Chocolate Strawberry Lemon Cream Tart

So, this is what I've been doing these past few days: a chocolate strawberry lemon cream tart! This took a lot longer than I thought it would for a tart, but I guess it couldn't be helped with the four hours of chilling required for the lemon cream. So, if anyone would like to try this recipe out, here goes:

 

 

 

 

The crust's recipe is taken from Taste and Tell. Check it out, she's got some amazing recipes!

Chocolate Shortbread Tart Dough

1 1/4 c. all-purpose flour
1/4 c. unsweetened cocoa powder
1/4 c. confectioners' sugar
1/4 t. salt
1 stick plus 1 T. (9 T) very cold butter, cut into small pieces
1 large egg yolk

Put the flour, cocoa powder confectioners sugar and salt in a food processor and pulse to combine. Scatter the pieces of butter over the dry ingredients and pulse until the butter is coarsely cut in - you should have pieces the size of oatmeal flakes and some the size of peas. Stir the yolk, just to break it up, and add it a little at a time, pulsing after each addition. When the egg is in, process in long pulses - about 10 seconds each - until the dough, which will look granular soon after the egg is added, forms clumps and curds. Just before you reach this stage, the sound of the machine working the dough will change. Turn the dough out onto a work surface and very lightly and sparingly knead the dough just to incorporate any dry ingredients that might have escaped mixing. Press the dough into the pan. Freeze the crust for at least 30 minutes before baking. Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 375 F. Butter the shiny side of a piece of aluminum foil and fit the foil, buttered side down, tightly against the crust. (Since you froze the crust, you can bake it without weights.) Put the tart pan on a baking sheet and bake the crust for 25 minutes. Carefully remove the foil. If the crust has puffed, press it down gently with the back of a spoon.

The lemon cream was taken from two places: here and here.

Lemon Cream

1 cup sugar
Finely grated zest of 3 lemons
4 large eggs
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice (from 4-5 lemons)
2 sticks plus 5 tablespoons (10-1/2 ounces) unsalted butter, cut into tablespoon-size pieces, at room temperature
Getting Ready: Have an instant-read thermometer, a strainer and a blender (first choice) or food processor at hand. Bring a few inches of water to a simmer in a saucepan.
1. Put the sugar and zest in a large heatproof bowl that can be set over the pan of simmering water. Off the heat, rub the sugar and zest together between your fingers until the sugar is moist, grainy and very aromatic. Whisk in the eggs, followed by the lemon juice.
2. Set the bowl over the pan, and start stirring with the whisk as soon as the mixture feels tepid to the touch. Cook the lemon cream until it reaches 180 degrees F. As you whisk—you must whisk constantly to keep the eggs from scrambling—you’ll see that the cream will start out light and foamy, then the bubbles will get bigger, and then, as it gets closer to 180 degrees F, it will start to thicken and the whisk will leave tracks. Heads up at this point—the tracks mean the cream is almost ready. Don’t stop whisking or checking the temperature, and have patience—depending on how much heat you’re giving the cream, getting to temp can take as long as 10 minutes.
3. As soon as it reaches 180 degrees F, remove the cream from the heat and strain it into the container of the blender (or food processor); discard the zest. Let the cream stand, stirring occasionally, until it cools to 140 degrees F, about 10 minutes.
4. Turn the blender to high (or turn on the processor) and, with the machine going, add the butter about 5 pieces at a time. Scrape down the sides of the container as needed as you incorporate the butter. Once the butter is in, keep the machine going—to get the perfect light, airy texture of lemon-cream dreams, you must continue to blend the cream for another 3 minutes. If your machine protests and gets a bit too hot, work in 1-minute intervals, giving the machine a little rest between beats.
5. Pour the cream into a container, press a piece of plastic wrap against the surface to create an airtight seal and refrigerate for at least 4 hours or overnight. (The cream will keep in the fridge for 4 days and, or tightly sealed, in the freezer for up to 2 months; thaw it overnight in the refrigerator.)
6. When you are ready to assemble the tart, just whisk the cream to loosen it and spoon it into the tart shell. Serve the tart, or refrigerate until needed.

Then, I added the chocolate glaze, taken from Taste and Tell, again.

Chocolate Ganache Glaze

4 ounces chocolate, chopped finely (I used semi-sweet)
1/2 c. heavy cream
2 T. sugar
2 T. water

Put the chopped chocolate in a heatproof bowl. Bring the cream, sugar and water to a full boil, then pour the liquid over the chocolate and let it sit for 30 seconds. Working with a whisk or rubber spatula, gently stir the chocolate and cream together in small circles, starting at the center of the bowl and working your way out in increasingly larger concentric circles.

Personal notes:  

I'm a bit miffed by the texture of the of the crust. I was expecting more of a crumbly texture, y'know. Maybe it has something to do with either freezing it for more than 30 minutes, or the blending process. Anyways, if anyone tries it out, let me know how it turns out.

The lemon cream came out pretty well. It might even be too flavourful, if that makes sense. I might tone down on the lemon zest next time. I think too much lemon flavour is a little reminiscent of cleaning products. Maybe I'll half the lemon zest with lime. Also, my mother suggested adding flour to the lemon cream, to make it thicker and stand firmer. I'm not sure about that. I might try it, though I think it just became a bit pasty. 

Anyhow, there you have it.  

 

 

 

Macro Mondays - "Bling"

 

 

 

Moar Xmas

Macro Mondays - "Xmas, of course"

Warm'd

A shallow view into my process and how i (very unthoroughly) warm up at the piano.

Yellow Sundress

“Please.”

I raise my head.

“I beg you.”

I stare into her eyes, searching, seeking.

“Won’t you come back?”

The biting cold of the morning air snakes down my throat, and my voice catches a bit.

“Don’t you remember? All those darned memories. All those fun times we had, all those times? I know you don’t want to, I know you want to. I know you’re trying to push me away, I know that, I know. But I also see it, feel it. You remember those times.”

I gaze hopefully, longingly.

“I remember those times. When we used to spend whole days in that park, in those hot summer days. It was a little run-down, behind the old fabric and a little out of place in that dusty square. It was a little old and not very nice to look at, but to me it was our home. I would push you on the swings endlessly, as you told me about your dreams, your wishes, your loves, your pains, your joys, your everything. I knew you, then. I know you now. I know you see it, them, those summer days. The ice cream, the popsicles, or the lollipops. You liked those purple popsicles most. You’d always get yelled at, remember? Yeah, you’d get yelled at because your mouth would turn all purple. Other times you’d really be punished, because you put purple stains on your yellow sundress. I loved that sundress, you know. Do you remember that sundress?”

I smile.

“When we ran across the tall grass fields, you were this bright yellow speck in the distance. You’re way faster than me, you’d say. But really, you must have known I let you run around and win all the time. And then I’d gaze at you from afar, as you dashed around the field, all bright yellow from your hair to your shoes. You had yellow shoes too, but then you stopped wearing them, because they’d get really dirty from running around in muddy soil.... Please.”

I take a step forward, carefully, fearfully. My hand rises, reaching out toward you.

“Please, don’t leave me.”

I plead with my eyes, my hand, my being.

“Do you remember, then, that one time? That one time, I’m sure you remember. You must remember. It was white everywhere, all white. I chased you around, and we tumbled and fell. Then we spread our arms and legs wide, and reached out to the furthest we could, all around us. You told me we were angels, like this. And I didn’t see it, couldn’t see anything but you as an angel. Not me, never. But then you stood up, held out your hand and pulled me up. You turned me around and pointed: ‘Look,’ you said. ‘we’re angels.’ And I looked and you were right. You turned to me, clasped both your gloved hands around my face and softly touched your lips to mine, and entwined our souls together.”

I take another step forward, emboldened, fearful.

“Please, don’t leave me. Don’t jump.”

I take one more step, then I rush forward with all my being, all my love, both my hands raised forward to grasp...

And I hit the railing, my fingers clutching at nothing but droplets. And my arms are soaked, and so is the rest of my black suit, darkened further. And I look around, but all that greets me is a sea of black umbrellas.