When it comes to traditional recipes, there are few things we love more than an unlikely origin story, ideally one born out of clumsiness or forgetfulness. The bigger the kitchen pratfall, the more delicious the product. Setting pancakes on fire? Accidental crêpe Suzette! Nothing in the restaurant apart from lettuce and some pantry ingredients? The Caesar salad is born! Muck up a cake you’ve made hundreds of times and end up with a squidgy mess? The St Louis gooey butter cake is even more popular than the original recipe!
There are few bungling origin stories neater than that of the tarte Tatin
But there are few bungling origin stories neater than that of tarte Tatin, the upside-down caramelised apple tart. In the 1880s the Tatin sisters – Caroline and Stéphanie – ran the Hôtel Tatin in the Loire Valley. The story goes that while preparing a classic apple pie, Stéphanie got distracted and left the apples cooking in the butter and sugar. By the time she realised, the apples were irreparably caramelised, so in a moment of panic she threw some pastry on top of them, put the whole thing in the oven and then served the result to the unsuspecting guests – who loved it.
While there may be some truth (and an enormous amount of good luck) in the Tatin tale, it doesn’t quite tell the whole story. Larousse Gastronomique, the culinary encyclopaedia, is clear: upside-down tarts made with apples or pears are an ancient speciality of the central Loire region, and Antonin Carême, celebrity chef of his time, references ‘gâteaux renversés’ with glazed apples in his 1841 cookbook.
It’s not really surprising that the tarte Tatin, or something very like it, existed long before the Tatin sisters lent it their name. Apples, caramel and a crisp pastry blanket is a combination so simple and so far beyond its individual parts that it is hard to imagine a time before it existed.
The apples themselves need to be eating apples, as opposed to Bramley or ‘cooking’ apples which will quickly break down into an apple sauce when heated. A good Braeburn or Cox, on the other hand, will absorb the caramel and become bronzed and tender but, crucially, retain its shape. When you make tarte Tatin you need to nestle the apple halves as close to one another as possible, so that as they cook they soften into an even layer.
There is among the French a surprisingly laissez-faire approach to the pastry – a Gallic shrug when confronted over whether it should be shortcrust or puff. Both are good, but they create distinctly different tarts. For tarte Tatin I prefer puff pastry – the all-butter stuff if I can find it – as the crisp layers are the ideal contrast to the cooked apples, and I find it’s a little less likely to fall apart when laid on top of the fruit.
Here’s how I do it: I make a wet caramel by heating together sugar and water until they turn a dark amber. Into that I whisk in lots of salted butter and just a little bit of vanilla, before tightly placing halved, peeled apples into the caramel and cooking them for half an hour, which gives them a chance to soften slowly and soak up the smoky, bittersweet flavours of the caramel. Then I lay a disc of freezer-cold puff pastry on top, and let it relax on to the apples, before tucking the edges around them, and cook the tart for 45 minutes. Finally, I let it sit for an hour (Raymond Blanc suggests you place the tart near an open window, but I’ve watched enough cartoons to know that this is a surefire way to entice animal characters with little self-control) before turning it out from the pan. This is just enough time for the caramel to cool and thicken, but not long enough for it to harden and glue the tart to the pan.
A person’s preference of cream, custard or ice cream is a sacred thing and should never be infringed upon – especially if, like my grandfather, you favour a combination of all three, whatever the pudding. But I do think that a ball of really great vanilla ice cream is the ideal companion to a slice of tarte Tatin, pale and cool against the glossy, plump fruit and hot caramel.
Serves 6
Takes 20 mins
Cooks 1.5 hours
- 300g puff pastry
- 100g sugar
- 50ml water
- 60g salted butter, cubed
- 1 tsp vanilla paste
- 6 eating apples (Braeburn or Cox), peeled, cored and halved
- 25g butter, melted
- 2 tbsp sugar
- First, roll out the pastry to the thickness of a pound coin on a lightly floured surface. Cut it into a circle the size of a dinner plate, place on a baking sheet, prick all over with a fork and freeze while you continue with the rest of the recipe.
- Place the sugar and water in a 20cm pan that can be used both on the hob and in the oven. Cook over a medium-high heat until the sugar dissolves and the mixture darkens; resist the urge to stir. Take the liquid caramel to a dark amber; remove from the heat just as it begins to smoke, and whisk in the butter and vanilla paste.
- Heat the oven to 160°C (fan). Place the apples in the caramel with the flat side facing up, arranging them snugly so there are as few gaps as possible; I cut my final apple into quarters or even eighths, and squeeze it in between the other halves. Brush the top of the apples with the melted butter and two tablespoons of sugar. Bake for 30 minutes, then remove from the oven.
- Take the pastry out of the freezer and place it on top of the pan of fruit. It will defrost and wilt quickly, allowing you to tuck the edges inside the pan. Prick five holes in the pastry, then return the pan to the oven for 45 minutes, until the pastry is golden.
- Leave to cool for an hour before running a knife around the edge of the pan, then placing a dinner plate over it and inverting confidently. The tarte should drop on to the plate.
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