The Immortal Tarte Tatin

I’ve wanted to make Tarte Tatin ever since I read Molly Wizenberg’s description of it as a “sexed-up apple pie – a housewife in stilettos.” Wizenberg writes, “Tarte Tatin doesn’t dally with small talk. It reaches for your leg under the table.”

Who wouldn’t want to make a dessert like that? Besides, Tarte Tatin is classic. And French. And very Julia Child-esque.

My only problem was that I lacked the right pan: a cast iron skillet. I know what you’re thinking: what kind of foodie doesn’t own a cast iron skillet? Well, to be honest, I was sort of picky. I didn’t want a new skillet. I wanted an old, blackened, well-seasoned pan that was already broken-in. My mother had one, but as it had been her mother’s, she was loathe to give it up, and I don’t blame her.

So no Tarte Tatin. That is, until I went to visit my paternal grandparents.

Grandma and Grandpa live in Allen, the “Antique Capital of Michigan.” The town consists of a few residential streets, a miniscule post office, two churches, a gas station, and – you guessed it – about 20 antique stores, several of which resemble horse barns and are the size of your local Walmart. Often when I’m visiting, my grandma and I wander down to one of these behemoths and browse the booths overflowing with Depression glass, vintage hats, out-of-print books, and ancient kitchen implements. Occasionally we find an unexpected treasure, but we’re not usually looking for anything specific.

The night I arrived for the visit in question, my grandma asked me, as she was puttering around her kitchen, cleaning up after dinner, “Do you want to do some antiquing tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I said, “and I want to look for something specific. A cast iron skillet.”

“You mean this kind?” she asked, opening a cupboard door and pulling out a whole stack of cast iron skillets in all sizes. Her eyes were twinkling.

“How about a ten-inch?” she asked. “That’s a good size.”

That skillet has seen a lot of use since I brought it home, but the first thing I made in it was Tarte Tatin.

It was everything Molly Wizenberg promised it would be. Her stiletto metaphor was accurate, and I now understand that Tarte Tatin is in a class way beyond Plain Jane Apple Pie (don’t get me wrong – I love apple pie).

Making Tarte Tatin is a bit of a process, but worth every second of the careful attention it requires. The apples are caramelly and oh-so-delicious; the puff pastry all but melts on your tongue.

The trickiest part, in my opinion, is turning the Tarte Tatin onto a serving platter – this requires some dexterity. But it shouldn’t deter you – no, not one bit. I like to put mine on a plate with a pedestal – it gives the Tarte Tatin the refined presentation it deserves.

I served Tarte Tatin to Eli’s parents the first time they visited my apartment, and I honestly don’t think I could have impressed them more.

My one disclaimer: since I am not a glutton for punishment, and there are, if you can believe it, occasions when I find discretion is the better part of valor and I will choose ease over tearing my hair out, I use store-bought puff pastry. Don’t feel I’ve let you down, here – have you ever read the instructions for making your own puff pastry? Maybe someday, when I’ve raised six children and have the patience of a saint, I’ll attempt it.

Tarte Tatin

Juice of 1 lemon
1-1/2 cups sugar (I use evaporated cane juice)
6 large apples, peeled and quartered (use a soft, sweet variety like Golden Delicious or Jonathan)
6 tablespoons unsalted sweet cream butter
One large sheet puff pastry (find it in the freezer section)

In a bowl, mix together the lemon juice and 1/2 cup sugar. Toss with the apples, and set aside.

In a fairly deep 10-inch skillet placed over medium heat, melt 4 tablespoons of the butter. Stir in 1 cup sugar and about 1/4 cup of the juice-sugar mixture from the apples. Cook, stirring constantly, over medium-low heat until smooth and bubbly and golden-brown, about 15 minutes.

Remove the pan from the heat and arrange the apple quarters, rounded part facing down, in a pretty circular pattern (they’ll look nice when you turn the Tarte Tatin over onto its serving plate). Arrange the rest of the apples in layers whatever way they fit best, packing them closely together. Melt the last 2 tablespoons of butter, and drizzle over the top.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Put the pan back on medium-low heat, and cook the apples for another 20 minutes or so. Don’t leave them! Don’t stir them! Use a spoon to baste them in the caramel as they cook. When the caramel is thick and has turned a darker shade of gold, but the apples are still a little firm, remove the pan from the heat.

On a lightly floured surface, unroll the puff pastry. Use a 10-inch cake pan or something similar to trace a circle on the pastry with a sharp knife, leaving an extra inch or so as a border – you want the pastry to be a little larger than the skillet.

Place the pastry circle over the apples in the pan, tucking the extra down inside the edge of the pan.

Place on a round baking sheet with a rim, such as a pizza pan, and bake 25-35 minutes, until the pastry has puffed up and turned golden-brown.

Remove the skillet from the oven, and let it rest for a few minutes. Gently tilt the pan over the sink or a trash can and pour off as much juice as you can.

Place your serving plate upside down over the pan and then, holding pan and plate together firmly, quickly flip them over, inverting the Tarte Tatin onto the plate. If any pieces of apple move or fall off, simply put them back.

Serve warm with vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, or creme fraiche sweetened with a little sugar.