I HATE GOODBYES. Hate them. I grow irritable, I’m short-tempered, I snap, I growl — basically, I turn into Kid-Me, circa 1987. It’s horrible. If I can, I avoid them with something approaching skill. I slink out of cities with my suitcases filled & my head hunched into my shoulders; I disappear with my books and shoes and toothbrush, like a well-stocked shadow. I send my regrets from other cities, other countries, other continents. It’s easier, it’s safer, it’s better. I hate having to say goodbye.
My dad has been visiting, but he’s leaving in two days. I see him twice a year. His job is overseas, and he only gets a certain amount of vacation days/conference days each year, and he usually has to split those between my mother and me. But, as I’m still taking care of my mom in the aftermath of her surgery, he’s been able to see both of us together… But now he’s leaving again. Which means another round of goodbyes, and I. Am. Dreading. That.
Consider: my parents are at a nursery right now, picking out new plants for their garden. I am at home. I made muffins for the neighbors. I am thinking of making soup, or biscuits. I am writing this. I am not with my father, in one of the last two days he is here. I am crawling back into myself, so that when he goes, I won’t have to think so hard about the fact that he was here and then left. If I can put myself back together, absent from him, it won’t be so bad when he’s gone.
It’s pathetic. I said it already, but it’s worth repeating: it’s horrible. I’m horrible.
Last night — in a burst of realization that the actual goodbyes were really, suddenly upon us — I made a peach tart. I’d stumbled across Nick Malgieri‘s cookbook, Bake!: Essential Techniques for Perfect Baking, a few weeks ago and wanted to try out his sweet pastry dough recipe. Joy of joys, it’s a wholly hands-on recipe, which is fantastic for someone facing a task they don’t want to do — all the anger, hurt, worry, despair, and sadness can go into your hands as you work the dough through, first breaking the butter down and then kneading the dough into a malleable and sensible ball.
On his blog, Nick Malgieri provides a couple of tart recipes that I will definitely be trying out soon, and which use his sweet pastry dough recipe. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your preference), they use the variation for the food processor. Since I was all about the hands-on approach last night, I’ll walk you through that, but please do check out his blog and the recipes he offers.
This tart is a great distractor. The dough lets you pound your frustration out onto a helpless stick of butter; the peaches ask to be sliced up with your anguish; the tart pan itself begs for a good thwacking with the rolling pin when you’re done. (In future, I think I might even drown the peaches in brandy before laying them in the tart pan, to add a smidgeon more distraction.) So, here it is, the tart I made to take my mind off my dad’s impending departure, and which tasted — thankfully — not at all like a goodbye.
(Til Next We Meet) Peach Tart
Crust (taken from Nick Malgieri’s Bake!)
- 1 cup flour
- 3 Tbsp sugar
- 1/2 tsp baking powder
- Pinch salt
- 4 Tbsp unsalted butter, cold; cut into 10 pieces
- 1 egg
- 2 large peaches (or 3-5 small peaches), pitted and cut into slices
- 3/4 cup sugar
- 2 Tbsp flour (if your peaches are really juicy, you may need to add 1 Tbsp)
- 1/4 tsp salt
- 2 Tbsp butter, cold; cut into pieces
Preheat the oven to 375F.
To make the crust, combine the dry ingredients in a bowl; mix well to combine. Add in your cut pieces of butter and, with your hands, reach under the dry ingredients and mix them evenly through the flour. With your fingertips, pinch the pieces of butter into the flour mixture, occasionally mixing them to evenly redistribute the butter. Continue pinching the butter, sometimes rubbing handfuls of dough between your palms, until the mixture is cool and powdery, and no remaining pieces of butter are visible. Pinch, redistribute, rub, repeat. It’s a good time to let your mind wander, if you’re so inclined, since it’ll take a while.
Add the egg and use a fork to break it into the dough. With the fork mix the egg in; once it is mixed and you’ve got big clumps of dough sticking to each other, dump the whole mixture out onto a floured surface. Knead into a consistent mass, and then flatten into a disc about 1/4-inch thick.
On your well-floured surface, roll out your dough to fill a tart pan. Place in the tart pan and make sure you’ve got the sides and bottom well-pressed in. Run your rolling pin across the edges to get off excess dough. Set aside.
In a medium bowl, put together the dry ingredients for your filling. You can pinch the butter into the dry ingredients with your fingers if you want, or use a pastry cutter to crumble the sugar, flour, salt and butter together. You want a crumbly mixture, with a combination of fine and pebble-sized granules.
In the prepared tart pan, lay your peach slices in overlapping concentric circles. I sort of ran out of peach slices — okay, I did run out of peach slices — so my interpretation of “overlapping” was a bit generous. But you want them as tight as possible, and then fill in the middle of the tart pan in any which way you want. I cut some of the peach slices a bit smaller for the middle, and that worked out well.
Sprinkle the butter mixture over the peaches. It’ll look like it’s too much, but keep going. As the butter melts in the oven and combines with the peach juices, it’ll spread out to fill the gaps between the peaches and create a sweet filling.
Once done, bake in the oven for 35-45 minutes, until the crust is golden and the filling is bubbling up into thick, shiny bubbles over the peach slices. Let cool, and enjoy!
And don’t forget: it’s not goodbye, and it isn’t even adieu. It’s looking forward to the next time we’re together again.