Back To Fall: Frangipane Tart With Bourbon Brown Sugar Peaches

August might just be the very best month of the summer.

I realize this is a blasphemous statement to place at the very top of September’s post, but bear with me.

There is a tart at the end of all of this.

For the second year in a row, Khristian and I have headed to Canada to spend a few weeks in the lovely province of New Brunswick, camping on a piece of raw land we purchased last year and gazing out at the creeping fog of the Bay of Fundy.

While this blog post was initially going to be titled, “How to build a camping platform without murdilating your partner,” I have mellowed somewhat, basted as I have been over the past two weeks in salt air and the chittering of squirrels.

Coming home, and walking to the farmer’s market this morning, I realized that August is the best month of summer.

First, yes, it’s usually hotter than hell, but most people have their summer gear dialed in at this point and are capable of finding water or keeping cool. Many people head to the beach at this time (perfect time to avoid it, IMVHO), or just find some friends and a piece of shade to hang out in.

In short, by August, we are all used to the hellish weather and a little more relaxed about it. Sure, there’s still chatter on the topic but it’s less offended and more accepting, a sort of late summer resignation.

Next, by the time August rolls around, the frenetic new energy of the summer is chilled out. In June and July, everyone tries to do allofthethings, feels, in fact, COMPELLED to do them, but by August, much like that wild patch of overgrown, spindly, weighted down trio of tomato plants on your balcony and the overabundance of zucchini packed in ziploc baggies in your freezer, we have all given up. Sure, we still do someofthethings, but mostly it’s at a more leisurely pace. We are in our groove. Laid back.

It’s like we finally realize how long the days actually are in summer and just stop rushing around.

This more relaxed vibe is what all the commercials are actually talking about in April, looking towards summer. We just don’t get there until August. Add two eclipses and Mercury in retrograde during the entire month of July, and that’s some frantic shit right there. August is one big, fat exhale.

And then as August winds down? SCHOOL SUPPLIES.

Not back-to-school shopping, which sucks at any age, but school supplies. Fresh notebooks; new, full-to-the-brim ink pens; post-its; planners; and, if you’re lucky, a brand-new Trapper Keeper.

In college, the promise and possibility (and unfortunate expense) of new textbooks. I am probably the only person in history who didn’t mind the expense, but then again, I believe you can never spend too much on books.

August is the best. It leads into the productive energy of the fall in preparation for the hibernation of winter. This gentle seasonal slope makes me more motivated and often more creative – I do some of my best work in August and September. It’s like a reset.

I come back to the kitchen more energized, usually, and am baking with a ferocity that usually evaporates in mid-summer’s heat. Right now I am smelling the beginning notes of Frank’s Holy Bundt, unsurprisingly posted first on this blog on September 1st two years ago.

This time of the year the farmer’s markets are overflowing with abundance as well. Everything summer comes to a peak right now, perfect timing for canning, preserving, and otherwise storing away the easy bounty of summer against winter’s leaner feel.

Today I walked through Hampden in the sparkling sunshine, stopped at a neighborhood pear tree to see how things were going, and came away from the market with peaches, green beans, and a zucchini the size of my femur bone (put half in the current Holy Bundt and am freezing the other half for the next one).

The peaches. Man.

Everyone talks about South Carolina or Georgia peaches, but Maryland peaches kick their ass in a peach fistfight. They have more flavor and silkier flesh than their southern cousins, and the farm I bought from today is 30 miles from my back porch.

I ate one on the way home, and saved the others for this, my frangipane tart. Frangipane seems like a really complicated thing, mostly because its correct pronunciation eludes me, but that’s about it. It has a delicate almond flavor but still holds up like a more rustic dessert. The first time I made it with an apple butter caramel swirl on top I couldn’t cram it into my gaping maw fast enough. It wasn’t too sweet and had a tender, light crumb.

This time, some peaches and some bourbon and some lemon and some peach marmalade from Italy brighten the whole thing up.

You could also swap plums for the peaches and switch the bourbon to rum. Or use tart apples tossed in brown sugar, a squeeze of lemon, and some cinnamon. I’d like to try a banoffee version (bananas and toffee caramel), but that might be for the holidays.

Enjoy the last few days of summer.

Frangipane Tart With Bourbon Brown Sugar Peaches

Ingredients

Crust

½ cup whole toasted almonds

1 ¼ cups gluten-free all-purpose flour

¼ cup sugar

¼ teaspoon salt

1 stick chilled butter, cut into pieces

2 tablespoons ice water

Filling

1 ¼ cup whole almonds

¼  cup brown sugar, packed

6 tablespoons butter, at room temperature OR melted and cooled

1 large egg

1 egg white

1 capful vanilla extract (see Recipe Notes)

1 teaspoon bourbon

2 teaspoons lemon zest

2 big peaches (between a tennis ball and a softball size)

Glaze

¼ cup peach preserves

3 tablespoons bourbon

2 tablespoons brown sugar

½ teaspoon lemon juice

Method

Preheat oven to 375°.

Start with your crust. Pulse almonds in food processor until they are finely chopped. Add flour, sugar, and salt and process until almonds are ground into meal.

Pulse butter in until mixture resembles sand. Mix in enough water to form moist clumps. Once this happens, turn the dough directly into your tart pan and press into shape (see Recipe Notes for what to do if you use regular flour). Use a piece of plastic wrap to keep your hands clean and press dough evenly into the sides and bottom of the tart pan. The goal is an equal thickness all around, about 1/8”.

Cover tart pan and refrigerate at least two hours or overnight.

When you are ready to bake, place tart pan on baking sheet and poke several times with a fork. You can place a piece of parchment on top of the crust and fill the crust with blind baking beads or rice, which will prevent the edges of the tart from shrinking and which I usually forget to do.

Bake crust 10 minutes, popping any additional bubbles that arise with a toothpick if you have not filled your crust with the baking beads or rice. If you are using parchment, remove the parchment after 15 minutes to allow the bottom to cook.  Crust may take up to 20 minutes to become a pale golden color – be patient.

Cool tart while you make the filling.

Blend almonds in food processor until they break into smaller pieces. Add remaining sugar butter, eggs, extracts, bourbon, and lemon zest and continue to pulse until almonds are finely ground and ingredients are well mixed. Spread the filling in your crust.

Wash and slice the peaches into ½” slices (ish. No need to be precious. This is a rustic tart). Place peaches in a spiral pattern (or any pattern, really) into the top of the tart, pressing gently to make sure they stick into the filling. The filling should come up the sides of the peaches a little.

Bake tart on baking sheet until frangipane is puffed and golden, between 30 and 45 minutes.

While the tart bakes, prepare the glaze. Stir brown sugar, bourbon, and lemon juice in a small saucepan over medium heat until mixture just boils and sugar is completely dissolved (this happens quickly). Strain glaze into a bowl.

Transfer the tart to a cooling rack and brush the entire surface with the glaze.

When completely cool, release the tart from the pan and serve to much adoration. A little unsweetened whip cream (or with just a tiny splash of almond extract) is delicious on this. If you’re especially fancy, garnish with chopped fresh lemon balm.

Recipe Notes

• I used McKenna bourbon in this recipe, a seriously underrated, easy drinking and mixing bourbon. It is young and cheap and thus smooth and sweeter, with notes of caramel and vanilla. It goes well with the flavors of this tart and costs less than $15 a bottle. Go get some.
• If you use regular flour, do not place the crust directly in the pan; follow the typical crust recipe, which is to bring the dough together by turning it out of the food processor after you incorporate the water and kneading gently before forming it into a ball, wrapping it in plastic and chilling it at least two hours. Then, roll the dough out on a floured surface before placing into your tart pan and baking.
• Prepare the crust a day ahead, chilling overnight in the ‘fridge and then baking the next day.
• Tart can sit at room temperature for eight hours before serving, but you should plan to eat it on day one. The crust softens in the ‘fridge overnight, so you don’t get that snap the next day. Still delicious for breakfast.