‘Tis The Citrus.

As the holiday food frenzys start to wind down, it might be a good  idea to look ahead and (at least) think about lightening things up a bit. Nothing fits that bill more than a perky dose of bright fresh citrus. During the grey drab winter months, varieties of citrus are like welcomed wet bursts of sunshine and light. 'Tis the season for everyday citrus to step into the light. Sweetened up a bit, or a lot, their bright acidic undertones still poke through the fray and take center stage. I held to that notion with an unusual riff on tarte tatin.  Oh sure, while an orange tarte tatin  teeters on the edge of sweet, it still brings a bright acidity to the party for an interesting take on the usual tarte tatin. Typically filled with apples, pears, or other kinds of stone fruit, tarte trains can really be filled with just about anything. That said, they can also be very tricky. Anything, and I mean anything, that has to be assembled, cooked, and inverted is risky business. There's always that moment of truth that comes with the big reveal. The big flip and turnout. Will it slip right out? Will it Stick? Will it half stick, half slip? Will it be burned? Will it be cooked? Ultimately, will it fail? More times than not, tarte tatins behave beautifully. Go for it. No risk, no reward.   Either it'll flip out beautifully or it'll flop out and make a great topping for ice cream Sundays. Either way, it's a total win. Go big and let the tarte tatin fall where it may.

Orange Tarte Tatin

Tart tatins are simple little things. That said, their simplicity belies their wow factor. 

After melting 2/3 cups light brown sugar and 6 tablespoons salted butter in a cast iron skillet, I overlapped thinly sliced oranges concentrically around the skillet until they covered the bottom of thes killet before returning the skillet  to the flame. When the sugar started bubbling under and around the oranges, I pulled the skillet from the heat and let it cool for about 5 minutes before covering the oranges with a sheet of thawed puffy pastry and tightly tucking the overhanging pastry around the edges of the oranges, allowing the pastry to come in contact with the bottom of the skillet. To give it a little extra richness and crunch, I buttered the puff pastry with salted buttered, letting the extra butter drip down the edges and pool around the pastry before sliding the tarte tatin into a preheated 400 degree oven. At the 40 minute mark, the pastry was beautifully browned and crisp, so I pulled it from the oven to bubble down and cool for just a bit, about 5 minutes. Being mindful to catch it before the sugared oranges hardened and set up completely, I carefully inverted the tarte tatin onto a plate before drizzling the aromatic sticky syrup over the top to literally seal the deal.

It slipped right out. No drama. No half in half out. 

Glistening from the caramelized syrup, the glazed oranges seemed to melt into the shatteringly crisp pastry. Sticky and soft, the sweetened pulp countered the flaky crunch of the crust  and the firm bite of the candied peels in a way that was reminiscent of freshly made fancy orange marmalade slathered over simple buttered toast.

Orange Tarte Tatin.

Marmalade on toast. 

Fabulous. 

Winter Candy

It doesn't take long for the cold gray days of winter to erase the warm embrace of summer. With a damp chill in the air, those sun-kissed tomatoes, overflowing corn trucks, delicate lettuces, and vibrant vegetables seem like distant childhood memories. The lucky folks, with enough fortitude to put up their summer hauls, have pantries and freezers stocked for the long haul. Constant visceral reminders of summer.  Still, during the winter months, we all revel in the jeweled-toned winter squash, hardy greens, dried beans, pantry goods, turnips, and wild array of overwintered potatoes.

And just when the muted colors of winter seem to lull and blanket us with calm, perky winter citrus rolls into town, crashes the party, and changes everything. Sweet. Acidic. Bright. Sun bombs.

Upside Down Grapefruit Polenta Cake with Candied Almonds.

Sugar Sugar.
Candied Almonds.
Unlike traditional sugar-coated baked candied almonds, these nuts are a fun riff on spun sugar without the frenzy of a whirling dervish.

I combined 2 cups granulated sugar with 1/2 cup water in a heavy sauce pan. After bringing the combo to a boil, I let it rip without stirring (scraping down the sides with a pastry brush to prevent crystals ) until it bubbled and foamed. When it turned light amber, about 8-10 minutes, I pulled the molten sugar from the heat and carefully placed the pan over an ice bath to stop the cooking process. After letting caramelized sugar cool just enough to drizzle or spin, I skewered individual blanched whole almonds, slipped them through caramel, and hung them upside down to
completely cool. When the sugar hardened, I snipped off the ends and set the candied almonds aside.

 Almost Candied Grapefruit.
Wanting to utilize the rind, pith, and flesh of the grapefruit, I knew I needed to temper the bitterness of the peel before incorporating it into the cake. Sidestepping the traditional method of an upside cake, I brought 1 cup sugar and 1/2 cup fresh squeezed and strained ruby red grapefruit juice to a rolling boil in a large cast iron skillet before reducing it to a gentle simmer and sliding 3/4" thick grapefruit slices ( in single layer batches) into the simmering syrup. When the pithy peels turned translucent, I scooped the grapefruit slices onto parchment paper, reserving the gloriously sticky grapefruit syrup.

Eat Cake.
Grapefruit polenta cake.
Polenta cake (gluten free) is very forgiving.  Almost teetering on the edge of savory, it's a fabulous foil for the sweet/tart grapefruit.

I sifted 2 cups almond flour, 3/4 cup fine polenta, and 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder into a bowl and set it aside. Using a stand mixer with a paddle attachment, I creamed 1 3/4 sticks room temperature unsalted butter and 1 cup castor sugar until light and airy. With the mixer running, I added 1 teaspoon vanilla extract and incorporated 3 large eggs one at a time, alternating 1/3 of the flour mixture after the addition of each egg, until the batter was well blended.

After folding 2 tablespoons of grapefruit zest into the batter, I buttered  4" ramekins,  lined them with trimmed parchment paper, buttered the parchment paper, and nestled the grapefruit slices into the bottom of each ramekin before pouring the batter into the ramekins, smoothing the tops with an offset spatula, and sliding them into a preheated 350 degree oven for 35-40 minutes.

When the toothpick test came out clean, I pulled the cakes from the oven, brushed the tops with the grapefruit syrup, and set them onto a wire rack to cool.

Upside Down.
After 10 minutes, I inverted the cakes, peeled away the parchment paper, and drizzled the remainder of the reserved grapefruit syrup over the now downside up grapefruit before finishing with flaked sea salt, candied almonds, and fresh mint.

Let the sunshine in.