I was so proud of myself for finally nailing the Tarte Tatin that I decided to venture out on my own and make a tomato version, and with a Cowgirlified crust (my polenta tart dough). I’d seen something like this before in French cookbooks, and it seemed like such a great idea – a fancified upside-down tomato tart, really – and y’all know how much I love tomatoes, which are just about gone, but I’m not giving up yet.

I liked the contrast of the green zebras with the red tomatoes in the center, but they were a bit watery. I think that next time, I’ll use Roma tomatoes because they’re a bit meatier — plus you can get them most of the year (I’ve noted before that I like to slow-roast Romas for all sorts of things in the winter).

You could add goat cheese and a layer of pesto, as Daniel Boulud does; or make them in individual portions (just use custard cups). For that matter, basil instead of thyme would be nice, too. This works great as part of a light meal — I had this with a bowl of my split pea soup for dinner– or as an appetizer.

Tomato Tarte Tatin

INGREDIENTS

6-8 medium tomatoes (Romas would work nicely), halved and cored
2 tablespoons olive oil
4 sprigs fresh thyme (plus more for serving)
polenta tart crust, recipe follows
balsamic vinegar, for serving (optional)
Parmesan cheese, for serving (optional)

Preheat the oven to 200 C/400 F.

1. Make the polenta tart dough (recipe below) and roll out to 1/8″ thick in a 10-inch circle, so it’ll fit in the pan. Slide in the fridge until ready.

2. In a 10-inch cast-iron skillet (or other skillet that you can put in the oven), arrange the tomatoes, inside-up, putting as many as you can in the pan. Drizzle with the 2 tablespoons olive oil and salt and pepper, and slide in the oven for 30-40 minutes, or until they soften.

3. Remove the pan from the oven and gently place the dough on top, pushing it down around the sides of the tomatoes (so when it cooks, it’ll have a curly edge). With a sharp knife, make a few slits in the dough. Slide into the oven and cook for 20-30 minutes more, or until the crust begins to brown around the edges. Remove from the oven and carefully turn out onto a large platter.

Serve warm with additional thyme, Parmesan, and a splash of balsamic vinegar, if you’d like.

Polenta Tart Crust

INGREDIENTS

1 ¾ cups all-purpose flour
¾ cup polenta
1 teaspoon sea salt
¼ cup olive oil
1 tablespoon honey
½ cup ice water

Grease the tart pan with a tiny bit of olive oil if it doesn’t have a non-stick coating.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, polenta, and sea salt. Add the oil and honey and mix a bit — by hand — and then add the water and mix just until the dough comes together in a ball. 

Now, on a floured surface, roll out the dough into a circle large enough to fit tart pan. Trim the edges and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Fill the tart, and bake (or blind bake, depending on what you’re using it for) at 400 degrees for 20-25 minutes.

I love going into this cramped, little shop near Les Halles, filled with boxes and bags of Valronha and Callebaut chocolate in pastilles in a range of cacao percentages and flavors, and bricks of pure unsweetened chocolate, too, which I use for my brownies, along with some of the 70 % Callebaut.

You can barely squeeze past the people that come here, all searching for that something that they need to make a cake or a pastry that day, and it’s always fun to watch what other people are buying. I come for the chocolate, the vanilla beans, the almond powder on occasion, and the piment d’Espelette. They’ve got a great selection of dried mushrooms and all sorts of oils, from pistachio to hazelnut, that would make a dull salad stand up and dance.

On my last trip here, I found the organic dried figs and peaches that quickly made their way into my Sticky Toffee Puddings. So you just never know what you’ll find to inspire you here.

G. Detou

Not long ago, it seemed as if Tex-Mex had invaded Paris in mucho grande sort of way.

Plastered all over the metro walls and on street corners, from my own snooty-pants quartier to the more popular parts of town, McDonald’s was advertising its new “P’tit Plaisir Sauce Salsa” burger.

Boy, when I saw those Doritos hanging out of that burger with sauce salsa, I just about started to cry.

Was I really here — in Paris — or was I back home, in Big D, where we routinely put triangle-shaped corn chips on our burgers to get a quick Tex-Mex fix?

Sigh.

Then, on the way to Parc St. Cloud to walk Rose one morning, I stopped at the Total gas station to put a couple of litres of gas in the car (which cost as much as 20 P’tit Plaisirs), and right there, next to the cheery bright yellow packages of Tuc crackers, I saw this classic cookbook on my beloved cuisine, for the insane price of just 2 euros.

Unbelievable.

Right there, in the pages of the little pocket-size book, was “Hamburgers texans,” (sic), burgers made with cumin and coriander powder, and mixed up with eggs and garlic, served, naturally, with a sesame seed bun on top of the lettuce, and with a big old gob of butter on top of the tomatoes and grilled onions.

Just like home.

If that wasn’t enough, then I saw this — “Haricots epices a la cow-boy,” (spicy beans a la cowboy), and the Mexican cantina classic, “Travers de porc au miel et a l’ail,” (pork ribs with honey and garlic).

There were recipes for hot dogs, dipped in a batter and fried (OK, not so far off); fried chicken; and shrimp with mayonnaise, too.

But its not just the low-brow, gas station and cheap burgers crowd that’s getting it all wrong. That same week, I saw a recipe in the back of Saveur magazine for a margarita, made with lemons — not limes. Um, that would be more like a tequila-spiked lemonade, right?

Is it any surprise, really, that the French think that Tex-Mex is awful?

Sadly, McDo’s got it right. Small pleasure, indeed.