by Noelle Love
Serves 8
Ingredients
1 ¼ cups flour + 1 tablespoon
12 tablespoons unsalted butter, cubed into tablespoons, cold
¼ teaspoon kosher salt
3 tablespoons ice cold water
7 green baking apples, peeled, cored, and sliced in half
¼ cup granulated sugar
¾ cup apricot jam
Gold leaf flakes, for dusting
Directions
Place the flour, 8 tablespoons of the butter, and salt into a large mixing bowl. Use a pastry blender to combine until the mixture is crumbly with pea-size chunks. Slowly add the water, using a spatula to mix in and moisten the dough.
Flour a work surface and turn the dough out on it. Use your hands or a rolling pin to create a flat oval shape and cover in plastic wrap. Place it in the refrigerator for 1 hour. Remove the plastic wrap and place the dough back on a floured work surface. Use a rolling pin to create a 13” circle. Lay the dough in the bottom of an 11” tart pan that has a removable bottom. Use a small knife to remove the overhanging edges, cover with plastic wrap, and place the tart pan in the refrigerator for another hour.
Set your oven’s temperature to 375 degrees F. Prepare the apples by slicing into thin sections. Arrange the apple slices decoratively in the pan, starting from the outside and working in. Sprinkle the granulated sugar on top of the apples. Take the remaining 4 tablespoons of butter and dot the top of the tart. Set the pan in the preheated oven and bake for about 65 minutes or until the top and edges become golden brown. When the tart is done baking, set the pan on top of a cooling rack and cool completely.
As the tart bakes, place the apricot jam in a small pan and warm over the stove until its consistency starts to thin. Pour the warm jam into a strainer over a small bowl. Once the tart has finished baking, brush the strained jam over the top of the tart.
Just before serving, dust each slice with a generous sprinkle of edible gold leaf flakes.
19
“I think Basile is in love!” Zenna announced to her friends in the back. "Aw, that's so cute," grinned Tali, the fact that everyone, including herself, was finding love and at this special time of the year too, made her giddy. Zenna and Tali, being very much in love, a new feeling for both of them, were enjoying each other’s company today more than usual. Margot, on the other hand, was feeling not only left out, but her bad attitude from the morning had come back with a vengeance. Everything around her was depressing, even the Tarte Tatin on the counter, baked, browned, and upside down seemed to mock her. Yes, her life was indeed upside down at the moment or, to use Margot’s choice word, fucked.
Without consciously making the decision, Margot had given up on love ever since breaking up with Aubin. What else does a person do when what they honestly believed to be real turned out to be as fake as the boobs on the bimbo blonde Aubin left her for? Not looking for love but wanting to show her friends that she was fine, Margot went on a sex binge, sleeping with several different men every week. Which is exactly why she couldn’t blame her friends now who were clearly rubbing their new romances in her face at this very moment. Her friends believed her when she said she was happy. They believed her when she said that she was glad to be out of the confinement of a relationship and into something that seemed much more natural, albeit primal. They listened to her stories about mind-blowing sex from the night before, laughed when she ignored the phone calls from men who wanted to see her again, and they nodded as she explained that women could want sex just like men want sex – for the experience, no strings attached.
But the truth was that Margot was miserable. She was falling apart inside even though outside she looked to be picture perfect, and in Prada. She hated how she felt leaving a man’s apartment after meaninglessly screwing him. Even though she thought the experience would be liberating, putting her in control, it turned out that it made her feel used. She had the strange feeling that over the past several months her insides were starting to rot, what used to be healthy and bright corners of her body were crumbling into dust. She was desperate to find something to make her come alive again. Maybe it would be saving her bakery for her friends. Maybe it would be finding someone who really loved her, baggage and all.
Looking at Tali and Zenna who were busy at work, basking in their lovers’ glow, Margot, feeling very much out of place, decided to find something to do in the front of the bakery. She busied her hands with cleaning and rearranging, all things which used to be important but now, looking at all of the empty chairs and the people walking by without so much as a glance through the window, clearly were not.
There must be something I can do, Margot thought. There must be something that will keep me from dying alone with twenty cats. She looked out the window and noticed that snow had begun to fall, just a few flakes, but still, she hoped, maybe a sign that things were about to change.
Tarte Tatin
Serves 10
Ingredients
1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
1 large egg yolk, whisked
¾ teaspoon kosher salt
3 tablespoons water
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
For the filling
5 green baking apples, peeled, cored, and sliced in half
8 tablespoons (1/2 cup) unsalted butter
1 ½ cups granulated sugar
Directions
Prepare a clean work surface. Place the flour into a sifter and sift into a mound on the prepared surface. Use your fingers to make a well in the center. Drop the egg yolk, salt, water, and butter into the well. Use a hand to work the flour into the well, combining the ingredients until well mixed. When finished the dough should form with large soft crumbs. Use your hands to press the dough together to form a ball – it’s okay if the dough ball doesn’t look perfect in consistency, as it will be blended more in a moment.
Flour your work surface and then place the dough ball on top. Use the heel of your hand to knead the dough for 1 to 2 minutes or until it becomes pliable and stays in one piece. Form a ball and cover with plastic wrap. Place the dough in the refrigerator for about 20 minutes or until it is firm.
As the dough chills, place the butter for the filling in a 10” nonstick, ovenproof skillet. Heat the butter over medium heat, adding the sugar and cooking (don’t stir yet) until the mixture caramelizes and becomes brown. Using a wooden spoon, gently stir the mixture until it forms a deep brown caramel. This should take about 8 minutes total from start to finish. Remove the skillet from the heat and allow the caramel to cool for 5 minutes.
Arrange the apples close together on top of the caramel in the skillet, working in concentric circles starting from the edges of the pan. Return the skillet to medium heat and cook the apples for 6 to 8 minutes or until their juices begin to run. Bump the heat up to high and continue cooking the apples until the bottoms caramelize and the juice has evaporated, about 20 minutes. If necessary, reduce the heat slightly as the apples cook to prevent the caramel from bubbling over the sides.
Use a fork to turn the apples over and continue cooking so the second side has a chance to caramelize, about another 15 minutes. When finished the apples should look golden with very little juice if any remaining. Take the skillet off the heat and allow them to cool in the pan.
Set your oven’s temperature to 400 degrees F.
Remove the dough from the refrigerator and place on a floured work surface. Use a rolling pin to roll the dough so that it is just larger than the skillet in which the apples were cooked. Use the rolling pin to transfer the dough on top of the cooling apples, tucking the edges quickly around the sides. Use a wooden skewer to poke a hole in the top of the dough so that steam can get out.
Place the skillet in the preheated oven and bake for about 25 minutes or until the dough has become firm and slightly browned on top. Once finished baking, allow the tart to cool for 10 minutes. You want the tart to still be warm before turning upside down, so if you’re not eating it right away
keep it in the pan and then re-heat in the oven for a few minutes to soften the caramel and free the apples.
Place a rimmed serving plate on top of the skillet, carefully flipping over to free the tart from the pan. Use caution when doing this as hot juice can burn you. Use a knife to slice the finished tart into wedges and enjoy warm.
20
The girls were so busy watching for people not to come into their bakery that they missed someone who did. A Mr. Jules Lorance happened by the bakery earlier that afternoon not looking for food, he couldn’t eat when he worked, but for a place with a table, preferably one very quiet, where he could put pen to paper. Looking in through the large front window, he figured the bakery must be closed for some sort of renovation, considering the lack of people inside. He tried the door anyway and to his surprise it opened with ease. It was warm inside the bakery. The smell was incredible. And the silence that he was met with was undeniably perfect. Seeing as no one was in the front at that moment, Jules decided to sit down and get to work. If anyone approached him to say that the table was for customers only, he would order a cup of coffee and get back to work. Ideas began to flow better than they had in weeks for Mr. Lorance, leaving him so absorbed in his work that he became invisible, both to himself and the Three French Hens.
Unbeknownst to Mr. Lorance, his inspiration was flowing from the mind of the blonde woman who was busying herself on the other side of the bakery behind the counter. The silence of the bakery had become so intense that Margot’s personal thoughts were audible to her and the only other person listening, Jules. The thought waves traveled through Jules’s left ear and into the pen in his right hand, filling page after page with literary gold. Over the next several hours Jules learned more about Margot than most people learn about each other in years, her deepest fears, her most secret insecurities, her fantasies, and her dreams for the future.
Looking up from his pages of work, Jules noticed that the sun had already set, amused that he had been working at this little bakery for so long. He wondered why no one had approached him to ask him what he was doing or to say that the shop was closing? Maybe he had been locked in, but a few of the lights in the front were still on, which must mean that someone was still here. Considering that he still had light to write and the fact that he was writing so well, he decided to stay until he was asked to leave.
Meanwhile, Margot, who was still lost in her thoughts on the other side of the bakery, decided to take a break from the meaningless work she had been occupied with and take a seat. She collapsed into a wooden chair, more exhausted mentally than physically. Margot, without warning, began to cry, worn out from the past several months. She had hit her breaking point and couldn’t even attempt to contain the tears that were now rushing down her face.
The sound of Margot’s crying reached the ears of Jules, who quietly turned around to search for the source. A few tables back he spotted a mess of curly blonde hair crumpled on top of the table. In an instant he understood. This, he realized, is the woman he had been writing about all afternoon. This was Margot. Not sure what his next move should be, he decided to try to quietly sneak by her, not wanting to embarrass her by his presence. He gathered up his papers and successfully moved his chair away from the table without making a sound. His black loafers began to tiptoe across the wood floor, but as he neared Margot’s table his clumsy foot caught the edge of another chair, creating a loud scratching noise, which immediately alerted Margot to his presence.
Margot’s pile of hair shot up off the surface of the table, her hand instantly moving to her face to try to hide the evidence of her emotional breakdown. “I’m so sorry,” said Jules, admitting failure to his spoiled escape.
“I didn’t know anyone was here,” Margot said, admiring the handsome face of the man before her.
He wasn’t obviously her type. He was a bit older than she was and his hair, although thick, was slightly graying. He was of average height, which to Margot meant he was short. He was dressed casually in jeans and a crimson sweater, a collar of a button-up shirt sticking out of the top. But there was something about him that made it impossible for Margot to look away. He looked kind and his dark brown eyes stared at her as if they knew everything about her.
Curious to meet the woman that he had gotten to know so well, Jules took a seat at Margot’s table. “Margot, right?” he said in an English accent. She nodded, wondering how he knew her. “I know things seem real shitty right now, but I know for a fact that they are going to get better,” he continued. The confidence of this stranger made Margot laugh.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Jules. Jules Lorance. I’m a writer. Your bakery, you actually, have inspired me all afternoon. I have never written so much so well in a few hours.”
Margot blushed at his complement, but then realized that he had said hours. Had he been here all afternoon? Had he been staring at her while she worked?
“Quite to the contrary,” Jules explained. “I had no inkling that anyone was here but me.” He looked Margot intensely in the eyes. “I walked in, sat down, and was suddenly inspired to write about a beautiful woman, a woman who has given up on love,” he paused, searching Margot’s face for permission to continue. Finding it he continued,
“A woman who is torn between running away from her past or sacrificing her happiness for that of her friends. She is proud and confident, but deep down she is afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” asked Margot, curious to see if this stranger could help her sort out her screwed up life.
“She is afraid to be honest. Terrified at the idea that people might see her for what she really is – someone who desperately wants to fall in love, someone who wants to be taken care of.” Jules suddenly remembered that he wasn’t just talking about a character in his book, but a real person who was sitting directly in front of him. Jules realized he might be saying too much, so he stopped.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I’m starved,” she said as she got up from the table. “Do you like cream puffs, Jules?”
But Jules was unable to answer, too busy staring at the perfect body in front him. Margot’s tight dress accentuated her curves and her silver flecked stockings hugged her thin, but muscular legs, which were worked everyday from the heels she walked miles in.
Margot returned with a box of cream puffs from the back. “Someone ordered these but never picked them up,” she said as she bit into a fluffy pastry. Margot proceeded to lick the cream that had oozed out of the puff off her fingers, tantalizing poor Jules who looked helplessly at the sexual goddess before him. He had never been so turned on by a woman and knowing Margot’s past, he guessed that if he came onto her there was a good possibility that they would be having sex somewhere in the bakery within the next thirty minutes.
But as much as Jules wanted Margot right then and there, he couldn’t bring himself to take advantage of her. A one-night stand wasn’t his style and Margot deserved more. She deserved someone that respected her and that wanted her more than just for hot sex. In his story, he decided, Margot’s perfect type would be someone that was intellectual. Someone with enough money to take care of her, but not so much that she would be attracted to him just for that and that alone. She needed to be with someone older than herself, someone that appreciated her beauty, her youth, and her confidence without feeling intimidated.
As he thought about who is character should end up with at the end, he discovered that the person he was describing sounded startlingly like him. Yes, Margot needed to be with a British writer. Margot needed to end up with Jules.
“So,” said Margot breaking the silence after finishing her second cream puff. “How does this woman find that? Tell me what happens next.”
Recognizing that this was his opportunity to make a play for the woman of his dreams Jules said, “Well, really it’s up to her. There are lots of ways I can finish the story, I just need to get to know her better so I know what she wants.”
“What if,” Margot star
ted running her fingers through her hair, “this woman was crazy, like a murderer? What would happen next?”
Laughing at her playfulness Jules said,
“In that case she would lure a nice foreign man into her apartment, asking him to fix her heater. He would gladly help her, seeing how stunning she was, and then she would strangle him with the cord from the drapes in her living room. She would continue her strangling rampage all across Europe until a dashing detective caught her. Being so charming, the detective would fall in love with her and ruin the case against her. They would get married but on their honeymoon night he would see her emerging from the bathroom with a hair dryer, playing villainously with the cord. She would get into bed with him and that’s where the story would end.”
“So no one would know if she killed him or used the cord to tie him up for sex?” asked Margot.
“Right,” said Jules smiling, briefly imagining what it would be like to be tied up by a naughty vixen like her.
“Okay, so what if instead of being a murder-mystery your story was erotic? What would happen to the woman next?” Margot asked, anxious to hear what Jules would say.
“That,” said Jules, biting his lip, “would result in a lot of sex scenes, which would mean I would really need to get familiar with sex with this woman myself so that I could, of course, accurately portray her encounters through my writing.” Jules laughed out of nervousness, unable to believe that he really just said that aloud.
Thankfully, Margot took it well and smiled saying, “That’s fair.” Margot was really beginning to like this Jules guy.
“Alright, last scenario. What if the woman in your story wanted her story to end like a fairy tale? What if she was secretly a princess? What would happen then?”
“Ah ha,” he said, glad that she brought this version of the story up because he knew that this is exactly what she wanted.
