Apricot Raspberry Galette, Or Look What I Made!

Under Elisabeth Prueitt’s tutelage, I feel invincible.
She’s the co-founder of Tartine Bakery in San Francisco, head pastry chef, and, purveyor of all things baked and sweet and wonderful. Along with her husband Chad Robertson, they’ve turned Tartine into something of an institution. This is a widely-acknowledged fact. Even if institutions are generally quite a bit older than the 10 years that this bakery’s been around. Anyway, I’m sure many of you savvy cooks and bakers have heard of it, so I won’t wax any more poetic except to say that the almond croissants are SO SO good.
Instead, I meant to give you a recipe for an apricot raspberry galette.

I’ve always been charmed by galettes; they’re so endearing and sweet, homely little things brimming with the fresh and organic. At the same time, I’ve always been intimidated by the idea of making the crust—tart doughs seem such fickle things. So in undertaking this recipe, I knew that I wanted to turn to Prueitt’s cookbook Tartine… she’s never led me astray, you see.
She describes galettes as “quintessentially beautiful rustic tarts… they are very satisfying to make.” I wanted to grasp satisfying! More than that, I wanted to feel the gratification that comes from sinking my teeth into something substantial. I wanted to feel the flour and butter between my fingers, build something lovely and wholesome completely out of scratch. The process of baking, of creating really, is never as palpable as when you’re getting your hands (and in my case, feet) dirty, smearing butter everywhere, flexing those arm muscles rolling and lifting and pleating. It’s a rewarding feeling.
So I took out the rolling pin—we don’t see much of it these days—and began the painstaking process of flattening frozen butter into long thin strips in flour. Which came together into something that resembled dough. Which came together into something that resembled a free-formed tart. And when it came out of the oven, I was astonished to find a galette. It came out rustic indeed. Seven-sided, lopsided, shriveled fruit and all, I loved it upon sight. Because I’d made it from scratch.


APRICOT RASPBERRY GALETTE
Fruit Galette recipe in Tartine by Elisabeth Prueitt & Chad Robertson
Makes 1 large galette or 6 mini galettes
Ingredients:
For dough:
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, very cold
1/2 cup water
3/4 tsp salt
1 cup rye flour
1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour (or use all all-purpose if you’d like)
For filling:
3 cups fruit (berries, stone fruit, sauteed apples or pears, etc.)
2 to 4 Tbsp brown or granulated sugar
Lemon juice if needed
Egg wash:
1 large egg yolk
1 Tbsp heavy cream
Granulated sugar for sprinkling
Directions:
Cut the butter into 1-inch cubes and put them in the freezer. Measure the water, dissolve the salt into it, and put it into the freezer. Chill both the butter and the water for about 10 minutes.
Measure the flour onto your work surface and spread it into a rectangle about 1/3 inch deep. Don’t worry about mixing it, as it’ll get mixed in the process. Scatter the butter cubes over the flour and toss some flour over them so they don’t stick to your rolling pin. Begin rolling. When the butter starts flattening into long, thin strips, use a bench scraper to scoop up the sides so it’s about the same size as when you started. Repeat this rolling and scraping 3 to 4 more times.
Make a well in the center and pour in the cold water. With the bench scraper, scoop the sides of the dough into the center, mixing the water and flour in a cutting motion. Keep scraping and cutting until the dough is shaggy, then shape it into a rectangle about 10 by 7 inches. Dust the top lightly with flour. Roll out the flour until it’s about half as thin, then scrape all four sides back to its original shape and reroll. Repeat this a few more times until your dough is smooth, cohesive. You should end up with a 10 by 7 inch rectangle.
Transfer the dough to a large baking sheet, cover it with plastic wrap, and chill for about 1 hour.
While the dough is chilling, prepare your fruit. Peaches can be sliced into eighths, apricots quartered.
When the dough is chilled, you can divide it into six equal parts at this point. Roll the dough into a rough circle of about 14 inches in diameter if making a single galette or 6 to 7 inches if making mini galettes. (Prueitt gives lengthy instructions on how to do this, but for the sake of not being too fussy, I won’t go into details) Transfer the circle/s to a baking sheet and chill about 10 minutes.
Fill the center of each circle with fruit, leaving a 2-inch border if making a large galette, or a 1-inch border if making small. At this point, taste the fruit to decide how much sugar you want to sprinkle on top, anywhere from 2 to 4 Tbsp on the large galette or 1 to 2 tsp on each small galette. If you want, squeeze some lemon juice on top. Fold in the sides into that classically gorgeous galette shape, making sure to seal crevices where the juice can leak out. Chill for about 10 minutes, and start preheating the oven at 375 degrees F.
At this point, Prueitt says you can store them in the fridge, unwrapped, for a few hours or wrap them airtight and store them in the freezer for up to 2 weeks. Otherwise, make your egg wash by whisking together the cream and egg yolks. Brush the egg wash on the pastry edges and sprinkle them with granulated sugar.
Bake the galettes until the crust has visibly puffed and baked to a dark brown and the fruit juices are bubbling, 45 to 60 minutes for the large galette and 40 to 50 minutes for the small. Rotate halfway through for even browning. (If baking them straight from the freezer, tack on about 10 minutes to the baking time.) Remove from the oven and serve immediately, or let it cool and serve warm or at room temperature.
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Brussels Sprouts With Bacon And Juniper Berries

We recently sorted out that we’re hosting Thanksgiving this year. Nothing big, just some friends over for a small gathering, but still, Thanksgiving! The most important meal of the year! Talk about performance pressure. But, I think I’m just going to take it one step at a time. I’ve already decided we’re spatchcocking, and besides the turkey, isn’t everything else just gravy from there?
Did you know, up until I met Chris, I’d never eaten turkey? Thanksgivings with my family were such non-events, I can’t at all recall what we used to do. Really, I have no clue, and I’m really racking my brain here. I don’t think my sister and I ever felt like we were missing out though, because you can’t really desire something you’ve never experienced. It meant a week off from school, and that was good enough for us.
When Chris and I started dating, Thanksgiving was always fraught with separation anxiety. We were young, barely into college, and the idea of being apart for FIVE WHOLE DAYS was unimaginable. Obviously, our relationship survived. But just barely. Just kidding. (Actually, the first winter break we spent apart, my family decided to take a month-long trip to China, where all communication was virtually impossible. I’m still mad at myself for spending so much time moping around feeling sorry for myself that I didn’t really get to enjoy the visit.)
Now that I’ve been through a couple real Thanksgivings, complete with turkey and pumpkin pie and the whole nine yards, I can confidently voice my day-of preferences: NO cranberry sauce, NO stuffing, LOTS of mashed potatoes and gravy, dark meat, two slices of pie, and more Brussels sprouts please!

You see, somewhere along the way, I discovered the wonder that is Brussels sprouts. I mean, it’s seen such a huge lift in popular opinion in recent years that I’m pretty sure we’re all Brussels sprouts converts. What’s not to love, when it’s served Momofuku-style, all tart and spicy and refreshing? And who could possibly resist the rendition I present to you this year, tossed with lots of bacon, garlic, thyme and a hint of juniper. Not I. Especially since it comes from the cookbook of another lauded chef, the great April Bloomfield.
Here’s what Bloomfield has to say:
“In this dish, each bite is different—in some you get a nutty, sweet nibble of garlic, in others you’ll fork a sprout along with a big piece of pancetta. The juniper comes through just now and again. You might eat a sprout and not get the juniper, and you might eat another and get the juniper. I kind of like that.”
I kind of like that too, April. This sentiment is echoed throughout the book actually, and I find it unusually wise. The trick is to include just enough of an ingredient to leave you wanting more, but not so much that it gets taken for granted.
One last thing before I leave you with the recipe. The use of juniper berries as an ingredient would ordinarily go against all my instincts. It’s, well, GIN after all, herbal and pungent and seemingly not compatible with any kind of food. But it shines here, in a big but small way, an undertone that just works. Please please please seek out the juniper berries.

BRUSSELS SPROUTS WITH BACON AND JUNIPER BERRIES
Adapted from A Girl and Her Pig
Serves 3 to 4 as a side
Ingredients:
- 1 lb. Brussels sprouts
- 4 Tbsp olive oil
- 4 large garlic cloves, sliced lengthwise
- 3 slices bacon
- 1 tsp Maldon salt
- pinches of red pepper flakes
- 2 juniper berries, smashed and finely chopped
- 1-1/2 tsp thyme leaves
- squeeze of lemon juice
Directions:
Trim the Brussels sprouts and slice them in half.
In a large saute pan, heat 3 Tbsp olive oil on medium-high until it ripples. Add the garlic and let the pieces turn golden brown on one side, then flip them over and repeat. Remove the garlic and set aside. They’ll burn quickly once browned, so act fast.
Turn the heat to medium and add the bacon. Let it cook fully, until the slices are crisp, then set them aside on a paper towel to drain.
Add the Brussels sprouts, cut side down, in one layer across the pan. Cook, using tongs or chopsticks to occasionally check the undersides, until the bottoms are golden brown. Flip and continue to cook until they’re at your desired level of doneness. This step will take about 10 minutes. Don’t rush it. Take this time to chop your bacon into bits.
Stir in the salt, pinches of red pepper, smashed junipers, and reserved garlic cloves. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the thyme, another Tbsp of olive oil, the bacon pieces, and a nice big squeeze of lemon juice. Serve.
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