart pan with a removeable bottom, letting the excess dough hang over the edge. Roll the rolling pin over the edge. Add the dough scraps to the remaining dough and roll into a rectangle, about 10 inches long and 8 inches wide. Cut out about 10 strips of equal width.

Drain the cherries, saving about 1/2 cup of juice. Put the cherries into a bowl. Mix the reserved juice with the flour and strain over the cherries. Stir in the sugar. Pour the cherries into the lined tart, making an even layer. Place 5 of the dough strips, evenly spaced, over the top of the tart. Place the remaining 5 strips perpendicular to the first 5 strips. Using a pastry brush, brush the dough strips with the beaten egg. Sprinkle with sugar. Place the tart pan on a baking sheet and bake the tart until golden brown and the filling is bubbly, about 50 minutes. If the top crust starts to get too brown, cover it loosely with a sheet of foil. Let cool slightly on a wire rack before serving. Serve with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream.

*Please don't use canned cherries. Ick. If you are lucky, you might find frozen sour cherries, but don't hold your breath.