tarte aux fraises
a recipe to celebrate strawberry season
Welcome to mama eats, a twice-weekly newsletter inspired by a simple + seasonal home life. This week’s post, a recipe for strawberry tart, is free to all readers, barring the video of me making it which is viewable by paid subscribers. I try to provide as much free content as possible, however, this newsletter is a labor of love and I am a busy mother of three. If you have the means and find value in what I share, please consider becoming a paid subscriber, which also gives you the benefit of access to the growing archive (posts over a month old).
The arrival of strawberry season begins for us in late April or early May. We grow a handful of plants at home, and buy many more flats throughout the season from the farmer’s market and fruit stands- but going out to the field ourselves for a u-pick is what signals spring to me. Starting in early April, I check every few days with the farm to see if the strawberries are ready. It is one of our most cherished springtime rituals. That first berry picked goes straight into the mouth, warm from the sun- a gustatory delight, savagely red all the way through, juice dripping down the chin, the burst of fragrant sweetness. On a warm day, you can smell them in the fields from the road. It reminds me of Robin Wall Kimmerer’s ode to strawberries in Braiding Sweetgrass. She talks about the fact that “You could smell ripe strawberries before you saw them, the fragrance mingling with the smell of the damp ground”.
Strawberries are the first fruit of spring here, and they bring so much anticipation and pleasure after a winter of storage apples and (albeit delicious) citrus. The ease by which they can be plucked and eaten without any embellishment only contributes to their appeal, and begins the long seasonal carousel of fruit anew… strawberries, then blueberries and cherries, raspberries, apricots, blackberries, nectarines and peaches, melons, grapes, and then back to apples and pears, quince, and finally, citrus.
In celebration of the return of warmth and juicy fruit, I always make a tarte aux fraises with the most perfect, small strawberries picked. It is a very simple tart, a open crust with vanilla scented pastry cream inside, topped with raw whole or sliced strawberries, glazed with a bit of jelly for gloss and sweetness. It is wonderful served as a little something sweet after a spring dinner party.
For this imaginary dinner party, I’d begin with a plate fresh juicy radishes (roots trimmed and a few leaves left on for a handle) + softened butter and coarse salt to start, plus a well chilled white wine. A main course of pappardelle with arugula pesto (make pesto ahead for ease) and simply sauteed asparagus and peas. Next, a fresh crunchy salad of little gem lettuces with strips of carrot (use a vegetable peeler), dill and parsley leaves, and a shallot vinaigrette. Follow with this beautiful tart for a sweet ending to the meal.
tarte aux fraises
notes: My tart pan in 8 inches measured in the inside bottom, 9 inches at the top. I use a barista oat milk for the crème (and in pumpkin pie!) as I find its taste and texture superior in custard type recipes, but it will work with whatever (unsweetened) milk you prefer. You can easily swap out the strawberries for other ripe, juicy fruit in season- such as peaches, raspberries, blueberries, apricots, and roasted pears. You can also play around with omitting the vanilla and infusing other flavors into the crème: lemon verbena leaves, rum, almond extract, lemon zest, peach leaves…
for the tart crust (makes enough for 2x 8 inch tarts):
200 grams all purpose flour
50 g almond flour
50 g powdered sugar
100 g cold salted butter, cut into small cubes
45-75 g ice cold water, plus more as needed (3-5 tbsp)
Mix together in a bowl both of the flours and the powdered sugar. Add the butter and scrunch it into the flour with your fingertips, pinching/rubbing each cube flat between fingers into the flour, over and over, till it resembles a bowl of large coconut flakes mixed into breadcrumbs. Drizzle over the water, using your hands mix it into the dough gently until a shaggy dough forms, adding extra water a tablespoonful at a time if needed. Knead the dough a few times, just enough to bring it into a ball- careful not to overwork it so that the pastry remains tender. Pat flat into a disc and wrap in a piece of parchment (I crumple it into a ball first and then unfold/smooth it out to make it more pliable and able to wrap around the dough) and refrigerate at least one hour or up to one week (or freeze up to two months).
Roll out pastry on a sheet of parchment, popping it back in the fridge if needed (if the dough gets too soft, refrigerate for 10 minutes or till firm again). Roll out to a thickness of about 4 mm // ⅛ inch. Place the tart pan on top of the rolled out dough, centered, and flip it over. Peel the parchment off the dough and press the dough into the pan, trimming off the edges to fit. Save the trimmed excess; you will have enough to make another tart.
Bake for about 25 minutes at 350 f // 180 c until toasty and golden all over. Let cool completely.
for the crème pâtissière:
5 tbsp // 45g cornstarch
2 cups // 480 ml milk
¾ cup // 150 g sugar
a pinch of ground turmeric, optional, for color
3 tbsp // 42 g butter, cut into small pieces
1 tsp vanilla extract or paste
Cut a round of parchment paper that fits into a medium mixing bowl (you can place the bowl upside down on a piece of parchment, trace round the rim with a marker, and then cut the circle out).
Whisk together the cornstarch with ½ cup // 120 ml cold water in a medium bowl until smooth, and set aside. Add the milk, sugar, and turmeric together in a small pot and bring to a boil over medium high heat, whisking well to dissolve sugar. Turn down heat to medium. Whisk cornstarch mixture again to re-combine (cornstarch tends to settle at the bottom) and while whisking constantly, slowly pour in the cornstarch mix into the pot with the milk. Keep whisking, being sure to scrape the bottom well as the cream will thicken quickly.
When cream coats a spoon thickly (be sure it is quite thick as it will not thicken a huge amount when cool), remove from heat and whisk in the butter, vanilla and turmeric. Pour into a bowl and immediately cover surface with the round of parchment, pressing down gently to ensure contact- this will prevent a thick “skin” from forming on the surface. Refrigerate at least 1 hour.
to assemble the tart:
1 lb // 500 g fresh, sweet, juicy strawberries
1/4 cup red currant jelly (optional, for glaze)
fully baked and cooled tart shell, from above
crème pâtissière, from above
Scoop the crème into the tart shell and smooth out with the back of a spoon. Arrange over the strawberries- you can leave them whole (remove stem and hull them first) if they are small and tender, if they are larger I recommend cutting into slices and layering them in a pattern that pleases the eye.
If making a glaze: heat the jelly in a small pan over low heat until it is runny. Paint it over the strawberries with a pastry brush for a glossy effect.
Refrigerate the tart for at least a few hours to give the custard a chance to firm a bit more. Slice and serve right away.
postscript: With my extra tart dough, I made a second tart in which I did not blind bake the crust- rather, I fitted the dough to the tart pan, then spread over the dough a frangipane (almond cream: I used about 30g sugar, 10g flour, 55g almond flour, a splash of almond extract or to taste, and enough softened butter to mix it all into a thickish paste- about 3 tbsp), then layered a pint of sliced strawberries and 3 stalks of rhubarb that had been tossed together with sugar, vanilla, and cornstarch. I then baked the tart for about 35 minutes at 350 f / 180 c. It was very delicious, especially if you love almond flavor.
I hope you are able to make this delightful little tart, and eat it together with loved ones- the best part of cooking anything. Leaving you with a poem to encapsulate this short season of strawberries. For paid subscribers, find below, after the poem, the video of me making the tart aux fraises. Thank you for your support! xx A
Strawberrying My hands are murder-red. Many a plump head drops on the heap in the basket. Or, ripe to bursting, they might be hearts, matching the blackbird’s wing-fleck. Gripped to a reed he shrieks his ko-ka-ree in the next field. He’s left his peck in some juicy cheeks, when at first blush and mostly white, they showed streaks of sweetness to the marauder. We’re picking near the shore, the morning sunny, a slight wind moving rough-veined leaves our hands rumple among. Fingers find by feel the ready fruit in clusters. Here and there, their squishy wounds . . . . Flesh was perfect yesterday . . . . June was for gorging . . . . sweet hearts young and firm before decay. “Take only the biggest, and not too ripe,” a mother calls to her girl and boy, barefoot in the furrows. “Don’t step on any. Don’t change rows. Don’t eat too many.” Mesmerized by the largesse, the children squat and pull and pick handfuls of rich scarlets, half for the baskets, half for avid mouths. Soon, whole faces are stained. A crop this thick begs for plunder. Ripeness wants to be ravished, as udders of cows when hard, the blue-veined bags distended, ache to be stripped. Hunkered in mud between the rows, sun burning the backs of our necks, we grope for, and rip loose soft nippled heads. If they bleed—too soft— let them stay. Let them rot in the heat. When, hidden away in a damp hollow under moldy leaves, I come upon a clump of heart-shapes once red, now spiderspit-gray, intact but empty, still attached to their dead stems— families smothered as at Pompeii—I rise and stretch. I eat one more big ripe lopped head. Red-handed, I leave the field. May Swenson, The Complete Love Poems of May Swenson, 1991