Oftentimes before bed I read, and it's very likely the topic will be food related.
A couple weeks ago I was reading a chapter from The Food and Wine of France: Eating and Drinking from Champagne to Provence by Edward Behr. The particular chapter I had landed on that evening was about a cheesecake made with chèvre. A blackened cheesecake- merely black on the surface but not burnt in flavor, tourteau fromagé, from around Poitou. While Mr. Behr set out on a journey to find and sample versions, they weren’t always made with chèvre, and he found himself slightly disappointed upon biting into a cow’s milk based torte and wishing for the more bold goat’s milk style.
A couple weeks ago I was reading a chapter from The Food and Wine of France: Eating and Drinking from Champagne to Provence by Edward Behr. The particular chapter I had landed on that evening was about a cheesecake made with chèvre. A blackened cheesecake- merely black on the surface but not burnt in flavor, tourteau fromagé, from around Poitou. While Mr. Behr set out on a journey to find and sample versions, they weren’t always made with chèvre, and he found himself slightly disappointed upon biting into a cow’s milk based torte and wishing for the more bold goat’s milk style.
Now, I’ve never personally tasted said cheesecake, and this version I have here is likely nowhere near that which Edward pined after.
(Poor Edward.)
However, the addition of tangy goat cheese to a “cheesecake” was a very nice thought that gave me a jumping-off point.
However, the addition of tangy goat cheese to a “cheesecake” was a very nice thought that gave me a jumping-off point.
I'm not the biggest fan of cheesecake as it is. Perhaps it's the combination of dense, heavy, and thick.
By that I mean dense in its texture in the mouth, heavy in its richness... and face it, slices of cheesecake aren't exactly short in stature.
Does it sometimes feel like eating an oddly dry-moist wedge of cheese?
By that I mean dense in its texture in the mouth, heavy in its richness... and face it, slices of cheesecake aren't exactly short in stature.
Does it sometimes feel like eating an oddly dry-moist wedge of cheese?
The first round of creating this recipe was fine, but I wanted a bit lighter and creamier.
Good news: round two turned out to be more like what I had imagined.
Maybe it's a bit more custardy than a cheesecake, though definitely not a custard- or it's somewhere between custard and cheesecake on the dairy spectrum (though, yes, closer to the cheesecake side).
The ratio of crust to filling in a tart form would definitely help lighten the dessert- part of the reason I went for this particular iteration of cheesecake. Plus, I guess I just prefer tarts.
It may not look exciting from the outset, and perhaps at a glance it could be easily mistaken for a version of lemon tart due to its initially snow-white filling’s sudden egg-yolk-dyed sunny hue.
The flavor is a bit tangy from the chèvre, crème fraîche, and lemon, though it’s also fresh.
And while the flavor of chèvre is more subtle due to it being cut with cream, that flavor is still present. Quieter, but there.
A pile of fresh berries on top is almost a requirement, but the tart is certainly more than ok on its own.
A pile of fresh berries on top is almost a requirement, but the tart is certainly more than ok on its own.
You can obviously use whatever pastry you choose for your blind baked crust, but THIS RECIPE found at David Lebovitz's site makes things awfully easy. Throw it together, press it into the pan, and bake. No rolling, no resting in the fridge, no pie weights... though you will want to bake it so it’s “done” and golden around the edge since the second bake with the filling isn’t going to do much to cook it further.
As it bakes and rests the filling balloons up, comes over the edge of the pastry a bit, and becomes gilded on top... then it falls back down and sinks to tart level as it cools.
Like with any cheesecake, slicing and eating while it’s warm isn’t a good idea.
Just be sure you’ve set aside the time needed for chilling before serving.
Chèvre Tart
(makes 1, 9-inch tart, serves 10-12)
1, 9-inch blind-baked with golden edges and cooled tart crust (recommended recipe link above if needed)
1, 9-inch blind-baked with golden edges and cooled tart crust (recommended recipe link above if needed)
6 oz (170 g) chèvre
5 oz (142 g) crème fraîche
3/4 c (180 ml) heavy cream
3 large egg yolks
1/2 c (114 g) sugar
1/4 t (a large pinch) kosher salt
1 1/2 t (7 ml) vanilla extract
zest of 1-2 small lemons (depending on how lemony you like it)
Preheat oven to 325 F (163 C).
In a medium bowl, carefully whisk the chèvre and crème fraîche together until smooth. Stir in the cream, then add the egg yolks and whisk again until blended. Add the sugar, salt, vanilla, and lemon zest and whisk until fully incorporated.
1/4 t (a large pinch) kosher salt
1 1/2 t (7 ml) vanilla extract
zest of 1-2 small lemons (depending on how lemony you like it)
Preheat oven to 325 F (163 C).
In a medium bowl, carefully whisk the chèvre and crème fraîche together until smooth. Stir in the cream, then add the egg yolks and whisk again until blended. Add the sugar, salt, vanilla, and lemon zest and whisk until fully incorporated.
Pour the filling into the prepared crust and place the tart pan on a baking sheet (to catch any possible spills), and place the pan in the center of the oven. Bake 40 minutes.
Turn off the oven and let the tart sit in the hot oven 40 minutes to rest and finish cooking.
Remove the tart from the oven and let cool to just warm, then place it in the refrigerator to chill for several hours, until cold.
At least 15 minutes before serving, pull the tart out of the refrigerator. Slice and serve cool to room temperature with fresh berries.
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